When the Quad first opened I worked on lower Fifth Ave., a few blocks to the north. Although, in retrospect, it sounds like a “no-brainer” that a movie complex named the Quad is going to have four different theaters under one roof, with one ticket booth collecting separate admissions for each, the concept of a multiplex was so “new” (at least in NYC), that I remember having a wacky conversation with a co-worker in which we tried to get a “handle” on what the Quad Cinema “was.”
At first, I think we had the impression that you could see any of four movies for the price of one, kind of like a Chinese menu of a movie theater — or, for the very hearty, a double-double feature! My co-worker (a hip young woman) even made a remark along the lines of, “Oh, I really ought to check it out sometime; it’s been so long since I even seen a double-feature.” So despite the fact that, in terms of “trends,” I can be out of the loop sometimes, at least I know I was not alone in my befuddlement about the Quad.
I once had a very weird experience at the Quad that I can now, I guess, laugh about in retrospect. I believe I was sitting in the first theater on the left (the one facing 13th St.) and watching either a movie about the modern day muckraker, I.F. Stone, or Antonia (?) a music teacher (to people like Judy Collins). All of a sudden you could hear the sound of a very sharp “pop.”
Of course, the first thing that went through my mind was that it was a gun shot. (I once heard a similar sound near my apartment, and it was indeed revealed as a gunshot in the newspapers the next day.) Interestingly, not one person in the theater said anything, but you KNEW that everyone was thinking pretty much the exact same thing at that moment (and thinking that everyone else was thinking the same thing at that moment).
Then there was the sound of the door at the rear of the auditorium opening. And, you could almost feel the entire auditorium holding its breadth in anticipation.
I know this is going to sound irreverent, but I thought something along the following lines: 1) I know someone is going to repeat a classic movie phrase now; 2) (and, it’s not going to be “You’re going out there a kid, and you’re coming back, a star!); 3) and I wonder how he or she is going to actually phrase it without sounding, somehow, corny.
Well the person did indeed say, word for word, “Is there a doctor in the house?” (in a calm but convincing fashion).
I can laugh about it now because I assume nobody was really seriously hurt. (At least there was nothing in the news media the next day as far as I could tell.)
As we were leaving the theater, I’m pretty sure there were police in the lobby. But what I remember seeing was where a ceramic tile in the ticket lobby had lost a chip due to the bullet. (I don’t remember seeing any blood.)
So my guess (and hope) is that whoever was injured only had a minor injury due to being hit by the piece of ceramic tile.
Usually when you read about theater acoustics, it seems as though theater builders try and make the balcony as shallow as possible because sound gets trapped beneath a large balcony. Putting a hole in the ceiling at the underside of a large balcony would seem to make things worse, not better.
Plus, I know of no Broadway “legit” theater, concert hall or opera house, now or in the past, that had such a hole at the back of the orchestra — and one would think that they would need acoustic “help” as much as any theater. It seems like the only theaters that had such holes were vaudeville theaters or early movie theaters (some of which may have also had vaudeville) like the Rialto, the Rivoli and the Tivoli.
My guess, as I mentioned in the previous discussions on this phenomenon, is that these holes were more of a problem than an asset acoustically speaking, but that they were an inexpensive way to make places look grand and special, and the noise problems they might have created were not considered all that terrible in the more raucous atmosphere of vaudeville or “silent” movies (with organ accompaniment).
One reason I am surprised that I didn’t notice it at the Sheridan, is I find the whole idea really unusually and striking and I’m surprised I would have missed it at the Sheridan. (I remember being quite startled, and taken with the idea, when I saw it used in the late 1960s in the convention area of the Hilton Hotel on Sixth Ave.) Perhaps I missed it at the Sheridan because of the darkness or because I was in a rush? My recollection, apparently erroneous, is that the Loew’s Sheridan had a totally conventional lobby.
I think it’s an interesting phenomenon. It would be interesting to find a history of it somewhere.
Just got a look at the Edward Hopper painting that Warren posted. I know the name of the painting is “The Sheridan Theater” and that Edward Hopper lived in the Village, but I wonder if 1) it really is THE Loew’s Sheridan in Greenwich Village; 2) he took liberties with his depiction of the interior; or 3) the theater was extensively remodeled after he painted his picture.
I say this because the painting seems to show one of those cut-outs in the ceiling over the orchestra that was discussed a month or two ago on the page for the Rivoli theater. I don’t recall such a cut out there when I went to see “2,001 Odyssey” there in the late 1960s. Of course, I may have not noticed it or maybe I’ve forgotten about it. But do other people remember it?
Also, given that the site of the Loew’s Sheridan was smallish for a movie theater (I think) and had an unusual shape, it would seem odd that they would have such a space waster as a a cut out in the floor of the balcony level (which could have been used for lounge space, etc.).
I’ve also read elsewhere that the Roxy Theater’s lobby could accommodate vast numbers and that the Radio City Music Hall lobby wasn’t designed for this. But I’m a bit skeptical, and would be interested in a bit more detailed info if anyone has any.
Looking at floor plans, it seems that the Radio City Music Hall lobby was actually much larger than that of the Roxy — just a bit narrower, perhaps, but much deeper. In the Music Hall, the lobby went clear across the block, from 50th to 51st St., plus there was a basement lounge that seemed to be about as wide as the street level lobby and it also went clear across the block. In contrast, the Roxy’s rotunda only went, so it seems from the plans in “Best Remaining Seats,” about halfway into the block (and it doesn’t appear to be all that much wider — if it was even wider in the first place — than that of either the RCMH lobby or the RCMH basement lounge).
Also, since no one seems to mention a vast basement lounge for the Roxy, I’m guessing that it didn’t have one. While it’s true that the lobby spaces for Music Hall balcony levels were narrow (pre-empted by the open space above the lobby), I get the impression that the vast basement lounge was the RCMH’s answer to whatever upper level lounges/waiting spaces the Roxy might have had.
So it’s hard to imagine why — or how — the Roxy could accommodate so many more people in its lobby (rotunda) than Radio City Music Hall could in its lobby spaces.
How did people actually wait in the Roxy rotunda? Did they just stand there in line — but indoors instead of outdoors — or were there 1,500 seats/benches in the rotunda and 500 seats/ benches in the tunnels leading to the balcony? If they were just standing there, it seems to me a similar arrangement could have been set up in the Music Hall if the management really wanted to.
I’m not saying it would be easy to do — it probably would necessitate different procedures and different circulation patterns — but it doesn’t appear to be all that impossible or that the Roxy was set up all that differently or better than RCMH for waiting crowds. Rather it seems more like a business decision, that in one theater they wanted people waiting in lines in the lobby and in another they didn’t.
On the other hand, one other guess — and this is in support of the Roxy having more waiting space — in the Hall book there are photos of an upper level foyer in the Roxy. (The one pictured has large decorative windows, so I suppose it is behind one of the windows on the 50th St. side.) This foyer seems rather wide and, if I recall correctly has decorative niches that could accommodate a bench or two. So, if the Roxy did have any advantages, I guess this would be it. But it’s still hard to imagine that these wide hallways made that big a difference.
P.S. — I have a vague recollection that the basement lounge of RCMH was indeed used as a waiting area of sorts (maybe for those with reserved seats?). I wonder if this was true?
In today’s (March 24, 2005) issue of the on-line version of the “New York Times” there was an article that mentions Cinema 1, 2, 3 along with the Beekman. The article is “In Preservation Wars, a Focus on Midcentury” by Robin Pogrebin. (Registration Required)
The article confirms that, “Plans have been announced to convert Cinemas 1, 2 & 3 … into retail space” and puts the fight to save Cinema 1, 2 & 3 into the larger context of the fight by preservationists to get the Landmarks Preservation Commission to hold hearings on a number of mid-20th Century buildings that a good number of citizens (some of them quite distinguished in the preservation field) feel are legitimate candidates for landmark designation.
What’s especially interesting to me with regard to the plans for Cinema 1, 2, 3 is that the owners said in the January 27th issue of “Our Town” (a free weekly community newspaper) that the theaters were going to continue as theaters. (See my post on the Beekman page.)
Another poster, Robert R, responded that he didn’t believe the owners, and his distrust was, apparently, very quickly proven to be justified!
BoxOfficeBill: Thanks for the Mickey Rooney suggestions. I looked up “Quicksand” on Amazon, and it doesn’t seem to be the movie I’m thinking of. I wonder if I’ve mixed up Mickey Rooney with another actor? Or perhaps it wasn’t a carnival or circus, but something else that seemed to me — a kid — to be a carnival or circus side show? (Maybe it was a horse racing stable?)
It’s funny how memories are, though. In my mind it is a relatively vivid image (I can see them in some kind of hayloft), and I distinctly remember being none too pleased with the fact that my father seemed to be laughing so much and so thoroughly enjoying this scene in the movie (as though he was putting all kids — including me — into the same category as the kid on the screen).
Ken: From reading that webpage, the “Grand” seems to be the theater I’m thinking of (e.g., 2,178 seats seems about the right level of grandeur).
