Jack Stevenson writes about grindhouse/porn cinemas for Bright Lights Film Journal:"... The theatre never had more than one employee on the premises, a union projectionist who could sit at either the ticket counter or in the projection booth, since he was responsible for both. If he sat behind the counter, he could see the screen in a mirror. He couldn't really make out what was happening in the movie, but when the film had tailed out of the projector and the screen went white, he knew it was time to put on another film. If he happened to be reading a book or was otherwise diverted, it could be quite a while before he happened to notice the movie had ended. No one ever came out of the theatre to complain. If the projectionist chose to kill time in the booth he could snooze on a sofa. When the film tailed out of the projector, it would flap away until he woke up and started the next movie. If he put the machine on rewind and went downstairs to sell tickets, the same thing would happen to the beginning of the film; it would flap away and eventually break off in pieces. This was how the beginnings and ends of so many porn films were lost. ..." (about The Green Parrot in Seattle)
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