Broadway side of the building, and was directly above (albeit 5 stories up) the Beacon Theatre’s marquee. My friend was usually too lazy to take out his trash, so he would often just open his living room window and drop his bag of trash out— which would land on the top of the marquee. Needless to say, there was quite a load of garbage on top of the marquee, though it was not visable to street level passers-by. We frequented the theatre at least once a wekk in those days— it usually showed second run films, or first-runs of low-budget exploitation and/or cult films.
Of all the films saw there, the one I remember most is Russ Meyer’s “Vixens”. …and I occasionally wonder if the hotel ever discovered the source of the many bags of trash that topped the theatre marquee.
I was the manager of the Gramercy in 1975. I worked for Cinema-5 for several years as a theatre manager, and old Mr. Rugoff who ran the company, liked to change all the managers to different theatres, all at the same time. Sort of like ‘musical chairs’.
Mr. Rugoff believed that any manager that stayed in a theatre too long was apt to become crooked (and he was pretty close to the truth on that one). I had previously managed the Paris Theatre on 58th Street, across from the Plaza Hotel. Late one Saturday night, near midnight, I received a phone call from the circuit’s general manager, an old gent named Mr. MacMann. He said that the manager of the Gramercy had been caught cheating the company, and Mr. Rugoff wanted me to take over running the Gramercy. He wanted me to fire the entire staff, and clean the place up. After changing most of the crew, I had the screen painted (it had yellowed— painting that screen —with a special reflective paint— in 1975 cost $5,000), I had most of the seats recovered, new carpeting put in, and most of the public areas re-painted. I also had the new crew all refitted with tailor-made uniforms, and bought myself three new tuxedos.
It was no small task. I had fired almost 90% of the crew, as they were also in on ‘the take’ as participants in the fired-manager’s scams.
The only personnel we kept on were the porters and operators (because they handled no cash, nor did they have any direct contact with the public. We also kept on an elderly African-American woman, who’s name (I believe..) was Millie Brown (???). She was the only member of the crew who would take a polygraph test.—And, of course, she passed the test. She was a lovely, sweet old dear.
I kept a Philippino young man named “Topino”, first as doorman & sometimes usher, and I trained him to maintain the marquee, and almost act as an assistant manager (even though I had several assistant managers, none whom were worth a darn).
The Gramercy was a dollar-theatre in 1975, and the house was always packed. It was a rough house to operate, nothing like the Paris Theatre, where I had been in 1974, nor the Art Theatre (on E.8th St) which I managed in 1976, nor the Beekman in late 1976 thru 1977. Nor the Sutton, or Murray Hill, or any of the other houses in the circuit.
I managed every house that Cinema-5 operated in Manhattan, at one time or another.
Cinema-5 owned some of them, but just operated others for their owners. We operated the Paramount for Gulf & Western, and we ran the Paris, which was independently owned by a quiet and distinguished gentleman name Mr. McGregor. He maintained an office in the building ABOVE the Paris Theatre— though there was no way into the theatre from his office. In fact, he rarely ever came to the theatre, nor did he ever call.
I so loved working in the theatres that I often took on extra shifts in other theatres (when their managers were on vacation, or on sick leave, etc.)
The Gramercy was unique in that it was a ‘depository’ of sorts for the entire circuit. For example, all of the operating supplies (tickets, timecards, and every other type of paperwork) were stored at the Gramercy. If another theatre needed cashier’s logs, or payroll forms, they had to fill out a requisition form and send it to the Gramercy’s manager to “fill” for them. Usually an usher was sent to the Gramercy to run those errands.
We had huge locked-up sub-basements in the Gramercy where publicity stills and posters were stored from all the theatres, going back to the 1940’s. I still have 8 x 10 stills and framed movie posters that I was free to take (with Mr. Rugoff’s OK) adorning my walls to this day.
The Gramercy was a theatre of many surprises, some of them bordering on catastrophic.
One Sunday matinee, while we were running an almost-3-hour film (RYAN’S DAUGHTER, if I remember correctly— in it’s umpteenth run) it rained torrentially all day long. A large (and HEAVY) pool of water formed on the roof, in the “V-Shape” formed by the auditorium’s slant down toward the screen, and up flush to the next building over.
