The Manchester was built for the West Coast Theatre Circuit. The architect was L.A. Smith.
I was not surprised to discover that Smith designed the Manchester. I the 1950s, we drove past this theater many times, and I was always struck by the similarity of its style to that of Smith’s Garfield Theater in Alhambra.
It could be that the Art Center was already located in rented quarters in the theater when that meeting was conducted on May 20th of this year. The minutes only said that “… the Art Center is moving forward with purchasing the Paradise Theater.” Or, they might just be adding the theater to their holdings. In any case, contacting the Art Center from its web site would probably be the best place for Mr. McBain to get more information about the theater. Clearly, it had not been demolished as of last May.
This address would have put this theater just east of Griffin Avenue in the Lincoln Heights district of Los Angeles, and only a few blocks west of Lincoln Park. This neighborhood was mostly built up before 1910. I probably passed by it a number of times when I was very young, as one of the bus lines we sometimes rode ran along that stretch of Main Street, but I have no memory of the theater itself.
Unless there was more than one theater of this name in Los Angeles, it must have been closed after 1950. According to a list provided by KenRoe
(which can be seen at /theaters/9144/ )
a San Carlos Theater was one of 24 theaters being operated in that year by the Edwards Theater circuit.
Thanks for that list. There are several there that I never knew Edwards owned. I’m especially surprised to see a theater in Beverly Hills, and the four in Los Angeles. I had thought that, before the company began expanding rapidly in Orange County in the 1960s, all their operations were in, or adjacent to, the San Gabriel Valley.
In that decade of the 1950s, I frequently attended eight of those theaters: the Alhambra, Coronet, Garfield, Tumbleweed, Garvey, Monterey, San Gabriel and the Temple, plus Alhambra’s El Rey, which Edwards acquired a few years later. Every single one of them is now gone, the majority of them lost to earthquakes. Neither time, nor California’s unstable geology, has been kind to the theaters of that area.
I find it easier to remember the details of places I’ve seen once as an adult than of places I saw several times as a child. But I don’t remember everything about the Hastings, it seems, as I have no clear recollection of the tile mural. I remember that there was some sort of decoration on that wall, but have no mental picture of it. I do now recall one thing I didn’t mention earlier, though. The theater had a sort of outdoor lounge area, accessible only through the lobby. I didn’t go out to inspect it- I think there was rain the night I was there- so I can’t describe it, but from what I saw as I glanced through the glass doors, there were a lot of plants and some benches out there. It was probably a pleasant place on a warm summer evening.
In the 1960’s, I had occasional conversations with an older guy who frequented a coffee shop in my neighborhood. He told me that he had worked for James Edwards at the Cameo, and for a while had lived in the apartment above the lobby. He also told me that James Edwards had lived in that same apartment himself, when he first began operating the theater, sometime around 1930.
I’m not sure how old the building is, but I think it was built before 1930. For as long as I can remember this theater (about 1958-59), its building has been rather nondescript, but it has always looked as though it might have had some decoration lost to a remodeling at some time. The upstairs facade has three arched windows at the center, suggesting a Spanish revival design of some sort. The El Sereno area began developing shortly after 1900, when Henry Huntington opened the Pasadena Short Line of his Pacific Electric Interurban service, which ran along Huntington Drive. Many of the houses in the area are of late Victorian and pre-WWI Craftsman style, though there are also many blocks of Spanish style bungalows dating from 1920-1930. But the area was certainly sufficiently built-up to have supported a theater as large as the Cameo before 1920.
I never saw the inside of the Cameo, but passed by it frequently on the bus to downtown Los Angeles. Its most arresting feature was the three-sided marquee, extending the entire width of the building. As late as the 1960s, the theater still appeared to be well maintained.
I don’t know when the Cameo ceased to be part of the Edwards circuit, but by 1953 I was reading the theater listings in the newspaper every week, and I don’t remember it being listed with the other Edwards operations. By the mid ‘50s, I’m fairly sure that the circuit was being managed from offices in Alhambra, a couple of miles east of the Cameo.
A few years ago, anticipating the arrival of very costly high-quality HDTV systems, I considered an idea much like this- having a theater with a large number of screening rooms of various sizes available for small audiences, with any movie in the catalog (probably on a DVD) available on request. It would have been an adjunct to a video rental store, with snack food service available.
I abandoned the notion when I considered both the problem of working out some sort of deal with the owners of movie copyrights, and the likelihood that big screen HDTV would probably drop in price fairly rapidly, (as have other big-ticket electronic items), depleting the potential audience within a few years, as people set up their own home theaters. The window of opportunity would close too quickly to assure any profit from such an enterprise. The economics of a similar scheme might be better in Asia, though.
The State was one of the theaters I missed. I only ever saw it from the outside, on our occasional trips to Long Beach. I remember the first time I saw it, when we visited The Pike when I was about six or seven years old, and we miraculously found a parking space on Ocean Avenue. I remember walking down the hill, and seeing the theater across the street, set back behind a wide plaza bordered on the east by a balustrade. I thought it was the most splendid theater I had ever seen, and wanted to go there, but never got the chance. It’s right near the top of my list of vanished theaters I most regret not attending, along with the Figueroa and the Carthay Circle in Los Angeles.
