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- Story Listed as: True Life For Teens
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Childhood / Youth
- Published: 02/12/2026
Growing up next to a Theatre
Born 1971, M, from Pulaski, Virgina, United States.jpeg)
The Pulaski Drive-In Theatre, once located on Lee Highway/Route 11 near Dublin, Virginia, was a cherished local landmark that operated from 1948 until its closure after the 1981 season. The theater had a single screen with a capacity of 312 cars and was known for its impressive 34' x 80' CinemaScope screen (man that thing was big). The facility featured a masonry constructed concession stand, projection booth, ticket office, and a large metal fence enclosing the whole of the property. It had state-of-the-art Simplex XL projectors, powered by carbon arc lighting, that brought movies to life, while a towering Moonlight Tower illuminated the grounds in its early years. The drive-in's entrance, once located on what is now Ben-Curt Lane, was marked by a prominent double arrow highway sign.
Spanning 5.8 acres, the property offered scenic views of the countryside and housed everything needed for a successful operation, from the fully equipped concession stand to 312 4 inch encased speakers powered by a dual sound system. Vintage advertising materials from a J.G. Sheets & Sons auction, likely dating to about 1960, reflect the theater's heyday, with imagery of a Grace Kelly film and a 1959 Pontiac station wagon evoking a bygone era. For those who grew up near the Pulaski Drive-In, it was more than just a theater, it was a piece of my childhood. Living just 200 yards away, I spent countless evenings captivated by the glow of the carbon arc projectors and the chatter of moviegoers, the smell of popcorn and butter.
As a small child trapped at home, I often peeked out the windows to watch the screen, longing to explore the place that brought the silver screen to life. As I grew older, I did just that, marveling at the technology and vibrant atmosphere. But, there was something more than the Drive-in, there was another structure that caught my imagination and its story begins here.
Once located in the quiet hills of the outskirts of Dublin, Virginia, the Pulaski Drive-In once stood as a beacon of wonder and community, and for me, it was far more than just a local drive-in theatre, it was home. I grew up right beside that drive-in for 12 years, and the giant movie screen and concession stand were as much a part of my daily view as the blue mountains on the horizon.
From the time I was two until about twelve, the Pulaski Drive-In was the centerpiece of my childhood, and the stories tied to it remain etched in my memory.
Each spring, when the drive-in reopened with the warmer season, a fresh wave of excitement stirred in me. I’d rush over to help, watching the projectionist work the massive 35mm Simplex XL projectors, their beams flickering through the dusk like lanterns. I was a boy deeply fascinated by all things film and movies, and those projectors captivated me, heavy, humming machines that brought Hollywood to the hills of Pulaski County. That lot became my playground and, in many ways, my sanctuary.
The Pulaski Drive-In's final season was in the season of 1981. By then, attendance had dwindled as people were going to the cinemas at the malls or staying home and watching the weekend movies on tv and so, it never reopened for the 1982 season. Shortly after my family moved to the town of Pulaski VA, I visited it one last time in the fall of 1984. I remember the wind sweeping across the empty lot, catching a tangle of film that had come loose from a reel, Saturday Night Fever, damaged by the environment. I gently rolled it back into place and took it home. That damaged reel, was for years safely tucked away, and for a long time remained a small treasure from a long-lost era.
The 12 years I lived there next to it before moving to Pulaski, was an experience filled with the sights and sounds of summer nights, but one thing stood out in particular was the towering structure that loomed over the drive-in off to the right. As a boy, it was just there, this tall iron skeleton with no purpose that I could see. It had what looked like lights at it top but the bulbs had all blown out long before I ever lived beside it, so it never cast any light or did anything at all. I don't even remember seeing it ever do anything.
Maybe it did, but they didn't light up, I know that much. It was simply a mystery, a strange part of the landscape that we rowdy boys never paid much attention to because, for us, it didn’t do anything.
