To New Owner of La Paloma, Driver’s Seat Is the Best in the House : Silver screen: Chuck Carroll is living his own Hollywood dream-- scooping popcorn, selling tickets and perfecting his projection room technique.

For independent-theater owner Chuck Carroll, the critical moment in any film isn’t the sudden plot twist or steamy love scene. It doesn’t even happen on-screen. It’s a tense, split-second maneuver he calls The Switch-Over.

The action takes place up in the darkened projection room, where, looming behind a pair of ancient 35-millimeter projectors, the owner of the La Paloma theater watches a huge revolving film reel moan and shudder, its celluloid strip winding down like giant thread on a spool.

The goal is to switch projectors without skipping a frame, a trick Carroll likens to patting your head and rubbing your belly at the same time.

And Carroll is sweating, his heart is pounding, as he notices the flickering black dot at the top-right corner of the movie screen out front--his cue to start the motor of the second projector, to flip a switch and let her roll.

For the next 7.3 seconds, the two projectors play the same frames of film, only one image hitting the screen. And Carroll knows that, at precisely the right moment, he must shut down the first projector and switch on the lamp of the second--all while focusing the light and adjusting the sound.

Seven . . . six . . . five . . . . He counts backward, out loud, as tense as a heart surgeon during a transplant operation. Because to fail, Carroll knows, is to face the horror of a blank movie screen and endure the groans of a startled audience.

“When I’m done, I can go change my shirt,” he says. “My heart is still pounding. It’s a real thrill to throw the levers and push the buttons in the right sequence. Because if you don’t get it exactly right, you can embarrass yourself in front of 100 people.”

Four months ago, the 39-year-old computer analyst realized a longtime dream when he bought the 62-year-old La Paloma Theater in downtown Encinitas--the stage and screen venue that’s become a cultural icon in the North County seaside town.

It didn’t matter that his only show business experience came from the viewing seats of a movie theater. To Carroll, running his own movie house--especially the La Paloma--looked more exciting than any starring film role could ever be.

So this summer, he traded his life savings to begin operating the 450-seat theater with the graceful Spanish architecture that local researchers say once served as a stopover venue for Hollywood film stars on their way to Mexican vacations.

As a customer, Carroll had always admired the high, sculptured ceilings and hand-painted tiles that are found everywhere inside the La Paloma, including the bathroom walls--and even on the ticket kiosk out front.

He liked the fact that this was a roomy, big-screen theater, not the shoe-box size of many newfangled facilities. And he liked the eight-inch-high black letters that were still painstakingly hooked to the marquee before each film, just like in the golden days.

“One day I saw a business opportunity ad in the paper for a North County theater, and I said to myself, this couldn’t be the La Paloma,” he said, perched in the theater’s balcony. “But it was! And so I went running down there.

“I just couldn’t keep my poker face. I was drooling, sitting on the edge of my seat, at the chance to get to own this place. I guess it was my enthusiasm that got me this theater.”

Now, twice nightly--after he finishes his daytime computer job--Carroll has been perfecting his switch-over technique. That is, of course, when he’s not working the box office, serving popcorn at the concession stand, playing usher with his tiny pocket flashlight or sweeping up Goobers and Raisinette boxes at the end of the night.

“I’m having a ball,” he said, setting up the reels for a Valentine’s Day showing of “The War of the Roses.” “This is something I dreamed about as a kid, being able to see movies for free.”

Then he paused. “Well, sorta free, after you add on the sometimes 30 or 40 hours a week I put in here.”

In the film-playing business, however, Carroll, a San Diego native now living in La Costa, is a decided long shot--a novice with no movie house experience, using double features and reduced prices to compete with the multiplex big boys.

After all, the film brokers reserve the newest films for the more profitable multi-screen venues, so Carroll must wait several weeks before he can book a first-run show--often after the excitement over a new release has subsided.

And then there’s the burgeoning video rental market. Who wants to sit in a cavernous old movie theater watching films that will be out on video in a few months anyway?

“That place has gone through more owners than a counterfeit bill,” said one mall multiplex manager who asked not to be named. “We don’t even consider the place competition.”

Even Alan Grossberg, a former La Paloma owner whose entertainment company still books movies for the theater, is skeptical of such a newcomer making an immediate splash.

“If he was doing everything on his own, I’d say he’d have no chance in hell,” he said. “But he’s using an experienced company to get his product. All he has to do is advertise.”

But Carroll is a strapping 6-foot-4 redhead with a few ideas of his own. He’s running his theater with all the enthusiasm of a regular moviegoer who one day decided to buy the place so he could do things right.

“I always liked real butter when I was watching a movie, so the first thing I did was to get rid of that oily, fake stuff they used to serve and replace it with the real thing,” he said.

