And I’ll gloriously re-affirm that if that “garish-tacky-whorehouse mess” is somehow meaningful to you, then that indeed must be a reflection of how you see yourself.
Shade, you say, “Without the Ziegfeld, there is no large classy theater to show any kind of ‘royal’ filmgoing history.” I would suggest that even WITH the Ziegfeld there is no such venue other than Radio City Music Hall — and that was the point of my post.
And to Edward Havens: “Sorry, SteveBob, but no one is pretending the Ziegfeld is anything more than it is.” Ed, obviously that is not the case. And anyone who believes the Ziegfeld’s merits to somehow transcend the garish-tacky-whorehouse mess that I believe it is (sorry, Dolly) — albeit with over 1,000 comfortable seats — is certainly entitled to his opinion.
I already posted this in response to the story about the exclusive engagement of “The Producers”, but I think it’s worth saying here too.
Sometimes I get a little sick of the devoted reverence shown to the
Ziegfeld Theater. Think about it — if it weren’t the only large single-screen house left in Manhattan, it would merit scant attention at all.
It is not a movie palace, was not built during the movie-palace era, and the decor is frankly tacky. (If you are a gay man of a certain age, you’ll probably agree that “piss elegant” is a perfect description for the style.) It is just a sad, sad joke when you consider the spectacular original Ziegfeld Theater it replaced.
Now, with the demise of the Astor Plaza, I will admit that I will choose to see a film at the Ziegfeld if possible simply because of the size of the house. That’s what it has going for it, and that’s all that it has going for it.
It is what it is. Let’s not pretend it’s something it’s not.
Sometimes I get a little sick of the devoted reverence shown to the
Ziegfeld Theater. If it weren’t the only large single-screen house left in Manhattan, it would merit scant attention at all.
It is not a movie palace, was not built during the movie-palace era, and the decor is frankly tacky. (If you are a gay man of a certain age, you’ll probably agree that “piss elegant” is a perfect description for the style.) It is just a sad, sad joke when you consider the spectacular original Ziegfeld Theater it replaced.
Now, with the demise of the Astor Plaza, I will admit that I will choose to see a film at the Ziegfeld if possible simply because of the size of the house. That’s what it has going for it, and that’s all that it has going for it.
It is what it is. Let’s not pretend it’s something it’s not.
I commented on this last July, as did others. I tried to be kind, but the truth is that the blue and yellow sunburst doesn’t look historically correct or appropriate at all.
Warren, it would be great if such a thing could get them in deep trouble with the authorities, but the city’s priorities with respect to the Grand Concourse have not generally been what they should be. For instance, decades of unenforced zoning regulations for ground floor apartments have transformed what was intended to be an entirely residential boulevard (except for the segment roughly between 183rd Street and Fordham Road) into something quite different in character.
I think that the very choice of the Hollywood Pantages during the years that the Academy Awards ceremony was held there must have been implicit recognition of that theater being the prize winner in this category.
Or was it all a matter of behind-the-scenes political wrangling, and just demonstrated the clout of RKO?
In regards to the “inevitable fate” of the forgotten theater, how can cause-and-effect best be dissected when it comes to the middle-class flight and decay that so many of our downtowns suffered post-War and especially by the 1960s and 1970s?
I was a teenager in Los Angeles in the 1970s and was acutely aware of the changes that had taken place in Los Angeles in the prior decade and the way that Broadway and Spring Street continued to be reshaped by them. I honestly felt angry at Metropolitan Theaters because I believed the films they were booking into their palaces (specifically Spanish-language and action/blaxplotation) were driving away the middle-class retail and finance that had driven Broadway and Spring as the nexus of the Los Angeles business district for decades.
After all, every major retailer’s main branch was still on Broadway in addition to the mall stores it might have had by then. The Broadway even had a sign that proudly said “Through The Broadway to Broadway.”
In 1973 The Broadway moved to the Broadway Plaza. The May Company and Bullocks came to refer to their locations as as Eighth & Hill and Seventh & Hill, respectively, and while they hung on for a few years longer they no longer even bothered to light their vertical signs in the evening. Likewise with all the other stores and theaters. (It was blamed on the energy crisis.) Soon Desmonds, Silverwoods, Harris & Frank, Bond, plus every single bank branch on the entire strip was a thing of the past.
Of course, the demographics might have changed anyway, just as they did on Market Street in San Francisco, State Street in Chicago and so many other downtowns big and small.