Sorry, that was my mistake regarding the addresses. Although I grew up in Queens, the street numbering system has always given me a problem, and with my map being cut in half, I read the map wrong.
Looking at the map again, Ditmars seems to be the equivalent of a 22nd Ave., and the next street to the south is 23rd Ave. I think the hyphenated addres works as follows: the first number reflects the number of the cross street at the north end of the block, and the number after the hypen relfects how far that building is from the northern end of the block (with odd numbers being on the eastern side of the street).
So, if I’m reading the map correctly this time, an address for the “Grand” at 22-15 (closer to 22nd St. and on the eastern side of 31st St.) and for the “Ditmars” at 22-68 (further away from 22nd St. and on the western side of 31st St.) would seem about right. (Although I don’t have any personal recollection of the “Ditmars” at all.)
Thanks again for your help! It seemed so strange that such a large theater (which was so bustling and full of life in my memory of it in the mid-1950s) was so much “under the radar.” But since it apparently closed in the mid-1950s, one can see how it more or less fell off the map. But I guess it’s the same as the Jamaica Theater west of Parsons Blvd. on Jamaica Ave. — except that that one closed before I ever saw it in operation.
P.S. — I haven’t been to that area in ages, but looking at the Hagstom, the particular block that I’m thinking about seems to be a double-sized block. (For some reason, 32nd St. discontinues at 23rd Ave. and then starts up again at Ditmars.)
Looking at my Hagstrom, I get the impression that 22-68 31st St. would be approximately one subway stop further to the south from where I think the movie theater I’m talking about was. (It’s hard for me to read this particular map in my Hagstrom atlas because, wouldn’t you know it, the area is interrupted by the book’s spiral binding.)
It’s funny, and I may be way off, but in my recollection this theater is a “major” movie theater with a big marquee (in my mind, it is just one step below the Triboro in grandeur) and just about at the end of the line of the “elevated” along 31st St. (which even as a kid seemed too “delicious” for a disaster movie scene — with the “el” trains shooting off the end of the elevated structure).
In my memory the theater is on the corner, with the big marquee facing the elevated on 31st St. and the left side of the auditorium running along Ditmars. I think there was a “tunnel” foyer/lobby running east-west, until it hit a north-south “real” lobby running across the back of the orchestra level.
2) The Mickey Rooney movie (if there was one, and I haven’t mixed different movies/TV shows together in my mind) would have been around 1954, 1955 or 1956. (I once tried looking it up on Imdb, but it was very difficult to do — it might have been an earlier movie of his that was re-released or on a double-bill?)
Thanks (yet again!) Warren and BoxOfficeBill for the helpful info.
Since I’m not sure where else to place these questions, the Triboro site seems as good a place as any:
1) Does anyone know the name of the movie theater in Astoria on, I believe, 31st St. and Ditmars? I remember being taken there in the mid-1950s by some older neighborhood kids to see some kiddie matinee movie — maybe even “Our Gang” comedies.
2) Does anyone remember a Mickey Rooney movie where he plays a guardian of a young boy. The boy is rebellious (sp?) and uncooperative. But the kid becomes cooperative all of a sudden when they go to some kind of carnival or circus and get caught in a fire.
Caro: Thanks for the confirmation on “Mummenschanz,” especially the specific date.
Re: faded beauty of Broadway area theaters
There was a time when it seemed most legit Broadway houses had, like you say, a very faded beauty — even without peeling paint, etc. I think one reason for this is that a lot of theater owners seemed to paint over all the decorative low-relief plaster work — with some kind of non-descript grey, or light blue paint. It was kind of reminiscent to me of the look of the hallway in a run down Bronx apartment house (I’m from the Bronx), but minus the circular florescent light fixtures. Two theaters that particularly come to mind are the Eugene O'Neil (where I saw “She Loves Me”) and the Broadway (“My Fair Lady,” “Purlie,” and the “Wiz”), both of which I vaguely remember as being disappointly very drab. (Please don’t hold me to all of this, since I’m talking about ages ago — but these were my impressions.) If I remember the correctly, the Broadway had actually been renovated in the late 1950s early 1960s, and even so the interior of the auditorium was drab (although the lobby areas were a bit more glamorous).
I think the Shubert Theatre Organization (the owner of the most theaters in the area, although I’m not sure if they own either the Eugene O'Neil or Broadway) more recently went through an enlightened renovation policy, where they actually hired interior decorators to redo their theaters (including the auditoriums) right.
I think the Triboro was the first atmospheric theater I was ever taken to — maybe I was four or five. Since my father took me to it on a nice clear Spring or Fall night (when the temperature inside was about the same as the temperature outside), I couldn’t figure out if we were really outdoors or whether the inside of the theater was just designed to look that way. I think I tried to ask my father if we were really outdoors or indoors, but he was such a “kidder” I don’t think I trusted his answer — whatever it was!
Thanks mike j h for the name of the Olympia. I remember being taken to it to see an Abbott and Costello movie about 1956 or so. (I think the movie ends with them on some kind of train.)
I liked the movie so much, I asked my father if we could stay and see it again. He “warned” me that if we did, I’d miss the Mickey Mouse Show. (Obviously, we went to the theater in the afternoon.) I heard him, but it didn’t really “sink in.” So I was upset at myself when we got home, and I realized that I really didn’t want to miss the Mickey Mouse show! Ah, another childhood lesson learned!
While, in a sense, I can understand why they included the Ziegfeld in the article (I can see how, in a narrow sense, it meets their criteria), the listing of it in such an article made me think of the concept and the expression, “defining deviance down.”
There is no greater disdainer of the Ziegfeld than myself … .
Talk about damning with faint praise … .
The Ziegfeld may not be ideal … .
I think we tend to put the Ziegfeld on a pedastal and worship her because sadly she is all we have left. In the good ole days she would have been just another movie house, and certainly not a movie palace … .
it’s as good as it gets these days … .
Is it a palace? No, I was cheated out of the great palaces. The Paramount, Capital, Roxy were all gone, The Rivoli, Criterion, & Warner were twinned when I came into my own as a serious moviegoer.
I realize, especially from reading the posts on this site, that movie theaters are more than just their architecture and design. Just as important — actually, even more so — is the way a theater presents a movie (e.g., the quality of the picture, the quality of the sound, etc.).
Luxuriously comfortable seats with great sitelines, state of the art sound and projection, great bookings, it is a palace to me, with or without the gilded plaster cherubs.
People should be aware that the Landmarks Preservation Commission has been dragging its feet regarding a number of potential landmarks recently. It seems to be part of an unspoken “plan”: if you’ve already secretly decided not to landmark something, don’t allow a public hearing on it (the first step in the landmarking process) to be “calendared.”
Recently a very strong potential candidate for landmarking, the Paterson Silk Co. Building on 14th St. (an early design by Morris Lapidus, who is famous for the Fontainbleu Hotel in Miami Beach) was unexpectedly pretty much destroyed. (See the 3/9/05, “New York Times” article, “Wrecking Ball Dashes Hopes for a Lapidus Work” by Robin Pogrebin.) This was another case of where a number of the big names in landmarks preservation asked the LPC to hold a public hearing, and they refused to schedule one.
But perhaps the “stink” over the loss of this building (the LPC seemed to be put on the defensive in the NY Times article) might be useful in the fight for at least a public hearing on some of the others, like the Beekman. So you might want to mention the loss of the Paterson Silk Building in your letter.
A interesting “wrinkle” with regard to the Cinema 1, 2 and 3 case: It is an unwritten law (and possible a written one, too, I forget) that once a building’s significant features have been altered, it is “too late” for landmark designation to save them. (Which is why developers try to sneak a demolition or alteration in before something is landmarked.) But in the “NY Times” article referred to above, the Chairman of the Landmark Preservation Commission claimed that he could still landmark the Paterson Silk Building and have the building rebuilt. So I hope people get a chance to read that NY Times article and directly challenge the LPC on this statement if they get a reply saying that Cinema 1, 2, 3 has been altered too much for landmark designation.
People should be aware that the Landmarks Preservation Commission has been dragging its feet regarding a number of potential landmarks recently. It seems to be part of an unspoken “plan”: if you’ve already secretly decided not to landmark something, don’t allow a public hearing (the first step in the landmarking process)on it to be “calendared.”
Recently a very strong potential candidate for landmarking, the Paterson Silk Co. Building on 14th St. (an early design by Morris Lapidus, who is famous for the Fontainbleu Hotel in Miami Beach) was unexpectedly pretty much destroyed. (See the 3/9/05, “New York Times” article, “Wrecking Ball Dashes Hopes for a Lapidus Work” by Robin Pogrebin.) This was another case of where a number of the big names in landmarks preservation asked the LPC to hold a public hearing, and they refused to schedule one.
But perhaps the “stink” over the loss of this building (the LPC seemed to be put on the defensive in the NY Times article) might be useful in the fight for at least a public hearing on some of the others, like the Beekman. So you might want to mention the loss of the Paterson Silk Building in your letter.
