Added photo of a mural across North Milwaukee Avenue from Chicago’s Portage Theatre in the mid 2010s. The theme honors the theaterโs history as a showplace during the silent-film age. Gazing at you is silent-era superstar Louise Brooks.
Louiseโs ties to the Second City were second hand. Her mother lived in Chicago for a time as a writer and editor for ๐๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐๐ถ๐ญ๐ฆ magazine, an early self-help publication. In 1933 Louise married Chicago playboy Deering Davis and stayed in his hometown while they practiced and performed as a ballroom dance duo.
But not for long. Louise, a flapper who was anything but unflappable, abruptly vanished from their temporary Chicago lodgings less than six months after the wedding, leaving nothing but a short note telling Deering he was off her dance card for good.
In other words, the silent treatment. In terms of the Windy City, Louise Brooks barely blew through town.
Posted a photo of the Blue Gorilla sculpture in front of the Palace.
Why’s he holding a microphone? To celebrate Granby’s entertainment history, hence also the Palace location.
The fiberglass ape, one of several colorful animal sculptures in the city that’s home to Granby Zoo, also pays tribute to Mumba, a Western lowland gorilla who lived at the zoo for more than 40 years before his death in 2008.
The Blue Gorilla sat in front of the Palace from 2017 to 2021, then moved to Granby’s Parc Terry-Fox to protect it from construction damage during the theater’s renovation.
๐๐๐ป๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฒ: Reports surface of a juvenile red kangaroo hopping around Montreal’s South Shore, creating a media sensation as sightings continue over the next few days. The fugitive marsupial acquires the name Joey as his story goes viral. Authorities reveal that Joey escaped from a cage in a Boucherville barn, which sparks debate about the black market trade of exotic animals.
After four days on the lam he’s located in a Boucherville field and tranquilized by a team of animal protection specialists, then taken to his new home at the Granby Zoo where he becomes a star.
The Palace Theatre meanwhile gets into the act, displaying a kangaroo figure on its sign and announcing:
From todayโs ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต๐บ: โIndependent theaters continue to be a vital asset to their communities, with a 9% increase in business in 2025, an encouraging sign for the sector, according to a recent survey.โ
(Good of ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต๐บ to add that itโs an encouraging sign, lest readers' attention spans wither after being hit with two commas.)
The story quotes Ryan Oestreich, Music Box GM, as saying โattendance returned to pre-pandemic levels in 2023 and has been growing by 10-15% every year since.โ
๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ, 6.18.26: The theater “will undergo an eight-week renovation to upgrade production capabilities and interior amenities before reopening in August.”
๐๐๐น๐ ๐ญ๐ฐ, ๐ญ๐ต๐ณ๐ฌ: A Tuesday matinee showing of ๐๐๐๐ (this format doesn’t like the asterisks) played to a robust crowd at the RKO Albee, packed with sports fans killing time before that eveningโs Major League Baseball All-Star Game.
The game took place at brand-new Riverfront Stadium, ending with one of the most memorable moments in All-Star history when hometown hero Pete Rose crashed into Cleveland Indians catcher Ray Fosse for a twelfth-inning National League victory.
Pregame ceremonies included President Richard M. Nixon tossing the first ball. The Riverfront crowd gave Nixon a thunderous welcome, offering the president a boost amid widespread dissent over the Vietnam War. Itโs odd to think that some of those applauding might have spent the afternoon watching one of movie historyโs most fiercely antiwar pictures.
The Shubert played a significant role in the โ70s obscenity case involving Kenneth Tynanโs ๐๐ฉ! ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ค๐ถ๐ต๐ต๐ข!, a musical revue that spotlighted sexually explicit themes and nudity.
Producers arranged in September 1970 for a Broadway performance of the show to be telecast via closed circuit to theaters across the nation. While some 250 venues originally enlisted, about four-fifths backed down because of local opposition and restrictions including prosecutorial threats.
The Shubert, which later that fall would play host to a touring production of ๐๐ข๐ช๐ณ that included brief nudity, wasnโt among them. Shortly afterward, a local judge viewed the videotape, found the production obscene, and issued a permanent injunction.
There the matter rested until October 1977 when Cincinnatiโs Music Hall booked a two-night live presentation of the touring revue. On the date of the first scheduled performance and on the authority of the 1970 injunction, Hamilton County Prosecutor Simon L. Leis Jr. blocked the event. A federal judge overruled him the next day, and the show went on.
Mr. Leisโs aggressive stance in this and other cases led to Cincinnatiโs frequent portrayal in national media as a graveyard for sexually explicit material. But itโs worth emphasizing that the city was among the minority where the ๐๐ฉ! ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ค๐ถ๐ต๐ต๐ข! telecast went forward in the first place. Even Los Angeles was among the locations that pulled the plug in the face of opposition.
Nor were the coasts immune to repercussions where the telecast took place. In Cambridge, Massachusetts, home of Harvard, a police raid led to the arrest of the theater owner and eight employees. As in Cincinnati, charges were ultimately dismissed.
Similarly, while prosecutors in Cincinnati targeted graphic sadomasochistic photos from the Robert Mapplethorpe ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ง๐ฆ๐ค๐ต ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต exhibition in 1990, that’s because the cityโs Contemporary Arts Center went ahead with showing it in the first place. Some other venues, such as Washington D.C.โs Corcoran Gallery, declined to do so.
