Yes! Crying room mentioned above! Never heard what it sounded like with a kid in it though. Since you were there so often can you recall anything else about the theater? Please feel free to describe anything. I seem to remember for example, plaques with Oscar-winners along the winding entrance. Do you recall that entrance and was it indeed as odd and curved yo the right as I remember? Thanks..
Thanks Joe! You’re right about the date and I erred about being a “product of the post-50’s” boom – I saw the building date after my post. But the projected image was comfortably wide, and as you noted, was most likely part of Ted Rogvoy’s vision.
I am curious though what that “mysterious entrance corridor” was about – I don’t recall another theater in LA that was designed that way, and it did add to the whole experience. Amazingly odd, too, that someone who only did a handful of theaters understood that movie going is about escapism, dreams and comfort. If only those who designed the Goldwyn Theater at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences understood movies and their viewing nature as well. Pragmatically and ironically, this place one of the most uncomfortable “pro” theaters in the city; seats too close together, insufficiently raked, with seats on the outside facing forward so you have to twist off-center to look at the screen. It’s of course nothing compared to infamous Billy Wilder Theater in Westwood, a place that must have been designed by someone specializing in seeing movies in a concentration camp. Where else can you go in LA to appreciate the rare, classic UCLA Film and TV’s Archive, and sit in pink vinyl seats allowing no arm room whatsoever, whose side seats totally face a blank wall? (at least it is raked) But I digress on what a priviledge it isn’t. (The GREATEST newer theater in LA is still the TV Academy in North Hollywood – a shame it’s not aped enough by the other industry venues).
Anyway, thanks very much for the extra photos showing the Paradise’s early, pre-opening appearance. It’s strangely naked without its notable greenery. As ever, one must rely on memory and imagination to properly embellish the place to what it was.
Just before the theater’s pre-closing rock n' roll show, I’d participated in the sci-fi festival. Among the last-screened movies were 35mm prints of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” (from the original neg), and Technicolor prints of “Fahrenheit 451” and “Crack in the World”. What a sad day! For the record one of the great projectionists was Ed Platt’s twenty-something year-old son. The festival’s director was Mickey Cottrell, later-becoming a producer and actor, playing the sociology teacher early in the film, “Apt Pupil” (1998). This was a wonderful place, but unlike the unusual Paradise Theater just three blocks south, its architecture was the more standard, laid-out rectangle. It did have a level-up, gently-raised rear, an example of early stadium-style seating, and a spacious open-air feeling because of its wide auditorium and high ceiling. Most memorable are the stainless-aluminum inlay around the curved box office, which I believe still exists, and the late-deco-trimmed interior mentioned by Jim Rankin above.
In 1963, the Loyola ran Hitchcock’s “The Birds†in grand-style. There were several “dead†artificial birds placed along the marquee. Most interesting and clever was the box office where two or three of the birds had been cut in half and pasted to either side of the window, each “head†stuck on the inside with the “tail†on the outside. Tiny “cracks†were painted on the glass. This gave the appearance that the “birds” had crashed right through! Much to Hitch’s chagrin, I’m sure it would have given William Castle a great charge! Anyway, it was a delightful contrast to this lovely, “classy†theater, and another wonderful, permanent memory.
In its history, the theater also first-ran “To Kill a Mockingbird”, “The Pink Panther”, and “The World of Henry Orient”.
I saw “Day of the Triffids” there in 1963. What a wonderful place; the auditorium was wide, the product of (apparently) the post-‘50’s wide-screen boom. The Cinemascope was really spectacular, and the sound was tremendous. The front of the theater had an unusual spacious, snaking corridor. One entered in front, but it actually lead to the right. Once inside, the auditorium was on the left. And it was big! As I recall the entryway added to the mysterioso of the place, and as a kid of thirteen I had no idea what to expect. I’m glad someone mentioned the crying room. Although I grew up in Hollywood and saw most of the theaters in the area, I don’t recall having seen another (but some, like the Chinese, must have had them). The room was empty at the time, and I suppose the spacious use of real estate was impractical for most cinemas. Certainly, the lazy, open nature of the whole place lent it an air of the movie scene of the fifties, and if one asked I would have said the theater was the perfect example of Southern California at the time, seen on a postcard with a smiling, cartoon sun sipping a mai tai, and wearing dark glasses. It should be mentioned that the theater was located just north of LAX, and the wide unencumbered street of Sepulveda Blvd. with its modern stores then gave it a comfortable jet-setter feel. In spite of the ghost-nature all of us get when we think of our lost favorites, I’m grateful that the front still exists, as well the front of the lovely Loyola Theater just north of there. For those interested, the building should be seen on Google Street Search. Although the photo above is much appreciated, the image is way too narrow to appreciate its wide, sweeping nature, and the power lines create an uncharacteristic quaintness to the place. Imagine a photo double-wided toward the left, and plenty of greenery on either side.