“I have to wonder if the photo at the top of this page (the interior of an auditiorium with apparently at least eight slender cast iron columns placed in the "middle” of the orchestra seating level) is REALLY the interior of Hammerstein’s Victoria … "
Mystery solved!:
I was looking through William Morrison’s “Broadway Theaters: History and Architecture” yesterday. It has a chapter on Hammerstein’s Victoria and a picture of the building’s ROOF GARDEN theater. The photo looks out from the stage (in the opposite direction from that of the photo at the top of this page), through the auditorium’s interior and out onto the rest of the roof (which I believe may have extended over to the roof top of the neighboring Republic / Belasco / Victory).
It seems to me that it is this rooftop theater — and not the building’s main auditorium — that is the one shown at the top of this page. This would help explain why the theater in the photograph at the top of this page has all those columns, seems so unsophisticated and has all that light pouring in through the windows.
One of the things I really liked about the photo in the Morrison book is that it not only shows the interior of the roof top theater, but also the raised terrace on the portion of the roof that is outside the theater (at the back). Other photos I’ve seen of the roof garden only showed the raised terrace. So this photo shows both the roof theater and the roof terraces — and how they related to one another.
By the way, the book itself is terrific. It has many wonderful photos that seem to clear up a lot of similar such “mysteries” about old Broadway theaters. While a reviewer on Amazon said that many of the photos also appear in Nicholas Van Hoogstraten’s “Lost Broadway Theaters,” I don’t remember seeing them there. (But, then again, I don’t own that book and only thumbed through it when it first came out.) The reviewer also said the book contained a good number of factual errors, which may be true since I believe I was able to detect a few myself. (But to be fair to the author, I don’t know how the number of errors in his book compares with the the number found in other books — all these books seem to have at least some errors.)
“Broadway Theaters: History and Architecture” is one of those inexpensive Dover paperback picturebooks. The list price is $17.95, but brand new copies were on sale at the Strand bookstore yesterday for about the same price as they are on Amazon ($12.21).
P.S. — At the Strand, there were also used copies of “Best Remaining Seats” (didn’t check the prices) and a half-priced(?), brand new “reviewer’s copy” of “Cinema Treasures” ($20.00).
And thank you for setting up and maintaining this wonderful website!
While my main interest is in the theaters of the New York City metropolitan area (and I’ve learned a lot of new info about them on this site), it’s also amazing to see how many wonderful theaters there are across the entire USA and around the world. (Internationally, I’m thinking of the Australian and UK theaters that I’ve seen on the site.)
Along similar lines, one of my favorite pictures in the book, “Cinema Treasures,” (which I saw yesterday in a bookstore) is the one that shows the main theater street of Denver, Colorado in the 1920s(?). This is what I imagine 42nd St. in New York City looked like in its heyday (if it actually ever looked quite this good). (I wonder what this Denver street looks like today, and if it ever experienced a decline similar to that of 42nd St.? Also, it would be interesting to see what the main theater streets of other cities — Boston, Cleveland, Philadelphia, etc. — looked like in their heydays also.)
Supposedly no two snowflakes are exactly alike. While the same thing might not be quite as true for theaters, it is amazing nevertheless to see just how many different ways people have come up with of designing wonderful places for people to watch movies!
Re: the interesting link posted by lostmemory (showing four postcards from the Roxy):
I found the third and fourth postcards to be especially interesting. I liked the third because it was an un-retouched photo — so many postcards from that era seem to be half photo and half painting. This third postcard also showed a very unusual and interesting close-up view of the theater. The fourth postcard was interesting and “sad” because it shows that already in the mid-1940s they were fooling around with the original interior design in order to “modernize” it.
Re: Change, Times Sq. and the Movie Palace
To clarify my original posts, I was talking about a “golden era” followed by a very sudden change (kind of like the sudden extinction of the dinosaurs), which is what seems to me to be the story of the movie palace (doing well one year, and then there’s a fast decline during a relatively short period — then demolition!). In terms of the other comparisons mentioned, things are going along just “chipper” then all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, “pow!” — there’s TV (cutting short the reign of radio); there are jet planes (cutting short the reign of the trans-Atlantic ocean liner); there are cassettes (cutting short the reign of vinyl); there are luxury boxes (cutting short the reign of arenas like Continental Airlines); etc.
For me, the interesting point is that when people talk about movie palaces they seem to forget that there are other, similar examples that can help put the decine of movie palaces into a larger perspective.
The sudden change (within only one or three years) of “NoHo” (catalyst: Tower Records?) and the Grand Concourse (catalyst: Co-Op City?) also seem to be examples of this pattern.
However, from the little I know of Hempstead, it seems to me whatever significant changes occurred, happened over a longer period of time (apparently, as has been pointed out, the change occurred over a twenty year period). And Harlem doesn’t seem to be a good example of sudden change either because it has always had some very nice areas (Sugar Hill and Strivers Row, etc.) and even today there are plenty and plenty of places that still have not been revitalized. So the change in Harlem 1) hasn’t really been all that dramatic (once one discounts wishful thinking and media hype) and 2) it hasn’t really happened all that suddenly either (or because of some particular catalyst).
In terms of Times Sq., while there were indeed downward changes in the late 1960s, they really weren’t all that sudden or dramatic — the area was still pretty bad before 1968, and had been going steadily downhill for nearly forty years! Before 1968, Times Sq. was generally thought of as a center of the sex trade, a place that was run down, dirty and dangerous and after 1968 it was still seen that way — it was only a change of degree, not of kind. But the difference between pre-Depression Times Sq. and post-Depression Times Sq. appears to have been a dramatic change in kind — and in a relatively brief period too (catalyst: the Great Depression). (Illustration: in terms of all kinds of stage shows being produced, I think in the year just before the Depression there were some incredible number of new shows produced that year — something like 225. After the Depression it dropped to something like 25! Sorry, don’t have the reference handy, and I think it refers to more than just Broadway plays and musicals.)
I disagree with the idea that the opening of a carnival like show and the closing of a lobster palace illustrates the decline of the Times Sq. area in 1927. Rather, it seems to me that it is an illustration of how the area was maturing and diversifying. In pre-depression years, like 1927, the area was actually booming — millions upon millions of dollars were still being invested in the area (including the millions spent on the brand new wonder of the world — the Roxy!). Yes, one lobster palace at one location might have closed, but very expensive restaurants were still springing up all over the area. So this is not, in my opinion, necessarily an illustration of decline, but rather an illustration of diversification and maturation.
Also have to disagree that the “new” Times Sq. (post re-vitalization) and the “old” Times Sq. (1920s, 1930s, etc.) are as different in the ways that many critics make them out to be. While I do believe they are differences, I don’t believe it is because there was more to do in the old Times Sq. People seem to forget that the old Times Sq. had office buildings, chain restaurants and tourist attractions too. (Even the movie palaces were part of chains!)
Somewhere on this site, someone wrote how great Times Square was in 1968, clean, bright, lots of things to do and then JUST TWO YEARS LATER…it was seedy (wish I could remember where this was written.)
I would have to disagree on Times Sq. though. While it is true that it did change signficantly at the end of the 1960s, it is a tremendous stretch to say that it was clean, bright, etc. before that. Most historians say that Times Sq. first developed a seedy, raffish reputation during the depression and just never recovered. The downward spiral just seemed to intensify in the late 1960s (with the downward spiral of the rest of NYC).
Better examples of severe sudden change might be the change in the Grand Concourse in the late 1960s (so many people describe double parked moving vans with many people moving to the enormous, just being finished Co-Op City.
Another remarkable fast change is the area around the Tower Records I just mentioned. I couldn’t believe my eyes. One summer you could go there on a Sunday and the streets would be completed deserted. It seemed like the next year, or maybe two years at most, the place was significantly different — with lots and lots of stores and shoppers!
I find the short time span between great business at the Roxy to its demolition to be interesting also. This general phenomenon of “high point” then extinction has fascinated me for years now — and the time spans just seem to be getting shorter and shorter!
It first occurred to me with reference to ocean liners. The ocean liners getting bigger, better and faster, then “pouf” — the development of the jet airplane — and even just built, very modern ships, (e.g., the United States, the France, the Michaelangelo and the Raffaelo) were pulled out of service and mothballed.
Another great example is radio — whose “golden days” were even shorter than the movie palace. Roxy’s show done from the Capitol Theater was one of the earliest hits of radio, and radio seems to have lost out to TV as a major medium in the late 1940s and early 1950s.
The gallop through 78s, 45s, 33 1/3, stereo, cassettes, CDs and now on-line music is in some ways, even more amazing. When “Tower (Records?) first open in New York (at Broadway and W. 3rd), it was so crowded it was like entering a "hot” nightclub. Don’t remember, but I think cassettes were the medium of choice then (just having overtaken vinyl). Didn’t go for a few years, and when I went back all the cassette bins were gone and replaced by CD bins. Now, it seems no matter when I go, it’s a near ghost town. (I assume people are listening to music on-line.)
