I think you might try about 190th St. and Linden Blvd; just east of Farmers Blvd. The St. Albans and Cambria (on Linden Blvd. in Cambria Heights) were part of my theater going path back when I lived in North Valley Stream eons ago. Although my real quest on the Q4 was the Valencia, these were much nearer than Jamaica when one needed a quick movie fix!
The current address puts it too far east and in the middle of a residential neighborhood (Elmont) in Nassau county.
Jim, you are in error.
Let me set the record straight with some actualities:
The correct term in all English-speaking countries is what they were originally called by the artists who designed them (and who continue to design them): BLADE SIGNS.
Pontification in lieu of research is as empty as the Pitkin.
Some facts:
Ledtronics of Torrance, CA relampers of the Bardavon Theater signage View link along with,
Wagner Electric Sign Company, of Ohio, restorers and rebuilders of countless examples of theater signage including such notables as the Bardavon, Michigan (Ann Arbor), Tampa, and Fox (Oakland) theaters http://www.wagnersign.com/theatermarquees.htm
pushing ahead with,
The Preservation Coalition of Erie County (Shea’s Buffalo Info http://preserve.bfn.org/archives/shea/))
the signage codes of municipalities such as San Diego, Menlo Park among scores of cities
and let’s not forget good ol' (get this, kids)
SIGNINDUSTRY.COM who’s masthead proclaims “The online magazine for the sign industry”,
yes folks, all these and myriad others refer to any sign, lit or unlit, that projects perpendicularly from the face of a building and has two faces as a blade sign.
Just wanted to give this dying-horse-of-a-thread the coup de grace.
Begone Vertical! Get thee to a nunnery. Thy slangy ways have no place here! Enter Noble Blade!
I tend to agree with Rhett above about the late starts.
We went to Godzilla and The Masque of the Red Death last Saturday. Two films that really hold up after 50 years, although the corps de ballet at the end of Masque was just a tad dated. But this WAS the height of the “musical” I suppose. And the masqued Vinny P? A gem: Priceless!!
Godzilla was an eye opener when viewed in the context of its time: a metaphor on nuclear destruction, weapons bans and the Godzill-esque behavior of certain nations. The message was as clear today as it was a half century ago. Hardly a titter or giggle. We all sat enthralled as this all but forgotten epic unfolded.
A-N-Y-W-A-Y, the fun and frolic faded away about 11 PM and if it wasn’t for the end of daylight savings time we wouldn’t have gone at all. It’s an easy trip from north B'klyn (L to Path and you’re there), but just too, too late getting back.
YES! The Robert Morton looks fantastic and with the console fence (and the Howard seat?) reinstalled it’ll be radiant! My ears wiggle and get hot just thinking about how it will sound resounding within The Landmark Loews Fantastic acoustics!
Under the “LOEW’S HILLSIDE” sign was splashed: “The BIG ones come to Loew’s Hillside”. I remember seeing it whilst taking the “J” train to B'klyn Poly during the mid Sixties.
Who or what the “big ones” were is anybody’s guess. This Loew’s was certainly off Jamaica Ave. “theater alley” path.
Keep in mind that the building’s facade is landmarked and as such cannot be changed very easily. It’s quite possible that even though Loews knows about the Loew’s, those “Loew’s no’s!” that Loews might propose pose no deathblows to rows and rows of rose neon proclaiming Loew’s, Loew’s…I suppose.
Mogambo! Wow, Clark Gable, Ava Gardner and Grace Kelly…how could you top a cast like that.
As a wide-eyed, impressionable eight year old, the movie was always lost on me, completely overwhelmed by the Music Hall itself.
A small part of that “Salute to Air-Travel” stage show has stayed with me all these years and if I close my eyes and think about it now, I’m there.
Picture it: On stage, a mock-up of what seemed to be a DC-3 Gooney Bird. Passengers and stewardeses (this was long before there were flight attendents) running across the “tarmac”, going up the gangway whilst waving frenetically to imaginaries in the wings. House lights dimmer and dimmer, and, and, WHOA! what’s that hiss? A curtain of steam rises before the proscenium as the house gets darker and darker, almost pitch dark. In the blackness before us floats the fantastic illusion of clouds and behind them, with running lights blinking and cabin lights ablaze, lost in those clouds, a distant DC-3 flys across the stage.