And of course, a jury in Cincinnati acquitted the CAC.
I posted some photos of storm damage in March 2020, the same month the Covid-19 outbreak entered its pandemic phase. Gusts exceeding 45 mph toppled the 56 sign and damaged the screen.
Cinรฉma Le Cube is an independent single-screen movie theater integrated inside the Hรดtel Baker downtown.
The original hotel, which opened in 1881, suffered a fire on July 31, 1975 that destroyed the historic wooden structure. Local investors rebuilt and reopened the hotel in June 1978 under the name Auberge des Gouverneurs.
The property eventually reclaimed its historic identity as Hรดtel Baker. A 2001 expansion included the 102-seat single-screen Cube theater.
Cinรฉma Le Cube est un cinรฉma indรฉpendant ร รฉcran unique intรฉgrรฉ au sein de lโhรดtel Baker en centre-ville.
L'hรดtel d'origine, qui a ouvert en 1881, a subi un incendie le 31 juillet 1975, qui a dรฉtruit la structure historique en bois. Des investisseurs locaux reconstruisent et rouvrent lโhรดtel en juin 1978 sous le nom dโAuberge des Gouverneurs.
La propriรฉtรฉ a finalement retrouvรฉ son identitรฉ historique sous le nom dโHรดtel Baker. Une expansion en 2001 comprenait le thรฉรขtre Cube de 102 places ร รฉcran unique.
Chicago Film Archives has posted photochemically preserved clips from a Depression-era variety show at the Palace. Excerpts include a perfunctory greeting by theater owner Lou Goldberg followed by singing, tap-dancing, gymnastics, cringe jokes and a pre-adolescent girl impersonating Mae West.
A women’s band sporting an “RQ” logo provides music throughout. I imagine the “Q” could stand for “Queens” but I’m guessing “Quartet” since only four of them sit behind logo stands, suggesting the rest might be sit-ins. Rhythm Quartet? Radio? Riverfront? Rialto? Richwoods? Robein?
โข Usual story from back then. A single-screen throwback movie house, sitting on highly coveted urban real estate, faces intense competition from suburban multiplexes along with redevelopment ambitions by municipal and commercial interests.
โข The symphony plays at the Peoria Civic Center.
โข A not-for-profit organization launched a multiyear project in 2022 to restore Peoria’s Madison Theatre downtown, with the aim of repurposing it as community arts & event space, but funding problems have stalled the plans.
After the city bought the theater in 2000, municipal efforts focused on finding a private developer. During that period, a Community Press Newspapers reporter spoke with City Councilman Bill Lewis, whose family once owned the venue.
โI hope we can find someone who can keep it going as a theater,โ Bill said. โItโs kind of unique to have a theater in your own hometown.โ
His father William G. Lewis bought the business with Kelsay McWhorter in 1935. Bill grew up living in the space above it.
โIt was immaculate then,โ Bill recalled. โIt was great because this was before television and it was a center of entertainment for a large area around here. It was just a fun place grow up.โ In 1946, at the dawn of the television era, the the theater was sold to Sam Kaplan.
Despite his hopes for a revived cinema, Bill acknowledged that city officials were โkeeping our options open.โ
The site didnโt revive as a standalone movie cinema, but in 2008 the Sharonville Fine Arts Council relaunched it as the multipurpose Sharonville Cultural Arts Center.
Iโve posted the photo from that newspaper clipping.
A 1983 article in the weekly ๐๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฌ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฆ๐บ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ๐ด ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ต๐ฉ noted the marquee advertising ๐๐ช๐ด๐ฌ๐บ ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด and suggested that could be a emblem for a challenged neighborhood theater. The reporter interviewed a theater stakeholder named Kiradjieff, but no indication whether he was related to the Kiradjieff family credited with creating Cincinnati chili in the 1920s.
I posted a photo of a standee at the Madison Theatre promoting Fox’s ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, an early talkie that played an interesting role in censorship history. The image testifies, in its way, to community standards of flapper-era Peoria and beyond.
A back story follows, including why the image was so provocative.
๐๐๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐-๐๐๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐๐๐ฟ premiered in the dying days of the Roaring ‘20s, at dusk for three overlapping eras. Its nationwide release occurred October 20, 1929, four days before Wall Street’s Black Friday heralded the Great Depression. In the film industry it arrived at the cusp of a technical revolution and a philosophical one: squarely amid the seismic transition from silent movies, and mere months before Hollywood adopted its self-censoring Hays Code.
Billed as an “An All Talking Mirthquake,” ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ picked up the story from the silent smash ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ, 1926’s highest grossing picture. As such, the follow-up stands among Hollywood’s first feature-film sequels (but not, as sometimes reported, the very first).
Like its predecessor, ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ tracked the misadventures of Jim Flagg and Harry Quirt, bawdy and bickering U.S. Marines who find trouble and romance – if romance is the word – in locations around the globe. An opening text quotes Rudyard Kipling’s “Tommy”:
Starring as Flagg was British ex-boxer Victor McLaglen, who’d go on to win a Best Actor Oscar for John Ford’s ๐โ๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ and Best Supporting nomination for Ford’s ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต ๐๐ข๐ฏ. California native Edmund Lowe, who portrayed Quirt, was less successful but sustained steady film work for another 30 years. (Ford, a second-unit director on ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ, remade that movie in a sanitized 1952 version with James Cagney as Flagg and Dan Dailey as Quirt, but without McLaglen.)