Another example I find interesting (and disconcerting) is the sports/concert arena. It’s amazing to me that the Continental Arena (formerly Byrne Arena), Nassau Memorial Coliseum and Madison Sq. Garden are all seen as obsolete (rendered “obsolete,” apparently, by the “need” for luxury “skyboxes”). It just seems like “yesterday” that they were brand new â€" I have yet to even go to the Nassau Coliseum or the “new” Madison Sq. Garden! Same holds true for all those post Dodger Stadium multi-purpose stadiums (like Shea).
Interesting thought: The Continental Arena opened in 1981, which makes it 24 years old. The Roxy opened in 1927 and was 24 years old in 1951.
As mentioned in previous posts, I think the Roxy seemed older than it was because of its a) historical style of architecture and b) because of a watershed change in taste towards art deco, art moderne and the International Style. Although the prevailing architectural style has changed since 1981, it is less dramatic â€" so in some ways the Continental Arena looks like it could have been built yesterday.
I find the short time span between great business at the Roxy to its demolition to be interesting also. This general phenomenon of “high point” then extinction has fascinated me for years now — and the time spans just seem to be getting shorter and shorter!
It first occurred to me with reference to ocean liners. The ocean liners getting bigger, better and faster, then “pouf” — the development of the jet airplane — and even just built, very modern ships, (e.g., the United States, the France, the Michaelangelo and the Raffaelo) were pulled out of service and mothballed.
Another great example is radio — whose “golden days” were even shorter than the movie palace. Roxy’s show done from the Capitol Theater was one of the earliest hits of radio, and radio seems to have lost out to TV as a major medium in the late 1940s and early 1950s.
The gallop through 78s, 45s, 33 1/3, stereo, cassettes, CDs and now on-line music is in some ways, even more amazing. When “Tower (Records?) first open in New York (at Broadway and W. 3rd), it was so crowded it was like entering a "hot” nightclub. Don’t remember, but I think cassettes were the medium of choice then (just having overtaken vinyl). Didn’t go for a few years, and when I went back all the cassette bins were gone and replaced by CD bins. Now, it seems no matter when I go, it’s a near ghost town. (I assume people are listening to music on-line.)
Another example I find interesting (and disconcerting) is the sports/concert arena. It’s amazing to me that the Continental Arena (formerly Byrne Arena), Nassau Memorial Coliseum and Madison Sq. Garden are all seen as obsolete (rendered “obsolete,” apparently, by the “need” for luxury “skyboxes”). It just seems like “yesterday” that they were brand new â€" I have yet to even go to the Nassau Coliseum or the “new” Madison Sq. Garden! Same holds true for all those post Dodger Stadium multi-purpose stadiums (like Shea).
Interesting thought: The Continental Arena opened in 1981, which makes it 24 years old. The Roxy opened in 1927 and was 24 years old in 1951.
As mentioned in previous posts, I think the Roxy seemed older than it was because of its a) historical style of architecture and b) because of a watershed change in taste towards art deco, art moderne and the International Style. Although the prevailing architectural style has changed since 1981, it is less dramatic â€" so in some ways the Continental Arena looks like it could have been built yesterday.
Re: accessing old issues of the “New York Times” for info on movies and movie theaters
Until a few weeks ago, I didn’t realize that there is something much, much better than either a) the online archive of the “New York Times” or b) microfilm/microfiche. Apparently university libraries subscribe to online database services which allow the user to not only search a publication like the “New York Times” using keywords in a search engine, but also allow the user to view a) an online photograph (a pdf file?) of the article and/or b) an online photograph of the entire page of the newspaper (including the advertisements).
The first time I ever used such an online database was to look up the article that Warren mentioned in his Feb 6th post on Radio City Music Hall’s underground box office. By typing in “Radio City Music Hall” and specifying the date of the article (12/18/40), I was able to access a photograph of the the original article within seconds! (You can also specific a date range, rather than just a specific date.) If you select “page view,” you get to see not only the article itself, but the advertisements surrounding them.
I’ve since used the database to look up articles and advertisements about the Loew’s “Wonder” Theaters (was able to view the advertisements that listed the “Wonder” theaters, what they were showing and the show times); the original “Lindy’s” restaurant (which, apparently, was next door to the Rivoli); the theater where the original production of the Broadway musical “Gypsy” opened (it was the Broadway, which had been a movie theater, the B.S. Moss Colony); etc.
I assume all university libraries subscribe to this database, called “Proquest,” but don’t know if public research libraries, like the research division of the New York Public Library, do also — but would imagine that they do. (If they do, I suspect you have to access them at the actual library — not over the internet.)
It’s still not clear to me what a database company like “Proquest” does/is, but this is the tentative understanding I got after speaking to the librarian (and another one, later):
A company, like “Proquest,” contracts with a publication, like the “Times,” to photograph all of its issues between certain dates. (“Proquest” has the rights to issues of the “Times” between 1851 and 2001.) I think the company then photographs (pdf?) all the pages that have been published between those dates — or maybe they use existing microfiche?). The company develops software that allows a computer to search through the images for certain words in headlines or text. The company provides this package to libraries for a certain fee.
All in all, it sounds like an amazing undertaking and a wonderful service. (I’m just guessing that this is the way it is set-up, but would be interested in hearing the true story from anyone who knows.)
(Don’t know how many other publications are accessible this way, but “Proquest” also offers historical database searches for the “Chicago Tribune,” the “Los Angeles Times” and the “Washington Post.”)
P.S. — Although I’d seen these databases mentioned before, I had no idea what they were. I guess I thought that they were electronic equivalents of the old “Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature” — I didn’t think that you could also access the articles themselves (and the advertisements around them). A few weeks ago, a librarian gave me a more detailed look at what they could do when I mentioned that I was trying to find out the prices for things like movies in years gone by. He suggested the “Proquest” database as a way of indirectly accessing the advertisements in old issues of the “New York Times” (first you access an article on the entertainment page, and then you select page view to see the ads surrounding it).
Actually, it hasn’t been that helpful for my original purpose (the ads don’t seem to mention prices as much as I thought they would), but it seems to me to be a tremendous research resource nevertheless.
In her memoir, “Love, Alice,” Audrey Meadows (who was, of course, Jackie Gleason’s TV wife, Alice Kramden) has a few pages about the time that the “Honeymooners” played the Paramount.
One of the most amazing things (almost too amazing to believe) is that they did these special versions of the “Honeymooners” (which was then just a regular segment of the Jackie Gleason Show) daily at the Paramount during the actual TV season — and in an era when TV was done live!
As a matter of fact, a few paragraphs of Meadow’s account describes the day they did shows at the Paramount on the same day that they did the Jackie Gleason TV show from their theater about ten blocks further uptown!
But apparently Meadows was used to this kind of stuff. Earlier in the book she also mentions that, just before she was hired for the Gleason show, one of her first TV jobs was with Bob and Ray, and that she would do the show daily at the NBC studios in Rockefeller Center (Sixth Ave.) and then scurry down 50th St. to the Winter Garden (stage door is on Seventh Ave.) where she was appearing nightly opposite Phil Silvers in the Broadway musical “Top Banana”!
As someone else mentioned in connection with the performing schedule of (Jerry) Lewis & (Dean) Martin during that era (perhaps on the page of another Cinema Treasures theater), entertainers really worked in those days!
In the Meadows book, there is also a picture of the Paramount marquee when the “Honeymooners” was there. This marquee seems to me to be different from the original marquee (and therefore different, of course, from the current recreation). The marquee almost looks like the one they have/had at Roseland Ballroom on W. 52nd St. Given that it has a 1950s look, I assume the marquee was remodeled in the early 1950s, but would be interested if anyone has more details.
Watch what they DO, not what they say. It’s quite easy to see them saying, say, six months from now that conditions have changed and now they’ve decided to close the theater. And by vandalizing the facade they’ve already paved the way for demolition — making an otherwise bumpy road (possible landmark designation) into a smoother one (highly unlikely landmark designation).
Re: Weinstein
While it is obviously good news that a powerful film business “insider” — especially one known for his doggedness — is on the side of the Beekman, I still see it as only a ray of hope, as there are probably many equally powerful and savvy people on the other side (the people on the board of directors of Sloan-Kettering, for example).
Plus, despite its qualifications for landmark status, it seems to me that it is in the “wrong” style (too “middlebrow”) to excite the interest of the landmarks preservation community.
And it also seems to me to be a building with the wrong kind of architectural “pedigree.” Although the architectural firm is, I believe, the firm that designed the glorious art deco Cincinnati railroad terminal and is, I believe, the successor firm to the one that designed Grand Central Terminal, I think they are seen more as “hacks” within the preservation community, rather than distinguished architects whose work deserves preservation.
A theater designed by one of the “gods” of modern architecture (even if it were actually undistinguished) would seem to me to have a better chance at being designated a landmark.