I think, though I’m not sure, that this was the finale of the stage presentation. Don’t remember what happened next, but do remember the stage hand with the mop, scooting across the stage apron mopping up the remenents of fantasy.
So convinceing this stage-craft, witch-craft, trompe l'oeil, that a half century later it still plays well to me and evokes warm nostalgia.
Oh, glorious, mighty hall…I’ll stop now.
I am curious about the great steam curtain that was used for special effects many times and was wondering if it is used any more. Jets, set around the perimeter of the stage apron, started to hiss and spout steam, and before you knew it the entire proscenium opening was hidden behind its billowing cloud- it literally obliterated the whole front of the auditorium. A dazzling effect when back or front lit to be sure. Also, I remember the hapless stagehand in a dark outfit slealthily scooting a mop over the nozzles after the effect was over.
Does anyone know if the steam curtain is used anymore? I remember it so well as the jets, set around the perimeter of the stage apron, started to hiss and spout steam, and before you knew it the entire proscenium opening was hidden behind its billows. A dazzling effect when lit from the front or behind. I remember too the stagehand in a dark outfit slealthily scooting a mop over the nozzles after the effect was over…funny how the details of certain images stay with one over the years…
We just happened to be driving up Grand Concourse on New Years Day and, say what(!), workers were working on the Paradise! Some were doing exterior work on the building’s store facades and something was going on inside because we could see lights on behind the plastic tarps across the entrance. The guard in the booth ignored our pleas to peek at the interior, though. Here’s a point to ponder: from what we could make out from behind the scaffolding covers, the sunburst on the flat “marquee” is painted in a really, taxingly garish blue, yellow and red. Was this original? It seemed a bit much against the elegant terra cotta ornamentations of the building. I would have expected something more subdued. But I could be wrong, and these colors were meant to be “attention getters'”
Chaminade lists the Queens Austin as 13 ranks, but the Austin opus list says 42, so maybe they only found part of it. The rest of Chaminade’s instrument was rummaged up from the RKO Richmond. As far as glitz and glitter, the Valencia’s Morton could run circles around the Queens' Austin. The Valencia’s console flew out of the pit as a cream and gold, gessoed, silver and gold leafed four manual confection complete with an elaborately decorated fence around the top. One could easily hide a volkswagen in it. The Austin, on the other hand, looked more like a walnut, roll-top desk that housed a typewriter. Sort of Jayne Meadows vs Ruth Buzzy,
I would suppose that the organ was probably abandoned in the 40’s. It was a large instrument built by Austin Organs in Hartford, CT (still going strong I might add), opus 1569 (1927/8), 3 manuals (keyboards) and 42 ranks (sets of pipes). That made it somewhat larger than the Valencia’s Robert Morton a few miles west. Austins were more refined than Wurlitzers or Mortons and not as unified, so they had a more “churchy” sound. Possibly this led to its demise. Anyway, the Beacon in Port Washington, the Freeport, Prospect (Flushing), and the Huntington all had identical Austin instruments. The Beacon’s was in a restored condition and in use up until the time that the theater was sliced up into shoeboxes. One more bit of trivia: both the New York Rialto and Strand had 56 rank Austins. RCMH’s Wurlitzer (biggest of ‘em all) boasts 58! The Austins were busy beavers populating many of New York’s theaters with organs although we hear mostly of Wurlitzers and Mortons as the quintessential choice. Oh, one more bit before I stop. The Freeport Theater’s Austin wound up in St. Aloysius RC Church in Great Neck and did admirable churchy service there for many years before wheezing its last breath.
I’m just wondering. Unlike the “Friends of the Loew’s” or “Friends of the Byod” (in Philly) or even the “St. George” in SI, the work on the Paradise seems so mysterious. There is no advertising anywhere that I can find. There’s no website to show the restoration progress or enlist potential volunteers. No nuttin'. Why? If the place is “supposed to open” in six months you’d think the owners would be champing at the bit to bring such an elaborate and expensive project before the public. I ask again, why all the clandestinity??
