Showing 26 - 50 of 106 comments
While stationed at Mather AFB in 1968 I went there to see Elke Sommer in “Daniella by Night” which nad been heavily touted in PLAYBOY magazine a year or so previously. They must have had he cut version—it certainly didn’t do anything for me.
Saw James Stewart and Kim Novak in Alfred Hackneydplot’s “Vertigo” there while taking a summer course at Dartmouth Medical School in 1984. Don’t remember much about the theater, but there was a restaurant not far away that had 50 different kinds of pizza in the evenings and 50 different kinds of omelettes in the mornings. A true entrepreneurial inspiration…
I went to the Fare 4 many times from 1973 to 1983. It was expanded after I left Mempho in 83. They usually had a soft-core porn feature on at least one screen in those days—I remember David Friedman’s “The Erotic Adventures of Zorro,” Kristine DeBell in Bill Osco’s “Alice in Wonderland,” and Angel Tompkins and Jay “Dennis the Menace” North (!) in “Teacher.” The last film I saw there was about 1997 after it became a 10-plex: John “Revolting” Travolta, Nicholas Cage, John Bloom (Joe Bob Briggs), and Margaret Cho (!) in “Face-Off.” Took my wife, stepson, and mother-in-law to that one—you can tell I haven’t wasted MY life….
I went there several times while attending USAF Navigator School at Mather AFB (right across the street) in 1968. It ran stuff like “Barbarella” and “The Green Berets” (although those two were not shown at the same time) plus the occasional euro-trash porno feature. I also remember something called “Duffy” with James Coburn, James Mason, James Fox (three top-billed actors all named James made an interesting pattern in the newspaper ad), and Susannah York who spent a major portion of the movie wearing a teeny-tiny bikini. This was the year before her appearance in “The Killing of Sister George.” Good times…..
From 1949 to 1954 I lived at Calhoun Road and Marietta Lane just a couple of miles from the OST. You could look from our house out across the vacant lots and see the theater off in the distance, and even the old Shamrock Hotel WAY off in the distance. I went there almost every Saturday morning and saw almost all the chapters of the “Captain Video” serial. Dana Grantham (see above) probably took my ticket. I remember seeing the original “War of the Worlds” (beware of imitations) at the OST—or rather, not seeing it: being eight years old, I was so scared I hid under the seat. Many years later, when coerced into seeing the Tom Cruise remake (“Yes, dear…”) I wanted to hide again; but this time it was because the movie was so bad. Unfortunately, now I was too big to fit under the seat.
In 1983 I was in Houston on business for several weeks and went by to see the OST for old times' sake. It looked closed, but there were signs of recent operation. The character of the neighboorhood had changed considerably.
This link View link shows a picture of the OST in 2004. I don’t remember it as having a balcony, but an upper-level fire escape is visible.
Here’s to Captain Video, and good luck and good counting to all!
That’s very nice: I remember it being much darker. Must be during or post-restoration.
Now I have to look up ‘scagliola.'
Thanks for the post.
The Village was located in a strip mall on South Perkins in the heart of suburbia. Like the Balmoral (q.v.), it was built for a market that never materialized, and lasted only a few years. One theory is that increasing availability of Cable TV and VCR tapes did this type of theater in.
Sorry I can’t provide a descrition, but I went there only once—to see Tyne Daly, Richard Jaeckel, Lana Wood, and Joe Don Baker in “Speedtrap” (1977) where they smashed up about three years worth of surplus California (or maybe Arizona) Highway Patrol cars in a very few minutes of screen time. You can tell I haven’t wasted MY life….
My best recollection is that the Strand was always called the Strand, from 1963 to 67 at least; and a newspaper article about 1966 when it closed briefly said (I think) that it had been so named since the 20s. There may have been one or more Majestics in Memphis before my time, but I don’t remember hearing about them. The first Majestic I saw was in San Antonio, Texas (q.v.) and it sure was. Fortunately it escaped the wrecking ball and was restored.