When the Quad first opened I worked on lower Fifth Ave., a few blocks to the north. Although, in retrospect, it sounds like a “no-brainer” that a movie complex named the Quad is going to have four different theaters under one roof, with one ticket booth collecting separate admissions for each, the concept of a multiplex was so “new” (at least in NYC), that I remember having a wacky conversation with a co-worker in which we tried to get a “handle” on what the Quad Cinema “was.”
At first, I think we had the impression that you could see any of four movies for the price of one, kind of like a Chinese menu of a movie theater — or, for the very hearty, a double-double feature! My co-worker (a hip young woman) even made a remark along the lines of, “Oh, I really ought to check it out sometime; it’s been so long since I even seen a double-feature.” So despite the fact that, in terms of “trends,” I can be out of the loop sometimes, at least I know I was not alone in my befuddlement about the Quad.
I once had a very weird experience at the Quad that I can now, I guess, laugh about in retrospect. I believe I was sitting in the first theater on the left (the one facing 13th St.) and watching either a movie about the modern day muckraker, I.F. Stone, or Antonia (?) a music teacher (to people like Judy Collins). All of a sudden you could hear the sound of a very sharp “pop.”
Of course, the first thing that went through my mind was that it was a gun shot. (I once heard a similar sound near my apartment, and it was indeed revealed as a gunshot in the newspapers the next day.) Interestingly, not one person in the theater said anything, but you KNEW that everyone was thinking pretty much the exact same thing at that moment (and thinking that everyone else was thinking the same thing at that moment).
Then there was the sound of the door at the rear of the auditorium opening. And, you could almost feel the entire auditorium holding its breadth in anticipation.
I know this is going to sound irreverent, but I thought something along the following lines: 1) I know someone is going to repeat a classic movie phrase now; 2) (and, it’s not going to be “You’re going out there a kid, and you’re coming back, a star!); 3) and I wonder how he or she is going to actually phrase it without sounding, somehow, corny.
Well the person did indeed say, word for word, “Is there a doctor in the house?” (in a calm but convincing fashion).
I can laugh about it now because I assume nobody was really seriously hurt. (At least there was nothing in the news media the next day as far as I could tell.)
As we were leaving the theater, I’m pretty sure there were police in the lobby. But what I remember seeing was where a ceramic tile in the ticket lobby had lost a chip due to the bullet. (I don’t remember seeing any blood.)
So my guess (and hope) is that whoever was injured only had a minor injury due to being hit by the piece of ceramic tile.
Usually when you read about theater acoustics, it seems as though theater builders try and make the balcony as shallow as possible because sound gets trapped beneath a large balcony. Putting a hole in the ceiling at the underside of a large balcony would seem to make things worse, not better.
Plus, I know of no Broadway “legit” theater, concert hall or opera house, now or in the past, that had such a hole at the back of the orchestra — and one would think that they would need acoustic “help” as much as any theater. It seems like the only theaters that had such holes were vaudeville theaters or early movie theaters (some of which may have also had vaudeville) like the Rialto, the Rivoli and the Tivoli.
My guess, as I mentioned in the previous discussions on this phenomenon, is that these holes were more of a problem than an asset acoustically speaking, but that they were an inexpensive way to make places look grand and special, and the noise problems they might have created were not considered all that terrible in the more raucous atmosphere of vaudeville or “silent” movies (with organ accompaniment).
One reason I am surprised that I didn’t notice it at the Sheridan, is I find the whole idea really unusually and striking and I’m surprised I would have missed it at the Sheridan. (I remember being quite startled, and taken with the idea, when I saw it used in the late 1960s in the convention area of the Hilton Hotel on Sixth Ave.) Perhaps I missed it at the Sheridan because of the darkness or because I was in a rush? My recollection, apparently erroneous, is that the Loew’s Sheridan had a totally conventional lobby.
I think it’s an interesting phenomenon. It would be interesting to find a history of it somewhere.
Just got a look at the Edward Hopper painting that Warren posted. I know the name of the painting is “The Sheridan Theater” and that Edward Hopper lived in the Village, but I wonder if 1) it really is THE Loew’s Sheridan in Greenwich Village; 2) he took liberties with his depiction of the interior; or 3) the theater was extensively remodeled after he painted his picture.
I say this because the painting seems to show one of those cut-outs in the ceiling over the orchestra that was discussed a month or two ago on the page for the Rivoli theater. I don’t recall such a cut out there when I went to see “2,001 Odyssey” there in the late 1960s. Of course, I may have not noticed it or maybe I’ve forgotten about it. But do other people remember it?
Also, given that the site of the Loew’s Sheridan was smallish for a movie theater (I think) and had an unusual shape, it would seem odd that they would have such a space waster as a a cut out in the floor of the balcony level (which could have been used for lounge space, etc.).
I’ve also read elsewhere that the Roxy Theater’s lobby could accommodate vast numbers and that the Radio City Music Hall lobby wasn’t designed for this. But I’m a bit skeptical, and would be interested in a bit more detailed info if anyone has any.
Looking at floor plans, it seems that the Radio City Music Hall lobby was actually much larger than that of the Roxy — just a bit narrower, perhaps, but much deeper. In the Music Hall, the lobby went clear across the block, from 50th to 51st St., plus there was a basement lounge that seemed to be about as wide as the street level lobby and it also went clear across the block. In contrast, the Roxy’s rotunda only went, so it seems from the plans in “Best Remaining Seats,” about halfway into the block (and it doesn’t appear to be all that much wider — if it was even wider in the first place — than that of either the RCMH lobby or the RCMH basement lounge).
Also, since no one seems to mention a vast basement lounge for the Roxy, I’m guessing that it didn’t have one. While it’s true that the lobby spaces for Music Hall balcony levels were narrow (pre-empted by the open space above the lobby), I get the impression that the vast basement lounge was the RCMH’s answer to whatever upper level lounges/waiting spaces the Roxy might have had.
So it’s hard to imagine why — or how — the Roxy could accommodate so many more people in its lobby (rotunda) than Radio City Music Hall could in its lobby spaces.
How did people actually wait in the Roxy rotunda? Did they just stand there in line — but indoors instead of outdoors — or were there 1,500 seats/benches in the rotunda and 500 seats/ benches in the tunnels leading to the balcony? If they were just standing there, it seems to me a similar arrangement could have been set up in the Music Hall if the management really wanted to.
I’m not saying it would be easy to do — it probably would necessitate different procedures and different circulation patterns — but it doesn’t appear to be all that impossible or that the Roxy was set up all that differently or better than RCMH for waiting crowds. Rather it seems more like a business decision, that in one theater they wanted people waiting in lines in the lobby and in another they didn’t.
On the other hand, one other guess — and this is in support of the Roxy having more waiting space — in the Hall book there are photos of an upper level foyer in the Roxy. (The one pictured has large decorative windows, so I suppose it is behind one of the windows on the 50th St. side.) This foyer seems rather wide and, if I recall correctly has decorative niches that could accommodate a bench or two. So, if the Roxy did have any advantages, I guess this would be it. But it’s still hard to imagine that these wide hallways made that big a difference.
P.S. — I have a vague recollection that the basement lounge of RCMH was indeed used as a waiting area of sorts (maybe for those with reserved seats?). I wonder if this was true?
In today’s (March 24, 2005) issue of the on-line version of the “New York Times” there was an article that mentions Cinema 1, 2, 3 along with the Beekman. The article is “In Preservation Wars, a Focus on Midcentury” by Robin Pogrebin. (Registration Required)
The article confirms that, “Plans have been announced to convert Cinemas 1, 2 & 3 … into retail space” and puts the fight to save Cinema 1, 2 & 3 into the larger context of the fight by preservationists to get the Landmarks Preservation Commission to hold hearings on a number of mid-20th Century buildings that a good number of citizens (some of them quite distinguished in the preservation field) feel are legitimate candidates for landmark designation.
What’s especially interesting to me with regard to the plans for Cinema 1, 2, 3 is that the owners said in the January 27th issue of “Our Town” (a free weekly community newspaper) that the theaters were going to continue as theaters. (See my post on the Beekman page.)
Another poster, Robert R, responded that he didn’t believe the owners, and his distrust was, apparently, very quickly proven to be justified!
BoxOfficeBill: Thanks for the Mickey Rooney suggestions. I looked up “Quicksand” on Amazon, and it doesn’t seem to be the movie I’m thinking of. I wonder if I’ve mixed up Mickey Rooney with another actor? Or perhaps it wasn’t a carnival or circus, but something else that seemed to me — a kid — to be a carnival or circus side show? (Maybe it was a horse racing stable?)
It’s funny how memories are, though. In my mind it is a relatively vivid image (I can see them in some kind of hayloft), and I distinctly remember being none too pleased with the fact that my father seemed to be laughing so much and so thoroughly enjoying this scene in the movie (as though he was putting all kids — including me — into the same category as the kid on the screen).
Ken: From reading that webpage, the “Grand” seems to be the theater I’m thinking of (e.g., 2,178 seats seems about the right level of grandeur).
Sorry, that was my mistake regarding the addresses. Although I grew up in Queens, the street numbering system has always given me a problem, and with my map being cut in half, I read the map wrong.