Flagg and Quirt provided a racier prefigurement of Crosby and Hope, though ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ (like ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ before it) added grim battle scenes soaked with sober reflections about war and duty. These occasional nods to higher purpose didn’t much help the series with conservative critics, however. In fact the reverse occurred, because the two Marines' disreputable personal antics were deemed unrepresentative of America’s fighting forces, most intensely by those who didn’t know much about America’s fighting forces.
๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ had ignited considerable opposition, not least for profanities mouthed by the silent actors, decipherable even by casual lip-readers. That, and in a world where Prohibition still existed, temperance-minded audiences frowned further upon the Marines' prolific carousing and womanizing.
The sequel likewise confronted widespread censorship campaigns, not confined to the Bible Belt. One attack occurred in what was then the nation’s second-largest city when Chicago’s Board of Censors ordered cuts because of “brutal, sensational subject matter.”
This resulted largely because ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, lacking the first film’s ability to thinly veil its salty dialogue due to the silent medium, managed the trick with plentiful servings of double entendres and other sexual innuendo. A conspicuous example surfaced in an exchange between Flagg and Yump, a Marine played by vaudeville veteran El Brendel. Yump, accompanying a lively local seรฑorita in a Central American backwater, is asked by Flagg, “What are you doing around here?”
Yump’s notorious reply received mention in ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ director Raoul Walsh’s memoir ๐๐ข๐ค๐ฉ ๐๐ข๐ฏ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐๐ช๐ด ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ. Recalling a warning from Fox executive Winfield Sheehan about how intently the Hays Office was monitoring them, Walsh wrote:
The phrase recurs within moments as Flagg tells Yump “I’ve got the lay of the land! Where’s Mariana?”
Sometime afterward, Yump gets interrupted as he begins singing a coarse ditty to a flock of local ladies, and in a subsequent scene emerges with them from beneath a pile of hay. Needless to say, some local censors saw to it that the song was even shorter and the hay romp obliterated.
๐ฅ๐๐ฃ๐๐ฅ๐ง๐๐ ๐๐๐ง๐ช๐๐๐ก Flagg and Quirt was so chock with impish insinuation as to become a trademark. Sample line: “You think you’re a big shot with the broads, don’t you? Let me tell you something, Quirt … if a girl was looking for what you’ve got to offer, she’d have to use a microscope!”
This species of raillery also appears in a segment where they discuss tropical temptress Mariana, played by French siren Lily Damita (sometimes credited as “Lili,” who’d later become wife and ex-wife of Errol Flynn):
๐๐น๐ฎ๐ด๐ด: Listen, I’ll bet you twenty bucks, even with the head start you’ve got on me, I can make her.
๐ค๐๐ถ๐ฟ๐: That’s a bet. I’ve been itching for seven years to take your dough.
๐๐น๐ฎ๐ด๐ด: You’ve been itching for seven years, but don’t blame it on me!
Sufficiently subtle or not so much? That’s the sort of question that challenged official watchdogs. But Walsh and company didn’t restrict the issues to risquรฉ dialogue, as for instance a casual adultery reference when Flagg finds Quirt’s address book and reads a notation adjacent to one of the women’s names: “Husband traveling man.”
But although Walsh boasted of foiling certain excisions to ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, these wins turned ultimately Pyrrhic in that his movie helped accelerate the movement for tighter content restrictions. As mentioned, the studios established the Production Code months later, then began strict enforcement in 1934, a year after the final Flagg and Quirt sequel.
๐ฆ๐ข, ๐๐๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ง๐๐๐ง cardboard display at the Madison.
Mariana’s indecorous pose across Flagg and Quirt evokes the “lap scene,” a sequence that particularly incited religious and civic opposition. Compounding the uproar was the setting, Mariana’s bedroom.
In that scene, Mariana nestles on Quirt’s lap in a passionate clinch before a sound at the door startles them. Fearing it’s her aunt, whom we’ve seen violently chase the two Marines away from Mariana, the young woman hides Quirt in a closet. She then discovers her visitor is Flagg, upon whose own lap she perches before her aunt shows up for real.
During the episode, both Marines pledge to marry her, sentiments we’re to understand are less than sincere. But of course Mariana’s own sexual duplicity is abundantly blatant as well.
๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ ๐ง๐๐๐ฆ is soon followed by a scene in a jungle thicket that reiterates the love triangle’s pervasive deceit, ending with Quirt carrying Mariana away in his arms as the screen goes dark. Flash forward a couple of months, when we find Mariana’s aunt – once so fiercely opposed to Quirt and Flagg coming anywhere near her niece – pressuring Quirt to marry the young woman.
This about-face goes unexplained, but no interpretation is plausible except that Mariana is pregnant, reminiscent of Quirt narrowly evading a shotgun wedding in ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ. The predicament gets punctuated when Flagg separately frets he’ll be reported to the general because of Mariana’s condition. The boys' quandary ends when Mariana reveals she stole money from the hapless Yanks to bail her highly effeminate boyfriend out of jail and intends to marry ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ.