In the lobby, Carroll has installed a suggestion box and is entertaining ideas such as showing hard-to-find foreign films and having Bogart and Hitchcock nights.

There’s no on-screen advertising before a show--that would spoil the mood. This theater owner plays music--tapes from his personal collection, not elevator jazz. He’s as much in control as the gray-haired man behind the curtain in “The Wizard of Oz.”

“He keeps the theater dark,” whispered one customer, “so people can smooch before the movie if they want to.”

Carroll runs his business like it’s 1955 in the heart of Nebraska. At the La Paloma, things like neighborliness, quality and respect for the elderly mean something.

He charges $3.50 for most feature films, about half what the mainstream theaters collect. There are also dollar-off senior citizen discounts, such as the “Good Ole Folks” price for people 55 or older.

And for the “Really Ole Folks”--people as old as the 62-year-old theater itself--the price is $1.75.

“You get people in here who are old and proud of it,” Carroll said. “One guy remembered coming here in 1929 and paying 10 cents to see a matinee.”

Carroll’s even revived the $1.75 Saturday children’s matinees. To some North County parents, he’s known as a free baby-sitter, waiting outside the theater while the kids ramble out of station wagons. Cub Scouts in uniform get in for a dollar.

At the concession stand, he patiently counts out their nickels and dimes. And if the kids come up short, Carroll has even developed a barter system--he lets them make up the difference by helping him clean the theater after the show.

“Sure I lose money on these shows, but they’re fun,” he said. “I play all the cartoons I missed the first time, so now I get to to see them, too.”

Carroll plans to begin showing Saturday afternoon reruns of movies he enjoyed as a child--such as “The Incredible Shrinking Man” and “Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy”--in an attempt to draw parents inside with their children.

He also wants to revive the practice of showing cartoons before each feature and serials such as “Flash Gordon.”

If the kids are interested, Carroll will give them a tour of the projection room or tell them about the famed ghost of the La Paloma--the moviegoer who toppled from the balcony in 1929 after having too much to drink. Word has it that the ghost can be seen after some shows, wandering the aisles.

If all goes well, Carroll might even make the old ghost feel a little more at home. Someday, he wants to refurbish the lobby with its original decor, including telephones and other fixtures.

Carroll’s master plan also includes establishing the La Paloma as more than just a movie theater and turning it into an all-entertainment venue, making use of the structure’s large stage as well as the screen.

This year, the Miss Encinitas competition will take place at the La Paloma, and two children’s theater groups will soon take the stage there on weekends.

Carroll has even revived the Friday night showing of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” a campy, low-budget film that has become a cult movie among teens and young adults. Carroll has added his own strange twist--strange even for this movie. He has auditioned a group of high school students to perform on stage directly in front of the screen, lip-syncing the dialogue of the actors.

The idea, along with the addition of a local garage band before the flick, has made the night a success, he said.

However, one of the live music nights Carroll sponsored produced perhaps his darkest hour as theater operator.

Several weeks ago, during a multi-band performance of punk and heavy-metal music, a 16-year-old youth was stabbed inside the movie house by a 24-year-old recently paroled convict from El Cajon.

The violence shocked Carroll and forced the postponement of a 62nd birthday party planned for the theater. Instead, the La Paloma recently staged a benefit concert, raising more than $800 for the injured youth.

The boy took the stage during the benefit, and his mother offered a poignant talk about random violence. At the end, Carroll recalled, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

“The benefit was therapy for both of us,” Carroll said of the victim. “We found we could have an entertainment show without having to fend for your life. For both of us, it was like getting back on the horse after a fall.”

Despite the violence, North County residents continue to support the La Paloma, Carroll said, adding that the theater has become a cultural landmark people want to keep around.

“I get lots of calls from locals who want to know what I’m playing in the future, people who are willing to wait a few weeks for a film so they can see it at La Paloma.”

Maybe it’s the movies that people like. Or maybe they like the idea of patronizing a theater where things are still done the old-fashioned way.

Nobody got mad, for example, when Carroll accidentally left the lens cap on the projector, delaying the movie. And when one of the two ancient machines recently broke down, nobody complained.

For a whole week, Carroll was forced to announce a brief intermission while he changed reels. Instead of a disaster, though, his popcorn sales went up.

“This whole thing is a gamble, I admit it,” he said. “Statistics show I have about 1 chance in 10 of making it. But I intend to beat those odds. My goal is to have fun, provide something to the community and break even, if that’s possible.”

Go looking for Chuck Carroll some Saturday afternoon and you’ll find him sitting through the cartoon features with the rest of the young audience.

He’s the big red-haired kid with glasses, the one sitting in his favorite seat 10 rows back in the center, eating popcorn served with real butter.