I was in the box office helping the cashier count out the show’s take after we had just moved in a line of people numbering about 500, when an usher came running into the tiny box office and said to me: “There’s a leak inside!” I brushed it off with: “Put a bucket under it” (a standard Gramercy-Theatre-fix). He excitedly said, “NO, that won’t work, you had better look at this.”
I went into the auditorium and found that the weight of the huge pool of water on the roof had broked a great gash in the ceiling above the stage. The water was cascading in like Niagara Falls. The 30 foot wide wall of falling water totally obscured the screen.
I realized that we had to clear the theatre. The patrons, all of whom had been standing outside in the pouring rain on a “ticket-holders” line for a couple of hours, and were very touchy about it, did NOT want to move. —Even though viewing the picture through the wall of water was impossible. Plus the noise of the water hitting the wooden stage simply drowned-out the soundtract (no pun intended!)
After evacuating the theatre, I wound up having to spend the night in the theatre, as it was the manager’s responsibility to not leave the premises unprotected and unwatched while there was a “gaping hole” in the building.
To make matters worse, I had tickets to a James Brown concert at Madison Square Garden at 10PM that night, and of course, was unable to go. Instead, I invited several of my friends to come to the theatre for an all-night party. I still have a photo (which I’ll have to dig out, and scan for you) that a friend of mine took of me, seated in the ‘open-sky’ auditorium at about 3AM. I had to stay in the theatre until a repair crew came in on Monday to begin work on the roof. We were closed for a few days because of ‘the flood’.
And that was not an isolated incident— The Gramercy was one surpise after another. The next time Mr. Rugoff did his “musical manager’s” switcheroo (the following year), I was indeed grateful to find myself managing the delightfully intimate Art Theatre in the Village (where I lived, so I could walk to work). Of all the theatres that Cinema-5 operated, the Art Theatre was my favorite.
I’m Glad I could share this with you…
Bruno
(username only— anyone who was around in those days probably knows my real name. I was very well known in the business during all of the 1970’s)
Broadway side of the building, and was directly above (albeit 5 stories up) the Beacon Theatre’s marquee. My friend was usually too lazy to take out his trash, so he would often just open his living room window and drop his bag of trash out— which would land on the top of the marquee. Needless to say, there was quite a load of garbage on top of the marquee, though it was not visable to street level passers-by. We frequented the theatre at least once a wekk in those days— it usually showed second run films, or first-runs of low-budget exploitation and/or cult films.
Of all the films saw there, the one I remember most is Russ Meyer’s “Vixens”. …and I occasionally wonder if the hotel ever discovered the source of the many bags of trash that topped the theatre marquee.
I was the manager of the Gramercy in 1975. I worked for Cinema-5 for several years as a theatre manager, and old Mr. Rugoff who ran the company, liked to change all the managers to different theatres, all at the same time. Sort of like ‘musical chairs’.
Mr. Rugoff believed that any manager that stayed in a theatre too long was apt to become crooked (and he was pretty close to the truth on that one). I had previously managed the Paris Theatre on 58th Street, across from the Plaza Hotel. Late one Saturday night, near midnight, I received a phone call from the circuit’s general manager, an old gent named Mr. MacMann. He said that the manager of the Gramercy had been caught cheating the company, and Mr. Rugoff wanted me to take over running the Gramercy. He wanted me to fire the entire staff, and clean the place up. After changing most of the crew, I had the screen painted (it had yellowed— painting that screen —with a special reflective paint— in 1975 cost $5,000), I had most of the seats recovered, new carpeting put in, and most of the public areas re-painted. I also had the new crew all refitted with tailor-made uniforms, and bought myself three new tuxedos.
It was no small task. I had fired almost 90% of the crew, as they were also in on ‘the take’ as participants in the fired-manager’s scams.
The only personnel we kept on were the porters and operators (because they handled no cash, nor did they have any direct contact with the public. We also kept on an elderly African-American woman, who’s name (I believe..) was Millie Brown (???). She was the only member of the crew who would take a polygraph test.—And, of course, she passed the test. She was a lovely, sweet old dear.
