A green burlap curtain just behind him tried (unsuccessfully) to keep the daylight from invading the darkened auditorium (there was no lobby) where wooden armless benches made watching "Quo Vadis" a painfully long sit and the peeling up linoleum in the unlighted aisles made a trip to the "rest room" an adventure in itself! In 1952, of course, there was a widespread assumption that television would shortly wipe out the remaining moviehouses. With that in mind, I suppose, the Woodburns had not invested much in physical improvements.
But everyone seemed to know and enjoy Joe and Margaret and I remember my delight at his references to Higgins Hall as "the palace of mirth." By 1956, the lack of CinemaScope equipment made it impossible to show most of the current releases at Higgins Hall, and with audiences shrinking Margaret decided to sell the business to my father, Robert Schmidt, a teacher from nearby Mayville (and later its mayor). His annual need for a summer job had resulted in his working as the Woodburns' projectionist during the previous four years and he felt there was a future for the business, a view not shared by a business-savvy brother of my mother's who promptly proclaimed my folks insane for taking it on!
All the members of the Schmidt family dove into the new enterprise with relish. A series of improvements, carried out over several years, was undertaken - new entrance and marquee, lobby and restrooms, carpeting, reopening of the balcony, new seats and wall panelling, air conditioning, and all-important upgrades in projection and sound - so that by about 1965 the "Cinema" was pretty much as one sees it now.
We did most of the work ourselves, often in zero cold during the winter months (installing air conditioning while ones hands are numb from cold is an emotionally conflicting experience.) Dad's teaching specialty was industrial arts, and his varied skills were up to the challenge. The camera caught my lovely wife Merrillie, brush in hand, on a warmer day.