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Published: November 12, 2007
TAMPA - TAMPA - The vast asphalt lot and tall movie screens on East Hillsborough Avenue at 22nd Street — where the Fun-Lan Drive-In Theatre flashes its bright marquee at night to flirt with the traffic — have a definite retro feel.
Four outdoor screens rise from a 13-acre paved site that can accommodate hundreds of automobiles. The Fun-Lan opened for business here in 1950, and by now you would think this wide-open chunk of real estate would hold a Wal-Mart. But the Fun-Lan hasn't gone dark; it still shows movies every night, including Thanksgiving and Christmas.
The Fun-Lan is one of the few places where moviegoers can nestle in their automobile cocoons to watch first-run movies such as "American Gangster" with Denzel Washington. And as if that isn't weirdly delicious enough, the Fun-Lan mystique doesn't vanish at sunrise.
The outdoor movie palace turns into the Swap Shop on Thursday through Sunday mornings. An open-air mart, the Swap Shop attracts small independent vendors who set up displays of baby socks, cheap paper towels, knockoff Prada bags, pink-sequined auto mats. Who knows what the bargain hunter might find?
To take an armchair tour, read on. This field report of the flea-market-by-day-drive-in-by-night took place on a recent Thursday. It started at the Swap Shop, near the Fun-Lan's Screen 1, and ended at the same place around midnight.
The Swap Shop
9:20 a.m.: There are about 250 vendors at the Swap Shop today. It's a drive-in-and-sell kind of place. Sellers park in designated spaces and prop long folding tables in front of their vehicles. They might be flea-market entrepreneurs serious about business or retirees trying to pick up a few bucks by peddling their own old stuff.
Ed Jackson, 75, seller of sunglasses, batteries and a worn copy of "I'm OK, You're OK," presides at a table just past the entrance. He has been at this for 20 years — buying at auctions and selling at flea markets — since retiring from the Continental Can Co.
"We've got more vendors today than customers," he shouts. Gray clouds foreshadow rain, and the wind is kicking up; maybe that's why the buyers are sparse. Jackson has tortoise-shell reading glasses for $2 and 20-count packs of Coppertop batteries for $8. Anyone need a cell phone, circa 1994, the size and weight of a brick? It's in a pile of odds and ends.
9:35 a.m.: Dan Williams, a flea-market tool guy, is set up in the second row of sellers. Two tables forming an L-shape around his Chevy van are laden with wrenches, saws, screwdrivers, hammers and dozens of other tools.
Williams sells only American-made tools, which he buys mostly in New Jersey and transports to Florida. They are getting harder and harder to find, he says. OK, why American? Stupid question. "Have you ever used tools from China and Taiwan?" Williams asks. A customer who says he's from the Philippines stops by to purchase a T square. "Nobody can beat 'Made in America,'" the man beams.
9:54 a.m.: A vendor in the space next to Williams is propped on the edge of the passenger seat of his van, door open. The goods at his table include stainless-steel instruments arranged in baskets. Uhhh, what's this?: A basket of stainless, needlelike probes that dental hygienists use to scrape gums, going for a dollar each. No thanks.
10:30 a.m.: On Thursdays, the Swap Shop is part dollar store, part yard sale, part jumble of junk. Sellers are offering knockoff Prada bags, gigantic Barbie dolls the size of 3-year-olds, white platform sneakers and "Dances With Wolves" on videocassette.
One vendor is selling Aqua Fresh toothpaste, One Touch glucose monitors and Poise panty liners on the cheap, and another has a table piled with diabetic socks. Yet another is displaying a weird collection of items — OK, weirder — including framed Norman Rockwell prints propped next to naughty paperbacks with titles such as "The Hottest Librarian."
10:38 a.m.: A vendor's display of old Brownie cameras, nostalgic children's games and other treasures catches the eye of a woman in black. She picks up a boxed, collector's edition animated figurine of John Belushi, circa 1980. It's Bluto Blutarsky, the frat boy Belushi played in the movie "Animal House." How much? Five dollars. Sold.
10:54 a.m.: Cynthia Jones sees an old friend ambling toward her table of goods. She is displaying a small collection that includes a baby bassinette; pointy-topped Winnie the Pooh party hats; and a series of books about dogs, including "Know Your Fox Terrier." Her friend is retired and one of her customers. He says the Swap Shop is his hobby. It's close to home, and he likes to see what's selling.
The gregarious Jones loves the people she meets and greets at the Swap Shop. Yes, at times some have swiped her merchandise — little items she would have sold to them for $3 — but it doesn't shake her. "The Lord's got my back," she proclaims. "I'm too blessed to be stressed."
11:19 a.m.: The Swap Shop produce vendors are under the aluminum roof by the concession stand, selling giant avocados, yucca, salted pollock filets, big stalks of ginger root, lemons, eggplants, Key limes, tomatillos. How much for this bag of sweet onions? One dollar. You're kidding!
11:37 a.m.: Suddenly, a few droplets of rain become a downpour. Customers scurry to cars; the vendors pack up. Good-bye to the Swap Shop.
The Drive-In
7:30 p.m.: You can't miss Fun-Lan at night. Its flashy neon marquee can be seen across four lanes. "Open EVERY Night. 4 Screens." A ticket booth is glowing in colored lights, where the attendant sells admission tickets. Vendors sold Mickey Mouse dolls here this morning. Now the lot looks deserted; the bustle replaced by shadows and gloom.