Google lists a Malco Majestic at 7051 Malco Crossing way out to the Southeast near Winchester and Route 385 (Nonconnah Parkway), but that’s clearly a newer one…
This theater is on the South side of Madison Avenue just West of McLean. When I arrived in Memphis in 1963 it was operating as a live venue known as Front Street Theater, even though it was a long way from Front Street. The bar/lounge upstairs under the balcony was a local talking point. By the early 1970s it had gone to porn—and not even very high-class porn, at that—and was limping along. I lost track of it in the late 70s, but believe it was closed for a while. Glad to hear the building was saved, at least.
The Bristol was a smaller neighborhood theater just West of Highland Street. According to Memphis old-timers, It got its name from the time when the area was way out in the suburbs and that section of Summer Avenue was called the “Bristol Highway.” Bristol is clear at the other end of Tennessee, about as far away from Memphis as you can get and still be in the state. In the mid-to-late 1970s it was being run by a Memphis movie buff named Mitchell Shapperkotter, probably more for a hobby than as a true commercial endeavor. I remember reading an article in the Commercial Appeal about it. My friend Bill Kendall, once manager at the Guild Theater (q.v.), worked there briefly after he left the Guild but eventually gave it up. I saw one film there—a second-run screening of John Wayne in “The Shootist,” which would have been 1977 or thereabouts. It was demolished shortly after that. I don’t remember much about the theater except that it had a very long, narrow lobby running clear through the office block to the auditorium on the back side. It wasn’t in real good shape in those days, either.
Saw several shows there in the early 1980s including “Time Bandits” and “The King of Comedy.” It was still running when I left Memphis in 1983. The entrance was in the mall and if the last show ended afterthe mall closed, you had to go out the back exits through winding corridors to the parking lot. Other than that, I can’t remember much about it—a typical anonymous mall multiplex of the period. Best wishes.
In the late 1970s and early 80s on Sundays I used to bicycle all around Memphis. I usually got down to Riverside Drive, and would then go up Beale Street past the Orpheum and the Daisys to the bus garage and around Linden Circle to Peabody; then back East to the MSU area. I remember passing a church on Linden Circle, with movie theater architecture, at or very close to this address according to the maps, with a sign reading “God Save America Prayer Temple.” I never saw any people there; and since I went by on Sunday mornings, that’s probably not a good sign. Anyway, I suggest that as late as 1980, this could have been the retreaded Linden Circle Theater.
The Airways was one of the larger “neighborhood” theaters. It had a spacious auditorium with a balcony. In size I would compare it to the Rosemary (q.v.) but with less ornate decoration. When I first saw it in the 60s it was already a porn house, showing mostly Euro-trash but occasionally some home-grown material such as “Surftide 77” and “The Bare Hunt.” The balcony was “reserved for couples only.” The area was a little frightening even then and I only went there a few times. When I returned to Memphis in 1973 it was still running, and I went there once to check it out. Once was enough. The neighborhood, the theater, and the show had all deteriorated even further. In later years I drove by occasionally and it was still operating for a while, but eventually closed. Sorry I can’t provide any more recent information.
That sounds about right. The Handy was on the South side of Park Avenue just East of Airways, which is a Southward extension of East Parkway. Mapquest shows the address to be right where I remember it.
Mapquest also confirms 3475 Central Avenue (see the earlier posting on the Handy Cultural Renaissance Theater) to be just East of Highland, also as I suspected. Lots of retreaded old mansions in that area.
In the unfortunate era of segregation, African-American theaters in the South were sometimes named after well-known African-Americans such as W.C. Handy. That way, someone reading the newspaper ads would realize that it was an African-American theater and either go or not go, as appropriate in the social context of the times—without having to actually say anything. Another example was the Carver theater in Birmingham, Alabama (q.v.)
Re: Elvis' boyhood favorite (see comments above and also for the other Suzore theater).
Careful study of the maps indicates that the Suzore No. 2 on North Main St. was only a few blocks from the Lauderdale Courts projects. This theater, The Suzore No. 1 on Jackson Avenue was farther away, although still within walking distance. This supports the idea that it was the Suzore No. 2 that Elvis attended as a child, so the old-timers who told me it was the other way round were probably mistaken and Mr. Goldman was probably correct.
Re: Elvis' boyhood favorite (see comments for the other Suzore theater).