We’re left to guess why the fiancรฉ was locked up. But our Marines sail away in the glow of a loose moral outcome and unpunished vice, the sort of targets that would soon enough trigger Hays Code gunfire.
๐๐ง'๐ฆ ๐จ๐ก๐ฆ๐จ๐ฅ๐ฃ๐ฅ๐๐ฆ๐๐ก๐, then, that official gatekeepers brandished scissors, but the film’s caginess made their job exasperatingly difficult. At that pre-Code juncture the censoring was done by state and local boards who were accustomed to snipping away at silent movies, where replacing problematic speech was as simple as swapping out intertitles.
Talkies, by contrast, presented confounding technical challenges for would-be bowdlerizers. Clipping unacceptable dialogue meant also interrupting music and ambient noise, creating a jarring effect. In a movie as loaded with blue humor as ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, the choice essentially came down to three possibilities: slash it to ribbons and effectively make it unwatchable, let Fox off with some impotent fist-shaking, or ban the film entirely.
The extreme option presented difficulties since the production relied so heavily on winks rather than outright defiance (though total bans did occur, as in Nova Scotia). In addition, the script’s ambiguities permitted filmmakers to feign innocence while accusing regulators of being the ones with dirty minds.
๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐: The title itself, as you might guess under the circumstances, also raised speculation about suggestive wordplay. Regardless, it acquired irony because shortly before filming ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, director Walsh lost his right eye while driving in the Mojave Desert. This occurred when a jackrabbit hurtled into his windshield and launched shattered glass into his face. An apocryphal story had it that a heartless critic suggested divine retribution based on Matthew 5:29 (“if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out”).
Walsh had been a triple-threat director, writer and actor whose roles included John Wilkes Booth in D.W. Griffith’s ๐๐ช๐ณ๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ข ๐๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ. Indeed his accident happened while he was on location for ๐๐ฏ ๐๐ญ๐ฅ ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ป๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ข, which cast him as the Cisco Kid. But the disaster caused him to leave acting forever, devoting himself entirely to his other specialties.
And he was a great success. The return of Quirt and Flagg proved so popular that it generated two more sequels, ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ญ๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด (1931) and ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ (1933). Walsh was at the helm for all but the last, and would afterward direct dozens more films including the classics ๐๐ช๐จ๐ฉ ๐๐ช๐ฆ๐ณ๐ณ๐ข with Humphrey Bogart and ๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ต with Cagney.
๐ก๐ข๐ง ๐ค๐จ๐๐ง๐ three months before its general release ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ premiered at the palatial Roxy Theatre just off Times Square, where it demolished the first-week record by grossing more than $170,000. Because of this explosive interest, theater operator Samuel “Roxy” Rothafel ordered continuous showings from early morning to late at night. With almost 6,000 seats turning over at that rate, the venue served 25,000 to 30,000 patrons some days.
Under the headline “Dialogue Does Help,” ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ ๐ ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฌ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด reported
A separate ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด review noted the movie’s geographical shifts and observed wryly that “In the tropics Mariana (Lily Damita) puts in a far from chaste appearance and forms the most Southern argument for Flagg and Quirt.”
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ ๐ ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ณ meanwhile noted that the “ribald” screenplay proved “as loyal as the censors would allow to the sinewy vocabulary of our service men.”
๐ช๐๐๐ก ๐ง๐๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ฉ๐๐ opened nationwide, criticism often went heavier on caveats compared to Gotham’s warm greeting. The trade paper ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ช๐ค๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ๐ด called it “filled with the rawest, roughest, and most rugged humor ever spoken from a screen. Exhibitors can prepare for record-smashing crowds, but they must also prepare for the blushes of their more sensitive patrons.”
Regional takes:
East Coast: “The film relies heavily on a vulgar streak of humor that would never have been permitted in the silent era. Hearing these roughnecks roar their crude flirtations through the new theater loudspeakers makes one long for the quiet dignity of the subtitle card.” ๐๐ฐ๐ด๐ต๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฃ๐ฆ
West Coast: “Flagg and Quirt are back, but this time their mouths are wide open and the vocabulary is straight from the barracks. It is a rowdy, bawdy, and completely unblushing chronicle that sacrifices narrative for a continuous stream of camp-fire ribaldry.” ๐๐ฐ๐ด ๐๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด
Midwest: “A dizzying, raucous, and heavily perfumed exhibition of low-comedy. While the technical achievement of the sound recording cannot be denied, the screenplay is little more than a vehicle for a traveling salesman’s joke book.” ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐ด๐ข๐ด ๐๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐๐ต๐ข๐ณ
๐๐ก ๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ข๐ง of the day, the film was the bee’s knees at the national box office. Although records are incomplete, ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ appears to have finished in second place by a length in domestic grosses. It trailed only ๐โ๐ ๐๐ณ๐ฐ๐ข๐ฅ๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐บ, a musical that would win the Oscar for Best Picture and which featured a Technicolor sequence – Color winning out over Off-Color.
So, in the end, was ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ truly contrary to heartland standards and values of the time?
Former ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฐ๐ต๐ข ๐๐ต๐ข๐ณ ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ฃ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฆ columnist and amateur architectural critic James Lileks visited Berryville at lileks.com today and writes of the Main Theatre: “Were it not for the marquee, youโd have no idea this was a movie theater. In fact youโre not sure it is. But it is.”