Some time before 1950, the facade of this theater was remodeled. The faux-stone plasterwork and other detailing were replaced with a plain plaster wall, and the cornice stripped off. The single-line marquee (which extended the width of the building) was trimmed with horizontal strips of neon, and was augmented with a tall, angled, two-sided marquee above it, between the former locations of the two decorative engaged columns shown in this old photograph.
The Monterey was one of the rare early theaters in the Los Angeles area which had a section of stadium seating at the rear of the auditorium, and the compact lobby was “U” shaped, with the entrance from the ticket booth foyer at the bottom, and the two sides leading to passageways that sloped up to the cross aisle at the front of the stadium section. The passageways were closed off from the lobby only by drapes. The concession stand was tucked into an alcove on the left arm of the “U” and the low-ceilinged restrooms were at the center, under the stadium section.
The theater had a slightly taller section at the rear of the building, which may have been a stage house, though if so, it was not a very deep one. The building itself was very deep, though, and because the stadium section extended almost to the front wall of the structure, the last row of seats was probably about 140 feet from the screen. This depth gave the theater a fairly large seating capacity, (probably over 1000), despite its narrowness. The interior of the auditorium may have sported some decorative detail in its early days, but by the time I first attended it, about 1952, it was quite plain, and the length, narrowness, and height made the room seem tunnel-like.
The Edwards company always operated the Monterey as a second or third run, popular price house, and it was a successful operation through the 1960’s, and only stopped showing English language movies when it was replaced by new Edwards triplex theater in a mall on Atlantic Boulevard in the 1970’s.
My only visit to the Hastings was in the late 1970’s, to see the re-issue of Disney’s “Fantasia.” This was several years after the theater had opened, and before it was converted to a multiplex. It was probably the last really big single-screen theater built in the Los Angeles area, and was quite impressive, despite the rather austere late sixties-early seventies architecture.
A unique feature of the Hastings was the configuration of the auditorium. The spacious, glass-walled lobby was actually behind the screen, and the auditorium was entered through a pair of passages leading either way from a large doorway. These low-ceilinged hallways sloped downward, and curved around the corners, then back upward and along the sides of the auditorium.
The seating was continental style, meaning that there were no aisles cutting through the rows. Instead, the rows were entered from the broad side aisles, which could be screened from the auditorium by drapes hung between a series of square columns. The distance between rows was greater than in most theaters, leaving room for entering and departing patrons to pass along them without forcing the seated patrons to rise from their seats. The auditorium also had a steeper rake than was normal for most theaters without stadium seating, providing better than usual sight lines. Entering from the sides, and from the screen-end of the hall also made it easier to find empty seats while the movie was in progress, or find your way back to your own seat if you had gone out for more popcorn, as the light reflected from the screen illuminated the faces of the seated crowd.
I found the theater impressive, the seats comfortable, and the sound and projection were first rate, and the huge screen was the largest in the San Gabriel Valley. The main reason I never went there again was that the location was a bit out of the way for me. Had it been more conveniently located, it probably would have become my preferred location for seeing movies, especially those which are best seen on a big, big screen.
This early theater was located in the 100 block of West Main Street, at the southeast corner of Second Street. It may have closed for a while during the depression years, but by the 1940’s was open and operating as the Coronet Theatre. In 1964, it was renamed the Capri. Both as the Coronet and the Capri, it was operated by the Edwards Theatre Circuit. For a brief time in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s, it featured foreign films and a few arty independent films, but the venture was not successful, and the house was returned to standard Hollywood fare.
When it was renamed the Coronet, the small marquee was replaced by a broader, angled marquee with neon lights. The facade of the building remained otherwise largely unchanged throughout the theater’s existence, except for the removal of the decorative cornice and parapet wall in the late 1950’s, the result of a municipal ordinance requiring that all such unanchored cornices and parapets throughout the City of Alhambra either be reinforced or removed, to reduce risk to passersby in the event of an earthquake.
The Main Street and Second Street facades of the building, and their simple classical detailing, were of white glazed brick, but the other walls, and the auditorium, were built of unreinforced red brick. The classical elements may also have been featured on the theater’s interior at one time, but when I first saw the inside, about 1952, there was no evidence of them. The tiny lobby was simple, featuring a floor to ceiling drape on the wall between the aisle doors, and there was extensive use of mirrors to visually expand the small space. The concession stand was tucked into a round alcove to one side of the lobby, and the restrooms were on the other side. Access to the two aisles was through pairs of padded leather doors, with simple brass handles.
The small auditorium was lighted by side wall sconces, but I have no memory of chandeliers of any sort. The most notable feature of the otherwise simple auditorium was the elaborate drapery covering most of the end wall. A plush, gold, scalloped curtain (which could be raised and lowered), augmented with tasseled side curtains, framed the screen, and a sheer curtain opened and closed horizontally. The whole affair was lighted by spotlights and indirect lighting. It was the most elaborate screen curtaining of any theater in the area. In later years, the scalloped curtain was left open all the time, probably due to the expense of keeping i in operating condition, and only the sheer curtain was opened and closed.
The theater had a loge section of about six rows of big leather seats, and then a few hundred standard plush theater seats. There was no stage house, as the theater had been built especially for movies. Despite its small size (the smallest of Alhambra’s four theaters), it was a pleasant house in which to see a movie, the lobby and auditorium being cozy but well proportioned, and generally well maintained.
