America’s First Drive-In Theater: A 1933 Classic

On a summer evening in 1933, something revolutionary flickered to life just outside Camden, New Jersey. The first-ever drive-in theater opened its gates, offering a new way to experience cinema—right from the comfort of your car. The inaugural screening featured the 1932 British comedy Wives Beware, and entry cost just 25 cents per car, plus another quarter for each person. That may sound like a bargain today, but at the time, it was a bold experiment in entertainment.

Interestingly, Wives Beware wasn’t chosen because it was a smash hit or a crowd favorite—it was simply available and affordable. The film had already completed its run in traditional cinemas and, as a lower-cost import, it fit the bill for a venue that had yet to earn the trust (or licensing rights) of major Hollywood studios. The movie, a cheeky comedy about a man who fakes amnesia to get a break from his overbearing wife, may not have been groundbreaking, but it offered lighthearted entertainment suitable for Hollingshead’s big idea.

That idea came from Richard Hollingshead, a man with both a passion for automobiles and a deep appreciation for his mother. She found traditional movie theater seats uncomfortable, so Hollingshead took to his driveway with a bed sheet, a borrowed projector, and some good old-fashioned problem-solving. He tinkered with spacing and elevation, and even tested sound systems using car radios. Eventually, he filed a patent for his "park-in theater" concept and launched a whole new chapter in American movie-going.

The motion picture industry didn’t exactly throw confetti at the idea. Studios initially looked down on drive-ins, concerned that the sound and visuals wouldn’t measure up to indoor theaters. First-run films were often withheld, as Hollywood saw drive-ins as second-rate venues. But the American public disagreed. By the 1950s, drive-ins were booming, becoming social hotspots and romantic getaways wrapped in chrome and popcorn.

When I was a young child, there were well over a dozen drive-in theaters within an hour of where I lived. The ones I remember most vividly were the 7 & 27 Theatre and the 400 Theatre, both nestled in the Woodbridge, Ontario area. It wasn’t just a place to go watch a couple films. It was a complete sensory experience. There was the thrill of hooking up to the crackly metal speakers (eventually replaced by the smoother sound of the car’s radio), and the joy of running up and down through fields of cars trying to avoid tripping over speaker wires. I remember playing on playgrounds surrounded by a bunch of other sugar-hyped kids while the sun set in the background. Then came the concession building—truly a treasure trove. The hypnotic sounds of Space Invaders, Pac-Man, and pinball machines echoed through the space, all deliciously perfumed by the buttery aroma of popcorn. For many of us, drive-ins weren’t just a place to see a movie—they were a summer night adventure.

Fast forward to today, and drive-in theaters have become rare, charming relics. In the U.S., just over 300 remain, and Canada counts fewer than 40. Amazingly, there are still two drive-ins within 30 minutes of where I live, and I still delight in the opportunity to go when possible. There's something undeniably magical about watching a movie under the open sky, wrapped in a blanket of nostalgia.

So next time you pull into a drive-in or pass one by, give a silent thank-you to Richard Hollingshead. Without his quirky backyard experiment—and a little British comedy called Wives Beware—movie night might still mean stiff chairs, sticky floors, and nowhere to put your feet up.