For as long as I can remember, it just stood there, I later read it was 95 ft. tall and towering over the drive-in lot like a monster in one of those old Godzilla movies I loved to watch then. We could see it from our yard, 200 yards away, just a silent figure that never lit up, never moved, never seemed to have a job to do. My friends and I would sometimes wonder what it was, but since we never saw it do anything, we eventually shrugged it off. To us, it was just part of the backdrop of our everyday lives, blending into the background along with the movie screen, the parked cars, and the distant voices carried on the wind. As kids we'd climb the tower, getting so far up before we got scared and would climb down. Then swing from its grounding cables, dangling around like a bunch of hoodlums at Lakeside Park or something. We were a crazy bunch of kids 40 plus years ago. Yet no-one can say we didn't have some fun.
I never actually knew the meaning of that tower and it wasn’t until I grew older and became more curious and decided to look into it. After some digging, I discovered that the tower was a relic from a time when things were very different. It turned out to be a Moonlight Tower, built in 1948, the same year the Pulaski Drive-In Theatre itself opened.
Back then, it was designed to flood the entire area with light, using its powerful bulbs to cast a soft glow over the drive-in like moonlight, allowing people to park, walk around, and enjoy the films in a well-lit space. Moonlight Towers have an interesting history. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, before modern streetlights became common, these towers were used to light entire neighborhoods. With their height and strong lighting capacity, just one could cover a large area. Many of these towers were once scattered across different cities, providing a kind of early, large scale street lighting. At the time of my research some places, like Austin, Texas still have a few of these towers in operation.
The one by the Pulaski Drive-In was no different, but by the time I came along prowling around as a kid in the early 1980s its bulbs had long since burned out, and its purpose had been forgotten. It became a mystery to me simply because it never functioned as it was intended, never casting light over the drive-in like it had in its prime.
That tower stayed with me through my childhood, and when I finally learned its history, it was like solving a piece of my past that had remained unanswered for so long. That old, quiet tower turned out to be a symbol of a different time, a time when something as simple as light had to come from towering structures that dominated the landscape. A structure that still left an impression on me, even when it no longer did its purpose. I have so many memories form my boyhood of that drive-in, good and bad. I heard and seen things that a young buck shouldn't have seen and definitely shouldn't have heard. But that was long ago.
I've added a picture of the drive-in as I saw it near daily.
Memories of a Bygone era. Enjoy!
Eugene Mathena
Writer of Past Events
Spanning 5.8 acres, the property offered scenic views of the countryside and housed everything needed for a successful operation, from the fully equipped concession stand to 312 4 inch encased speakers powered by a dual sound system. Vintage advertising materials from a J.G. Sheets & Sons auction, likely dating to about 1960, reflect the theater's heyday, with imagery of a Grace Kelly film and a 1959 Pontiac station wagon evoking a bygone era. For those who grew up near the Pulaski Drive-In, it was more than just a theater, it was a piece of my childhood. Living just 200 yards away, I spent countless evenings captivated by the glow of the carbon arc projectors and the chatter of moviegoers, the smell of popcorn and butter.
As a small child trapped at home, I often peeked out the windows to watch the screen, longing to explore the place that brought the silver screen to life. As I grew older, I did just that, marveling at the technology and vibrant atmosphere. But, there was something more than the Drive-in, there was another structure that caught my imagination and its story begins here.
Once located in the quiet hills of the outskirts of Dublin, Virginia, the Pulaski Drive-In once stood as a beacon of wonder and community, and for me, it was far more than just a local drive-in theatre, it was home. I grew up right beside that drive-in for 12 years, and the giant movie screen and concession stand were as much a part of my daily view as the blue mountains on the horizon.
From the time I was two until about twelve, the Pulaski Drive-In was the centerpiece of my childhood, and the stories tied to it remain etched in my memory.
