Woods Theatre

The Woods Theatre was demolished in the Summer of 1989.

(Chicago Tribune, January 8, 1989, by Rudolph Unger) The lights on movie theater marquees in Chicagos Loop have been flickering out one by one over the years, and the Loops last marquee was to go dark Sunday as the Woods Theater closed its doors. The demise of the theater where “Gone with the Wind“ premiered on a reserved-seat basis in 1940, beginning an engagement that lasted an entire year, will make Monday the first day in more than three-quarters of a century that the citys Loop will be without a movie theater. The Woods, on the northwest corner of Randolph and Dearborn Streets, will close to make way for a 30-story office building, becoming the latest victim of the Loops decline as an entertainment center and its growth as a commercial center. The 1,100-seat Woods is the last movie house to join the scrap heap of the once glittering film palaces that radiated like brillant necklaces near the intersection of State and Randolph Streets. “There was always a festival air surrounding the intersection of State and Randolph, the center of the Loops night life,” said Edward Barry, a veteran newspaper cultural critic. “I still recall the first of the great silent Harold Lloyd comedy films,Safety First,at the Chicago in 1923, in which he hung from the Wrigley Building clock.” The late Danny Kaye, the funny man whose uproarious first movie, “Up in Arms,” graced the Woods marquee for a year in 1944, would weep if he could see the Loop today, devoid of even a single silver screen. Bob Hope, that other funny man who once stood penniless outside Loop theaters in the 1920s before his star ascended, would certainly look in amazement at the shuttered show houses and sites of razed cinema palaces whose marquees once were emblazoned with the names of the brightest stars in Hollywoods firmament: actors such as Bing Crosby, Al Jolson, Charlie Chaplin, Jack Benny, Fred Astaire, John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart and Spencer Tracy. Actresses such as Greta Garbo, Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn, Joan Fontaine, Judy Garland, Ingrid Bergman and Barbara Stanwyck. The Chicago Theatre, long the flagship of the sumptuous Loop show places, was saved from destruction through a massive civic effort to refurbish it as a center of live entertainment. But shadows overhang its future since its operator, Chicago Theatre Productions, went into bankruptcy last summer, and the theater has been reopened only for an occasional event since. The Woods Theater, the Loop’s last movie house, on the northwest corner of Randolph and Dearborn Streets, was to close Sunday to make way for a 30-story building. Gone forever are such popular show houses as the State-Lake Theater, across the street from the Chicago. The Loop, just south of the Chicago, which for a time featured newsreels, is long gone. The Roosevelt, a block south on State, and the opulent Oriental, on Randolph just west of State, gave way to stores. The United Artists, down the street from the Oriental and kitty corner from the Woods, closed last year. The Garrick, onetime neighbor of the Woods, was replaced with a parking garage. The Apollo, just west of the Garrick, made way for the Greyhound bus terminal, which itself is now to be razed so that twin office towers can be built on Randolph Street. The McVickers Theater, on Madison Street just west of State, was taken over by film producer Mike Todd to feature his Todd-A-O process films, beginning with the screen version of the musical “Oklahoma.“ North of the Woods on Dearborn Street, the two Dearborn Cinemas had a short-lived existence after opening in the old Michael Todd and Cinestage Theaters. The properties, owned by Todds estate, are to be sold to the developer of the Greyhound property and restored to their original names, Harris and Selywn, and their original use as playhouses. Also long gone from the scene is the Palace Theater, in the Bismarck Hotel complex, once known as the home of the wide-screen Cinerama films. At one time, the Palace, like the Chicago, the State-Lake and the Oriental, featured not only first-run films from Hollywood but they also hosted live stage entertainment. “From childhood on, going to movies was a big thrill,” recalled Herman Kogan, Chicago historian and newspaperman. “On Saturdays, that meant going to one of the big Loop show palaces, where you could see stage shows as well as first-run films.” There were other, smaller theaters scattered about the Loop where B films or reruns of first-run movies could be seen, usually for a cut-rate price. These included the Monroe, the Clark and the LaSalle, which stood on the site of the present-day St. Peter Catholic Church at 110 W. Madison St. The Today theater, located on Madison Street just west of Dearborn and which specialized in newsreels, also disappeared. The movies came to Chicagos Loop-traditionally defined as the city blocks lying within the “loop“ of the downtown elevated tracks-early in this century.

