Remembering the sweet life

Whenever I hear the Italian term “la dolce vita,” my mind goes instantly back to my college days in the late 1960s.

Merriam-Webster defines la dolce vita as the “sweet life; the good life perceived as one of physical pleasure and self-indulgence.” 

Don’t get me wrong. My time in college was anything but indulgence in physical pleasure. In fact, my main memory of the “sweet life” is represented by the honeybuns from the student stores that I frequently wolfed down between classes.

One day a big brute confiscated about half of one of those honeybuns when I was eating it outside while sitting on a brick wall. It was a decidedly overweight, four-legged brute of the canine persuasion with a pitiful limp who approached me and got his way by begging on his hind legs.

The mutt limped away looking for another victim after slurping up the last bit of my honeybun, without offering a thank-you. But I’ve told that story before.

Dogs were familiar creatures in those days, often seen watering the ancient live oak trees on campus. It even seemed to be a tradition that every home football game a “stray” dog would jog across the field and cause a break in the action.

But that’s beside my point, even though the memories could evoke the feeling of la dolce vita — the sweet life.

I stayed in a dorm during my first three years of college. It was convenient to my classes, the gym, football and basketball games, and the cafeteria. Back then I could get the student special, including the entree of the day, a vegetable, bread and tea for 50 cents. Not bad for a struggling student whose efforts to pay the bills were almost as stressful as earning passing grades.

But there were opportunities to get away from those stresses. The Student Union sponsored concerts that included such names as Johnny Mathis, Roger Miller and The Dave Brubeck Trio as well as standup by Bob Hope. I tried to attend all those that were covered by student activity fees.

Then there were two movie theaters downtown — the Carolina and the Varsity. I remember watching "The Great Race" with Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis and Natalie Wood, and "Bonnie and Clyde" with Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway.

But most days were pretty mundane, anything but la dolce vita. I would get up about 7:30 to go to an 8 a.m. class. There would usually be a break before the next class, at which point I would get a sandwich and drink, or the beloved honeybun.

One morning I got up, dressed, walked down the hall and two flights of stairs before exiting Graham Dorm. I immediately was struck by a peculiar smell — somewhat acrid and pungent. I soon put it out of my mind and strolled to class.

That’s where I heard the news: The Varsity Theatre had a fire during the night. This explained the smell that had tickled my nose.

According to word of mouth, the theater wasn’t destroyed but had suffered significant damage. It was expected to be out of action for a while for repairs.

Being the news junkie and future journalist that I was, I rushed downtown after my classes to assess the situation. I had to see for myself what the conflagration had wrought.

Scurrying across the last tree-lined quad to the town’s main drag, I soon was in position to behold the desecrated Varsity. Broken glass and scorched timbers on the sidewalk were rendered off-limits by yellow tape.

Then I looked up at the marquee. You guessed it — the featured film was the Italian production, La Dolce Vita, starring Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg. Appropriately enough, it’s about  “a journalist writing for gossip magazines, over seven days and nights on his journey through the ‘sweet life’ of Rome in a fruitless search for love and happiness.”

I guess that pretty much summed up the goal of most college dudes, both now and then.

Fortunately, the Varsity did reopen and remains a landmark to this day, even though COVID-19 closed its doors for a time.

Here’s hoping that a return to normalcy meant a resurgence of la dolce vita for the Varsity Theatre.

Larry Penkava is a writer for Randolph Hub. Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.