The last program at the Capri was a double bill of “There Was a Crooked Man” and “The Wild Bunch” on the night of February 8th, 1971. The following morning, the building was badly damaged by the Sylmar earthquake, and was razed a few weeks later. My last visit to the theater had been a short time earlier, to see “Woodstock” and “I love You Alice B. Toklas.” The carpets, seats and drapes had grown a bit threadbare, the young manager did double duty as operator of the concession stand, and the audience was sparse, but the place still had the charm I remembered from earlier years. I’m glad I got to see it one last time before the end.
Incidentally, in 1964, I lived for a time in an upstairs flat almost directly across the street from the theater, and my address was 131 West Main. That suggests that the theater’s address was probably 136 West Main, but I couldn’t swear to it.
I had considered that block as a possible location, but I have found an old map which, though its copyright date is 1964 (quite a few years after the street numbers were changed in South San Gabriel), still shows the old numbering system (with east-west numbers beginning at Del Mar Avenue in San Gabriel) that was once used in Rosemead. It shows the 1600 block as beginning at Rosemead Boulevard. So, unless the map is wrong, the theater must have been just a few doors east of that intersection.
I am wondering about the large, free-standing bank (or savings and loan?) building that I remember being at the south-east corner. It had an early 1960’s style, but I have no memory of just when it was built, or of what was on that corner before then. It’s possible that the theater was at the eastern end of that large corner lot, which I think extended quite a way down Valley Boulevard. That might be far enough to account for an address of 1629.
Also, I think that the shopping center between Bartlett and Muscatel was built either in 1964 or 1965. The supermarket was an Alpha Beta, and I remember that it was built almost at the same time as the Alpha Beta on Garvey at the corner of Jackson. I lived on Jackson at the time, and remember being a little bit envious of the center on Valley, because it was bigger and better designed than the one on my corner.
My father lived a few miles from the Garfield at the time it was built. He told me that the huge sign atop the stage house was the principle landmark in the area, and that by night, when its hundreds of light bulbs were lit, it could be seen from the upper floors of his house in Walnut Acres, two miles southeast. In those days, the Garfield was the main vaudeville house in the southern San Gabriel Valley, and all the big acts played there. The theater had a wooden floor, which was considered better for the acoustics in a room designed for live acts in the age before amplification.
The big rooftop sign was still there when I first went to the Garfield, about 1952, but it was no longer lighted at night. The front of the theater (the building in which it was located was called the Valley Grand Building, and its upper floor contained a very respectable apartment house) still looked much as it did in the picture from 1930, except for the addition of a neon marquee, probably of 1930’s vintage.
We didn’t go to the Garfield often in the following years, because it was still a high-priced, first run theater, but I do remember my first sight of the cavernous (and almost deserted) auditorium. The walls were still decorated with rough plaster work designed to look like stone. In fact, the walls were of reinforced concrete- the marks of the board forms were visible on the outside walls of auditorium and stage house. But the interior retained many of the early decorative features, including the columned proscenium which was destroyed a few years later when a Cinemascope screen was installed.
I remember the tickets at that time bore the name of the Vinnicoff (sp?) Theatre Circuit, and sometimes they would use tickets with the name of the Grove Theatre in Garden Grove, operated by the same company. In fact, as I found out later, the Edwards circuit had an interest in the theater, and I believe they came into full ownership sometime in the early 1960’s. It was about that time that the interior of the auditorium was modernized, the faux stone plaster work of the walls being clad in some tacky veneer. After that, the only interesting decor remaining was the series of six, large decorated grates in the high ceiling, from which (I imagine) chandeliers of some sort might once have hung. A new marquee of boring design replace the old neon marquee at that same time. The theater did thrive under Edwards' ownership, though, after adopting a popular price policy of fifty cents for adults and twenty cents for children, but it was so large that, in all those years, I never saw the theater as much as half full.
Even before the inside was redecorated, the outside of the Valley Grand Building was stripped of its ornate top of tile and third-floor pavilions. An earthquake that happened in the San Francisco area in 1957 had caused great consternation about potential disaster in many cities of Southern California, and the City of Alhambra quickly passed an ordinance requiring that all unanchored cornices and parapet walls, and anything else that might fall from a building in an earthquake, had to be either reinforced or removed. Removal was cheaper, and the exterior of almost every old commercial building in the entire town, including the Garfield, with its splendidly detailed Mediterranean decoration, was unceremoniously mutilated.
I only went to the Garfield once in later years, to see the appalling remake of King Kong, sometime in the seventies. That night, I saw something I had never before seen; The house was packed, with not an empty seat in sight. I believe the place had a capacity of about 1200, so it was quite a crowd. It was probably the last such the old place ever saw. A few years later, the Edwards company opened the three-screen Monterey Mall Cinemas in nearby Monterey Park, and the Garfield, much too large for the times, was leased to a company that ran Chinese movies. Now it is gone. I doubt that Alhambra will ever see its like again.
Cinemaland was originally the Edwards Santa Anita. This was one of several Edwards theaters in the area that the company renamed in the early 1960’s. It was a free-standing building, moderne in style, probably built in the 1940’s. It was located on the north side of Huntington Drive, just east of Colorado Place, near the Santa Anita Race Track. I never attended this theater, but passed by it many times. Judging from the exterior dimensions, it was likely a two-aisle theater, with somewhere between 800-1000 seats, all on one floor. It was still operating in the late 1970’s, and closed sometime before August of 1986, but I don’t know when the demolition took place.