I kept a Philippino young man named “Topino”, first as doorman & sometimes usher, and I trained him to maintain the marquee, and almost act as an assistant manager (even though I had several assistant managers, none whom were worth a darn).
The Gramercy was a dollar-theatre in 1975, and the house was always packed. It was a rough house to operate, nothing like the Paris Theatre, where I had been in 1974, nor the Art Theatre (on E.8th St) which I managed in 1976, nor the Beekman in late 1976 thru 1977. Nor the Sutton, or Murray Hill, or any of the other houses in the circuit.
I managed every house that Cinema-5 operated in Manhattan, at one time or another.
Cinema-5 owned some of them, but just operated others for their owners. We operated the Paramount for Gulf & Western, and we ran the Paris, which was independently owned by a quiet and distinguished gentleman name Mr. McGregor. He maintained an office in the building ABOVE the Paris Theatre— though there was no way into the theatre from his office. In fact, he rarely ever came to the theatre, nor did he ever call.
I so loved working in the theatres that I often took on extra shifts in other theatres (when their managers were on vacation, or on sick leave, etc.)
The Gramercy was unique in that it was a ‘depository’ of sorts for the entire circuit. For example, all of the operating supplies (tickets, timecards, and every other type of paperwork) were stored at the Gramercy. If another theatre needed cashier’s logs, or payroll forms, they had to fill out a requisition form and send it to the Gramercy’s manager to “fill” for them. Usually an usher was sent to the Gramercy to run those errands.
We had huge locked-up sub-basements in the Gramercy where publicity stills and posters were stored from all the theatres, going back to the 1940’s. I still have 8 x 10 stills and framed movie posters that I was free to take (with Mr. Rugoff’s OK) adorning my walls to this day.
The Gramercy was a theatre of many surprises, some of them bordering on catastrophic.
One Sunday matinee, while we were running an almost-3-hour film (RYAN’S DAUGHTER, if I remember correctly— in it’s umpteenth run) it rained torrentially all day long. A large (and HEAVY) pool of water formed on the roof, in the “V-Shape” formed by the auditorium’s slant down toward the screen, and up flush to the next building over.
I was in the box office helping the cashier count out the show’s take after we had just moved in a line of people numbering about 500, when an usher came running into the tiny box office and said to me: “There’s a leak inside!” I brushed it off with: “Put a bucket under it” (a standard Gramercy-Theatre-fix). He excitedly said, “NO, that won’t work, you had better look at this.”
I went into the auditorium and found that the weight of the huge pool of water on the roof had broked a great gash in the ceiling above the stage. The water was cascading in like Niagara Falls. The 30 foot wide wall of falling water totally obscured the screen.
I realized that we had to clear the theatre. The patrons, all of whom had been standing outside in the pouring rain on a “ticket-holders” line for a couple of hours, and were very touchy about it, did NOT want to move. —Even though viewing the picture through the wall of water was impossible. Plus the noise of the water hitting the wooden stage simply drowned-out the soundtract (no pun intended!)
After evacuating the theatre, I wound up having to spend the night in the theatre, as it was the manager’s responsibility to not leave the premises unprotected and unwatched while there was a “gaping hole” in the building.
To make matters worse, I had tickets to a James Brown concert at Madison Square Garden at 10PM that night, and of course, was unable to go. Instead, I invited several of my friends to come to the theatre for an all-night party. I still have a photo (which I’ll have to dig out, and scan for you) that a friend of mine took of me, seated in the ‘open-sky’ auditorium at about 3AM. I had to stay in the theatre until a repair crew came in on Monday to begin work on the roof. We were closed for a few days because of ‘the flood’.
And that was not an isolated incident— The Gramercy was one surpise after another. The next time Mr. Rugoff did his “musical manager’s” switcheroo (the following year), I was indeed grateful to find myself managing the delightfully intimate Art Theatre in the Village (where I lived, so I could walk to work). Of all the theatres that Cinema-5 operated, the Art Theatre was my favorite.
I’m Glad I could share this with you…
Bruno
(username only— anyone who was around in those days probably knows my real name. I was very well known in the business during all of the 1970’s)