Newsletter Fall, 1977



PUBLISHED BY:  Toronto Film Society
EDITOR:  R.R. Anger
MIMEOGRAPHING:  Donald Swoger/Peter Poles


1977 CENSOR’S REPORT by D.L. Sim……………………………………………Pp. 2-3
FRANCES BUSSELL MORISS 1927-1977 by Doug Wilson……………………..Pp. 3-4
LET’S SEE THEM AGAIN by John N. Ryan………………………………………..Pp. 4-6
MEMORIES OF GEORGE PATTERSON by Doug Wilson……………………….Pp. 6-8
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR by David W. Cumming, David B. Frost……………Pp. 8-10
CORRECT YOUR BROCHURES by The Editor…………………………………..P. 10
PROGRAMME CHANGE by The Editor……………………………………………P. 10


COVER PICTURE:  Curly S. Posen, long-time patron of TFS (left) and Edgar F. Jull.  We hope to run an article on Mr. Posen in the next Newsletter.  Mr. Jull has been a member of TFS for all but the first of its 30 seasons.  Elected as a Director of the Society for the past 15 years, he has been our President from 1970-77.  Previously, he had been elected to all of the major offices of the Society:  Treasurer (1956-61), Secretary (1968-69), Vice-President (1961-62) and 2nd V.P. (1969-70).  In addition, Ed has been the Director of the Silent Series from 1968-77 and has held a number of other positions as a Special Officer of TFS, perhaps the most important of which have been his meticulous attention to the presentation of films at our exhibition meetings and his distribution of the films owned and distributed by the Society, functions which, happily, he still carries out as one of our most active Directors in this 30th Season.  The photograph was taken by TFS Director Gail Beal at the occasion of a party given last year to honour Curly Posen for his many years of invaluable help.


With the kind permission of D.L. Sims, Director of the Theatres Branch of the Ontario Ministry of Consumer and Commercial Relations, we are reprinting a condensed version of his report to his Minister dated April 28, 1977.  The portions which are condensed are those dealing with statistical lists, his personal comments being included in full.

The Report covers the period of the fiscal year ending March 31, 1977.  It records the surprising number of 39 licensed 35 mm. film exchanges, providing a reminder that there is now a substantial foreign-language theatre market and specialist exchanges to serve it.  Fairly recent amendments to the law require licensing of 16mm. and 8 mm. film exchanges and there were 31 of the former and 5 of the latter.  The list of theatre licenses discloses the surprisingly small number of 289 indoor and 95 rive-ins for the Province, while the smut market probably accounts for most of the 505 8 mm. projector licenses.  There were 51 16mm. licenses.  The Branch examined 822 35mm. features, 30 less than last year, which were classified 137 General, 315 Adult, 356 Restricted, 3 not approved and 11 pending.  Eliminations from pictures approved increased to 175.  As expected most features came from the U.S., but the Editor bets you would never guess what country came second–Hong Kong with 185, more than those from Britain, Greece, Germany and France combined.  Italy was third with 74.  There were 20 from Canada as against 30 from India.  16mm. films, on the other hand, were on the increase, 74 more than the preceding year at 374, classified as 167 General, 152 Adult and 55 Restricted.  Eliminations were ordered in 15.  The U.S. again led the field with 174 and again the second place is a surprising one–India at 132, far more than those from all other countries in the world put together!  Britain was third at 22.  There were 5 from Canada.  Like the 35 mm. statistics, these reflect the large number of specialized foreign-language houses, particularly in Toronto.  Less than half the number of 8 mm. films were submitted than in the previous year, 101 of which 90 were from the States and 11 from this country and of which 16 were not approved.  Similarly only half the number of videotapes were submitted, 11, mostly from the U.S.  These decreases probably reflect the crack-downs on the porno houses as the Report points out that most of the 8mm. and tape products are shown in magazine stores, body rub and nude encounter houses in Toronto, Ottawa and Waterloo.  Several projectors and reels of 8 mm. film were seized and a court case was successfully prosecuted.  Lest anyone think that Canada is being polluted by imported smut, however, the Report tells us that of the 20 Canadian 35 mm. features submitted, only one was passed as General Exhibition.  As to the theatres themselves, most indoor and drive-in theatres remain singles, but twin or multiple theatres are on the increase.  Toronto gained 2 new theatres, a single and a double, and lost two large ones to Bingo.  The first drive-in ever built in Ontario, in Stoney Creek in 1946, closed.  The Theatres Branch also approves advertising, which showed a marked decline, reflecting the fact that newspaper advertising is rapidly pricing itself out of the market.  The remainder of the Report, quoted in full, was as follows:

Turing to classification of film there are indications that the viewing public here and in other jurisdictions are reacting to the current movie fare.  The situation has become so intolerable that the National Association of Theatre Owners in the United States, responding to excessive violence and gratuitous sexual scenes, is mounting a two pronged attack on the problem.  First they are informing filmmakers that sex, violence and profanity are not insurance policies that will guarantee the success of a film.  Second, NATO is insisting on stricter interpretations in the code and rating process.

Here in Ontario admissions on the whole were down last year, and while some exhibitors increased prices to offset increased operating costs–the fact remains that poor attendance is directly related to poor product.  The President of the Motion Picture Theatres Association of Ontario, Curly S. Posen, said he is concerned about the lack of good commercial film and that the extreme violence in film today is unnecessary.

The Ontario Board has been under considerable pressure to ease our ratings of film.  On the contrary the Board has refused to accept many American ratings, in fact we have imposed warnings on eighteen foreign and Canadian productions.  Our Board has continued to be responsive to the changing mores of society, particularly as their decision related to sex, violence and profanity.

Clearly the explosion of pornography and violence in recent years has become a problem.  The comments of two concerned writers sum it up.  William V. Shannon writing in the New York Times, said “any recognition of the importance of privacy or of the need for self discipline has almost vanished”.  He continues, “Can democracy survive i common moral values are leached away by a popular culture that endorses violence and self indulgence?”.  And Editor Norman Cousins of the Saturday Review describes the American peoples “grim adjustment to things we have no business adjusting to”.  He sees no greater basic national problem than a desensitization to what gives value to life:  “Books, motion pictures, the theatre and the arts in general are caught up in an absurd but dangerous race to press to its outermost limits the capacity of the human mind to resist shock and revulsion.  The trouble with the kind of wide-open pornography that is rampant today is not that it removes the blinders but that it distorts the view.  Prowess is proclaimed but loving is denied.  What we have is not liberalism but dehumanization.”

Clyde Gilmour, the respected movie critic of the Toronto Star, has complained of the “callous cynicism” “anti-human pessimism” of the bulk of screen entertainment in the 1970s.  Unfortunately, he says, there seems to be a demand for this.  “There is always a market for absolutely rotten junk.  Bad taste is a thriving global industry.”

May I be permitted to thank you on behalf of the Theatres Branch staff for your appreciation of our complex problems and the continued support and co-operation by you and your colleagues.

Respectfully submitted

D.L. Sims,

1927 – 1977
by Doug. Wilson

For some one and a half decades, Frances Margaret Bussell Morris was the New York representative of Toronto Film Society, while also building a reputation as a cinema researcher with Walter Reade-Sterling and Janus Films.  (A tribute by the N.Y. film historian William K. Everson will appear in a subsequent issue.)

As the TFS representative, she was our contact with a number of Manhattan’s film distributors and cinema archives, and it was through her efficient co-ordination that a considerable number of the rare films shown in the Main, Silent and Film Buff Series, as well as at TFS Seminars, were received on time for scheduled showing.

Her final service to TFS was to arrange for the shipment of two films to be shown in the current Summer Series, and would have been conducted only two or three days before her death.  On rare occasions, we were also able to tap Fran’s knowledge of Japanese films (she prepared the Janus catalogue for that genre) and she wrote the TFS programme notes for A Page of Madness, directed by Teinosuke Kinugasa.

This knowledge and intelligence was accompanied by charm, vivacity and joie to vivre, and those TFS people dealing with her looked forward to arranging U.S. bookings so they could once again enjoy the sound of her voice.  So it was with a sense of horror that on July 13 I heard the voice of a N.Y. policeman calling from her apartment stating she had been found dead (apparently of natural causes) asking if she had any immediate family.  (The answer was in the negative.)

In addition to the usual medico-legalities following such an unexpected death, further complications arose from the subsequent N.Y. blackout, which took police officers away from administrative duties in favour of patrol work.  However, a quadrumvirate consisting of Gerald Morris plus three of her friends from the early fifties still affiliated with TFS was able to overcome these and arrange a Toronto service following her indicated wishes.