Here’s more regarding the 1936 world premiere of ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ฉ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฎ ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ค๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด at the Madison, and its personal appearance by rubber-faced leading man Joe E. Brown:
The slapstick comedy was based on stories by former Caterpillar mechanic William Hazlett Upson, with shooting locations that included Cat’s East Peoria assembly plant. The company also supplied tractors for use in the film.
What follows is from the Manhattan-based ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ช๐ค๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ข๐ญ๐ฅ, a weekly trade journal for the film industry, in an edition published a few weeks after the event.
“As Peoria is the home of the Caterpillar, around which the story of ‘Earthworm Tractor’ was written, good showmanship called for the premiere of the picture in that spot, the opening put over at the Madison Theatre in giant fashion under the wing of Len C. Worley, Great States [Theater Corp.] city manager, and E. G. Fitzgibbons, zone publicity director. Tractor company officials, newspapers and civic heads also came in on the campaign, topped by the personal appearance at the opening of Joe E. Brown.
“This event was of course made much of locally. Mayor [Edward Nelson Woodruff] proclaimed a Brown Day, streets were decorated and lighted, the festivities put on with all the premiere accessories, including lobby broadcast to introduce the celebrities. ‘Earthworm Black,’ new style color, was advertised by women’s stories in conjunction with the opening and many social gatherings duly publicised were held before and after the performance.
“Newspapers gave the star everything in the house, to judge from the tear sheets. In addition to the pages and pages of stories, interviews and art, autographed photos were given to those advertising on classified page and tickets to the opening offered for subscriptions. ‘Hyperbole’ contest for most exaggerated description of the star was also run for five days, paper carrying daily photos and two-column stories on the stunt. Co-op ‘welcome’ ads were numerous, especially five-column full taken by the tractor company.”
Yeah, lots of memories. A bat flapping around the rotunda during a show, a guy in a gorilla suit passing out free bananas with each admission to a “Planet of the Apes” sequel, and packed midnight movies on weekends during which a theater manager would make regular rounds ordering slumped-over miscreants to sit up straight and get their knees and feet off the seats in front of them.
The Oakley Drive-In’s screen snapped on September 9, 1992 when a thunderstorm pounded it with straight-line tornadic winds. As its supports fractured, a huge section of the structure pancaked and crashed into the parking lot.
Oakley fans naturally feared the owner, National Amusements, wouldn’t reopen in 1993 or ever, despite an outpouring of community appeals. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ค๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ข๐ต๐ช ๐๐ฐ๐ด๐ต quoted Joe Bob Briggs, who was then the host of TNT’s ๐๐ฐ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ฃ'๐ด ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ-๐ช๐ฏ ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ, saying he’d heard about the Oakley’s destruction and planned to monitor and support preservation efforts.
To the delight and surprise of many, however, National Amusements responded by building an updated, more heavily reinforced screen. One result was that the theater remained open for the 1995 release of Martin Scorsese’s ๐๐ข๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐ฐ, whose cast included none another than Joe Bob himself.
All told, the Oakley continued in business for a dozen years after the deluge, before closing forever amid a perfect storm of economic realities.
Judging from the matched fonts, I assume it was the ad preparer who misspelled “Cemetery” rather than the movie producers, who undoubtedly had certain standards to uphold.
The Bijou Roxy Ritz suffered a famous raid by Cincinnatiโs Vice Squad in 1977.
The triple-threat theater specialized in a mix of arthouse films, midnight cult movies, and second-run features. It also featured a bar. Patrons were permitted to carry cocktails into viewing areas, an unusual amenity for its day.
Trouble began after the cinema booked ๐ถ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ 2000, a sci-fi comedy directed by schlockmeister Al Adamson. Because the movie contained nudity and suggestive themes, it was rated R (or in some markets, self-applied an X-rating for marketing purposes, though it wasnโt a hardcore film).
This led Cincinnatiโs Vice Squad to bust the theater under an old ordinance prohibiting adult films being shown where liquor was served. Although the lawโs original intent was to prohibit taverns from showing stag films, city officials applied it rigidly to the Bijou Roxy Ritz.
Charges resulted in the theater having to pay a nuisance fine, but the cityโs trump card was the future threat to the theaterโs liquor license if it continued showing films with โprovocativeโ or softcore content.
Regardless of whether the theater became more circumspect in its bookings as a result, it closed the following year, citing lack of business.
๐ ๐จ๐ฆ๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ ๐ฆ๐ง๐ฅ๐๐๐ฆ owned the Deer Park Theater in the late 1960s. Saul was a Detroit native and onetime piano prodigy whose publicity materials boasted that he’d played three times with the Detroit Symphony at age 9.
His greatest success came as a pianist and singer with Somethin' Smith and the Redheads, an easy-listening trio that achieved modest national success in the Fifties. Saul co-founded the band as a music major at UCLA with two fellow students, banjoist Robert Hugh “Red” Robinson (aka “Somethin' Smith”) and violinist / bassist Major Short.
