Cruisin'

 I can remember going to the Special Edition version of American Graffiti. It came out five years after its original theatrical release, and it included an additional two minutes of footage left out of the 1973 release. I was there too, just eleven years old, soaking up all that early sixties nostalgia. The poster asked, "Where were you in '62?" My answer was that I spent most of that year in vitro. I cannot claim that I was ever a big fan of THX-1138, but George Lucas' memories of growing up in the valley of Northern California were the ones I lined up for more than once. That additional one hundred twenty seconds was a precedent that Mister Lucas would follow, along with his blockbuster buddy Steven Spielberg, for decades to come. 
"Special Extended Edition" was the only one you wanted to see, otherwise you weren't seeing the whole picture.

I saw the whole picture. It was, along with Young Frankenstein, one of the first movies that I internalized. I was aided in both cases by owning the soundtrack album to both of those films. Fronkensteen was a notch easier because it included dialogue from the film, but the wall-to-wall music in Graffiti and the interstitial bits with Wolfman Jack provided ample clues and cues. I was aided in this endeavor by having an older brother who was every bit as enamored of George Lucas' time machine as I was. Again, this was in a time when home video was not an option. I paid to see American Graffiti more than half a dozen times. I would like to believe that it was my contribution to the film's bottom line that pushed it high enough over the bar to get Mister Lucas his next job. That science fiction picture that so many people seem to like. 

This summer, American Graffiti turned fifty years old. I have memories of that long ago August, when I was making repeat trips to my local theater to watch all those soon-to-be stars cruise and fuss and cruise some more. Ron Howard has a couple of Oscars now. Richard Dreyfuss has won one for himself, and Harrison Ford was nominated but never won. Then again, Candy Clark was nominated for her role in Graffiti, but never made it back to that big show. And Suzanne Somers and Cindy Williams found their careers on the American Broadcasting Company soon after. 

But mostly, I think I will always remember the movie that was playing, this time on my mom's basement VCR, the night before I left Colorado to move to California. I spent the evening walking in and out of the room, quoting bits and pieces as I prepared myself for the big trip to adulthood. Just like Curt Henderson the night before he flew off to college, leaving his hometown behind. For a career as a writer, if we are to believe the end titles. It was a magical night. Fifty years later.