Why…what? The facade was removed after the 94 earthquake. It had already been severely modified by that time so it was no great loss. If you mean why is it across the street from Toyota, I can only guess because the theater was there before Toyota. The only indication of it ever being a theater is the low profile of the auditorium part of the building. It seems to sink into the ground. This was done to allow for the rake. With the stage house also gone, there is nothing left of its theatrical beginnings. By the way, The Museum of Death is next door. That should help narrow it down.
Dave James, the manager of the Hollywood Theatre during the 70’s is second from the right in the above photo. I worked a couple of matinees at the Hollywood while I was working the evening showing of Fiddler on The Roof at the Fox Wilshire. Talk about a study in opposites. Working the Hollywood at any time of the day was anything but dull.
Anyone out there remember John Stark, Donna Perrot or Sandy Binkley? John was kind of a dork, but I’ve remained good friends with Donna and Sandy over the years. Sadly, Dave James committed suicide in the eighties.
The auditorium was much as it is today. The stage remained covered and the upper balcony was closed off. Then there was that horrible tile and dropped ceiling of the ticket lobby. That remained until Disney restored the theatre for Lion King. The “improvements” were all done so they could be reversed later on, though I doubt that’s what they had in mind.
My Aunt and Uncle lived in Compton, at 715 Mayo St, from 1924 until 1988. In that time it went from a nice little community to a war zone. That said, I have fond memories of weekends spent in Compton with Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Irving. They would come in to Hollywood, in their red and white Buick, on Friday night and whisk me off to their magic house surrounded by giant trees. She was a lawyer and he was a judge and the house was filled with books and mementos of their trips to exotic places. We’d pass the Tower, and the people lined up beneath the brightly lit marquee, and I would know we were almost there.
Why…what? The facade was removed after the 94 earthquake. It had already been severely modified by that time so it was no great loss. If you mean why is it across the street from Toyota, I can only guess because the theater was there before Toyota. The only indication of it ever being a theater is the low profile of the auditorium part of the building. It seems to sink into the ground. This was done to allow for the rake. With the stage house also gone, there is nothing left of its theatrical beginnings. By the way, The Museum of Death is next door. That should help narrow it down.
The building is still there but the entire façade was removed several years ago. It’s directly across the street from the Toyota service entrance.
Dave James, the manager of the Hollywood Theatre during the 70’s is second from the right in the above photo. I worked a couple of matinees at the Hollywood while I was working the evening showing of Fiddler on The Roof at the Fox Wilshire. Talk about a study in opposites. Working the Hollywood at any time of the day was anything but dull.
Anyone out there remember John Stark, Donna Perrot or Sandy Binkley? John was kind of a dork, but I’ve remained good friends with Donna and Sandy over the years. Sadly, Dave James committed suicide in the eighties.
The auditorium was much as it is today. The stage remained covered and the upper balcony was closed off. Then there was that horrible tile and dropped ceiling of the ticket lobby. That remained until Disney restored the theatre for Lion King. The “improvements” were all done so they could be reversed later on, though I doubt that’s what they had in mind.
My Aunt and Uncle lived in Compton, at 715 Mayo St, from 1924 until 1988. In that time it went from a nice little community to a war zone. That said, I have fond memories of weekends spent in Compton with Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Irving. They would come in to Hollywood, in their red and white Buick, on Friday night and whisk me off to their magic house surrounded by giant trees. She was a lawyer and he was a judge and the house was filled with books and mementos of their trips to exotic places. We’d pass the Tower, and the people lined up beneath the brightly lit marquee, and I would know we were almost there.