The group’s peak hit, a jaunty version of Billy Mayhew’s “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie,” was released by Epic Records in 1955 and reached No. 7 on Billboard’s chart. Another cover, “In a Shanty in Old Shanty Town,” cracked the Top 30 a year later. The band appeared on the nationally televised ๐๐ช๐ค๐ฌ ๐๐ญ๐ข๐ณ๐ฌ ๐๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ธ in September 1958, a broadcast that included Fabian and Johnny Nash.
Also during the 1950s, Saul and his wife, Tulsa native Neva Thane Striks, operated Chez Neva, a lodge for touring actors and other theater personnel. The inn sat in Newport, Kentucky, across the Ohio River from Cincinnati.
๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ ๐ฆ๐จ๐๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ critical injuries in November 1959 while piloting a private plane that crashed near Bloomington, Indiana, leaving him unable to tour or even play piano for a lengthy period. In the mid-‘60s, with the Somethin’ Smith band dissolved, he formed a duo called the Saloonatics with Ralph Guenther, Cincinnati-area banjoist and former bassist for King Records.
Together they released one album, 1969’s ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ป๐บ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ป๐บ ๐๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด on Bethlehem Records. Its liner notes, attributed to Dick Clark, announced that “Here are two experienced professionals finally getting the recognition they deserve.”
The men also shared business investments. Ralph, like Saul, was a WWII veteran and entrepreneur. As a lithographer, Ralph had founded Advance Litho Plate Co. in 1949. His partnership with Saul included buying The Old Saloon, a tavern in the Kenwood neighborhood near Deer Park, where the Saloonatics often entertained. Over the years the bar changed hands and was demolished in the mid 2010s. Ralph died in 2006 at age 88.
๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐๐ three times. He wed Neva in 1949, three years after his Navy service ended. They divorced and she died in 2001 at age 76. His second wife Mae Striks co-owned the Deer Park Theater with him. He was married to Deborah J. Pinkerton from 1977 until his death.
That death arrived on December 3, 1979, after a heart attack in a Chicago hotel. Saul was 54. He was in town to pitch his manuscript about music education methods to a prospective publisher and died only hours before that appointment. Saul’s remains were buried at Rest Haven Memorial Park in Cincinnati’s Evendale suburb.
In the photo section I’ve attached Saul’s obituary from ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ค๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ข๐ต๐ช ๐๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ช๐ณ๐ฆ๐ณ, along with some other Saul memorabilia. I cobbled this mini-bio from various Internet sources and sidestepped details where threadbare accounts differed, so corrections and additions are most welcome.
Added photo of a mural across North Milwaukee Avenue from Chicago’s Portage Theatre in the mid 2010s. The theme honors the theaterโs history as a showplace during the silent-film age. Gazing at you is silent-era superstar Louise Brooks.
Louiseโs ties to the Second City were second hand. Her mother lived in Chicago for a time as a writer and editor for ๐๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐๐ถ๐ญ๐ฆ magazine, an early self-help publication. In 1933 Louise married Chicago playboy Deering Davis and stayed in his hometown while they practiced and performed as a ballroom dance duo.
But not for long. Louise, a flapper who was anything but unflappable, abruptly vanished from their temporary Chicago lodgings less than six months after the wedding, leaving nothing but a short note telling Deering he was off her dance card for good.
In other words, the silent treatment. In terms of the Windy City, Louise Brooks barely blew through town.
Posted a photo of the Blue Gorilla sculpture in front of the Palace.
Why’s he holding a microphone? To celebrate Granby’s entertainment history, hence also the Palace location.
The fiberglass ape, one of several colorful animal sculptures in the city that’s home to Granby Zoo, also pays tribute to Mumba, a Western lowland gorilla who lived at the zoo for more than 40 years before his death in 2008.
The Blue Gorilla sat in front of the Palace from 2017 to 2021, then moved to Granby’s Parc Terry-Fox to protect it from construction damage during the theater’s renovation.
๐๐๐ป๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ฒ: Reports surface of a juvenile red kangaroo hopping around Montreal’s South Shore, creating a media sensation as sightings continue over the next few days. The fugitive marsupial acquires the name Joey as his story goes viral. Authorities reveal that Joey escaped from a cage in a Boucherville barn, which sparks debate about the black market trade of exotic animals.
After four days on the lam he’s located in a Boucherville field and tranquilized by a team of animal protection specialists, then taken to his new home at the Granby Zoo where he becomes a star.
The Palace Theatre meanwhile gets into the act, displaying a kangaroo figure on its sign and announcing:
๐๐ง๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฏ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ด, ๐๐ฐ๐ฆ๐บ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฑ๐ข๐ธ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ค๐ฆ! ๐๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฆ๐ต ๐ช๐ต. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ'๐ท๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ต๐ข๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต, ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ข๐ช๐ฎ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ช๐จ ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐จ๐ฆ! ๐๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ฏ. ๐๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ซ๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต ๐ด๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฏ. ๐๐ข๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ. ๐๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ค๐ฆ!
(Photo posted)
From todayโs ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต๐บ: โIndependent theaters continue to be a vital asset to their communities, with a 9% increase in business in 2025, an encouraging sign for the sector, according to a recent survey.โ
(Good of ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต๐บ to add that itโs an encouraging sign, lest readers' attention spans wither after being hit with two commas.)