Actually, if you look closely you can just make out what appears to be a small George Foreman Portable Propane Grill just to the left of the organ console. It’s really small, but if you concentrate, you can just make it out. This lends credence to and vindicates the captioning of Mr. Ledwon’s marvelous photo of the Avalon’s striking deco-esque auditorium.
The Floral must surely date from the Vaudeville days of the 20’s. I remember this detail: On each side of the procenium columns about 4 or 5 feet above the stage were mounted large gold frames that were once used to hold the placards that announced the name of the currently performing live act. I don’t know why but those frames along with the inverted leaded glass ceiling domes that were always softly glowing in the dark auditorium are permanent fixtures in my minds eye. Certainly the Floral was western Nassau County’s grandest showplace.
Just for the record, both the street, the avenue and the theater were named after the Meserole family, one of Greenpoint’s original settlers. Back in the mid-ninteenth century, Archibald K. Meserole was on the original board of the GreenPoint Bank (just up the street); William H. Meserole was the bank’s first president.
-R
I remember seeing Carol Channing in Shaw’s “The Millionairess” at the Mineola in the 60’s. She came out on stage after the performance and did a small “one woman show” constantly referring to the “min-EEEE-OOOO-LAAA” theater in “min-EEEE-OOOO-LAAA”, Long Island. She was hilarious and grand! When the theater was spruced up for these plays, it too wa grand. A true Broadway house planted in the wrong setting (“min-EEEE-OOOO-LAAA”)
Pure, unadulterated 1950’s is the only way I could describe the Argo. I remember it from the many trips there as a kid in the 50’s. Think fiberglass lampshades and black panther TV lights.
Many times we took the Beeline Alden Terrace bus to Hempstead Tpke / Elmont Road (stop 12) to go to the movies at the Argo. The squared off outside box office on the left of the entrance was faced with a very linear fieldstone. The entrance lobby was low and sleek with coming attraction posters on either side. You went through aluminum doors into a large, high ceilinged lobby. The candy counter was on the left, set into the wall. There were NO straight lines anywhere. Everything was done in “sensuous curvesâ€. Directly across the greenish, large leaf motif carpet (again, think fifties!) was the “grand staircase” to the balcony. It swooped up in a graceful curve, carried aloft by its very tailored, aluminum railing. About halfway up was a gigantic (at least to a ten year old) curtain made of the same fifties jungle leaf pattern placed in front of an equally sized window. We used to peek behind it to look out, but I never remember seeing it drawn back. What WAS the architect thinking? The auditorium was very plain- although quite long and high ceilinged like the lobby and in sort of a non-descript grey- if there’s such a shade. The side walls were equally plain. I remember only what I could describe as a large, flattish bas-relief sculptures resembling the profile of an oil tanker ship that took up the entirety of each side of the auditorium. They concealed some dim cove type lights. These along with high hat lighting in the ceiling were the only sources of light. The ubiquitous, neon encircled advertising clock floated in position at the lower left side of the “stageâ€. Also, coming to mind is the hippo sized matron in charge of the children’s' section. She wielded her flashlight like a weapon, and if you got out of line, she could shoot you a look that would wither the Alien, and send him running home to mother!
Warren, you’re right about the placement of the console. It was in the far left portion of the orchestra pit. The pit had a concrete floor built over it, but if you went down under the stage, you could still get through a small doorway into a chamber under the floor which was where the orchestra lift and the organ console lift were still extant. The console was there, although in very poor shape. The pipe chambers up in the auditorium were on either side of the stage in the large structures that resembled Spanish Villas. The chamber on the left was entered from backstage, but the one on the right had to be entered via a door on 165th Street.
I would think it was a 4/23 or 4/28 rather than a 4/73 (which would make it bigger than the Wurlitzer in RCMH! It definitely was not removed in the 30’s; it went to his studio in Rosedale in 1965 where it remained until the house was sold after he passed away. I was there with Pete and others who removed it in ‘65 and helped to releather the combination action and chest pneumatics to make it playable. It had a Wurlitzer roll player, Moller roll player and Aeolian Duo-Art roll player attached so it could be played in the absence of a live organist since neither Pete nor most of the guys who restored it played. Needless to say, there was never any lack of ways for it to be heard. Gaylord Carter, Jeff Barker, Calvin Hampton and C.A.J. Parmentier (of ROXY fame) were among the many well-known organists who visited.
