THE FALL OF THE LOMAN EMPIRE
Bob’s face had become
Synonymous with the Georgetown Theater
The lines on his forehead
Engraved by decades of disingenuously using the words
“Thank you”
He worked the ticket booth
I was his apprentice
The ticket ripper
He tried
In earnest
To teach me the finer points of being a theater usher
The correct method of holding the door open
For patrons
And so forth
In 1961 he held the door open
For President Kennedy (“And his date–shhh!” Bob said this was confidential)
On Jack’s way in to see a live performance of the play
Death of a Salesman
This was the high point of his career
Five shows a day of the x-rated Roman epic
Caligula
Was the current fare
Even so
This was not enough to save the antiquated movie house
According to Bob
The theater
Had come a long way from it’s former glory
One winter day
Between shows
He told me the dreadful news
“Gus says they finally found a buyer.”
“They’re gonna gut this place like a fish”
“And turn it into a jewelry outlet”
“Imagine that”
“The end of an empire”
Bob was getting pretty worked up
I detected a tear in his eye
“You don’t even seem to care!”
I just sat there
On the heater
Dressed up in the usher’s red monkey suit
Looking through the large glass door
At cars passing by on Wisconsin Avenue
Wishing I was somewhere else
For once
Bob was right
FALL OF THE LOMAN EMPIRE by Lawrence McDonald