by Wesley Harris
For days, North Louisiana has been under heat advisories as temperatures have climbed into the upper 90s, pushing heat indices well above 100 degrees. The advisories have often extended well into the evening.
In weather like this, air conditioning seems less a luxury than a necessity. But less than a century ago, most Ruston residents had never experienced it.
So where could you first go in Ruston to escape the summer heat?
The answer appears to be the movies.
The Rialto gets cool
In August 1935, the Rialto Theatre — the downtown movie house better known to later generations as the Dixie Theater — announced patrons could enjoy the comfort of its “new air conditioning system.”
Another Rialto advertisement made the attraction even more obvious:
“COOL! — WASHED AIR — COOL!”
Below that was the day’s movie, Will Rogers in A Connecticut Yankee.
The timing could hardly have been better. This was August in North Louisiana, and few Ruston residents could go home to an air-conditioned house.
That a movie theater appears to have introduced Ruston to air conditioning fits a larger pattern. Theaters were often among the first air-conditioned public places in American communities, particularly in the South. Owners discovered that during the hottest months, cool air could be an attraction in itself.
Mechanical air conditioning had initially been developed for industrial purposes. Willis Carrier designed an early modern electrical system in 1902 to control temperature and humidity in a Brooklyn printing plant. During the 1920s and 1930s, mechanically cooled theaters began appearing around the country, giving many Americans their first experience with air conditioning.
Ruston followed the trend.
June 1936: Jack Ritchie becomes popular
Less than a year later, in June 1936, a newspaper reported businessman Jack Ritchie had installed an air-conditioning system in his office.
Ritchie made his fortune in the wholesale grocery business, supplying stores with produce and other goods transported in refrigerated rail cars and trucks.
The columnist couldn’t resist noting the consequences: “Jack Ritchie has gotten to be almost the most popular man in town since he put an air conditioning system in his office.”
It was a joke, but it tells us how unusual air conditioning remained. People apparently knew where to find it.
On a hot June afternoon, Jack Ritchie suddenly had plenty of company.
May 1937: T.L. James goes big
Then came a considerably larger project.
In May 1937, T.L. James and Company announced plans to air-condition the entire first floor of its home office in Ruston.
The newspaper reported the installation would make the building “one of the few such equipped buildings in the South.”
Workmen installed a “huge motor” to power the system, with tubing through the ceilings carrying conditioned air throughout the first floor. The price was approximately $8,000 — a major investment in 1937.
The company did not extend the system to the upper floors, much of which was rented. The newspaper explained doing so would have increased costs enough to require higher rents.
That detail shows how far air conditioning remained from becoming an everyday amenity. It was desirable, but it was expensive.
So who was first?
Based on the newspaper evidence found so far, the Rialto in August 1935 has the best claim as Ruston’s earliest documented air-conditioned location, although its “washed air” system was closer to what is called a “swamp cooler” today than a modern refrigerated air-conditioning system.
The technology would take much longer to reach everyone else.
Homes — and schools — had to wait
Smaller and less expensive room units after World War II helped make air conditioning practical for middle-class families, and residential cooling expanded rapidly during the 1950s and 1960s.
Schools were another matter.
I experienced that transition firsthand.
I entered first grade in the Lincoln Parish school system in 1963, but I did not attend an air-conditioned school until 1970.
At Ruston Elementary, the classroom doors opened directly to the outside. We left the doors open and relied on the large windows to help pull whatever breeze we could get through the classroom.
Sympathetic teachers brought fans from home.
There was no thermostat to turn down when a September afternoon became miserable. The fans ran, the doors stayed open, and everyone hoped the air would move.
When I entered Ruston High School in 1971, the transition still wasn’t complete. Only the newer additions to the building had air conditioning.
You could almost walk from one era into another. One part of the school offered mechanically cooled air. Elsewhere, students and teachers still depended upon fans, open doors, windows and whatever breeze North Louisiana decided to provide that day.
Consider the contrast: Rustonites could sit in a cooled movie theater in 1935, yet 35 years later I was only then attending an air-conditioned Ruston school for the first time.
Air conditioning changed the South
Air conditioning did more than make August bearable.
Traditional Southern buildings had been designed around the climate. High ceilings allowed hot air to rise, large windows encouraged cross-ventilation, and porches provided shade and additional living space.
Mechanical cooling changed that. Buildings could become larger and more enclosed, and houses no longer depended as heavily on high ceilings, large windows and broad porches.
It changed social habits as well. Generations that had spent summer evenings on porches because the house was unbearably hot could close the windows, shut the door and remain inside.
The South adapted to air conditioning, and air conditioning helped reshape the South.
From luxury to necessity
The current heat wave makes those old newspaper clippings seem a little less quaint.
After day after day of heat advisories, with dangerous heat indices lingering into the evening, air conditioning is no longer an interesting luxury. It can be a matter of safety.
More than 90 years ago, however, Ruston residents were just discovering what mechanically cooled air felt like.
Imagine walking along a hot Ruston sidewalk in August 1935, opening the Rialto’s door and feeling cool air. Suddenly, the old advertisement makes perfect sense:
“COOL! — WASHED AIR — COOL!”
Nearly a century later, after another September afternoon with a heat index above 100, it’s still a pretty effective sales pitch.