And Spring Street was probably doomed by its proximity to Main Street, the seemingly permanent skid row of Los Angeles, and the fact that Bunker Hill redevelopment was already well underway.
But, really, what caused what with the dramatic slide of our collective downtowns? I guess it’s nothing profound to wonder about and books been written on the topic, but it’s certainly of great interest to movie palace geeks. After all, the palaces were in business districts, and their fortunes rose and fell together — and continue to do so where they are lucky enough to have survived together in some fashion.
In its first remodeling, was the Fox Westwood Village “Skouras-ized For Showmanship” (as Jim Rankin has described the process in entries for numerous other theaters)? I haven’t been here since I was a student at UCLA 30 years ago. My recollection is a fairly plain auditorium with the usual Skouras touches (viz. Fox Bakersfield) and a shallow balcony. Could others volunteer some more up-to-date descriptions?
This picture from the 1930s is different from what I remember, but even before remodeling the auditorium looks so spartan! The outside of the building would lead one to expect a more opulent auditorium within: http://jpg2.lapl.org/theater3/00015722.jpg
Now, I really don’t mean to disparage the Fox Westwood Village. It certainly has had great importance in the history of movie exhibition in Los Angeles as the focus shifted from Broadway to Hollywood to Beverly Hills to Westwood and is, after all, the grandest theater in Westwood Village. (I would venture that the Westside theater that came closest in that regard would have been the poor Picwood, though built in a later era and already demolished.)
As a movie palace, though, I’ve never considered the Fox to be of the same caliber as the most spectacular examples in L.A.’s other entertainment districts, especially for a house of its size. I think that the Carthay Circle offers the closest comparison, considering the similarities in architectural style and seating capacity, and it was way, way more ornate. Come to think of it, even the Golden Gate in East Los Angeles had a more elaborately decorated auditorium!
An otherwise dreadful, forgettable film from 1977 called “Fire Sale” is on Fox Movie Channel tonight, in NYC at least.
I lived on the block when it was filmed at Wilshire and Burnside. I’ve never sat through the movie, so I can’t say if it has any shots of the El Rey or not … but might be worth a look.
A quick Google search revealed this, though it doesn’t describe the demise of the Heinsbergen firm:
Lloyd Klein Plans Boutique, Shifts Focus to L.A.
By Alison A. Nieder
Executive Editor
Couture designer Lloyd Klein has been living a cross-continental life for the past six years, with his company’s design and production operations based in Paris and everything else in Los Angeles.
This fall, he will open his first boutique in Los Angeles.
[…]
The two-story store and atelier will be housed in a French Normandyâ€"style historic building at 7415 Beverly Blvd. in Los Angeles. The building, designed in 1928 by A.T. Heinsbergen & Co., features a wildlife pond, a small “moat†and a gothic turret. The space originally housed the Heinsbergen architecture firm. Until recently, bridal and eveningwear label Cantu & Castillo operated its design studio in the building, which is still owned by the Heinsbergen family.
Jim — I totally get it, and you are certainly one of the most respectable and erudite contributors to this site.
Isn’t it interesting how the “grand/grandiose” thing is actually fairly often applicable in the realm of movie palaces?
I’m thinking of a recent thread on the United Artists Los Angeles page, and how others mentioned the intentional use of illusion in the creation of shadows, and how the lobby ornamentation was really all just skillfully painted plaster.
Isn’t that the wonderful thing about movie palaces? That there’s some genuine gilt here and there, and some illusion. Some real “art quality” art, and then again some illusion.
Were all movie palaces a mixture of genuine objets d'art plus faux-precious ornamentation?
Into which category would Heinsbergen murals fall, then, for example? Even if they were individually commissioned for specific venues, their artistic value seems obvious.
By the way, I remember that the Heinsbergen firm was in business into the 1980s. When I left Los Angeles, their offices were on either Beverly or Melrose. Are they still in existence?
Can you explain your use of the term “grandiose” in the first line of the description for this theater? This very unfortunate choice of words has come up before with regard to Loews Paradise in the Bronx, et al., and you were justifiably critical of its use.
Is there some difference here that justifies the use of that word?
KenRoe, could you refresh my memory about the theater on Seventh that you call the Palace?
I do recall a discussion on another page about whether or not there had been a theater west of Broadway on the south side of Seventh Street, but of course now I don’t remember where I saw that. I didn’t know whether its existence had actually been substantiated or that its name was known.