Most of those little towns in the South Bay also have their own local numbering systems, don’t they? I don’t think you’ll be safe from street-numbering confusion anywhere around Los Angeles!
I said in my post above that the Garvey was just east of the wash. I meant west! To the east of the wash was just a tiny triangle of land with a big billboard on it. (I think I need more sleep.)
Monterey Park has its own numbering system, with east-west numbers starting at Garfield Avenue. The unincorporated community of Garvey, which is now part of the City of Rosemead, was apparently on the numbering system of the City of San Gabriel during these years, and the east-west numbers started at Del Mar Avenue. The area has since been renumbered, and now uses the L.A. County system, with east-west numbers starting at Main Street in downtown Los Angeles. But the Garvey theater, now gone for some 25 years, was indeed just west of San Gabriel Boulevard, in what is now probably the 8100 block. It has always been difficult to find places in the San Gabriel Valley, because almost every little town has its own numbering system, and all the little towns run together in one continuous mass.
The Garvey was my old neighborhood theater. Until shortly after my sixth birthday, I lived on Falling Leaf Avenue, near Newmark. Because the theater was only a couple of blocks from out house, and I had an older brother and sister, I was allowed to go to Saturday matinees with them for most of the last two years we lived there, except the few months it took to rebuild the theater after the fire. (My brother and sister were allowed to go to the Tumbleweed in El Monte during that hiatus, but my parents thought I was too young to go that far without an adult.) I probably saw more than a hundred movies there, altogether.
The theater was just east of the wash, and its parking lot extended along the wash all the way from Garvey to San Gabriel Boulevard, so it had driveways entering from both streets. The rest of that block of Garvey was built up, but there were still a couple of vacant lots behind those buildings and fronting on Pine Street that we used to cut through, and then walk up to the theater entrance through the parking lot. Using that short cut, it only took us a few minutes to walk from our house to the box office. Very convenient.
I don’t remember in which year the whole block was demolished and the K-Mart was built, but I think it was in the late seventies. I wish that I had been able to get some relic from the theater. The hallway leading to the rest rooms had small versions of the chandeliers in the auditorium. One of those would have been a perfect souvenir, but I have no idea what became of them when the place was torn down. I hope that some collector got them, and they didn’t end up in a landfill somewhere.
Thanks for the information. I must say that I’m surprised by that address! I know that the addresses in the area were changed, sometime around 1950, but a street number of 716 for the Garvey theater must mean that the east-west streets in Garvey were based on the numbering system of the City of San Gabriel at that time. I lived on a north-south street then, and I do remember our street number being changed, but it only changed from the 2600 block to the 2700 block.
Also, the reduction in the theater’s seating capacity might have been the result of changes made when the place had to be restored following the fire.
Between Rosemead and Mission is probably right. It would be hard to pin down an exact location around there though, because the blocks are so long, and thus there are no cross streets to mark the separation between 1600-1700-1800 blocks, etc.
I remember that section of Valley Boulevard, between Charlotte Avenue and the Rubio Wash, where the north side of the street is in the City of San Gabriel, and the south side is in the City of Rosemead. There used to be a big home improvement store called Ole’s on the Rosemead side of the street. I don’t remember the exact address, but I think it was about 8400. Right across the street was one of those outlet stores, and its address was only about 1000. It was confusing.
My oldest map of the Rosemead area (dating from about 1950, itself) shows no address on Valley Boulevard lower than the 8200 block. The current address of the Rosemead City Hall is 8833 E. Valley, so the L.A. County numbering system has been used there for at least half a century. The only way the theater could have had an address of 1629 E. Valley is if the area had once been on the numbering system of the City of San Gabriel, instead. If that were the case, then (extrapolating from current San Gabriel addresses) the theater would have probably been just east of Rosemead Boulevard, on the south side of Valley. But, by 1953, the earliest I can be sure of my memories of the neighborhood) there was no theater anywhere near there- not even an abandoned theater, and it certainly wasn’t appearing in the theater listings of the local newspaper by that time.
Incidentally, do either of those yearbooks give an address for the Garvey theater, or its seating capacity? I wasn’t able to give either exact number in my post here on that theater, nor do I know the exact year of its construction, though I know it was about 1940.
In the mid-1960’s, the Oriental occasionally ran art films, though it was not their regular policy. I remember going there two or three times when they ran movies I had missed in their earlier runs at full-time art houses such as the Los Feliz and the Cinema, or that I wanted to see again. I believe that the Oriental was the third theater at which I saw Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, sometime about 1964. I have no memory of the decor, but I do recall the place being a bit run-down even then, with threadbare patches on the carpets.
Thanks for the information. I moved from Rosemead to Northern California just a few months before the Whittier Narrows earthquake, and didn’t know that there had been any damage to that shopping center. I remember seeing on a television newscast ath the time a brief shot of the old Alhambra on Main Street with its roof caved in and half the stage house turned into a pile of bricks. I think that the El Rey in Alhambra was destroyed by the same quake, but I’m not sure. It might have been the Northridge quake that did that one in.
I only went to the AMC once, a couple of years after it opened. It was unimpressive. The theaters were small, and the walls between them were so thin that the sound from the movies in the adjacent rooms would bleed through. It’s probably just as well that they are gone.
The Manchester was built for the West Coast Theatre Circuit. The architect was L.A. Smith.
I was not surprised to discover that Smith designed the Manchester. I the 1950s, we drove past this theater many times, and I was always struck by the similarity of its style to that of Smith’s Garfield Theater in Alhambra.