7:50 p.m.: Fun-Lan theater manager Ruth McPhee, 56, is stationed in a squat concrete building near the western edge of the parking lot. Projectors dating to 1969 are pointed at three Fun-Lan screens. She loves her job. Good people come to the drive-in, she says. They can watch movies from their automobiles or bring lawn chairs to sit on. They can smoke cigarettes and tote in coolers. "Of course, we don't encourage alcohol," McPhee says. Her walkie-talkie squawks. It's Kimberly in the concession stand. She needs hotdog buns.
8:02 p.m.: Only three or maybe, four, cars are parked in front of the Fun-Lan screens, and it's showtime. This is a very slow night, says McPhee, who expects Fun-Lan to be packed that Saturday, when "Bee Movie" and "American Gangster" will be playing. Tonight, it's "Saw IV" on one big screen and "Why Did I Get Married?" on another big screen. "Gone Baby Gone" and "We Own the Night" are on the theater's two smaller screens.
8:20 p.m.: Movie lovers can get a Fun-Lan history lesson along with popcorn at the concession stand, where a flier from the theater's grand opening is displayed. Its retro typeface is kind of cute, and the flyer features a picture of Shirley Temple along with oodles of facts: Tuesday, January 10, 1950. First show 6:45 p.m. "The Story of Seabiscuit." Seats for Walk-In Patrons. Dinners Served To Your Car. Admission 50¢ Tax Incl.
8:35 p.m.: Chad Ramsey and his girlfriend, Linda Khaoorn, have snagged a favorite parking spot near the projector building. They are here to see "Saw IV" for the third time. Khaoorn, who is studying for her master's degree at Troy University in Tampa, admits to being a gore freak. "Saw IV" is a nonstop hack fest that begins with a grisly autopsy. Cool!
Ramsey and Khaoorn like to scream and pound on the dashboard during scary movies and come to the Fun-Lan at least two or three times a week. They're here so often, in fact, that the buttons on the radio in Khaoorn's four-door Acura are programmed to the Fun-Lan frequencies. The drive-in has its own radio system: Tune in to FM 89.3 to hear the movie on Screen 1.
"I love this place!" says Khaoorn, who adores Fun-Lan because she doesn't have to dress up. The prices are good, too. Less than $20 buys movie tickets, popcorn and drinks for two. They expect to be back on the weekend for "American Gangster."
9:30 p.m.: Screen 1 — a big screen at Fun-Lan — is closest to 22nd Street. Could any word other than tragic describe the recent fate of this kitschy landmark? Until recently it backed up to warehouses, but a sprawling new apartment complex now hovers behind it like the Teton Range. Bright apartment lights are everywhere you look when trying to watch the movie, and there's no dimmer switch.
10:05 p.m.: "Why Did I Get Married?" is over. One of the two cars that was parked in front of Screen 1 is gone. But the night is young, and Fun-Lan serves up second helpings. "The Comebacks" will begin in 10 minutes, with an audience of one.
11:58 p.m.: Just before midnight, and it's nearly a wrap at Fun-Lan. The closing credits of "The Comebacks" are on the screen. A car motor turns over. Whoever was watching the movie is ready to leave. Red tail lights head toward the exit on Hillsborough, turn and disappear.
Fun-Lan Drive-In Theatre
2302 E. Hillsborough Ave., Tampa
Open: seven nights a week
Tickets: $6 per person; $2 for ages 4-9; children 3 and younger admitted free
Movie line: (813) 234-2311
When Carl Floyd opened the Fun-Lan in 1950, the American love affair with drive-ins was riding a passion wave. Floyd owned a chain of movie theaters throughout Central Florida. He built a single outdoor screen at the Fun-Lan and a parking lot with 700 speakers to put in car windows.
In the early days, families could let the kids run loose at Fun-Lan. There was a playground, a clown who performed magic tricks, and a kiddie train ride over a 400-foot-long track with a 40-foot tunnel of concrete and chicken wire.
Fun-Lan was one of nearly a half-dozen drive-ins in Tampa. The others closed — like hundreds of drive-ins across the country — and Fun-Lan almost did, too. It was going to be shut down in 1996 before a new owner bought it.
The outdoor theater is now owned by South Florida swap shop mogul Preston Henn.
The Fun-Lan shows newly released movies, which Ron Simms credits as one reason for its popularity today. It added a fourth outdoor screen last year.
In its 58-year history, there must be thousands of stories that originated at the Fun-Lan, but these were notable enough to have appeared in print:
The movie "Woodstock" was playing when a fight broke out in the back seat of a car and a young woman was shot by a companion. She apparently survived. Police said the crime was probably motivated by thwarted love.
The theater was the site of a civil rights demonstration in 1964. The Fun-Lan was segregated and excluded blacks. Twenty-eight black men and women who belonged to Young Adults for Progressive Action attempted to enter the theater in their cars and were told to leave. They stayed and were arrested for trespassing.
The Fun-Lan Swap Shop
2302 E. Hillsborough Ave., Tampa
(813) 237-0886
Opens: Thursday through Sunday, starting at 6 a.m.
Closes: The official closing time is noon Thursday and Friday and 1 p.m. Saturday and Sunday, but many vendors stay past closing time.
Reporter Susan Hemmingway can be reached at (813) 259-7951 or shemmingway@tampatrib.com.
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