Wow! Imagine how cool it would have been to be an employee at Texaco and seeing that sign outside your window. (Of course, during the Texaco era there was a second vertical sign on the building, too, that spelled that company’s name.)
Also, I notice that the Orpheum is visible in the distance, with a rectangular marquee that predates the flamboyant neon trapezoid that we all know so well.
This is a house that, sadly, doesn’t seem to have a lot of “documentary evidence” that’s in the public domain. Virtually all of the pics at Reverend Gene’s site are meaningless because of the absence of context.
Seriously, I have a better idea of what the RKO Hillstreet looked like than the U.A.!
And, by the way, for what it’s worth, I think the Los Angeles United Artists surpasses the design of either the Chicago or Detroit venue of the same name and architect.
I thought that the only theaters on Broadway that had two balconies were the Palace and the Los Angeles. (Just to be clear, I am referring to separate shelf balconies — NOT a single shelf that is divided into sections.)
In this beautiful picture of the auditorium’s side wall, it seems unmistakable that there is a separate balcony, or perhaps at least a shallower mezzanine level, under the main balcony.
Hatlo hat? This set off a FLOOD of memories about Jimmy Hatlo and “They’ll Do It Every Time” … a staple of the Los Angeles Herald Examiner back in the day.
From the New York Times editorial on the demolition of Pennsylvania Station in 1963:
“Any city gets what it admires, will pay for, and, ultimately, deserves. Even when we had Penn Station, we couldn’t afford to keep it clean. We want and deserve tin-can architecture in a tinhorn culture. And we will probably be judged not by the monuments we build but by those we have destroyed.”
A dark day indeed, and a big black eye on the City of Pasadena.
And I’ll gloriously re-affirm that if that “garish-tacky-whorehouse mess” is somehow meaningful to you, then that indeed must be a reflection of how you see yourself.
Shade, you say, “Without the Ziegfeld, there is no large classy theater to show any kind of ‘royal’ filmgoing history.” I would suggest that even WITH the Ziegfeld there is no such venue other than Radio City Music Hall — and that was the point of my post.
And to Edward Havens: “Sorry, SteveBob, but no one is pretending the Ziegfeld is anything more than it is.” Ed, obviously that is not the case. And anyone who believes the Ziegfeld’s merits to somehow transcend the garish-tacky-whorehouse mess that I believe it is (sorry, Dolly) — albeit with over 1,000 comfortable seats — is certainly entitled to his opinion.
I already posted this in response to the story about the exclusive engagement of “The Producers”, but I think it’s worth saying here too.
Sometimes I get a little sick of the devoted reverence shown to the
Ziegfeld Theater. Think about it — if it weren’t the only large single-screen house left in Manhattan, it would merit scant attention at all.
It is not a movie palace, was not built during the movie-palace era, and the decor is frankly tacky. (If you are a gay man of a certain age, you’ll probably agree that “piss elegant” is a perfect description for the style.) It is just a sad, sad joke when you consider the spectacular original Ziegfeld Theater it replaced.
Now, with the demise of the Astor Plaza, I will admit that I will choose to see a film at the Ziegfeld if possible simply because of the size of the house. That’s what it has going for it, and that’s all that it has going for it.
It is what it is. Let’s not pretend it’s something it’s not.
Sometimes I get a little sick of the devoted reverence shown to the
Ziegfeld Theater. If it weren’t the only large single-screen house left in Manhattan, it would merit scant attention at all.
It is not a movie palace, was not built during the movie-palace era, and the decor is frankly tacky. (If you are a gay man of a certain age, you’ll probably agree that “piss elegant” is a perfect description for the style.) It is just a sad, sad joke when you consider the spectacular original Ziegfeld Theater it replaced.
Now, with the demise of the Astor Plaza, I will admit that I will choose to see a film at the Ziegfeld if possible simply because of the size of the house. That’s what it has going for it, and that’s all that it has going for it.
It is what it is. Let’s not pretend it’s something it’s not.
And ken mc — don’t forget about Whittier’s own Roxy (RIP):
/theaters/2399/
I commented on this last July, as did others. I tried to be kind, but the truth is that the blue and yellow sunburst doesn’t look historically correct or appropriate at all.
Warren, it would be great if such a thing could get them in deep trouble with the authorities, but the city’s priorities with respect to the Grand Concourse have not generally been what they should be. For instance, decades of unenforced zoning regulations for ground floor apartments have transformed what was intended to be an entirely residential boulevard (except for the segment roughly between 183rd Street and Fordham Road) into something quite different in character.
