I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show in San Antonio while at Trinity University. 1977. There was an ad in the school paper, showing Frankie in full corset and fishnets, and I had to go. If I remember right, it was at the Northwest Theatre, off Loop 410 and I-10. Six screens.
I was at the first midnight screening and it was full but not all that participatory, yet. I got to hear the whole film without the crowd's responses. Those started up within a few weeks. I brought a water pistol and bought popcorn and a Hershey's chocolate bar with a soda by the third time I saw it.
Fifty years later and I can still quote it...probably because I've seen it dozens of times. And I still love the message: Don't dream it, be it...no matter what the consequences.
That was Tim...and I had such a crush on him. So lean and frisky and just plain out there. He had no duplicate. No shadow worth noting. He is, was, and always will be one of a kind.
I got to meet him when I was working at Book Soup, handling the newsstand. The moment I saw him, I choked up. Couldn't speak. He was so very gracious and smiled and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you," in his melodious purring voice. Even though we hadn't actually officially met. And all I could do is nod like an idiot.
I know he's been ill for well over a decade, but still...him leaving on the same day as Dolly is so fucking hard to bear.
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