The Cavalier daily :: Friday, May 14, 1971 :: University of Virginia Library

Well, don't feel bad about your
ignorance in this matter, for, like
the magic land of Brigadoon, our
zoo appears only at certain times.
In recent weeks, it has appeared
every Friday and Saturday night at
about 11 o'clock, for that is when
zookeeper Chuck Walton (who
doubles as the manager of the
Paramount Theatre) opens the gates
and admits between 300 and 500 of
that native species known as the
Wahoo.

Unlike most animals, the Wahoo
likes life in a zoo. And when it
comes to baiting the beast, Walton
is a master. He knows that if you
provide the Wahoo with a few bare
boobs, naked thighs, and an
occasional bush to hide behind, he
will come and come again, with a
hungry look in his eye and a hand
in his pocket, ready to produce his
entrance fee, proof of age, and
whatever else he thinks might come
in handy once inside.

With this knowledge of the beast
under his belt. Walton is currently
screening a series of six
sexploitation films under the
collective title, The Dirty Half-Dozen.
These are the type of
movies ("Straight from 42nd
Street," says Walton) in which the
guys play with the girls, the girls
play with the girls (and whisky
bottles on occasion), and, as Frank
McCarthy put it in the interview
published on this page yesterday,
"sex acts are thrown in as if they
were musical numbers because (the
films) have no plot." Titles of these
classics range from "Thar She
Blows" to "The Secret Sex Lives of
Romeo and Juliet."

Handsome Profits

Walton is turning a handsome
profit at each late night weekend
showing, though not as much as
you might think judging from the
length of the lines at the box office,
which usually extend down the
block and around the corner. The
film rentals on these skin flicks are
much higher than on regular films,
normally figuring out to about a
50-50 split between theatre
management and distributor. But
the Paramount is still coming out
well in the black, and manager
Walton no longer has the fears he
had when the series began.

On "opening night" four weeks
ago, Walton stopped me as I was
going in to see the 9 o'clock regular
feature.

"Gonna stick around for the
excitement tonight?" he asked a bit
nervously.

"What do you mean?"

"The two uniformed (but
off-duty) policemen who I
advertised would be at the door to
check I.D.'s Chief Durham phoned
me this afternoon and said he
wouldn't let them work for me,
that he didn't want his men to be
connected in any way with the
showing of such pornography. This
says one thing to me: he's setting
me up for a bust."

Walton was prepared to be
arrested, although he said, "I can't
believe they would do anything
that stupid." And they didn't. The
only busts were on the screen.

This non-action on the part of
the Charlottesville Police
Department is to be commended.
Had they arrested Walton and
confiscated the film, they probably
would have defeated their own
purpose (which presumably is to
deter people from seeing porno
films), wasted their time and
inconvenienced a lot of people.

One, Walton would never have
been convicted-theatre managers,
when prosecuted for showing skin
flicks to those of age, virtually
always beat the rap.

No Censorship

Two, the action would have
created publicity, which would
have aroused the curiosity of
untold numbers of people as to
why the film had been confiscated.
And when the film finally was
permitted to be shown (as
invariably happens), then it would
have attracted a greater number of
people and even more Wahoos.
Certainly, "I Am Curious (Yellow)"
would never have been such a box
office bonanza had Customs not
prohibited its entry into the United
States. As a rule, censorship
promotes more than it prohibits.

But could Walton have really
thought that the local authorities
would be so cruel as to deny the
Wahoos their much-anticipated
fun? After all, it's quite a show that
the 'Hoos put on, certainly more
interesting than anything on the
screen.

Tricks At The Flicks

In case you haven't seen a
Wahoo perform at the zoo, let me
give you an idea of his vast array of
animal tricks. The most famous
trait of the Wahoo is his ability to
consume alcohol (whether it be
pure, grain, or rubbing). Walton
estimates that after each Dirty Half
Dozen showing, he and his staff
pick up between three and four
dozen empty liquor bottles and
three or four hundred empty beer
cans that are scattered around the
theatre. You see, once his thirst is
quenched, the Wahoo throws his
beer can at the screen, and if he hits
a naked woman in an erotic zone he
scores two points.

Now I ask you, what's more
natural than a drunk Wahoo? A
drunk Wahoo with his pants down,
of course. Walton reports that a
number of 'Hoos get up on stage
and perform their own strip show.

The Wahoo is also adept at
making quick quips. For instance,
on "opening night" one Wahoo,
feeling gypped, left before the movie
was over. While making his exit, he
shouted to the assembled
multitude, "Suckers!" to which
the reply came, "Suck yours!"

And then there was this line in
the film, spoken by a woman to her
spouse's fishing partner: "My
husband says you're the best
fisherman in the world." A sped
Wahoo reasoned why and
screamed: "That's 'cause he has the
biggest worm!"

Walton is very lenient in dealing
with the raucous behavior of the
Wahoo in heat, letting him exhibit
his primitive mating techniques
however he wishes, as long as he
doesn't physically damage the zoo
in the process. Walton wants the
Wahoo to have as much fun as
possible, so he'll return the
following week.

Party Pooper

Well, at the risk of seeming a
party pooper. I would say that this
is a pretty poor way of passing a
Friday or Saturday night. The films
are cheaply made, the acting is
laughable, and, worst of all, by
exploiting sex, they turn something
beautiful into something cheap.

But the average Wahoo who
performs at the Charlottesville Zoo
still regards sex with an adolescent
fervor. Whether it's clean or dirty,
lovely or revolting, he'll pay to
watch it and whoop it up as long as
it's there. And, in accordance with
the law of supply and demand, it'll
be there as long as he'll pay to
watch it.