As was the case with so many TFS people, Fran fell under the spell of Dorothy and Oscar Burritt, to the point where she did not complete her U. of T. courses in Anthropology, where she was an honour student.  Taking a job as “girl Friday” at Northern Films, she lived at the Burritt apartment from the very early fifties right up to the time of her marriage.

Oscar in particular regarded her as the daughter he never had, and in his later years, recounted her accomplishments in the New York film world with true parental pride.  Thus, it is entirely fitting to employ the phrase used in his tribute to George Patterson, and employed in turn on the occasion of his own death barely a year later.

I miss her very much.

John N. Ryan

Past issues of the Toronto Film Society News-Letter have for me on numerous occasions revived long-dormant memories of the early days of film history.  One article described the difference among the various types of European and American projectors that existed fifty or so years ago, and the standardization of projection equipment by an organization known as “The Alliance of Film Producers.”  My first experience with movie projectors was back in the twenties, in a small neighbourhood theatre in Liverpool, on a pair of terribly old, decrepit Alliance projectors.  Maybe I should begin at the beginning.

When I was a teenager, back there in England, my main ambition was to become a movie operator.  One reason for this was that I was frequently in the company of theatre people, as our house was just around the corner from a movie theatre, and they used to let us in free provided that we put in our front window a poster advertising a list of future  attractions.  The operators who worked in the theatre used to take me up into the “box”, and I was fascinated by the marvellous array of electrical apparatus–switchgear, resistors, coils, arc-lamps etc.

There were no covers on this equipment those days and if you wanted to avoid disaster you had to learn to keep your fingers away from the hot wires, wide-open doublepole switches and copper-studded generator starters that were all around the walls.  There were two Alliance projectors; the light for the film was produced by an electric arc between two vertical carbon electrodes.  The film was made of celluloid and was highly inflammable, so that it had to be moving at operating speed before being exposed to the extreme heat of the light ray, which was magnified by a set of condenser lenses.

The machine was always started with a hand crank and when it reached the required speed a gate would open, exposing the moving film to the light.  Then the motor could be switched on, and the reel of film, one thousand feet in length, would pass through the machine and wind itself on the bottom spool.  Passing over a gear known as “the intermittent sprocket” each frame of the film would be stopped for a fraction of a second in front of the light, so that its image would appear momentarily on the large white screen at the other end of the auditorium.  This illusion of motion had been achieved with such accuracy that movie-going, or “the pictures” as we used to call it, had become the peoples’ favourite indoor sport and no one dreamed of asking for improvements such as sound or colour.

The practice was in those days to have two performances a day, known as “first house” and “last house.”  A line-up would form well before opening time, then when the crowd went in the doors would be closed and another line-up would form outside for the later show.  No one ever questioned this procedure and it went on for years until someone introduced the continuous performance.

There was always an orchestra, at least a trio or quartette, and every film was accompanied by a list of appropriate musical selections, usually from the classics.  In this way the patrons became familiar with the works of Chopin and other classical composers.  Seat prices varied; the front seats, being the cheapest, were quite hard and covered with plain black leather.  The back seats were three times the price but were very elegant, being quite springy and covered with red plush and velvet–these were occupied, of course, by the more affluent patrons.

Inevitably there came a trend toward some type of background sound to make the movies more realistic.  I can claim to be a pioneer of sorts in this regard, at least in that district.  I was given a part-time job as sound-effects man.  I would be stationed in a dark corner of the stage, near the screen; I had a suspended panel of sheet steel which I would pummel vigorously to produce thunder for storm scenes–a wind machine for cyclones, and a flash-and-smoke device to simulate bomb for war pictures.  The smoke gave the screen a very dingy appearance, but as the operators could not find the time to whitewash it this monumental task was assigned to me.  This led to a job in the operators’ box, with the title of third assistant and re-wind boy.

Every reel that ran through the machine had to be re-wound on another spool, and checked for any damage resulting from its run.  A torn sprocket-hole might cause the film to jam in the machine, and it would catch fire immediately under the hot light from the magnified beam, so the operator had to watch the moving film constantly and be ready to shut off the light in case of trouble.  Part of my job was to pick up the films from the distributor–films from studios we don’t hear much about these days–Fox Films, Gaumont, Pathe, Vitagraph, Famous Lasky and the more familiar Warners and Universal.