(Chicago Tribune, March 19, 1918) - An explosion of dynamite shattered the east doors of the new Al H. Woods theater at Randolph and Dearborn streets last night and started a campaign by the police and the state’s attorney’s office to head off a reign of terror alleged to have been planned by union labor sympathizers. Threats to prevent the big playhouse from opening its doors to the public on Monday are said to have been made by labor representatives and soon after the blast had stirred great excitement at the busy downtown corner. Acting Chief Alcock and Assistant Fleming were on the scene looking for evidence upon which to base prosecution. State’s Attorney Hoyne, who is in Hot Springs, Ark., was in communication with his office by long distance telephone and gave directions for the inquiry.

Actual Damage Slight.

The explosion caused property damage of less than $75 despite the fact that it was of sufficient force to smash windows in a passing street car. Nobody was injured, although scores of persons were in the immediate vicinity. Following the explosion, which took place at 7:15 o’clock, George H. Thomas, the contractor who erected the building, and Lou M. Houseman, western representative of Al H. Woods, owner of the theater, admitted their suspicion that sheet metal workers might be implicated. Half a stick of dynamite blew up, either from a slow fuse or a match, just outside the Dearborn street entrance. The actual damage will not exceed $75.

What the Trouble Was About.

Mr. Thomas declared there had been labor trouble ever since construction started. Last Monday, he said, the electrical workers walked out in sympathy with the sheet metal trade, which quit the job three months ago because he refused to substitute iron doors for ones of steel already in position. Had the demands of the unions been acceded to, Mr. Housdeman said, the theater opening would have been delayed three months. Thomas Walsh, business agent of the sheet metal workers, was reached by telephone last night, but refused to talk. He was recalled to the telephone three times. Finally he said:

I know nothing about it.

Why no interior shots of this theater? Did I miss them?

1981 photo credit John McCarthy/Chicago History Museum.

https://collections.carli.illinois.edu/digital/collection/chm_pp/id/997/rec/13?fbclid=IwAR2yQxCmljkt50QfJDf_3B2SX6e7x_AWc-7mpN7XS9KKqr6IWmfV6Ix9PX0

Full width 8/31/66-9/22/66 photo credit Zeus Of Hollywood via Flickr.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/zeusofhollywood/3375169478?fbclid=IwAR3Uf9dwCjyg0kxhLk7zdJ9gOVXVWjIPPxAMLnziTE_qTYP1kFfxQI5H9Dc

The end of Chicago’s majestic rat-ridden movie palace (Mitch O'Connell)