I think that the very choice of the Hollywood Pantages during the years that the Academy Awards ceremony was held there must have been implicit recognition of that theater being the prize winner in this category.
Or was it all a matter of behind-the-scenes political wrangling, and just demonstrated the clout of RKO?
In regards to the “inevitable fate” of the forgotten theater, how can cause-and-effect best be dissected when it comes to the middle-class flight and decay that so many of our downtowns suffered post-War and especially by the 1960s and 1970s?
I was a teenager in Los Angeles in the 1970s and was acutely aware of the changes that had taken place in Los Angeles in the prior decade and the way that Broadway and Spring Street continued to be reshaped by them. I honestly felt angry at Metropolitan Theaters because I believed the films they were booking into their palaces (specifically Spanish-language and action/blaxplotation) were driving away the middle-class retail and finance that had driven Broadway and Spring as the nexus of the Los Angeles business district for decades.
After all, every major retailer’s main branch was still on Broadway in addition to the mall stores it might have had by then. The Broadway even had a sign that proudly said “Through The Broadway to Broadway.”
In 1973 The Broadway moved to the Broadway Plaza. The May Company and Bullocks came to refer to their locations as as Eighth & Hill and Seventh & Hill, respectively, and while they hung on for a few years longer they no longer even bothered to light their vertical signs in the evening. Likewise with all the other stores and theaters. (It was blamed on the energy crisis.) Soon Desmonds, Silverwoods, Harris & Frank, Bond, plus every single bank branch on the entire strip was a thing of the past.
Of course, the demographics might have changed anyway, just as they did on Market Street in San Francisco, State Street in Chicago and so many other downtowns big and small.
And Spring Street was probably doomed by its proximity to Main Street, the seemingly permanent skid row of Los Angeles, and the fact that Bunker Hill redevelopment was already well underway.
But, really, what caused what with the dramatic slide of our collective downtowns? I guess it’s nothing profound to wonder about and books been written on the topic, but it’s certainly of great interest to movie palace geeks. After all, the palaces were in business districts, and their fortunes rose and fell together — and continue to do so where they are lucky enough to have survived together in some fashion.
ken mc, I don’t think you posted this link yet. I will, since I think it’s one of the best pictures of the Palace’s auditorium that I’ve seen:
http://jpg2.lapl.org/theater3/00015523.jpg
In its first remodeling, was the Fox Westwood Village “Skouras-ized For Showmanship” (as Jim Rankin has described the process in entries for numerous other theaters)? I haven’t been here since I was a student at UCLA 30 years ago. My recollection is a fairly plain auditorium with the usual Skouras touches (viz. Fox Bakersfield) and a shallow balcony. Could others volunteer some more up-to-date descriptions?
This picture from the 1930s is different from what I remember, but even before remodeling the auditorium looks so spartan! The outside of the building would lead one to expect a more opulent auditorium within: http://jpg2.lapl.org/theater3/00015722.jpg
Now, I really don’t mean to disparage the Fox Westwood Village. It certainly has had great importance in the history of movie exhibition in Los Angeles as the focus shifted from Broadway to Hollywood to Beverly Hills to Westwood and is, after all, the grandest theater in Westwood Village. (I would venture that the Westside theater that came closest in that regard would have been the poor Picwood, though built in a later era and already demolished.)
As a movie palace, though, I’ve never considered the Fox to be of the same caliber as the most spectacular examples in L.A.’s other entertainment districts, especially for a house of its size. I think that the Carthay Circle offers the closest comparison, considering the similarities in architectural style and seating capacity, and it was way, way more ornate. Come to think of it, even the Golden Gate in East Los Angeles had a more elaborately decorated auditorium!
An otherwise dreadful, forgettable film from 1977 called “Fire Sale” is on Fox Movie Channel tonight, in NYC at least.
I lived on the block when it was filmed at Wilshire and Burnside. I’ve never sat through the movie, so I can’t say if it has any shots of the El Rey or not … but might be worth a look.
A quick Google search revealed this, though it doesn’t describe the demise of the Heinsbergen firm:
Lloyd Klein Plans Boutique, Shifts Focus to L.A.
By Alison A. Nieder
Executive Editor
Couture designer Lloyd Klein has been living a cross-continental life for the past six years, with his company’s design and production operations based in Paris and everything else in Los Angeles.
This fall, he will open his first boutique in Los Angeles.