The architect of this theater was Leonard L. Jones. It was built in 1924.
This was one of several Fox theaters (including those in Pomona and Riverside) designed by Los Angeles architects Clifford Balch and F.E. Stanbery.
It could be that the Art Center was already located in rented quarters in the theater when that meeting was conducted on May 20th of this year. The minutes only said that “… the Art Center is moving forward with purchasing the Paradise Theater.” Or, they might just be adding the theater to their holdings. In any case, contacting the Art Center from its web site would probably be the best place for Mr. McBain to get more information about the theater. Clearly, it had not been demolished as of last May.
All I can find with Google is a mention near the bottom of this page:
View link
Apparently, it still exists, and might be purchased for some sort of public use.
This address would have put this theater just east of Griffin Avenue in the Lincoln Heights district of Los Angeles, and only a few blocks west of Lincoln Park. This neighborhood was mostly built up before 1910. I probably passed by it a number of times when I was very young, as one of the bus lines we sometimes rode ran along that stretch of Main Street, but I have no memory of the theater itself.
Unless there was more than one theater of this name in Los Angeles, it must have been closed after 1950. According to a list provided by KenRoe
(which can be seen at /theaters/9144/ )
a San Carlos Theater was one of 24 theaters being operated in that year by the Edwards Theater circuit.
Ken:
Thanks for that list. There are several there that I never knew Edwards owned. I’m especially surprised to see a theater in Beverly Hills, and the four in Los Angeles. I had thought that, before the company began expanding rapidly in Orange County in the 1960s, all their operations were in, or adjacent to, the San Gabriel Valley.
In that decade of the 1950s, I frequently attended eight of those theaters: the Alhambra, Coronet, Garfield, Tumbleweed, Garvey, Monterey, San Gabriel and the Temple, plus Alhambra’s El Rey, which Edwards acquired a few years later. Every single one of them is now gone, the majority of them lost to earthquakes. Neither time, nor California’s unstable geology, has been kind to the theaters of that area.
mattepntr:
I find it easier to remember the details of places I’ve seen once as an adult than of places I saw several times as a child. But I don’t remember everything about the Hastings, it seems, as I have no clear recollection of the tile mural. I remember that there was some sort of decoration on that wall, but have no mental picture of it. I do now recall one thing I didn’t mention earlier, though. The theater had a sort of outdoor lounge area, accessible only through the lobby. I didn’t go out to inspect it- I think there was rain the night I was there- so I can’t describe it, but from what I saw as I glanced through the glass doors, there were a lot of plants and some benches out there. It was probably a pleasant place on a warm summer evening.
Ken:
In the 1960’s, I had occasional conversations with an older guy who frequented a coffee shop in my neighborhood. He told me that he had worked for James Edwards at the Cameo, and for a while had lived in the apartment above the lobby. He also told me that James Edwards had lived in that same apartment himself, when he first began operating the theater, sometime around 1930.
I’m not sure how old the building is, but I think it was built before 1930. For as long as I can remember this theater (about 1958-59), its building has been rather nondescript, but it has always looked as though it might have had some decoration lost to a remodeling at some time. The upstairs facade has three arched windows at the center, suggesting a Spanish revival design of some sort. The El Sereno area began developing shortly after 1900, when Henry Huntington opened the Pasadena Short Line of his Pacific Electric Interurban service, which ran along Huntington Drive. Many of the houses in the area are of late Victorian and pre-WWI Craftsman style, though there are also many blocks of Spanish style bungalows dating from 1920-1930. But the area was certainly sufficiently built-up to have supported a theater as large as the Cameo before 1920.
I never saw the inside of the Cameo, but passed by it frequently on the bus to downtown Los Angeles. Its most arresting feature was the three-sided marquee, extending the entire width of the building. As late as the 1960s, the theater still appeared to be well maintained.
I don’t know when the Cameo ceased to be part of the Edwards circuit, but by 1953 I was reading the theater listings in the newspaper every week, and I don’t remember it being listed with the other Edwards operations. By the mid ‘50s, I’m fairly sure that the circuit was being managed from offices in Alhambra, a couple of miles east of the Cameo.
A few years ago, anticipating the arrival of very costly high-quality HDTV systems, I considered an idea much like this- having a theater with a large number of screening rooms of various sizes available for small audiences, with any movie in the catalog (probably on a DVD) available on request. It would have been an adjunct to a video rental store, with snack food service available.
I abandoned the notion when I considered both the problem of working out some sort of deal with the owners of movie copyrights, and the likelihood that big screen HDTV would probably drop in price fairly rapidly, (as have other big-ticket electronic items), depleting the potential audience within a few years, as people set up their own home theaters. The window of opportunity would close too quickly to assure any profit from such an enterprise. The economics of a similar scheme might be better in Asia, though.
The State was one of the theaters I missed. I only ever saw it from the outside, on our occasional trips to Long Beach. I remember the first time I saw it, when we visited The Pike when I was about six or seven years old, and we miraculously found a parking space on Ocean Avenue. I remember walking down the hill, and seeing the theater across the street, set back behind a wide plaza bordered on the east by a balustrade. I thought it was the most splendid theater I had ever seen, and wanted to go there, but never got the chance. It’s right near the top of my list of vanished theaters I most regret not attending, along with the Figueroa and the Carthay Circle in Los Angeles.
