Magic Carpet Golf. The historic Fourth Avenue Underpass. The Santa Rita Hotel. Ladies and gentlemen, behold Tucson's latest victim of 'progress': our beloved De Anza Drive-in.
Two nights ago, De Anza's screens went dark for the final time. Originally opened in 1951 as the Cactus Drive-in, we can only speculate the number of high school sweethearts who fell in love under the stars at the intersection of Alvernon and 22nd. With over 4000 drive-in theaters operating across the country by the late 1950s, imagine the millions of stolen kisses and caresses that were shared in back seats!
This past Saturday evening found me curled up with my lady friend, snacks and beverages at our sides, stretched out on a pile of pillows and blankets, taking in 'District 9' and 'Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.' In the privacy of her vehicle, we channeled the romance of all the randy teenagers who came before us at De Anza. The mood was at once delightful and yet slightly depressing, given the knowledge that this would be our last chance to indulge in such a classic date experience.
The scene was made even more emotional by the feeling that De Anza wasn't yet ready to go. Posters for the yet-to-be-released picture 'Where The Wild Things Are' hung in anticipation of the crowds who would now not be coming. Show times in the newspapers listed screenings through the following week that would now not be taking place. Certainly the families sitting on their car roofs and the young adults wandering the dusty lot looked right at home.
An announcement interrupted the movie's audio on the car radio: the snack bar would be closing in 10 minutes. Forever. We got nachos and stayed past the end of our second film, clinging to the hope that the projectors would somehow keep operating into eternity. Finally static came over the speakers and we had to face the truth: De Anza was dead.
These will certainly not be the last words written in remembrance of this Tucson tradition. Here though however, with a sinking feeling in my heart, allow me to say: Rest in peace, De Anza. You were a good one. You provided generations of amorous couples with a place for making out and heavy petting under the moon. You were the cheapest place in town to catch a double feature without leaving the kids at home. And you tied us to our past, making us foolishly believe that some things would last forever.
As date nights go, De Anza Drive-in was dynamite.