Looking at the map again, Ditmars seems to be the equivalent of a 22nd Ave., and the next street to the south is 23rd Ave. I think the hyphenated addres works as follows: the first number reflects the number of the cross street at the north end of the block, and the number after the hypen relfects how far that building is from the northern end of the block (with odd numbers being on the eastern side of the street).
So, if I’m reading the map correctly this time, an address for the “Grand” at 22-15 (closer to 22nd St. and on the eastern side of 31st St.) and for the “Ditmars” at 22-68 (further away from 22nd St. and on the western side of 31st St.) would seem about right. (Although I don’t have any personal recollection of the “Ditmars” at all.)
Thanks again for your help! It seemed so strange that such a large theater (which was so bustling and full of life in my memory of it in the mid-1950s) was so much “under the radar.” But since it apparently closed in the mid-1950s, one can see how it more or less fell off the map. But I guess it’s the same as the Jamaica Theater west of Parsons Blvd. on Jamaica Ave. — except that that one closed before I ever saw it in operation.
P.S. — I haven’t been to that area in ages, but looking at the Hagstom, the particular block that I’m thinking about seems to be a double-sized block. (For some reason, 32nd St. discontinues at 23rd Ave. and then starts up again at Ditmars.)
Ken:
Looking at my Hagstrom, I get the impression that 22-68 31st St. would be approximately one subway stop further to the south from where I think the movie theater I’m talking about was. (It’s hard for me to read this particular map in my Hagstrom atlas because, wouldn’t you know it, the area is interrupted by the book’s spiral binding.)
It’s funny, and I may be way off, but in my recollection this theater is a “major” movie theater with a big marquee (in my mind, it is just one step below the Triboro in grandeur) and just about at the end of the line of the “elevated” along 31st St. (which even as a kid seemed too “delicious” for a disaster movie scene — with the “el” trains shooting off the end of the elevated structure).
In my memory the theater is on the corner, with the big marquee facing the elevated on 31st St. and the left side of the auditorium running along Ditmars. I think there was a “tunnel” foyer/lobby running east-west, until it hit a north-south “real” lobby running across the back of the orchestra level.
2) The Mickey Rooney movie (if there was one, and I haven’t mixed different movies/TV shows together in my mind) would have been around 1954, 1955 or 1956. (I once tried looking it up on Imdb, but it was very difficult to do — it might have been an earlier movie of his that was re-released or on a double-bill?)
Thanks (yet again!) Warren and BoxOfficeBill for the helpful info.
Since I’m not sure where else to place these questions, the Triboro site seems as good a place as any:
1) Does anyone know the name of the movie theater in Astoria on, I believe, 31st St. and Ditmars? I remember being taken there in the mid-1950s by some older neighborhood kids to see some kiddie matinee movie — maybe even “Our Gang” comedies.
2) Does anyone remember a Mickey Rooney movie where he plays a guardian of a young boy. The boy is rebellious (sp?) and uncooperative. But the kid becomes cooperative all of a sudden when they go to some kind of carnival or circus and get caught in a fire.
Thanks in advance for any info anyone has!
Caro: Thanks for the confirmation on “Mummenschanz,” especially the specific date.
Re: faded beauty of Broadway area theaters
There was a time when it seemed most legit Broadway houses had, like you say, a very faded beauty — even without peeling paint, etc. I think one reason for this is that a lot of theater owners seemed to paint over all the decorative low-relief plaster work — with some kind of non-descript grey, or light blue paint. It was kind of reminiscent to me of the look of the hallway in a run down Bronx apartment house (I’m from the Bronx), but minus the circular florescent light fixtures. Two theaters that particularly come to mind are the Eugene O'Neil (where I saw “She Loves Me”) and the Broadway (“My Fair Lady,” “Purlie,” and the “Wiz”), both of which I vaguely remember as being disappointly very drab. (Please don’t hold me to all of this, since I’m talking about ages ago — but these were my impressions.) If I remember the correctly, the Broadway had actually been renovated in the late 1950s early 1960s, and even so the interior of the auditorium was drab (although the lobby areas were a bit more glamorous).
I think the Shubert Theatre Organization (the owner of the most theaters in the area, although I’m not sure if they own either the Eugene O'Neil or Broadway) more recently went through an enlightened renovation policy, where they actually hired interior decorators to redo their theaters (including the auditoriums) right.
I think the Triboro was the first atmospheric theater I was ever taken to — maybe I was four or five. Since my father took me to it on a nice clear Spring or Fall night (when the temperature inside was about the same as the temperature outside), I couldn’t figure out if we were really outdoors or whether the inside of the theater was just designed to look that way. I think I tried to ask my father if we were really outdoors or indoors, but he was such a “kidder” I don’t think I trusted his answer — whatever it was!
Thanks mike j h for the name of the Olympia. I remember being taken to it to see an Abbott and Costello movie about 1956 or so. (I think the movie ends with them on some kind of train.)
I liked the movie so much, I asked my father if we could stay and see it again. He “warned” me that if we did, I’d miss the Mickey Mouse Show. (Obviously, we went to the theater in the afternoon.) I heard him, but it didn’t really “sink in.” So I was upset at myself when we got home, and I realized that I really didn’t want to miss the Mickey Mouse show! Ah, another childhood lesson learned!
While, in a sense, I can understand why they included the Ziegfeld in the article (I can see how, in a narrow sense, it meets their criteria), the listing of it in such an article made me think of the concept and the expression, “defining deviance down.”
There is no greater disdainer of the Ziegfeld than myself … .
Talk about damning with faint praise … .
The Ziegfeld may not be ideal … .
I think we tend to put the Ziegfeld on a pedastal and worship her because sadly she is all we have left. In the good ole days she would have been just another movie house, and certainly not a movie palace … .
it’s as good as it gets these days … .
Is it a palace? No, I was cheated out of the great palaces. The Paramount, Capital, Roxy were all gone, The Rivoli, Criterion, & Warner were twinned when I came into my own as a serious moviegoer.
I realize, especially from reading the posts on this site, that movie theaters are more than just their architecture and design. Just as important — actually, even more so — is the way a theater presents a movie (e.g., the quality of the picture, the quality of the sound, etc.).
Luxuriously comfortable seats with great sitelines, state of the art sound and projection, great bookings, it is a palace to me, with or without the gilded plaster cherubs.
Good idea, fueshd!
People should be aware that the Landmarks Preservation Commission has been dragging its feet regarding a number of potential landmarks recently. It seems to be part of an unspoken “plan”: if you’ve already secretly decided not to landmark something, don’t allow a public hearing on it (the first step in the landmarking process) to be “calendared.”
Recently a very strong potential candidate for landmarking, the Paterson Silk Co. Building on 14th St. (an early design by Morris Lapidus, who is famous for the Fontainbleu Hotel in Miami Beach) was unexpectedly pretty much destroyed. (See the 3/9/05, “New York Times” article, “Wrecking Ball Dashes Hopes for a Lapidus Work” by Robin Pogrebin.) This was another case of where a number of the big names in landmarks preservation asked the LPC to hold a public hearing, and they refused to schedule one.
But perhaps the “stink” over the loss of this building (the LPC seemed to be put on the defensive in the NY Times article) might be useful in the fight for at least a public hearing on some of the others, like the Beekman. So you might want to mention the loss of the Paterson Silk Building in your letter.
A interesting “wrinkle” with regard to the Cinema 1, 2 and 3 case: It is an unwritten law (and possible a written one, too, I forget) that once a building’s significant features have been altered, it is “too late” for landmark designation to save them. (Which is why developers try to sneak a demolition or alteration in before something is landmarked.) But in the “NY Times” article referred to above, the Chairman of the Landmark Preservation Commission claimed that he could still landmark the Paterson Silk Building and have the building rebuilt. So I hope people get a chance to read that NY Times article and directly challenge the LPC on this statement if they get a reply saying that Cinema 1, 2, 3 has been altered too much for landmark designation.
Good idea, fueshd!
People should be aware that the Landmarks Preservation Commission has been dragging its feet regarding a number of potential landmarks recently. It seems to be part of an unspoken “plan”: if you’ve already secretly decided not to landmark something, don’t allow a public hearing (the first step in the landmarking process)on it to be “calendared.”
Recently a very strong potential candidate for landmarking, the Paterson Silk Co. Building on 14th St. (an early design by Morris Lapidus, who is famous for the Fontainbleu Hotel in Miami Beach) was unexpectedly pretty much destroyed. (See the 3/9/05, “New York Times” article, “Wrecking Ball Dashes Hopes for a Lapidus Work” by Robin Pogrebin.) This was another case of where a number of the big names in landmarks preservation asked the LPC to hold a public hearing, and they refused to schedule one.
But perhaps the “stink” over the loss of this building (the LPC seemed to be put on the defensive in the NY Times article) might be useful in the fight for at least a public hearing on some of the others, like the Beekman. So you might want to mention the loss of the Paterson Silk Building in your letter.