Some time before 1950, the facade of this theater was remodeled. The faux-stone plasterwork and other detailing were replaced with a plain plaster wall, and the cornice stripped off. The single-line marquee (which extended the width of the building) was trimmed with horizontal strips of neon, and was augmented with a tall, angled, two-sided marquee above it, between the former locations of the two decorative engaged columns shown in this old photograph.
The Monterey was one of the rare early theaters in the Los Angeles area which had a section of stadium seating at the rear of the auditorium, and the compact lobby was “U” shaped, with the entrance from the ticket booth foyer at the bottom, and the two sides leading to passageways that sloped up to the cross aisle at the front of the stadium section. The passageways were closed off from the lobby only by drapes. The concession stand was tucked into an alcove on the left arm of the “U” and the low-ceilinged restrooms were at the center, under the stadium section.
The theater had a slightly taller section at the rear of the building, which may have been a stage house, though if so, it was not a very deep one. The building itself was very deep, though, and because the stadium section extended almost to the front wall of the structure, the last row of seats was probably about 140 feet from the screen. This depth gave the theater a fairly large seating capacity, (probably over 1000), despite its narrowness. The interior of the auditorium may have sported some decorative detail in its early days, but by the time I first attended it, about 1952, it was quite plain, and the length, narrowness, and height made the room seem tunnel-like.
The Edwards company always operated the Monterey as a second or third run, popular price house, and it was a successful operation through the 1960’s, and only stopped showing English language movies when it was replaced by new Edwards triplex theater in a mall on Atlantic Boulevard in the 1970’s.
My only visit to the Hastings was in the late 1970’s, to see the re-issue of Disney’s “Fantasia.” This was several years after the theater had opened, and before it was converted to a multiplex. It was probably the last really big single-screen theater built in the Los Angeles area, and was quite impressive, despite the rather austere late sixties-early seventies architecture.
A unique feature of the Hastings was the configuration of the auditorium. The spacious, glass-walled lobby was actually behind the screen, and the auditorium was entered through a pair of passages leading either way from a large doorway. These low-ceilinged hallways sloped downward, and curved around the corners, then back upward and along the sides of the auditorium.
The seating was continental style, meaning that there were no aisles cutting through the rows. Instead, the rows were entered from the broad side aisles, which could be screened from the auditorium by drapes hung between a series of square columns. The distance between rows was greater than in most theaters, leaving room for entering and departing patrons to pass along them without forcing the seated patrons to rise from their seats. The auditorium also had a steeper rake than was normal for most theaters without stadium seating, providing better than usual sight lines. Entering from the sides, and from the screen-end of the hall also made it easier to find empty seats while the movie was in progress, or find your way back to your own seat if you had gone out for more popcorn, as the light reflected from the screen illuminated the faces of the seated crowd.
I found the theater impressive, the seats comfortable, and the sound and projection were first rate, and the huge screen was the largest in the San Gabriel Valley. The main reason I never went there again was that the location was a bit out of the way for me. Had it been more conveniently located, it probably would have become my preferred location for seeing movies, especially those which are best seen on a big, big screen.
This early theater was located in the 100 block of West Main Street, at the southeast corner of Second Street. It may have closed for a while during the depression years, but by the 1940’s was open and operating as the Coronet Theatre. In 1964, it was renamed the Capri. Both as the Coronet and the Capri, it was operated by the Edwards Theatre Circuit. For a brief time in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s, it featured foreign films and a few arty independent films, but the venture was not successful, and the house was returned to standard Hollywood fare.
When it was renamed the Coronet, the small marquee was replaced by a broader, angled marquee with neon lights. The facade of the building remained otherwise largely unchanged throughout the theater’s existence, except for the removal of the decorative cornice and parapet wall in the late 1950’s, the result of a municipal ordinance requiring that all such unanchored cornices and parapets throughout the City of Alhambra either be reinforced or removed, to reduce risk to passersby in the event of an earthquake.
The Main Street and Second Street facades of the building, and their simple classical detailing, were of white glazed brick, but the other walls, and the auditorium, were built of unreinforced red brick. The classical elements may also have been featured on the theater’s interior at one time, but when I first saw the inside, about 1952, there was no evidence of them. The tiny lobby was simple, featuring a floor to ceiling drape on the wall between the aisle doors, and there was extensive use of mirrors to visually expand the small space. The concession stand was tucked into a round alcove to one side of the lobby, and the restrooms were on the other side. Access to the two aisles was through pairs of padded leather doors, with simple brass handles.
The small auditorium was lighted by side wall sconces, but I have no memory of chandeliers of any sort. The most notable feature of the otherwise simple auditorium was the elaborate drapery covering most of the end wall. A plush, gold, scalloped curtain (which could be raised and lowered), augmented with tasseled side curtains, framed the screen, and a sheer curtain opened and closed horizontally. The whole affair was lighted by spotlights and indirect lighting. It was the most elaborate screen curtaining of any theater in the area. In later years, the scalloped curtain was left open all the time, probably due to the expense of keeping i in operating condition, and only the sheer curtain was opened and closed.
The theater had a loge section of about six rows of big leather seats, and then a few hundred standard plush theater seats. There was no stage house, as the theater had been built especially for movies. Despite its small size (the smallest of Alhambra’s four theaters), it was a pleasant house in which to see a movie, the lobby and auditorium being cozy but well proportioned, and generally well maintained.