The story quotes Ryan Oestreich, Music Box GM, as saying โattendance returned to pre-pandemic levels in 2023 and has been growing by 10-15% every year since.โ
https://variety.com/2026/film/box-office/art-house-indie-theaters-younger-moviegoers-growing-1236785696/
๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ต๐ต๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ, 6.18.26: The theater “will undergo an eight-week renovation to upgrade production capabilities and interior amenities before reopening in August.”
๐๐๐น๐ ๐ญ๐ฐ, ๐ญ๐ต๐ณ๐ฌ: A Tuesday matinee showing of ๐๐๐๐ (this format doesn’t like the asterisks) played to a robust crowd at the RKO Albee, packed with sports fans killing time before that eveningโs Major League Baseball All-Star Game.
The game took place at brand-new Riverfront Stadium, ending with one of the most memorable moments in All-Star history when hometown hero Pete Rose crashed into Cleveland Indians catcher Ray Fosse for a twelfth-inning National League victory.
Pregame ceremonies included President Richard M. Nixon tossing the first ball. The Riverfront crowd gave Nixon a thunderous welcome, offering the president a boost amid widespread dissent over the Vietnam War. Itโs odd to think that some of those applauding might have spent the afternoon watching one of movie historyโs most fiercely antiwar pictures.
The Shubert played a significant role in the โ70s obscenity case involving Kenneth Tynanโs ๐๐ฉ! ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ค๐ถ๐ต๐ต๐ข!, a musical revue that spotlighted sexually explicit themes and nudity.
Producers arranged in September 1970 for a Broadway performance of the show to be telecast via closed circuit to theaters across the nation. While some 250 venues originally enlisted, about four-fifths backed down because of local opposition and restrictions including prosecutorial threats.
The Shubert, which later that fall would play host to a touring production of ๐๐ข๐ช๐ณ that included brief nudity, wasnโt among them. Shortly afterward, a local judge viewed the videotape, found the production obscene, and issued a permanent injunction.
There the matter rested until October 1977 when Cincinnatiโs Music Hall booked a two-night live presentation of the touring revue. On the date of the first scheduled performance and on the authority of the 1970 injunction, Hamilton County Prosecutor Simon L. Leis Jr. blocked the event. A federal judge overruled him the next day, and the show went on.
Mr. Leisโs aggressive stance in this and other cases led to Cincinnatiโs frequent portrayal in national media as a graveyard for sexually explicit material. But itโs worth emphasizing that the city was among the minority where the ๐๐ฉ! ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ค๐ถ๐ต๐ต๐ข! telecast went forward in the first place. Even Los Angeles was among the locations that pulled the plug in the face of opposition.
Nor were the coasts immune to repercussions where the telecast took place. In Cambridge, Massachusetts, home of Harvard, a police raid led to the arrest of the theater owner and eight employees. As in Cincinnati, charges were ultimately dismissed.
Similarly, while prosecutors in Cincinnati targeted graphic sadomasochistic photos from the Robert Mapplethorpe ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ง๐ฆ๐ค๐ต ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต exhibition in 1990, that’s because the cityโs Contemporary Arts Center went ahead with showing it in the first place. Some other venues, such as Washington D.C.โs Corcoran Gallery, declined to do so.
And of course, a jury in Cincinnati acquitted the CAC.
I posted some photos of storm damage in March 2020, the same month the Covid-19 outbreak entered its pandemic phase. Gusts exceeding 45 mph toppled the 56 sign and damaged the screen.
The Madison Preservation Association hasnโt updated its Facebook page since October 2023 and the website is kaput. The listed email address bounces.
This is starting to look like waiting for da retoin o' vaudeville.
Cinรฉma Le Cube is an independent single-screen movie theater integrated inside the Hรดtel Baker downtown.
The original hotel, which opened in 1881, suffered a fire on July 31, 1975 that destroyed the historic wooden structure. Local investors rebuilt and reopened the hotel in June 1978 under the name Auberge des Gouverneurs.
The property eventually reclaimed its historic identity as Hรดtel Baker. A 2001 expansion included the 102-seat single-screen Cube theater.
Cinรฉma Le Cube est un cinรฉma indรฉpendant ร รฉcran unique intรฉgrรฉ au sein de lโhรดtel Baker en centre-ville.
L'hรดtel d'origine, qui a ouvert en 1881, a subi un incendie le 31 juillet 1975, qui a dรฉtruit la structure historique en bois. Des investisseurs locaux reconstruisent et rouvrent lโhรดtel en juin 1978 sous le nom dโAuberge des Gouverneurs.
La propriรฉtรฉ a finalement retrouvรฉ son identitรฉ historique sous le nom dโHรดtel Baker. Une expansion en 2001 comprenait le thรฉรขtre Cube de 102 places ร รฉcran unique.
Chicago Film Archives has posted photochemically preserved clips from a Depression-era variety show at the Palace. Excerpts include a perfunctory greeting by theater owner Lou Goldberg followed by singing, tap-dancing, gymnastics, cringe jokes and a pre-adolescent girl impersonating Mae West.