The last I heard of it was that it was going to the Sanfilippo residence, but I’m glad to hear it will stand on its own eventually. ‘nuff said…
The Valencia’s “Wonder Morton” organ was last played in 1965.
It was bought from Loew’s and was to be removed to a studio in Rosedale, Queens to join the Wurlitzer (?) from Loew’s (Sutphin Blvd) Hillside Theater. The movie that was playing on the day the cables were to be cut was “Those Magnificent Men And Their Flying Machines”. Before the theater opened we greased the blower bearings and turned on the current. Oddly enough, after almost 20 years or so of silence, it came to life with only a few dozen cyphers. We stopped the pipes to silence them and one fellow squeezed throught the door to the console (which was buried under the floored-over orchestra pit. A cable was dropped to the console for earphones so that he could hear the organ in the auditorium above. When the house opened and a few cusotmers came in the organ roared forth with the movie theme and segued into the start of the movie. We played it between the main feature and shorts for a good portion of the day. I remember going into the lobby and the elderly lady behind the candy counter asked me, “Is that the organ playing? I haven’t heard the organ in years- I thought it was gone!” and she went over to the auditorium doors to listen. There were many comments from patrons who received a healthy dose of nostalgia that day. The organ was completely restored and spent many years in Rosedale (I lived a short distance away and played it frequently). It was subsequently sold and shipped to Barrington Hills, IL where it was absorbed by the behemoth in the Music Palace.
Under the “LOEW’S HILLSIDE” sign was splashed: “The BIG ones come to Loew’s Hillside”. I remember seeing it from the train. I guess it was a ploy to lure patrons in, but being in a transit hub rather than a shopping hub probably was not too successful
Technirama is the winner. Learn why here at the Wide Screen Museum:
www.widescreenmuseum.com/widescreen/wingcm2.htm
HNY!
I think you might try about 190th St. and Linden Blvd; just east of Farmers Blvd. The St. Albans and Cambria (on Linden Blvd. in Cambria Heights) were part of my theater going path back when I lived in North Valley Stream eons ago. Although my real quest on the Q4 was the Valencia, these were much nearer than Jamaica when one needed a quick movie fix!
The current address puts it too far east and in the middle of a residential neighborhood (Elmont) in Nassau county.
Jim, you are in error.
Let me set the record straight with some actualities:
The correct term in all English-speaking countries is what they were originally called by the artists who designed them (and who continue to design them): BLADE SIGNS.
Pontification in lieu of research is as empty as the Pitkin.
Some facts:
Ledtronics of Torrance, CA relampers of the Bardavon Theater signage View link along with,
Wagner Electric Sign Company, of Ohio, restorers and rebuilders of countless examples of theater signage including such notables as the Bardavon, Michigan (Ann Arbor), Tampa, and Fox (Oakland) theaters http://www.wagnersign.com/theatermarquees.htm
pushing ahead with,
The Preservation Coalition of Erie County (Shea’s Buffalo Info http://preserve.bfn.org/archives/shea/))
the signage codes of municipalities such as San Diego, Menlo Park among scores of cities
and let’s not forget good ol' (get this, kids)
SIGNINDUSTRY.COM who’s masthead proclaims “The online magazine for the sign industry”,
yes folks, all these and myriad others refer to any sign, lit or unlit, that projects perpendicularly from the face of a building and has two faces as a blade sign.
Just wanted to give this dying-horse-of-a-thread the coup de grace.
Begone Vertical! Get thee to a nunnery. Thy slangy ways have no place here! Enter Noble Blade!
(Enow! Back to my dungeon)
I tend to agree with Rhett above about the late starts.
We went to Godzilla and The Masque of the Red Death last Saturday. Two films that really hold up after 50 years, although the corps de ballet at the end of Masque was just a tad dated. But this WAS the height of the “musical” I suppose. And the masqued Vinny P? A gem: Priceless!!