The last program at the Capri was a double bill of “There Was a Crooked Man” and “The Wild Bunch” on the night of February 8th, 1971. The following morning, the building was badly damaged by the Sylmar earthquake, and was razed a few weeks later. My last visit to the theater had been a short time earlier, to see “Woodstock” and “I love You Alice B. Toklas.” The carpets, seats and drapes had grown a bit threadbare, the young manager did double duty as operator of the concession stand, and the audience was sparse, but the place still had the charm I remembered from earlier years. I’m glad I got to see it one last time before the end.
Incidentally, in 1964, I lived for a time in an upstairs flat almost directly across the street from the theater, and my address was 131 West Main. That suggests that the theater’s address was probably 136 West Main, but I couldn’t swear to it.
I had considered that block as a possible location, but I have found an old map which, though its copyright date is 1964 (quite a few years after the street numbers were changed in South San Gabriel), still shows the old numbering system (with east-west numbers beginning at Del Mar Avenue in San Gabriel) that was once used in Rosemead. It shows the 1600 block as beginning at Rosemead Boulevard. So, unless the map is wrong, the theater must have been just a few doors east of that intersection.
I am wondering about the large, free-standing bank (or savings and loan?) building that I remember being at the south-east corner. It had an early 1960’s style, but I have no memory of just when it was built, or of what was on that corner before then. It’s possible that the theater was at the eastern end of that large corner lot, which I think extended quite a way down Valley Boulevard. That might be far enough to account for an address of 1629.
Also, I think that the shopping center between Bartlett and Muscatel was built either in 1964 or 1965. The supermarket was an Alpha Beta, and I remember that it was built almost at the same time as the Alpha Beta on Garvey at the corner of Jackson. I lived on Jackson at the time, and remember being a little bit envious of the center on Valley, because it was bigger and better designed than the one on my corner.
My father lived a few miles from the Garfield at the time it was built. He told me that the huge sign atop the stage house was the principle landmark in the area, and that by night, when its hundreds of light bulbs were lit, it could be seen from the upper floors of his house in Walnut Acres, two miles southeast. In those days, the Garfield was the main vaudeville house in the southern San Gabriel Valley, and all the big acts played there. The theater had a wooden floor, which was considered better for the acoustics in a room designed for live acts in the age before amplification.
The big rooftop sign was still there when I first went to the Garfield, about 1952, but it was no longer lighted at night. The front of the theater (the building in which it was located was called the Valley Grand Building, and its upper floor contained a very respectable apartment house) still looked much as it did in the picture from 1930, except for the addition of a neon marquee, probably of 1930’s vintage.
We didn’t go to the Garfield often in the following years, because it was still a high-priced, first run theater, but I do remember my first sight of the cavernous (and almost deserted) auditorium. The walls were still decorated with rough plaster work designed to look like stone. In fact, the walls were of reinforced concrete- the marks of the board forms were visible on the outside walls of auditorium and stage house. But the interior retained many of the early decorative features, including the columned proscenium which was destroyed a few years later when a Cinemascope screen was installed.
I remember the tickets at that time bore the name of the Vinnicoff (sp?) Theatre Circuit, and sometimes they would use tickets with the name of the Grove Theatre in Garden Grove, operated by the same company. In fact, as I found out later, the Edwards circuit had an interest in the theater, and I believe they came into full ownership sometime in the early 1960’s. It was about that time that the interior of the auditorium was modernized, the faux stone plaster work of the walls being clad in some tacky veneer. After that, the only interesting decor remaining was the series of six, large decorated grates in the high ceiling, from which (I imagine) chandeliers of some sort might once have hung. A new marquee of boring design replace the old neon marquee at that same time. The theater did thrive under Edwards' ownership, though, after adopting a popular price policy of fifty cents for adults and twenty cents for children, but it was so large that, in all those years, I never saw the theater as much as half full.
Even before the inside was redecorated, the outside of the Valley Grand Building was stripped of its ornate top of tile and third-floor pavilions. An earthquake that happened in the San Francisco area in 1957 had caused great consternation about potential disaster in many cities of Southern California, and the City of Alhambra quickly passed an ordinance requiring that all unanchored cornices and parapet walls, and anything else that might fall from a building in an earthquake, had to be either reinforced or removed. Removal was cheaper, and the exterior of almost every old commercial building in the entire town, including the Garfield, with its splendidly detailed Mediterranean decoration, was unceremoniously mutilated.
I only went to the Garfield once in later years, to see the appalling remake of King Kong, sometime in the seventies. That night, I saw something I had never before seen; The house was packed, with not an empty seat in sight. I believe the place had a capacity of about 1200, so it was quite a crowd. It was probably the last such the old place ever saw. A few years later, the Edwards company opened the three-screen Monterey Mall Cinemas in nearby Monterey Park, and the Garfield, much too large for the times, was leased to a company that ran Chinese movies. Now it is gone. I doubt that Alhambra will ever see its like again.
Cinemaland was originally the Edwards Santa Anita. This was one of several Edwards theaters in the area that the company renamed in the early 1960’s. It was a free-standing building, moderne in style, probably built in the 1940’s. It was located on the north side of Huntington Drive, just east of Colorado Place, near the Santa Anita Race Track. I never attended this theater, but passed by it many times. Judging from the exterior dimensions, it was likely a two-aisle theater, with somewhere between 800-1000 seats, all on one floor. It was still operating in the late 1970’s, and closed sometime before August of 1986, but I don’t know when the demolition took place.
