Large memento now perfect sign of bureaucracy

The bureau-clods running Spokane Valley are in a lather to transform the image of their fledgling city from that centerless sprawl of strip malls and chain link to a genuine hometown with a heart and a soul.

Which is why they should embrace a guy like Duane Justus – not get in his way with nit-picking over some antique sign.

Or make wisecracks about him like: “He’s obviously independently wealthy without a better thing to do with his money.”

Those are the words of Marina Sukup, the Spokane Valley’s cantankerous Community Development director. She was reacting to Justus’ desire to put up the original marquee of the Spokane area’s very first drive-in theater:

The East Trent Motor In Theatre.

“There’s nothing magic about it,” said Sukup, while examining a photograph of the marquee. “It’s a pretty ugly sign.”

Marina’s first name couldn’t be more fitting. The woman is all wet.

A million memories were spawned during those hot summer nights at the East Trent Motor In, which opened for business June 7, 1946. It was among the nation’s first drive-ins to feature in-car speakers. Theater owners from across the United States came to Spokane to witness this wonder of the arts.

I took my bride-to-be, Sherry, there for a Clint Eastwood tripleheader the night I slipped a ring on her finger.

Justus grew up looking at the glowing wide screen while working at his father’s business. Justus Bag, 11205 E. Trent, makes bags for agricultural and retail markets and bordered the theater to the east.

“I watched ‘Bullitt’ every night for a month (in 1969) before I ever saw the movie,” said the 53-year-old Valley native who now lives in Hauser Lake.

Alas, the East Trent hit the end of the reel in 1986. But the large and heavy wedge-shaped steel marquee survives as a true valley icon. Having that landmark looming over the landscape once more would give the Valley a little pop of personality and cultural context.

But while Spokane Valley planners will allow Justus to put up the sign on Justus Bag property, there’s a catch. According to code, you can’t put up an on-premise sign advertising a business that isn’t on the property.

In other words, Justus would have to remove or paint over the sign’s top section that says “East Trent Motor In.” That, of course, would kill the historical significance and make the whole effort as meaningless as some contend Valley incorporation was.

“It makes no sense to me,” said Justus. “They’re worrying about a theater sign that has been dead for 19 years. There’s never gonna be another drive-in here. It’s not gonna happen in my lifetime.”

Good point. How do you advertise for a business that went bust two decades ago?

Talk about sentimental. Justus and his brother, Doug, bought two acres of the old drive-in site in 1998 partly because the sign came with the purchase.

“The property was free,” he joked, “but that damned sign cost $135,000.”

The marquee was still standing back then. Justus intended to leave it that way.

But when the state widened Trent a few years ago, the sign had to be removed.

He stored it on the Justus Bag property and figures it will take $5,000 to paint it and erect it not far from its original spot.

Restoring the sign to its original shimmering neon luster would probably suck up another $25,000, Justus added. He’s not ready to do that. He may be nostalgic, but he’s not insane.

Just having it painted and in place, he said, would be “a great addition for Trent.”

There might be a way around the code.

Sukup suggested that it could go up as is if Justus convinced someone from historic preservation to formally declare the sign as having historical importance. Only Sukup didn’t say historical. She kept saying “hysterical.” What a pistol.

Or perhaps Spokane Valley City Council members could grant Justus some kind of an exception to the rules. If they can do such a thing. Despite a career of watching city governments, I still have no clue as to how these things work.

One thing is for certain. Up or down, the East Trent Motor In marquee ain’t going anywhere.

Every month, somebody stops and says, “I’ll take that off you,” said Justus, who by now has his response down: “Nope. Not gonna happen.”