Our theatre was a second-run place and the film wasn’t always in good condition.  My job was to run over each reel, checking and clipping broken sprocket-holes and making necessary joins in the film.  We used a type of glue called “film cement” made of a chemical called “pyroxylin” which had a very agreeable smell, something like pear juice.  We would overlap the film a quarter-inch or so, and it was amazing how it would always stick tight in a few seconds.

The programme was a varied one, starting with a newsreel.  Then there was a cartoon–it was always called The Adventures of Felix the Cat, a comical feline who was blown up by bombs or tossed out of planes at regular intervals, but who always managed to survive.  Felix was imperturbable and indestructible and for years was a howling success, at least with the patrons of our threatre.

Sometimes there would be a travelogue, full of fascinating facts about distant places like Pnom-Penh, Quintana Roo, or the Gobi Desert, then maybe a two-reel comedy.  Ben Turpin, Chester Conklin, Louise Fazenda and Polly Moran were great favourites, and in passing I might observe that in those days it was a common practice in our area to give Harold Lloyd the nickname of “Winkle” although I have never heard this mentioned since.  Also, years before I saw my first Fatty Arbuckle comedy I seem to remember a comical fat man called “Bunny.”  At this distance it is not always possible to arrange these stars in chronological order.

The comedy would be followed by a serial.  I remember one called the “Lion Man”, about a secret agent of the plains who wore a lion’s-head mask and always rode up in time to rescue the girl from the outlaws.  Then there was the serial called The Moonriders, about a gang of bandits who rustled cattle by moonlight.  Art Acord and Mildred Moore were in this.  The serials were what brought the customers in–they couldn’t bear to miss a single chapter.  There was The Exploits of Elaine, in sixteen thrilling episodes, also The Adventures of Ruth with Ruth Roland.  I still remember how exciting it was to see Ruth being chased along the top of a moving train.  We all knew, of course, that eventually justice would prevail.

All this was preliminary to the main feature, six reels or so of pure drama.  Everyone loved William S. Hart, Jack Holt and Buck Jones.  We shuddered at Lon Chaney, and for a change laughed ecstatically at the one and only Charlie.  Many of the film epics were based on well-known novels by such authors as Sax Rohmer, H. Rider Haggard, and Zane Grey.  These and many others are reappearing in the book stores, and provide a welcome relief from the supersophisticated literature of the present day.

Good writing, good photography and good direction have made these films everlasting monuments to the talents of those who took part in their production, and provide pleasant memories for people like this writer, who so long ago played a very minor role in a very small facet of the movie business.

by Doug. Wilson

The delightful letter that is reproduced (in part) below was received after I had mailed to the writer a copy of Oscar Burritt’s tribute following the death of George Patterson on November 30, 1973.  With San Francisco being far removed from Toronto, she had quite naturally not received any report of his death, and accordingly mailed him a Christmas card, which George’s landlord forwarded to me.

Blessedly, she had provided a return address, enabling me to forward Oscar’s memorial by return mail.  This was in distinct contrast to an evidentally close friend in New Zealand, who provided extensive coverage of his film-viewing in Spain, and simply signed it “Jim”.  Tracking him down involved writing the N.Z. High Commissioner in Ottawa for the address of the New Zealand Federation of Film Societies and writing them; they suggested writing one individual, who didn’t recognize Jim, but put me on to someone who did; the latter proved Jim’s address and he eventually wrote me a letter of thanks also.  However, while extremely interesting, the fact that it covers events in George’s life as an adult, results in it lacking the charm of this beautifully written memoir of George’s childhood days in Winnipeg.

For the benefit of newer members of TFS, George Gedded Patterson was one of the Society’s founders and he served as a Director from 1948 until the date of his death.  He was generally regarded as Canada’s most enthusiastic movie-goer and it has been estimated that over the course of his lifetime, he might have seen up to ten thousand films.

What is more, he had almost total recall of practically every film he’d ever seen and the ability to summarize his impressions in a pithy sentence.  An active member of the TFS Programme Committee right up to the time of his death, George also inaugurated the Society’s Silent Series, and ran this for many years.  However, he was best known to members at large through his CURRENT FILM NOTES.  These terse balanced expressions of opinion on the dozen or so significant films currently playing at commercial houses in Toronto appeared on the inside back cover of practically every issue of TFS programme notes for possibly two decades.  The writing was fully professional, and being a financial writer on a Toronto newspaper, I endeavoured to persuade him to apply for the movie critic’s position when a vacancy was coming up.