Each spring, when the drive-in reopened with the warmer season, a fresh wave of excitement stirred in me. I’d rush over to help, watching the projectionist work the massive 35mm Simplex XL projectors, their beams flickering through the dusk like lanterns. I was a boy deeply fascinated by all things film and movies, and those projectors captivated me, heavy, humming machines that brought Hollywood to the hills of Pulaski County. That lot became my playground and, in many ways, my sanctuary.
The Pulaski Drive-In's final season was in the season of 1981. By then, attendance had dwindled as people were going to the cinemas at the malls or staying home and watching the weekend movies on tv and so, it never reopened for the 1982 season. Shortly after my family moved to the town of Pulaski VA, I visited it one last time in the fall of 1984. I remember the wind sweeping across the empty lot, catching a tangle of film that had come loose from a reel, Saturday Night Fever, damaged by the environment. I gently rolled it back into place and took it home. That damaged reel, was for years safely tucked away, and for a long time remained a small treasure from a long-lost era.
The 12 years I lived there next to it before moving to Pulaski, was an experience filled with the sights and sounds of summer nights, but one thing stood out in particular was the towering structure that loomed over the drive-in off to the right. As a boy, it was just there, this tall iron skeleton with no purpose that I could see. It had what looked like lights at it top but the bulbs had all blown out long before I ever lived beside it, so it never cast any light or did anything at all. I don't even remember seeing it ever do anything.
Maybe it did, but they didn't light up, I know that much. It was simply a mystery, a strange part of the landscape that we rowdy boys never paid much attention to because, for us, it didn’t do anything.
For as long as I can remember, it just stood there, I later read it was 95 ft. tall and towering over the drive-in lot like a monster in one of those old Godzilla movies I loved to watch then. We could see it from our yard, 200 yards away, just a silent figure that never lit up, never moved, never seemed to have a job to do. My friends and I would sometimes wonder what it was, but since we never saw it do anything, we eventually shrugged it off. To us, it was just part of the backdrop of our everyday lives, blending into the background along with the movie screen, the parked cars, and the distant voices carried on the wind. As kids we'd climb the tower, getting so far up before we got scared and would climb down. Then swing from its grounding cables, dangling around like a bunch of hoodlums at Lakeside Park or something. We were a crazy bunch of kids 40 plus years ago. Yet no-one can say we didn't have some fun.
I never actually knew the meaning of that tower and it wasn’t until I grew older and became more curious and decided to look into it. After some digging, I discovered that the tower was a relic from a time when things were very different. It turned out to be a Moonlight Tower, built in 1948, the same year the Pulaski Drive-In Theatre itself opened.
Back then, it was designed to flood the entire area with light, using its powerful bulbs to cast a soft glow over the drive-in like moonlight, allowing people to park, walk around, and enjoy the films in a well-lit space. Moonlight Towers have an interesting history. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, before modern streetlights became common, these towers were used to light entire neighborhoods. With their height and strong lighting capacity, just one could cover a large area. Many of these towers were once scattered across different cities, providing a kind of early, large scale street lighting. At the time of my research some places, like Austin, Texas still have a few of these towers in operation.
The one by the Pulaski Drive-In was no different, but by the time I came along prowling around as a kid in the early 1980s its bulbs had long since burned out, and its purpose had been forgotten. It became a mystery to me simply because it never functioned as it was intended, never casting light over the drive-in like it had in its prime.
That tower stayed with me through my childhood, and when I finally learned its history, it was like solving a piece of my past that had remained unanswered for so long. That old, quiet tower turned out to be a symbol of a different time, a time when something as simple as light had to come from towering structures that dominated the landscape. A structure that still left an impression on me, even when it no longer did its purpose. I have so many memories form my boyhood of that drive-in, good and bad. I heard and seen things that a young buck shouldn't have seen and definitely shouldn't have heard. But that was long ago.
I've added a picture of the drive-in as I saw it near daily.
Memories of a Bygone era. Enjoy!
Eugene Mathena
Writer of Past Events
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