“I have to wonder if the photo at the top of this page (the interior of an auditiorium with apparently at least eight slender cast iron columns placed in the "middle” of the orchestra seating level) is REALLY the interior of Hammerstein’s Victoria … "
Mystery solved!:
I was looking through William Morrison’s “Broadway Theaters: History and Architecture” yesterday. It has a chapter on Hammerstein’s Victoria and a picture of the building’s ROOF GARDEN theater. The photo looks out from the stage (in the opposite direction from that of the photo at the top of this page), through the auditorium’s interior and out onto the rest of the roof (which I believe may have extended over to the roof top of the neighboring Republic / Belasco / Victory).
It seems to me that it is this rooftop theater — and not the building’s main auditorium — that is the one shown at the top of this page. This would help explain why the theater in the photograph at the top of this page has all those columns, seems so unsophisticated and has all that light pouring in through the windows.
One of the things I really liked about the photo in the Morrison book is that it not only shows the interior of the roof top theater, but also the raised terrace on the portion of the roof that is outside the theater (at the back). Other photos I’ve seen of the roof garden only showed the raised terrace. So this photo shows both the roof theater and the roof terraces — and how they related to one another.
By the way, the book itself is terrific. It has many wonderful photos that seem to clear up a lot of similar such “mysteries” about old Broadway theaters. While a reviewer on Amazon said that many of the photos also appear in Nicholas Van Hoogstraten’s “Lost Broadway Theaters,” I don’t remember seeing them there. (But, then again, I don’t own that book and only thumbed through it when it first came out.) The reviewer also said the book contained a good number of factual errors, which may be true since I believe I was able to detect a few myself. (But to be fair to the author, I don’t know how the number of errors in his book compares with the the number found in other books — all these books seem to have at least some errors.)
“Broadway Theaters: History and Architecture” is one of those inexpensive Dover paperback picturebooks. The list price is $17.95, but brand new copies were on sale at the Strand bookstore yesterday for about the same price as they are on Amazon ($12.21).
P.S. — At the Strand, there were also used copies of “Best Remaining Seats” (didn’t check the prices) and a half-priced(?), brand new “reviewer’s copy” of “Cinema Treasures” ($20.00).
And thank you for setting up and maintaining this wonderful website!
While my main interest is in the theaters of the New York City metropolitan area (and I’ve learned a lot of new info about them on this site), it’s also amazing to see how many wonderful theaters there are across the entire USA and around the world. (Internationally, I’m thinking of the Australian and UK theaters that I’ve seen on the site.)
Along similar lines, one of my favorite pictures in the book, “Cinema Treasures,” (which I saw yesterday in a bookstore) is the one that shows the main theater street of Denver, Colorado in the 1920s(?). This is what I imagine 42nd St. in New York City looked like in its heyday (if it actually ever looked quite this good). (I wonder what this Denver street looks like today, and if it ever experienced a decline similar to that of 42nd St.? Also, it would be interesting to see what the main theater streets of other cities — Boston, Cleveland, Philadelphia, etc. — looked like in their heydays also.)
Supposedly no two snowflakes are exactly alike. While the same thing might not be quite as true for theaters, it is amazing nevertheless to see just how many different ways people have come up with of designing wonderful places for people to watch movies!
Re: the interesting link posted by lostmemory (showing four postcards from the Roxy):
I found the third and fourth postcards to be especially interesting. I liked the third because it was an un-retouched photo — so many postcards from that era seem to be half photo and half painting. This third postcard also showed a very unusual and interesting close-up view of the theater. The fourth postcard was interesting and “sad” because it shows that already in the mid-1940s they were fooling around with the original interior design in order to “modernize” it.
Re: Change, Times Sq. and the Movie Palace
To clarify my original posts, I was talking about a “golden era” followed by a very sudden change (kind of like the sudden extinction of the dinosaurs), which is what seems to me to be the story of the movie palace (doing well one year, and then there’s a fast decline during a relatively short period — then demolition!). In terms of the other comparisons mentioned, things are going along just “chipper” then all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, “pow!” — there’s TV (cutting short the reign of radio); there are jet planes (cutting short the reign of the trans-Atlantic ocean liner); there are cassettes (cutting short the reign of vinyl); there are luxury boxes (cutting short the reign of arenas like Continental Airlines); etc.
For me, the interesting point is that when people talk about movie palaces they seem to forget that there are other, similar examples that can help put the decine of movie palaces into a larger perspective.
The sudden change (within only one or three years) of “NoHo” (catalyst: Tower Records?) and the Grand Concourse (catalyst: Co-Op City?) also seem to be examples of this pattern.
However, from the little I know of Hempstead, it seems to me whatever significant changes occurred, happened over a longer period of time (apparently, as has been pointed out, the change occurred over a twenty year period). And Harlem doesn’t seem to be a good example of sudden change either because it has always had some very nice areas (Sugar Hill and Strivers Row, etc.) and even today there are plenty and plenty of places that still have not been revitalized. So the change in Harlem 1) hasn’t really been all that dramatic (once one discounts wishful thinking and media hype) and 2) it hasn’t really happened all that suddenly either (or because of some particular catalyst).
In terms of Times Sq., while there were indeed downward changes in the late 1960s, they really weren’t all that sudden or dramatic — the area was still pretty bad before 1968, and had been going steadily downhill for nearly forty years! Before 1968, Times Sq. was generally thought of as a center of the sex trade, a place that was run down, dirty and dangerous and after 1968 it was still seen that way — it was only a change of degree, not of kind. But the difference between pre-Depression Times Sq. and post-Depression Times Sq. appears to have been a dramatic change in kind — and in a relatively brief period too (catalyst: the Great Depression). (Illustration: in terms of all kinds of stage shows being produced, I think in the year just before the Depression there were some incredible number of new shows produced that year — something like 225. After the Depression it dropped to something like 25! Sorry, don’t have the reference handy, and I think it refers to more than just Broadway plays and musicals.)
I disagree with the idea that the opening of a carnival like show and the closing of a lobster palace illustrates the decline of the Times Sq. area in 1927. Rather, it seems to me that it is an illustration of how the area was maturing and diversifying. In pre-depression years, like 1927, the area was actually booming — millions upon millions of dollars were still being invested in the area (including the millions spent on the brand new wonder of the world — the Roxy!). Yes, one lobster palace at one location might have closed, but very expensive restaurants were still springing up all over the area. So this is not, in my opinion, necessarily an illustration of decline, but rather an illustration of diversification and maturation.
Also have to disagree that the “new” Times Sq. (post re-vitalization) and the “old” Times Sq. (1920s, 1930s, etc.) are as different in the ways that many critics make them out to be. While I do believe they are differences, I don’t believe it is because there was more to do in the old Times Sq. People seem to forget that the old Times Sq. had office buildings, chain restaurants and tourist attractions too. (Even the movie palaces were part of chains!)
Somewhere on this site, someone wrote how great Times Square was in 1968, clean, bright, lots of things to do and then JUST TWO YEARS LATER…it was seedy (wish I could remember where this was written.)
I would have to disagree on Times Sq. though. While it is true that it did change signficantly at the end of the 1960s, it is a tremendous stretch to say that it was clean, bright, etc. before that. Most historians say that Times Sq. first developed a seedy, raffish reputation during the depression and just never recovered. The downward spiral just seemed to intensify in the late 1960s (with the downward spiral of the rest of NYC).
Better examples of severe sudden change might be the change in the Grand Concourse in the late 1960s (so many people describe double parked moving vans with many people moving to the enormous, just being finished Co-Op City.
Another remarkable fast change is the area around the Tower Records I just mentioned. I couldn’t believe my eyes. One summer you could go there on a Sunday and the streets would be completed deserted. It seemed like the next year, or maybe two years at most, the place was significantly different — with lots and lots of stores and shoppers!
I find the short time span between great business at the Roxy to its demolition to be interesting also. This general phenomenon of “high point” then extinction has fascinated me for years now — and the time spans just seem to be getting shorter and shorter!
It first occurred to me with reference to ocean liners. The ocean liners getting bigger, better and faster, then “pouf” — the development of the jet airplane — and even just built, very modern ships, (e.g., the United States, the France, the Michaelangelo and the Raffaelo) were pulled out of service and mothballed.
Another great example is radio — whose “golden days” were even shorter than the movie palace. Roxy’s show done from the Capitol Theater was one of the earliest hits of radio, and radio seems to have lost out to TV as a major medium in the late 1940s and early 1950s.
The gallop through 78s, 45s, 33 1/3, stereo, cassettes, CDs and now on-line music is in some ways, even more amazing. When “Tower (Records?) first open in New York (at Broadway and W. 3rd), it was so crowded it was like entering a "hot” nightclub. Don’t remember, but I think cassettes were the medium of choice then (just having overtaken vinyl). Didn’t go for a few years, and when I went back all the cassette bins were gone and replaced by CD bins. Now, it seems no matter when I go, it’s a near ghost town. (I assume people are listening to music on-line.)