This, however, he declined to do.  Possibly it was simply that he enjoyed his amateur status and did not like the idea of having to write to a daily deadline, or it may be that he recognized he was not psychologically attuned to the tensions of such a career.  In any event, his position as clerk in charge of stationery supplies at an Ontario government facility financed his modest needs and extensive movie-going, and with less than a year to go before he would retired on his pension, he was looking forward to even more time for film viewing.  Unfortunately, he didn’t get it.

Dear Mr. Wilson:

I do thank you very much for your long letter and the enclosures.  George was so looking forward to his retirement, and I feel badly that he was not able to enjoy the leisure to pursue his film interests more fully, although I know that he was immersed in them his whole life long.

We were children of eight and ten when I first knew him.  His father was alive then, and for many years his family gave delightful children’s parties, and also we all spent summers at Winnipeg Beach at the same resort, and I still have pictures of us playing on the beach and it makes me laugh to remember how mad about the roller coaster he was, and how he spent his pocket money taking me on it!  And the movies he took me to on Saturdays!  It so happened that I was a popular and lively little girl and had many “beaux” but George I always thought of, even in youth, as Good Old George, the solid, steady, dependable one.

When I lived in Detroit many years later, I occasionally used to see him but after I came to San Francisco in the forties we never saw each other gain, but wrote, sometimes frequently, sometimes just the usual Christmas letter and card.  In America, you simply don’t know anybody for fifty-four years, and at that, he is the only person with whom I kept in touch, after I left Winnipeg.

……..Your mention of the half-brothers and sister rings the faintest of bells, but I am afraid that I cannot be helpful at all.  They were his father’s children, I am quite sure, by a former wife….he was to me exceedingly old when I was a child and I think they had been married very late in life and George was born after his mother was forty.  Since he was brought up, as was I, as an only child, I just accepted our status without question.

His mother seemed very remote to me because of her age, and she seemed very much the Grande Dame I was a bit shy of her until one time when we were about high school age, and she had been widowed and was working, and we had begun to think of ourselves as very sophisticated and grown-up, and there was a large party in their flat.  Everyone had been smoking on the sly for some time but didn’t dare to in front of parents.  But Mrs. Patterson appeared after an hour or so, looking rather arch and amused, holding a lit cigarette in her fingers, trailing smoke across the room.  Whereupon all the boys suddenly produced packets, we all lit up and the party became animated and a roaring success.  George’s father was a judge and I was a bit scared of him, too–I think I rather imagined he sat in white robes and wore wings.

So, while it is nostalgic and sad to remember my entire childhood friendship with George, since we both had such small families, it was an isolated one and for me, too, almost all have long since gone………

It was most kind of you to write me……I lost my husband last spring after a long siege with lung cancer, and somehow friends have been dying all this past year at a shocking rate.  But none of them spanned a lifetime as did George’s and my friendship.  Reading over Mr. Burritt’s memorial tribute filled many gaps in my knowledge of George’s life after we were grown; and this afternoon, reading it again, and looking over faded brown old photographs has made me laugh and cry.  I am finishing off this paragraph along with a rather stiff Scotch and soda raised to his memory and your kindness.  He was really a very nice man.

Elsa Ruckert


March 27, 1977
Dear Mr. Anger:

This is mainly in answer to certain questions put in the Fall Newsletter, along with other thoughts collected over the three or four years I’ve been a member.

For starters, I am all in favor of the double bill.  One feeling I have had many times, however, is on the placing of the films (what is shown first, what second).  I am referring particularly here to the Film Buff and Summer Series.  I have found, quite simply, that I like to see the melodrama/message/war/depressing film first, and the comedy/musical/happy ending film last.  And for all the obvious psychological reasons.  I like to go home feeling happy.  Sometimes it works out that way and sometimes it doesn’t.  I was wondering if anyone on the program committee had ever thought of scheduling the “lighter” series in just this way.

I am in favor of keeping the Film Buffs at OISE.

I would very much like to see some Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers films and/or Gene Kelly.  None have been shown since I began attending.

I would like to remind everyone, though it shouldn’t be needed, that the rows of seats at OISE re connected together.  If you fidget at one end I feel it at the other.  Worse, if you put your feet up on my row my entire evening can easily be ruined.  It seems to me that the same people are guilty of these crimes week after week and I wish they’d either stop or go to a first-run theatre.

I would like to thank you very much for starting the films on time.  It’s funny how most people seem to get there on time when they know they have to.