[…]
The two-story store and atelier will be housed in a French Normandyâ€"style historic building at 7415 Beverly Blvd. in Los Angeles. The building, designed in 1928 by A.T. Heinsbergen & Co., features a wildlife pond, a small “moat†and a gothic turret. The space originally housed the Heinsbergen architecture firm. Until recently, bridal and eveningwear label Cantu & Castillo operated its design studio in the building, which is still owned by the Heinsbergen family.
[…]
Jim — I totally get it, and you are certainly one of the most respectable and erudite contributors to this site.
Isn’t it interesting how the “grand/grandiose” thing is actually fairly often applicable in the realm of movie palaces?
I’m thinking of a recent thread on the United Artists Los Angeles page, and how others mentioned the intentional use of illusion in the creation of shadows, and how the lobby ornamentation was really all just skillfully painted plaster.
Isn’t that the wonderful thing about movie palaces? That there’s some genuine gilt here and there, and some illusion. Some real “art quality” art, and then again some illusion.
Were all movie palaces a mixture of genuine objets d'art plus faux-precious ornamentation?
Into which category would Heinsbergen murals fall, then, for example? Even if they were individually commissioned for specific venues, their artistic value seems obvious.
By the way, I remember that the Heinsbergen firm was in business into the 1980s. When I left Los Angeles, their offices were on either Beverly or Melrose. Are they still in existence?
To Jim Rankin,
Can you explain your use of the term “grandiose” in the first line of the description for this theater? This very unfortunate choice of words has come up before with regard to Loews Paradise in the Bronx, et al., and you were justifiably critical of its use.
Is there some difference here that justifies the use of that word?
So many “itches”!
Do we now need a way of cross-referencing theaters by lice infestation?
KenRoe, could you refresh my memory about the theater on Seventh that you call the Palace?
I do recall a discussion on another page about whether or not there had been a theater west of Broadway on the south side of Seventh Street, but of course now I don’t remember where I saw that. I didn’t know whether its existence had actually been substantiated or that its name was known.
This photo from the USC Digital Archive is supposed to be Seventh and Broadway in 1927, but I believe the location to be in error.
View link
Is this actually the corner of Eighth and Broadway, and the Bard’s theater midblock would then be the future Olympic?
Wow! Imagine how cool it would have been to be an employee at Texaco and seeing that sign outside your window. (Of course, during the Texaco era there was a second vertical sign on the building, too, that spelled that company’s name.)
Also, I notice that the Orpheum is visible in the distance, with a rectangular marquee that predates the flamboyant neon trapezoid that we all know so well.
This is a house that, sadly, doesn’t seem to have a lot of “documentary evidence” that’s in the public domain. Virtually all of the pics at Reverend Gene’s site are meaningless because of the absence of context.
Seriously, I have a better idea of what the RKO Hillstreet looked like than the U.A.!
And, by the way, for what it’s worth, I think the Los Angeles United Artists surpasses the design of either the Chicago or Detroit venue of the same name and architect.
That is VERY interesting information, and the first I heard of it.
I found this pic on Dr. Gene’s website, which seems to illustrate what you describe.
http://www.drgenescott.org/CAT92.htm
Where was the projection booth located originally?
I thought that the only theaters on Broadway that had two balconies were the Palace and the Los Angeles. (Just to be clear, I am referring to separate shelf balconies — NOT a single shelf that is divided into sections.)
In this beautiful picture of the auditorium’s side wall, it seems unmistakable that there is a separate balcony, or perhaps at least a shallower mezzanine level, under the main balcony.
http://www.forgottendetroit.com/uat/la-2.html
Can anyone confirm or deny? (And if it’s not what it looks like, what is it?)
Hatlo hat? This set off a FLOOD of memories about Jimmy Hatlo and “They’ll Do It Every Time” … a staple of the Los Angeles Herald Examiner back in the day.
Yipes, a long weekend without cinematreasures.org? I might have to go out and take in a movie!
Seriously, though, many thanks for your efforts to improve this site, which means so much to so many of us.
Happy Thanksgiving to all!
For me, the site is barely functional over the last week.
SHAME.
From the New York Times editorial on the demolition of Pennsylvania Station in 1963:
“Any city gets what it admires, will pay for, and, ultimately, deserves. Even when we had Penn Station, we couldn’t afford to keep it clean. We want and deserve tin-can architecture in a tinhorn culture. And we will probably be judged not by the monuments we build but by those we have destroyed.”
A dark day indeed, and a big black eye on the City of Pasadena.