The place is abuzz with over a hundred people, seated on the Grange's sturdy wooden chairs on both sides of a central aisle. The crowd is excited, for the show is about to start. Up front, just below the stage, a woman pianist thumps out a brisk overture; it's ripe with bass chords and rocketing glissandos.

From your seat, you crane your neck around to see what's going on in the back of the hall. Mr. B. Albert Cook is back there; "Professor Cook," as he's called on dozens of handbills and posters around the area. The Professor is fussing over "the Most Perfect and Costly Machine Ever Constructed" for "A Most Wonderful Representation of Life Motion Pictures, remarkable for its beauty in point of Photography and Truthfulness in its Reproduction."

The handbills are absolute in their claim: "Nothing so realistic has ever been witnessed." So get ready, friend. You are about to be awed by an evening's entertainment courtesy of "The Cook & Harris High Class Moving Picture Company."

Now Professor Cook straightens, pulls a switch and charges his machine; with a sharp crack! a blindingly bright carbon arc joins two electrodes. A white shaft of light travels the aisle and blooms on the screen. The crowd gasps; Fannie the pianist goes into overdrive; and Professor Cook, himself now surrounded by eerie light like a stage magician, shifts his clattering machine into gear. The show has begun.

And what a show! First, "The Lost Child," "An exceedingly humorous chase picture, exciting and laughable throughout." Then "Drama in the Air," spectacle and near tragedy: "This picture shows us the ascending of a balloon, and after drifting through the clouds we see the panorama of Paris, the harbor crowded with men of war, and the coast.

"The balloon now enters in stormy regions, and after a heavy rain fall, we see it struck by lightning and fall in the sea." (Crashing bass dissonance from Fannie's piano.) "A fisherman, just in time, rescues the exhausted aeronauts." Fannie launches into La Marseillaise, and the whole Grange crowd cheers! And you cheer, too. You can't help it.

And now, while you catch your breath and the reels are changed, a slide projector fills the screen with song lyrics and hand-tinted scenes. Fannie leads everyone along in "ILLUSTRATED SONG, 'IN THE SHADE OF THE OLD APPLE TREE,' AND MANY OTHERS..."

Then come comic films to entertain us: "Pierrot Mystified," "Unappreciated Joke," "Babe and Dog," and "Romance of the Rail." But, just as we've shifted ourselves on the hard chairs and settled back in relaxation, Professor Smith hits us with catastrophe: "Building on Fire; Sheets of Flame and Clouds of Smoke Shooting High in the Air... the thrilling scene of the FIRE ENGINES on a mad rush through the busy streets to the fire, all portrayed with startling realism." Too much, almost too much to take!"

But there's more. Here comes the dramatic climax, "Indians and Cowboys," a film spectacle in six parts: "An Indian Robber Punished. Departure of the Stage Coach. Indian's Revenge-the capture of wife and child. Dog sent with Message, In Pursuit of the Robbers. The Captives Rescued." What a catharsis!

At the end, the ceiling lights blink on; the audience claps, whistles, cheers. Professor Cook, smiling benignly, comes up the aisle for bows, beckons his wife Fannie to step to his side for still more applause. And then you and the rest clatter down the wooden stairs. Your buttocks are numb, but you're in the highest spirits. And awaiting below are refreshments by the Methodist church ladies from up the road, or the Presbyterian ladies from just across it, or the Universalist ladies from right next door. Donations gratefully accepted.

Downstairs, you and your friends start sentences with, "My land, did you ever see the likes of...!" and "Oh, how 'bout when the balloon went crashing down and...!" Upstairs is a quieter scene. Side by side, Bert and Fanny are counting the receipts: 94 adults and 35 children, total gross of $30.85. Less the $4.00 for renting the hall, they've cleared $26.85. No bad, they agree, and begin packing up machinery and piano music to move on to the next night's show in Norwich, or maybe down in Sidney.

Friends, none of that story above is fiction. It's the result of careful research by Kathy Fuller-Seeley, a communications professor at Georgia State University. For several years she has been studying the traveling movie shows of central New York.

She struck a treasure trove at New York State Historical Society. It houses not only the movie posters I've quoted, but Bert Cook's own copy of the handwritten contract for that September 19, 1907, performance at the Grange. Penciled on the bottom is Bert's tally of receipts, including the net profit of $26.85.

Professor Kathy, who is great fun, has a request. If your family has any information or any artifacts related to early film shows in this area, please contact her through me or at khfuller@aol.com. Next week I'll share some of the other great stories she's already turned up, including the duel to the death between The Cook & Harris High Class Moving Picture Company and its nemesis, the Smalley Theater Chain.

The winner left a relic on Cooperstown's Main Street.

Jim Atwell lives in and views life from Fly Creek. He can be found on the web at JimAtwell.com.