I am in favor of keeping the intermission, though ten minutes is enough at OISE.  At St. Lawrence, perhaps it could be fifteen.

I think you all deserve a vote of thanks for your efforts on programming.  I realized it is almost impossible to keep people happy on that score.  Not as a criticism, but just to let you know, I for one would be all in favor of more of the “classic” and better known Hollywood films for the Buff and Summer Series.  I don’t have a television so perhaps my “wants” in that direction would not be shared by most of the audience.

Thank you again for the good job you’re doing.

David W. Cumming

June 1, 1977
Dear Mr. Anger:

The last showing of the Film Buffs took place last Monday.  I was unaware that This Land is Mine had already been shown, so in addition to the delightful Stars in My Crown there was a surprise treat:  Joan Crawford and the ever suave Melvyn Douglas in They All Kissed the Bride.

I want to say what a tremendous bargain this series has been:  twenty thoroughly entertaining features.


When I scan the entertainment section of the paper searching for a good film and see the timings:  feature at: 12.00, 1.30, 3.00 etc. I never attend.  I for one am not paying three dollars and seventy five cents for a film programme under two hours.  Why does no one ever protest about this?  That makes the TFS Film Buff series look better each season.

I missed the seminar this spring and cannot stay for the summer series.  But I am green with envy for those lucky enough to attend.  The TFS performs a most valuable cultural service, bringing to an appreciative audience these wonderful works from the past.  I can only agree 100% with the words of Mr. John D. Thompson in the Spring newsletter.  “I’ll take the films of the ’30’s, ’40’s and early ’50’s for their style and superb professionalism and romanticism.”  May the TFS flourish for many years to come!

Yours sincerely,
David B. Frost

P.S.  I loved Mr. Thompson’s Test your Memory Quiz.  By a coincidence, I was preparing another of my own and five of my questions are the same!  Incidentally, Mr. Thompson used one of my previous ones (Who is Ruby Stevens?)  So I’ll have to look up some more questions and send you a Film Buffs’ Quiz for the Autumn newsletter.


IMPORTANT!  Regrettably, an error has occurred in our 1977-78 Brochure.  The Main Series programme date of January 20, 1978, is incorrect and should read January 30, 1978.  While we will naturally provide a reminder in the Programme Notes preceding this meeting, in case a mail strike should make this impossible, or should you be among those readers who prefer to read their Programme Notes after the performance, we strongly recommend that you avoid all chance of inconvenience by digging out your brochure now and making this change.

The Editor


With great regret Bill Everson has informed us that it will be impossible for him to attend our meeting of Nov. 14, 1977, to present his programme of wartime propaganda films.  Mr. Everson has expressed his sincere apologies to the Society and indicates his keen desire to present this programme on another date.  We are currently in the process of arranging this and it will involve the re-arranging of at least two programmes in the Main Series.  There will be no change in the date of any meeting.  We will be providing you with information as to this re-scheduling in the Programme Notes, but should you be among those readers who prefer not to read your notes until after the performance, please do–at least to the extent of being alerted to any programme changes which may be announced.

The Editor


The Mississauga Library System has an extensive programme of movie screenings.  The price is right–nothing!

At Burnhamthorpe District Library, 1350 Burnhamthorpe Rd., E., (South West corner of Burnhamthorpe and Dixie Rds., with parking off Dixie, on bus routes 5 & 6):

Wed., Sept. 28/77, 7.30 P.M.–The Other Half of the Sky: A china Memoir–Dir. by ClaudiaWeill & Shirley MacLaine, a 1973 documentary produced by Miss MacLaine.

Wed., Oct. 5/77, 7.00 P.M.–The Private Life of Henry VIII (GB, 1933) starring Charles Laughton, Robert Donat, Merle Oberon

Wed., Nov. 9/77, 7.00 P.M.–His Girl Friday (US, 1940)–Dir. by Howard Hawks, starring Cary Grant, RosalindRussell.

Wed., Dec. 7/77, 7.00 P.M.–I’m All Right, Jack–Ian Carmichael, Terry-Thomas, Peter Sellers & Richard Attenborough send up English labour & management.

At Malton District Library, 3540 Morninstar Dr. (East of Goreway Dr., on bus route 16):

Thurs., Sept. 22/77, 7.00 P.M.–sports films including Sky Surfers, Magic Rolling Board, Sky Capers, Bad, Bad Leroy Brown

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