Careful study of the maps indicates that this theater was only a few blocks from the Lauderdale Courts projects where Elvis lived in the late 1940s/early 50s. The Suzore No. 1 on Jackson Avenue is farther away, although still within walking distance. This supports the idea that it was the Suzore No. 2 on North Main St. that Elvis attended as a child, and where he saw the early Tony Curtis movies that formed the basis of his later image as suggested by Albert Goldman in his Elvis biography.
In the picture posted above, I believe the building in the background just behind the “Crosstown” sign is the Sears Roebuck store.
Just noticed from the maps and street numbers that it must have been just North, not South, of Loew’s State. Sorry, it’s been a long time…
Mr. Dunklin, I’ve been thinking hard about it and wish I could remember more. I seem to recall that the lobby was narrow but rather deep, going in quite a distance before opening up to full auditorium width. It was also high, with a vaulted ceiling sort of like the Alabama theater lobby in Birmingham (q.v.), but smaller and darker. I remember the window wall at the back of the auditorium as described above, and if you got restless I think you could stand or walk up and down behind it and still see the show. The restrooms were up one flight of stairs on either side, at the landings where the stairs turned and went on up to the balcony; ladies on house left, men on the right. There was a vending machine in the mens' room that dispensed novelties of somewhat questionable taste. I don’t remember much about the auditorium, except for the ornamental leaded-glass “Exit” signs which I also saw at Loew’s State and years later at the State Theater in Cleveland, Ohio. They were made like stained glass windows but just said “Exit” in red on a white background. Maybe a feature common to the chain, or a favorite device of the architect. This made an impression on me because I had never seen anything like that before. Otherwise I’m still a bit vague, but if I recall anything else I’ll certainly post it. I had the impression that the theater was demolished before 1983 since I left Memphis in 83 and I remember seeing it being torn down—whereas everybody else says it lasted until 1985. Now I finally recall the details of that episode. I came back to Memphis several times throughout the late 80s, because no sooner had I left to go to graduate school in Birmingham, than I got involved with an old SW classmate who was still in Memphis, whom I ended up marrying in 1986 at the Unitarian Church on the River (still married as this is written, 19 years and counting). Anyway, sometime in 1985 I was back in Memphis for the weekend to visit her and also to work out at Kang Rhee’s Pasaryu Tae Kwon Do academy, and we went to visit a friend who had just bought an apartment in the newly “condo’d” Shrine Building right across Union Avenue from Loew’s Palace. I looked out the window and saw the Palace, frozen in time in the process of being demolished. Most of the roof was gone and you could see the rows of seats, so you’re right that it went down with the seats still in place. So the time discrepancy is solved and I’m certainly glad to get that cleared up. If anything else comes back to me I will be sure to let you know. By the way, I really enjoyed your description of other Memphis theaters, especially the Malco/Orpheum, which I attended many times but never got to tour backstage. However, I did incorporate the “ritual circumnavigation of the Orpheum” into my Sunday morning Memphis bike ride. Please feel free to email at
From the map, this does not appear to be the same as the Southhaven multiplex I remember from the 1970s/80s. That was on the West side of Highway 51 just South of the Tennessee State Line.
In 1951 the area was probably thought of as suburban…
There was no balcony as such, just a couple of “cry” or “party” rooms upstairs flanking the projection booth. The auditorium was split right down the middle when they twinned it.
That’s probably right then; my information was relayed from others, and maybe they or I (and Mr. Goldman, too) remembered it wrong. The building and sign were so far gone when I saw them that there was no way to tell. Thanks.
This was the one known as the Suzore No. 2. Albert Goldman’s highly uncomplimentary and controversial biography of Elvis Presley (which I neither endorse nor condemn personally) states that while living in the Lauderdale Court projects nearby, Elvis went often to the Suzore No. 2. There, supposedly, he saw several early 1950s Tony Curtis movies that had a major role in shaping his image. In the late 1970s I occasionaly went biking down Jackson Avenue and would go right past the remains—or ruins—of the Suzore No. 2. It had obviously been closed a long time and was literally collapsing in slow motion. The large once-vertical sign was lying on its side in the grass beside the building, rusting away.