Another example I find interesting (and disconcerting) is the sports/concert arena. It’s amazing to me that the Continental Arena (formerly Byrne Arena), Nassau Memorial Coliseum and Madison Sq. Garden are all seen as obsolete (rendered “obsolete,” apparently, by the “need” for luxury “skyboxes”). It just seems like “yesterday” that they were brand new â€" I have yet to even go to the Nassau Coliseum or the “new” Madison Sq. Garden! Same holds true for all those post Dodger Stadium multi-purpose stadiums (like Shea).
Interesting thought: The Continental Arena opened in 1981, which makes it 24 years old. The Roxy opened in 1927 and was 24 years old in 1951.
As mentioned in previous posts, I think the Roxy seemed older than it was because of its a) historical style of architecture and b) because of a watershed change in taste towards art deco, art moderne and the International Style. Although the prevailing architectural style has changed since 1981, it is less dramatic â€" so in some ways the Continental Arena looks like it could have been built yesterday.
I find the short time span between great business at the Roxy to its demolition to be interesting also. This general phenomenon of “high point” then extinction has fascinated me for years now — and the time spans just seem to be getting shorter and shorter!
It first occurred to me with reference to ocean liners. The ocean liners getting bigger, better and faster, then “pouf” — the development of the jet airplane — and even just built, very modern ships, (e.g., the United States, the France, the Michaelangelo and the Raffaelo) were pulled out of service and mothballed.
Another great example is radio — whose “golden days” were even shorter than the movie palace. Roxy’s show done from the Capitol Theater was one of the earliest hits of radio, and radio seems to have lost out to TV as a major medium in the late 1940s and early 1950s.
The gallop through 78s, 45s, 33 1/3, stereo, cassettes, CDs and now on-line music is in some ways, even more amazing. When “Tower (Records?) first open in New York (at Broadway and W. 3rd), it was so crowded it was like entering a "hot” nightclub. Don’t remember, but I think cassettes were the medium of choice then (just having overtaken vinyl). Didn’t go for a few years, and when I went back all the cassette bins were gone and replaced by CD bins. Now, it seems no matter when I go, it’s a near ghost town. (I assume people are listening to music on-line.)
Another example I find interesting (and disconcerting) is the sports/concert arena. It’s amazing to me that the Continental Arena (formerly Byrne Arena), Nassau Memorial Coliseum and Madison Sq. Garden are all seen as obsolete (rendered “obsolete,” apparently, by the “need” for luxury “skyboxes”). It just seems like “yesterday” that they were brand new â€" I have yet to even go to the Nassau Coliseum or the “new” Madison Sq. Garden! Same holds true for all those post Dodger Stadium multi-purpose stadiums (like Shea).
Interesting thought: The Continental Arena opened in 1981, which makes it 24 years old. The Roxy opened in 1927 and was 24 years old in 1951.
As mentioned in previous posts, I think the Roxy seemed older than it was because of its a) historical style of architecture and b) because of a watershed change in taste towards art deco, art moderne and the International Style. Although the prevailing architectural style has changed since 1981, it is less dramatic â€" so in some ways the Continental Arena looks like it could have been built yesterday.
Re: accessing old issues of the “New York Times” for info on movies and movie theaters
Until a few weeks ago, I didn’t realize that there is something much, much better than either a) the online archive of the “New York Times” or b) microfilm/microfiche. Apparently university libraries subscribe to online database services which allow the user to not only search a publication like the “New York Times” using keywords in a search engine, but also allow the user to view a) an online photograph (a pdf file?) of the article and/or b) an online photograph of the entire page of the newspaper (including the advertisements).
The first time I ever used such an online database was to look up the article that Warren mentioned in his Feb 6th post on Radio City Music Hall’s underground box office. By typing in “Radio City Music Hall” and specifying the date of the article (12/18/40), I was able to access a photograph of the the original article within seconds! (You can also specific a date range, rather than just a specific date.) If you select “page view,” you get to see not only the article itself, but the advertisements surrounding them.
I’ve since used the database to look up articles and advertisements about the Loew’s “Wonder” Theaters (was able to view the advertisements that listed the “Wonder” theaters, what they were showing and the show times); the original “Lindy’s” restaurant (which, apparently, was next door to the Rivoli); the theater where the original production of the Broadway musical “Gypsy” opened (it was the Broadway, which had been a movie theater, the B.S. Moss Colony); etc.
I assume all university libraries subscribe to this database, called “Proquest,” but don’t know if public research libraries, like the research division of the New York Public Library, do also — but would imagine that they do. (If they do, I suspect you have to access them at the actual library — not over the internet.)
It’s still not clear to me what a database company like “Proquest” does/is, but this is the tentative understanding I got after speaking to the librarian (and another one, later):
A company, like “Proquest,” contracts with a publication, like the “Times,” to photograph all of its issues between certain dates. (“Proquest” has the rights to issues of the “Times” between 1851 and 2001.) I think the company then photographs (pdf?) all the pages that have been published between those dates — or maybe they use existing microfiche?). The company develops software that allows a computer to search through the images for certain words in headlines or text. The company provides this package to libraries for a certain fee.
All in all, it sounds like an amazing undertaking and a wonderful service. (I’m just guessing that this is the way it is set-up, but would be interested in hearing the true story from anyone who knows.)
(Don’t know how many other publications are accessible this way, but “Proquest” also offers historical database searches for the “Chicago Tribune,” the “Los Angeles Times” and the “Washington Post.”)
P.S. — Although I’d seen these databases mentioned before, I had no idea what they were. I guess I thought that they were electronic equivalents of the old “Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature” — I didn’t think that you could also access the articles themselves (and the advertisements around them). A few weeks ago, a librarian gave me a more detailed look at what they could do when I mentioned that I was trying to find out the prices for things like movies in years gone by. He suggested the “Proquest” database as a way of indirectly accessing the advertisements in old issues of the “New York Times” (first you access an article on the entertainment page, and then you select page view to see the ads surrounding it).
Actually, it hasn’t been that helpful for my original purpose (the ads don’t seem to mention prices as much as I thought they would), but it seems to me to be a tremendous research resource nevertheless.
In her memoir, “Love, Alice,” Audrey Meadows (who was, of course, Jackie Gleason’s TV wife, Alice Kramden) has a few pages about the time that the “Honeymooners” played the Paramount.
One of the most amazing things (almost too amazing to believe) is that they did these special versions of the “Honeymooners” (which was then just a regular segment of the Jackie Gleason Show) daily at the Paramount during the actual TV season — and in an era when TV was done live!
As a matter of fact, a few paragraphs of Meadow’s account describes the day they did shows at the Paramount on the same day that they did the Jackie Gleason TV show from their theater about ten blocks further uptown!
But apparently Meadows was used to this kind of stuff. Earlier in the book she also mentions that, just before she was hired for the Gleason show, one of her first TV jobs was with Bob and Ray, and that she would do the show daily at the NBC studios in Rockefeller Center (Sixth Ave.) and then scurry down 50th St. to the Winter Garden (stage door is on Seventh Ave.) where she was appearing nightly opposite Phil Silvers in the Broadway musical “Top Banana”!
As someone else mentioned in connection with the performing schedule of (Jerry) Lewis & (Dean) Martin during that era (perhaps on the page of another Cinema Treasures theater), entertainers really worked in those days!
In the Meadows book, there is also a picture of the Paramount marquee when the “Honeymooners” was there. This marquee seems to me to be different from the original marquee (and therefore different, of course, from the current recreation). The marquee almost looks like the one they have/had at Roseland Ballroom on W. 52nd St. Given that it has a 1950s look, I assume the marquee was remodeled in the early 1950s, but would be interested if anyone has more details.
“Leow’s Paradise”(?) [pronounced “lee-ou[t]-s]
OR
“Meow’s Paradise”(?) [like a cat’s meow]
Robert R: Good point!
Watch what they DO, not what they say. It’s quite easy to see them saying, say, six months from now that conditions have changed and now they’ve decided to close the theater. And by vandalizing the facade they’ve already paved the way for demolition — making an otherwise bumpy road (possible landmark designation) into a smoother one (highly unlikely landmark designation).
Re: Weinstein
While it is obviously good news that a powerful film business “insider” — especially one known for his doggedness — is on the side of the Beekman, I still see it as only a ray of hope, as there are probably many equally powerful and savvy people on the other side (the people on the board of directors of Sloan-Kettering, for example).
Plus, despite its qualifications for landmark status, it seems to me that it is in the “wrong” style (too “middlebrow”) to excite the interest of the landmarks preservation community.
And it also seems to me to be a building with the wrong kind of architectural “pedigree.” Although the architectural firm is, I believe, the firm that designed the glorious art deco Cincinnati railroad terminal and is, I believe, the successor firm to the one that designed Grand Central Terminal, I think they are seen more as “hacks” within the preservation community, rather than distinguished architects whose work deserves preservation.
A theater designed by one of the “gods” of modern architecture (even if it were actually undistinguished) would seem to me to have a better chance at being designated a landmark.