Godzilla was an eye opener when viewed in the context of its time: a metaphor on nuclear destruction, weapons bans and the Godzill-esque behavior of certain nations. The message was as clear today as it was a half century ago. Hardly a titter or giggle. We all sat enthralled as this all but forgotten epic unfolded.
A-N-Y-W-A-Y, the fun and frolic faded away about 11 PM and if it wasn’t for the end of daylight savings time we wouldn’t have gone at all. It’s an easy trip from north B'klyn (L to Path and you’re there), but just too, too late getting back.
YES! The Robert Morton looks fantastic and with the console fence (and the Howard seat?) reinstalled it’ll be radiant! My ears wiggle and get hot just thinking about how it will sound resounding within The Landmark Loews Fantastic acoustics!
Under the “LOEW’S HILLSIDE” sign was splashed: “The BIG ones come to Loew’s Hillside”. I remember seeing it whilst taking the “J” train to B'klyn Poly during the mid Sixties.
Who or what the “big ones” were is anybody’s guess. This Loew’s was certainly off Jamaica Ave. “theater alley” path.
Keep in mind that the building’s facade is landmarked and as such cannot be changed very easily. It’s quite possible that even though Loews knows about the Loew’s, those “Loew’s no’s!” that Loews might propose pose no deathblows to rows and rows of rose neon proclaiming Loew’s, Loew’s…I suppose.
Mogambo! Wow, Clark Gable, Ava Gardner and Grace Kelly…how could you top a cast like that.
As a wide-eyed, impressionable eight year old, the movie was always lost on me, completely overwhelmed by the Music Hall itself.
A small part of that “Salute to Air-Travel” stage show has stayed with me all these years and if I close my eyes and think about it now, I’m there.
Picture it: On stage, a mock-up of what seemed to be a DC-3 Gooney Bird. Passengers and stewardeses (this was long before there were flight attendents) running across the “tarmac”, going up the gangway whilst waving frenetically to imaginaries in the wings. House lights dimmer and dimmer, and, and, WHOA! what’s that hiss? A curtain of steam rises before the proscenium as the house gets darker and darker, almost pitch dark. In the blackness before us floats the fantastic illusion of clouds and behind them, with running lights blinking and cabin lights ablaze, lost in those clouds, a distant DC-3 flys across the stage.
I think, though I’m not sure, that this was the finale of the stage presentation. Don’t remember what happened next, but do remember the stage hand with the mop, scooting across the stage apron mopping up the remenents of fantasy.
So convinceing this stage-craft, witch-craft, trompe l'oeil, that a half century later it still plays well to me and evokes warm nostalgia.
Oh, glorious, mighty hall…I’ll stop now.
I am curious about the great steam curtain that was used for special effects many times and was wondering if it is used any more. Jets, set around the perimeter of the stage apron, started to hiss and spout steam, and before you knew it the entire proscenium opening was hidden behind its billowing cloud- it literally obliterated the whole front of the auditorium. A dazzling effect when back or front lit to be sure. Also, I remember the hapless stagehand in a dark outfit slealthily scooting a mop over the nozzles after the effect was over.
