You can’t have your solar park when it’s going to drive out a drive in theater!

When I spotted this on The Philadelphia Inquirer’s website, I was tempted to just forward it to William Teach, since this is more his kind of story than mine. But one photo in there prompted me to use it myself.

Joe Farruggio, the owner of the land that the Mahoning Drive-In sits on, says he believes Greenskies was unfairly bullied away from its plan to build a solar farm on the four-acre property. Photo by Steven M Falk, Philadelphia Inquirer Staff Photographer

Judging by that photo, maybe Greyskies would have been a better name than Greenskies! 🙂

Here’s the story:

A beloved Poconos drive-in theater was set to become a solar-panel farm. Then the fans stepped in.

Hundreds of die-hard fans of the Mahoning Drive-In banded together to convince a green-energy company to withdraw its plan.

By Vinny Vella | July 25, 2021

Virgil Cardamone couldn’t sleep July 13. He obsessed over how to relay the message that everything he and his friends had built over the last six years on a grassy lot in rural Carbon County was in jeopardy.

The next morning, it dawned on him: He would, as he put it “tear his heart open” in a smartphone video broadcast over social media, pleading with hundreds of the regulars at the Mahoning Drive-In to help save the institution.

In the six-minute video, Cardamone laid out the scenario: A green-energy company out of Connecticut had paid to option the land the theater sat on for a solar-panel farm. The local zoning board was going to vote in a few weeks, and the 38-year-old was rallying fans of ‘80s classics, forgotten B-movies, and films everywhere to plead with Greenskies Clean Energy LLC to change its mind.

“The drive-in will never die,” Cardamone said in his sign-off, flicking tears out of his eyes with his thumb. “Mark my words.”

I moved away from what Vinny Vella, the article author, called “tourist darling Jim Thorpe” on July 1, 2017, roughly ten miles from the Mahoning Drive-In, and back to the Bluegrass State, but I’d certainly passed the place, on state route 443, many times. While my wife had taken our kids to see a few movies there, I hadn’t gone myself. Still, it was a local-to-me story; we lived in Jim Thorpe for fifteen years!

Two days and hundreds of emails, Facebook posts, and phone calls later, he posted a second video, announcing, almost in disbelief, that the grassroots campaign had been successful. Greenskies had agreed to pull their plan, and the theater’s landlord had expressed a willingness to sell the four-acre property to Cardamone and his business partners.

“To have the whole entire culture rise up and let them know how much it means to them, for me, I feel this business is invincible, even with all the madness going on,” Cardamone said in an interview last week. “This place is an escape for people, and it’s a celebration of a simpler time.”

So, the drive-in has been saved, at least for now.

I’m not sure just how much electricity a four-acre solar park would generate. The Nesquehoning Solar Park, off of state route 54 between Nesquehoning and Lake Hauto, for which I supplied some, but not all, of the concrete during its construction, covers, according to its website, 100 acres, and “will generate enough electricity to power 1,450 homes.” At the same efficiency, a four-acre solar park would power roughly 58 homes.

Regardless of that, some drive-in and old film buffs have managed to save the Mahoning Drive-In. What, I have to ask, will the global warming climate change emergency activists say about that? One thing is certain: in the push for ‘renewable’ energy sources, primarily solar and wind power, a lot of acreage is going to have to be taken up for solar panels and windmills, and there will always be pushback from those who don’t want the land used that way, and who object to having their scenic views taken up.

As it happens, we have more than four acres on the farm, and good, sunny, southwestern exposure; it would be perfect for a solar farm. But our best view is to the southwest as well, and there’s no way Mrs Pico would ever consent to spoil it with solar panels.

Photo taken on June 17^th, while baling our second crop of hay for the season. The near tree line begins the downslope to the Kentucky River.