Short story first- I heart movie palaces. Now for the long story – I moved to Chicago in 1979 right after high school to attend the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. For a film lover, it was perfect time and place. I got to relish the last days of the cavernous decaying grindhouses where you could just lose the day watching action and horror schlock, and catch the evening screenings of the classic and cult at the revival theaters such as The Parkway, Varsity and Sandburg (among others). I’d have my first time exposure to so many great films as they should be seen, on the big screen with an appreciative audience. Double features of Hitchcock to Marx Brothers, to John Waters and David Lynch. This is a story about one of the former, the majestic rat-ridden wonderful centers of entertainment that weren’t long for this earth. In its heyday, downtown Chicago was the place to catch a flick with dozens and dozens of downtown movie palaces projecting away day and night, but by 1989 only the Woods was left standing as the last surviving operating Loop movie theatre. Opened in 1940 with a yearlong showing of Gone With the Wind, for it went out with “I’m Gonna Get You Sucka” and “Hellraiser Hellbound 2” (not a pithy judgement call, I like ‘em all!). I went there for the first time when visiting my dad and happily stood in a line around the block to watch the James Bond flick “Diamonds Are Forever.” Back then I was doing weekly drawings for a Chicago Tribune column titled “Around Town” where I’d illustrate whatever reporter Rick Kogan wanted to write about. I was also researching the history of Chicago theaters for a never-realized graphic novel (which, 34 years later, will finally turn into blog postings). This time I thought I’d slightly fudge the facts and let the tail wag the dog using the press phrase “I’m from the Chicago Tribune” to get an all-access pass to the Woods’ last day. The manager, who was around my age, lets me, my camera and note-taking yellow legal pad right in. Today’s crowd for the 9am first showing consisted of three teens already caught up in talking back to a 40-foot-tall Isaac Hayes on the screen. The sleepy candy counter girl just seemed to be there out of habit. The popcorn machine is unplugged, there are no cups for soda and only 3 packs of candy are available under the glass display. I snapped away and worked my way up the 2 flights of stairs, stepped around the “Balcony Closed” sign, to the projectionist’s room door and knocked. Morton Krugman, projectionist for the Woods Theatre since 1953, lets me in. As soon as I get off my “I’m from the Tribune” greetings, a buzzer goes off warning that it’s one minute before the cue appears in the upper right hand corner of the screen to signal the reel change. When that shows, he has another 2 minutes before the next reel starts. Morton starts to rewind the wheel on the table which quickly spins until the last bit of celluloid feeds through, turning off the machine. Today’s films have been duly written on the pages he keeps secured to a clipboard chronicling the last 10 years of movies shown there. I pester and photograph away for the next half hour asking every unprepared question that pops in my head. I find out that normally his door is locked and chained to keep out the curious and intoxicated, but I just lucked out. Today was a late start since the manager didn’t get in until 8:50am but he still had to spend a half hour getting the machines ready. He’ll be able to get everything back to showtime schedule by just dropping out the coming attractions. He can watch the movie through the glass panel in the room, but since he doesn’t like much of what’s being screened, prefers to watch the TV (channel 5 comes in great but he can’t get in channel 2). Right next to the TV is a tape player where he puts cassettes management supplies of “urban” music to pipe in during intermission, which he also doesn’t like and doesn’t listen to. I ask to take a picture of him in his red chair that’s perched front of the viewing window. He objects. “A projectionist sitting down! Are you crazy?!” His long career has had him working at most of the Loop theaters. It’s in the blood as his father owned a chain of theaters all down Milwaukee Avenue. He remembers as a tot spending the day riding in a limo with dad to check on all the movie houses. It’s still a family affair since to get in the union you’ve got to already be related to a member. It’s also a strong union (the highest paid in the nation in fact). He started out at $60 a week and now he earns enough to easily retire. If fact, enough to have traveled to 30 countries over the years and, next week, has tickets to fly to Bora Bora with the wife. He started out like his father, acquiring second-run theaters that changed double features every three days, but ending up with an almost 40 years projectionist’s career. Along with two side businesses running a collection agency (including all Marshall Fields' accounts) and owning an “active seniors” complex, Mr. Krugman seems to be doing well. Hobbies? Bridge every week. He starts to tell me a story about projectionists who would have loud conversations in the booth and disturb the patrons. I keep on talking for another 10 minutes before it dawns on me that that was my cue to leave. I chit-chat with some other staff, and former employees who are hanging out and reminiscing. Within a month, the East West corner of Chicago and Randolph is an empty lot.

3/28/75-4/10/75 Saul Smaizys photo. Will enlarge.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/ceebop/24161857161/in/album-72157662523920010/

Found on Newspapers.com

02/06/76-02/19/76 photo in Flickr link below.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/ceebop/27809876491/in/dateposted-public/

“Citizen Kane” Opening 1941 photo added courtesy of Chuck Kuenneth, who managed the Woods in the `70’s. Also an October 1976 photo added credit Allan Zirlin.

Thank you CT Admin’s for updating the Woods page. Here is further confirmation that 1918 is the correct year for the Woods opening.

http://archives.chicagotribune.com/1918/03/10/page/65/article/news-and-comment-of-the-theater

Added an opening photo to the Photos Section. Although the photo is dated 1917, all sources including Variety linked below say “Friendly Enemies” opened the Woods Theatre March 11, 1918. Photo image credit Geroge Krejci.com

So the opening date should be changed as well as the spelling of “Theater” to “Theatre” in the Overview and page top. The building may have been constructed in 1917 but did not open until 1918.

http://fultonhistory.com/Newspaper%2015/Variety/Variety%201918/Variety%201918%20-%200126.pdf