Does anyone know if the steam curtain is used anymore? I remember it so well as the jets, set around the perimeter of the stage apron, started to hiss and spout steam, and before you knew it the entire proscenium opening was hidden behind its billows. A dazzling effect when lit from the front or behind. I remember too the stagehand in a dark outfit slealthily scooting a mop over the nozzles after the effect was over…funny how the details of certain images stay with one over the years…
We just happened to be driving up Grand Concourse on New Years Day and, say what(!), workers were working on the Paradise! Some were doing exterior work on the building’s store facades and something was going on inside because we could see lights on behind the plastic tarps across the entrance. The guard in the booth ignored our pleas to peek at the interior, though. Here’s a point to ponder: from what we could make out from behind the scaffolding covers, the sunburst on the flat “marquee” is painted in a really, taxingly garish blue, yellow and red. Was this original? It seemed a bit much against the elegant terra cotta ornamentations of the building. I would have expected something more subdued. But I could be wrong, and these colors were meant to be “attention getters'”
Chaminade lists the Queens Austin as 13 ranks, but the Austin opus list says 42, so maybe they only found part of it. The rest of Chaminade’s instrument was rummaged up from the RKO Richmond. As far as glitz and glitter, the Valencia’s Morton could run circles around the Queens' Austin. The Valencia’s console flew out of the pit as a cream and gold, gessoed, silver and gold leafed four manual confection complete with an elaborately decorated fence around the top. One could easily hide a volkswagen in it. The Austin, on the other hand, looked more like a walnut, roll-top desk that housed a typewriter. Sort of Jayne Meadows vs Ruth Buzzy,
I would suppose that the organ was probably abandoned in the 40’s. It was a large instrument built by Austin Organs in Hartford, CT (still going strong I might add), opus 1569 (1927/8), 3 manuals (keyboards) and 42 ranks (sets of pipes). That made it somewhat larger than the Valencia’s Robert Morton a few miles west. Austins were more refined than Wurlitzers or Mortons and not as unified, so they had a more “churchy” sound. Possibly this led to its demise. Anyway, the Beacon in Port Washington, the Freeport, Prospect (Flushing), and the Huntington all had identical Austin instruments. The Beacon’s was in a restored condition and in use up until the time that the theater was sliced up into shoeboxes. One more bit of trivia: both the New York Rialto and Strand had 56 rank Austins. RCMH’s Wurlitzer (biggest of ‘em all) boasts 58! The Austins were busy beavers populating many of New York’s theaters with organs although we hear mostly of Wurlitzers and Mortons as the quintessential choice. Oh, one more bit before I stop. The Freeport Theater’s Austin wound up in St. Aloysius RC Church in Great Neck and did admirable churchy service there for many years before wheezing its last breath.
I’m just wondering. Unlike the “Friends of the Loew’s” or “Friends of the Byod” (in Philly) or even the “St. George” in SI, the work on the Paradise seems so mysterious. There is no advertising anywhere that I can find. There’s no website to show the restoration progress or enlist potential volunteers. No nuttin'. Why? If the place is “supposed to open” in six months you’d think the owners would be champing at the bit to bring such an elaborate and expensive project before the public. I ask again, why all the clandestinity??
To find out all you wanted to know and more about the Wonder Morton organ, check out the postings above from late May and early June 2004.
Actually, if you look closely you can just make out what appears to be a small George Foreman Portable Propane Grill just to the left of the organ console. It’s really small, but if you concentrate, you can just make it out. This lends credence to and vindicates the captioning of Mr. Ledwon’s marvelous photo of the Avalon’s striking deco-esque auditorium.
The Floral must surely date from the Vaudeville days of the 20’s. I remember this detail: On each side of the procenium columns about 4 or 5 feet above the stage were mounted large gold frames that were once used to hold the placards that announced the name of the currently performing live act. I don’t know why but those frames along with the inverted leaded glass ceiling domes that were always softly glowing in the dark auditorium are permanent fixtures in my minds eye. Certainly the Floral was western Nassau County’s grandest showplace.
The address of the Calderone Theater wa listed as:
145 N Franklin St
Hempstead, NY
Just for the record, both the street, the avenue and the theater were named after the Meserole family, one of Greenpoint’s original settlers. Back in the mid-ninteenth century, Archibald K. Meserole was on the original board of the GreenPoint Bank (just up the street); William H. Meserole was the bank’s first president.
-R
I remember seeing Carol Channing in Shaw’s “The Millionairess” at the Mineola in the 60’s. She came out on stage after the performance and did a small “one woman show” constantly referring to the “min-EEEE-OOOO-LAAA” theater in “min-EEEE-OOOO-LAAA”, Long Island. She was hilarious and grand! When the theater was spruced up for these plays, it too wa grand. A true Broadway house planted in the wrong setting (“min-EEEE-OOOO-LAAA”)
Pure, unadulterated 1950’s is the only way I could describe the Argo. I remember it from the many trips there as a kid in the 50’s. Think fiberglass lampshades and black panther TV lights.