Yes! Crying room mentioned above! Never heard what it sounded like with a kid in it though. Since you were there so often can you recall anything else about the theater? Please feel free to describe anything. I seem to remember for example, plaques with Oscar-winners along the winding entrance. Do you recall that entrance and was it indeed as odd and curved yo the right as I remember? Thanks..
Thanks Joe! You’re right about the date and I erred about being a “product of the post-50’s” boom – I saw the building date after my post. But the projected image was comfortably wide, and as you noted, was most likely part of Ted Rogvoy’s vision.
I am curious though what that “mysterious entrance corridor” was about – I don’t recall another theater in LA that was designed that way, and it did add to the whole experience. Amazingly odd, too, that someone who only did a handful of theaters understood that movie going is about escapism, dreams and comfort. If only those who designed the Goldwyn Theater at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences understood movies and their viewing nature as well. Pragmatically and ironically, this place one of the most uncomfortable “pro” theaters in the city; seats too close together, insufficiently raked, with seats on the outside facing forward so you have to twist off-center to look at the screen. It’s of course nothing compared to infamous Billy Wilder Theater in Westwood, a place that must have been designed by someone specializing in seeing movies in a concentration camp. Where else can you go in LA to appreciate the rare, classic UCLA Film and TV’s Archive, and sit in pink vinyl seats allowing no arm room whatsoever, whose side seats totally face a blank wall? (at least it is raked) But I digress on what a priviledge it isn’t. (The GREATEST newer theater in LA is still the TV Academy in North Hollywood – a shame it’s not aped enough by the other industry venues).
Anyway, thanks very much for the extra photos showing the Paradise’s early, pre-opening appearance. It’s strangely naked without its notable greenery. As ever, one must rely on memory and imagination to properly embellish the place to what it was.
Just before the theater’s pre-closing rock n' roll show, I’d participated in the sci-fi festival. Among the last-screened movies were 35mm prints of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” (from the original neg), and Technicolor prints of “Fahrenheit 451” and “Crack in the World”. What a sad day! For the record one of the great projectionists was Ed Platt’s twenty-something year-old son. The festival’s director was Mickey Cottrell, later-becoming a producer and actor, playing the sociology teacher early in the film, “Apt Pupil” (1998). This was a wonderful place, but unlike the unusual Paradise Theater just three blocks south, its architecture was the more standard, laid-out rectangle. It did have a level-up, gently-raised rear, an example of early stadium-style seating, and a spacious open-air feeling because of its wide auditorium and high ceiling. Most memorable are the stainless-aluminum inlay around the curved box office, which I believe still exists, and the late-deco-trimmed interior mentioned by Jim Rankin above.
In 1963, the Loyola ran Hitchcock’s “The Birds†in grand-style. There were several “dead†artificial birds placed along the marquee. Most interesting and clever was the box office where two or three of the birds had been cut in half and pasted to either side of the window, each “head†stuck on the inside with the “tail†on the outside. Tiny “cracks†were painted on the glass. This gave the appearance that the “birds” had crashed right through! Much to Hitch’s chagrin, I’m sure it would have given William Castle a great charge! Anyway, it was a delightful contrast to this lovely, “classy†theater, and another wonderful, permanent memory.
In its history, the theater also first-ran “To Kill a Mockingbird”, “The Pink Panther”, and “The World of Henry Orient”.
I saw “Day of the Triffids” there in 1963. What a wonderful place; the auditorium was wide, the product of (apparently) the post-‘50’s wide-screen boom. The Cinemascope was really spectacular, and the sound was tremendous. The front of the theater had an unusual spacious, snaking corridor. One entered in front, but it actually lead to the right. Once inside, the auditorium was on the left. And it was big! As I recall the entryway added to the mysterioso of the place, and as a kid of thirteen I had no idea what to expect. I’m glad someone mentioned the crying room. Although I grew up in Hollywood and saw most of the theaters in the area, I don’t recall having seen another (but some, like the Chinese, must have had them). The room was empty at the time, and I suppose the spacious use of real estate was impractical for most cinemas. Certainly, the lazy, open nature of the whole place lent it an air of the movie scene of the fifties, and if one asked I would have said the theater was the perfect example of Southern California at the time, seen on a postcard with a smiling, cartoon sun sipping a mai tai, and wearing dark glasses. It should be mentioned that the theater was located just north of LAX, and the wide unencumbered street of Sepulveda Blvd. with its modern stores then gave it a comfortable jet-setter feel. In spite of the ghost-nature all of us get when we think of our lost favorites, I’m grateful that the front still exists, as well the front of the lovely Loyola Theater just north of there. For those interested, the building should be seen on Google Street Search. Although the photo above is much appreciated, the image is way too narrow to appreciate its wide, sweeping nature, and the power lines create an uncharacteristic quaintness to the place. Imagine a photo double-wided toward the left, and plenty of greenery on either side.