Most of those little towns in the South Bay also have their own local numbering systems, don’t they? I don’t think you’ll be safe from street-numbering confusion anywhere around Los Angeles!
I said in my post above that the Garvey was just east of the wash. I meant west! To the east of the wash was just a tiny triangle of land with a big billboard on it. (I think I need more sleep.)
Manwithnoname:
Monterey Park has its own numbering system, with east-west numbers starting at Garfield Avenue. The unincorporated community of Garvey, which is now part of the City of Rosemead, was apparently on the numbering system of the City of San Gabriel during these years, and the east-west numbers started at Del Mar Avenue. The area has since been renumbered, and now uses the L.A. County system, with east-west numbers starting at Main Street in downtown Los Angeles. But the Garvey theater, now gone for some 25 years, was indeed just west of San Gabriel Boulevard, in what is now probably the 8100 block. It has always been difficult to find places in the San Gabriel Valley, because almost every little town has its own numbering system, and all the little towns run together in one continuous mass.
Jeff:
The Garvey was my old neighborhood theater. Until shortly after my sixth birthday, I lived on Falling Leaf Avenue, near Newmark. Because the theater was only a couple of blocks from out house, and I had an older brother and sister, I was allowed to go to Saturday matinees with them for most of the last two years we lived there, except the few months it took to rebuild the theater after the fire. (My brother and sister were allowed to go to the Tumbleweed in El Monte during that hiatus, but my parents thought I was too young to go that far without an adult.) I probably saw more than a hundred movies there, altogether.
The theater was just east of the wash, and its parking lot extended along the wash all the way from Garvey to San Gabriel Boulevard, so it had driveways entering from both streets. The rest of that block of Garvey was built up, but there were still a couple of vacant lots behind those buildings and fronting on Pine Street that we used to cut through, and then walk up to the theater entrance through the parking lot. Using that short cut, it only took us a few minutes to walk from our house to the box office. Very convenient.
I don’t remember in which year the whole block was demolished and the K-Mart was built, but I think it was in the late seventies. I wish that I had been able to get some relic from the theater. The hallway leading to the rest rooms had small versions of the chandeliers in the auditorium. One of those would have been a perfect souvenir, but I have no idea what became of them when the place was torn down. I hope that some collector got them, and they didn’t end up in a landfill somewhere.
Ken:
Thanks for the information. I must say that I’m surprised by that address! I know that the addresses in the area were changed, sometime around 1950, but a street number of 716 for the Garvey theater must mean that the east-west streets in Garvey were based on the numbering system of the City of San Gabriel at that time. I lived on a north-south street then, and I do remember our street number being changed, but it only changed from the 2600 block to the 2700 block.
Also, the reduction in the theater’s seating capacity might have been the result of changes made when the place had to be restored following the fire.
Jeff:
Between Rosemead and Mission is probably right. It would be hard to pin down an exact location around there though, because the blocks are so long, and thus there are no cross streets to mark the separation between 1600-1700-1800 blocks, etc.
I remember that section of Valley Boulevard, between Charlotte Avenue and the Rubio Wash, where the north side of the street is in the City of San Gabriel, and the south side is in the City of Rosemead. There used to be a big home improvement store called Ole’s on the Rosemead side of the street. I don’t remember the exact address, but I think it was about 8400. Right across the street was one of those outlet stores, and its address was only about 1000. It was confusing.
Ken:
My oldest map of the Rosemead area (dating from about 1950, itself) shows no address on Valley Boulevard lower than the 8200 block. The current address of the Rosemead City Hall is 8833 E. Valley, so the L.A. County numbering system has been used there for at least half a century. The only way the theater could have had an address of 1629 E. Valley is if the area had once been on the numbering system of the City of San Gabriel, instead. If that were the case, then (extrapolating from current San Gabriel addresses) the theater would have probably been just east of Rosemead Boulevard, on the south side of Valley. But, by 1953, the earliest I can be sure of my memories of the neighborhood) there was no theater anywhere near there- not even an abandoned theater, and it certainly wasn’t appearing in the theater listings of the local newspaper by that time.
Incidentally, do either of those yearbooks give an address for the Garvey theater, or its seating capacity? I wasn’t able to give either exact number in my post here on that theater, nor do I know the exact year of its construction, though I know it was about 1940.
In the mid-1960’s, the Oriental occasionally ran art films, though it was not their regular policy. I remember going there two or three times when they ran movies I had missed in their earlier runs at full-time art houses such as the Los Feliz and the Cinema, or that I wanted to see again. I believe that the Oriental was the third theater at which I saw Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, sometime about 1964. I have no memory of the decor, but I do recall the place being a bit run-down even then, with threadbare patches on the carpets.
Jeff:
Thanks for the information. I moved from Rosemead to Northern California just a few months before the Whittier Narrows earthquake, and didn’t know that there had been any damage to that shopping center. I remember seeing on a television newscast ath the time a brief shot of the old Alhambra on Main Street with its roof caved in and half the stage house turned into a pile of bricks. I think that the El Rey in Alhambra was destroyed by the same quake, but I’m not sure. It might have been the Northridge quake that did that one in.
I only went to the AMC once, a couple of years after it opened. It was unimpressive. The theaters were small, and the walls between them were so thin that the sound from the movies in the adjacent rooms would bleed through. It’s probably just as well that they are gone.