Many times we took the Beeline Alden Terrace bus to Hempstead Tpke / Elmont Road (stop 12) to go to the movies at the Argo. The squared off outside box office on the left of the entrance was faced with a very linear fieldstone. The entrance lobby was low and sleek with coming attraction posters on either side. You went through aluminum doors into a large, high ceilinged lobby. The candy counter was on the left, set into the wall. There were NO straight lines anywhere. Everything was done in “sensuous curvesâ€. Directly across the greenish, large leaf motif carpet (again, think fifties!) was the “grand staircase” to the balcony. It swooped up in a graceful curve, carried aloft by its very tailored, aluminum railing. About halfway up was a gigantic (at least to a ten year old) curtain made of the same fifties jungle leaf pattern placed in front of an equally sized window. We used to peek behind it to look out, but I never remember seeing it drawn back. What WAS the architect thinking? The auditorium was very plain- although quite long and high ceilinged like the lobby and in sort of a non-descript grey- if there’s such a shade. The side walls were equally plain. I remember only what I could describe as a large, flattish bas-relief sculptures resembling the profile of an oil tanker ship that took up the entirety of each side of the auditorium. They concealed some dim cove type lights. These along with high hat lighting in the ceiling were the only sources of light. The ubiquitous, neon encircled advertising clock floated in position at the lower left side of the “stageâ€. Also, coming to mind is the hippo sized matron in charge of the children’s' section. She wielded her flashlight like a weapon, and if you got out of line, she could shoot you a look that would wither the Alien, and send him running home to mother!
Warren, you’re right about the placement of the console. It was in the far left portion of the orchestra pit. The pit had a concrete floor built over it, but if you went down under the stage, you could still get through a small doorway into a chamber under the floor which was where the orchestra lift and the organ console lift were still extant. The console was there, although in very poor shape. The pipe chambers up in the auditorium were on either side of the stage in the large structures that resembled Spanish Villas. The chamber on the left was entered from backstage, but the one on the right had to be entered via a door on 165th Street.
I would think it was a 4/23 or 4/28 rather than a 4/73 (which would make it bigger than the Wurlitzer in RCMH! It definitely was not removed in the 30’s; it went to his studio in Rosedale in 1965 where it remained until the house was sold after he passed away. I was there with Pete and others who removed it in ‘65 and helped to releather the combination action and chest pneumatics to make it playable. It had a Wurlitzer roll player, Moller roll player and Aeolian Duo-Art roll player attached so it could be played in the absence of a live organist since neither Pete nor most of the guys who restored it played. Needless to say, there was never any lack of ways for it to be heard. Gaylord Carter, Jeff Barker, Calvin Hampton and C.A.J. Parmentier (of ROXY fame) were among the many well-known organists who visited.
The last I heard of it was that it was going to the Sanfilippo residence, but I’m glad to hear it will stand on its own eventually. ‘nuff said…
The Valencia’s “Wonder Morton” organ was last played in 1965.
It was bought from Loew’s and was to be removed to a studio in Rosedale, Queens to join the Wurlitzer (?) from Loew’s (Sutphin Blvd) Hillside Theater. The movie that was playing on the day the cables were to be cut was “Those Magnificent Men And Their Flying Machines”. Before the theater opened we greased the blower bearings and turned on the current. Oddly enough, after almost 20 years or so of silence, it came to life with only a few dozen cyphers. We stopped the pipes to silence them and one fellow squeezed throught the door to the console (which was buried under the floored-over orchestra pit. A cable was dropped to the console for earphones so that he could hear the organ in the auditorium above. When the house opened and a few cusotmers came in the organ roared forth with the movie theme and segued into the start of the movie. We played it between the main feature and shorts for a good portion of the day. I remember going into the lobby and the elderly lady behind the candy counter asked me, “Is that the organ playing? I haven’t heard the organ in years- I thought it was gone!” and she went over to the auditorium doors to listen. There were many comments from patrons who received a healthy dose of nostalgia that day. The organ was completely restored and spent many years in Rosedale (I lived a short distance away and played it frequently). It was subsequently sold and shipped to Barrington Hills, IL where it was absorbed by the behemoth in the Music Palace.
Under the “LOEW’S HILLSIDE” sign was splashed: “The BIG ones come to Loew’s Hillside”. I remember seeing it from the train. I guess it was a ploy to lure patrons in, but being in a transit hub rather than a shopping hub probably was not too successful