A women’s band sporting an “RQ” logo provides music throughout. I imagine the “Q” could stand for “Queens” but I’m guessing “Quartet” since only four of them sit behind logo stands, suggesting the rest might be sit-ins. Rhythm Quartet? Radio? Riverfront? Rialto? Richwoods? Robein?
https://www.chicagofilmarchives.org/preservation/view/three-1930s-films-out-of-peoria/
@Patsy
โข Usual story from back then. A single-screen throwback movie house, sitting on highly coveted urban real estate, faces intense competition from suburban multiplexes along with redevelopment ambitions by municipal and commercial interests.
โข The symphony plays at the Peoria Civic Center.
โข A not-for-profit organization launched a multiyear project in 2022 to restore Peoria’s Madison Theatre downtown, with the aim of repurposing it as community arts & event space, but funding problems have stalled the plans.
After the city bought the theater in 2000, municipal efforts focused on finding a private developer. During that period, a Community Press Newspapers reporter spoke with City Councilman Bill Lewis, whose family once owned the venue.
โI hope we can find someone who can keep it going as a theater,โ Bill said. โItโs kind of unique to have a theater in your own hometown.โ
His father William G. Lewis bought the business with Kelsay McWhorter in 1935. Bill grew up living in the space above it.
โIt was immaculate then,โ Bill recalled. โIt was great because this was before television and it was a center of entertainment for a large area around here. It was just a fun place grow up.โ In 1946, at the dawn of the television era, the the theater was sold to Sam Kaplan.
Despite his hopes for a revived cinema, Bill acknowledged that city officials were โkeeping our options open.โ
The site didnโt revive as a standalone movie cinema, but in 2008 the Sharonville Fine Arts Council relaunched it as the multipurpose Sharonville Cultural Arts Center.
Iโve posted the photo from that newspaper clipping.
Added some photos from the 2015 upgrade
A 1983 article in the weekly ๐๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฌ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐ฆ๐บ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ๐ด ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ต๐ฉ noted the marquee advertising ๐๐ช๐ด๐ฌ๐บ ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด and suggested that could be a emblem for a challenged neighborhood theater. The reporter interviewed a theater stakeholder named Kiradjieff, but no indication whether he was related to the Kiradjieff family credited with creating Cincinnati chili in the 1920s.
I posted a photo of a standee at the Madison Theatre promoting Fox’s ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, an early talkie that played an interesting role in censorship history. The image testifies, in its way, to community standards of flapper-era Peoria and beyond.
A back story follows, including why the image was so provocative.
๐๐๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐-๐๐๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐๐๐ฟ premiered in the dying days of the Roaring ‘20s, at dusk for three overlapping eras. Its nationwide release occurred October 20, 1929, four days before Wall Street’s Black Friday heralded the Great Depression. In the film industry it arrived at the cusp of a technical revolution and a philosophical one: squarely amid the seismic transition from silent movies, and mere months before Hollywood adopted its self-censoring Hays Code.
Billed as an “An All Talking Mirthquake,” ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ picked up the story from the silent smash ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ, 1926’s highest grossing picture. As such, the follow-up stands among Hollywood’s first feature-film sequels (but not, as sometimes reported, the very first).
Like its predecessor, ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ tracked the misadventures of Jim Flagg and Harry Quirt, bawdy and bickering U.S. Marines who find trouble and romance – if romance is the word – in locations around the globe. An opening text quotes Rudyard Kipling’s “Tommy”:
๐๐ฏ' ๐ช๐ง ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ต๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ถ๐ค๐ฌ ๐ช๐ด๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ง๐ข๐ฏ๐ค๐บ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ด,
๐๐ฉ๐บ, ๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ข๐ณ๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฌ๐ด ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฏ'๐ต ๐จ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ด๐ข๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ด.
Starring as Flagg was British ex-boxer Victor McLaglen, who’d go on to win a Best Actor Oscar for John Ford’s ๐โ๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ and Best Supporting nomination for Ford’s ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต ๐๐ข๐ฏ. California native Edmund Lowe, who portrayed Quirt, was less successful but sustained steady film work for another 30 years. (Ford, a second-unit director on ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ, remade that movie in a sanitized 1952 version with James Cagney as Flagg and Dan Dailey as Quirt, but without McLaglen.)
Flagg and Quirt provided a racier prefigurement of Crosby and Hope, though ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ (like ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ before it) added grim battle scenes soaked with sober reflections about war and duty. These occasional nods to higher purpose didn’t much help the series with conservative critics, however. In fact the reverse occurred, because the two Marines' disreputable personal antics were deemed unrepresentative of America’s fighting forces, most intensely by those who didn’t know much about America’s fighting forces.
๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ had ignited considerable opposition, not least for profanities mouthed by the silent actors, decipherable even by casual lip-readers. That, and in a world where Prohibition still existed, temperance-minded audiences frowned further upon the Marines' prolific carousing and womanizing.
The sequel likewise confronted widespread censorship campaigns, not confined to the Bible Belt. One attack occurred in what was then the nation’s second-largest city when Chicago’s Board of Censors ordered cuts because of “brutal, sensational subject matter.”
This resulted largely because ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, lacking the first film’s ability to thinly veil its salty dialogue due to the silent medium, managed the trick with plentiful servings of double entendres and other sexual innuendo. A conspicuous example surfaced in an exchange between Flagg and Yump, a Marine played by vaudeville veteran El Brendel. Yump, accompanying a lively local seรฑorita in a Central American backwater, is asked by Flagg, “What are you doing around here?”
Yump’s notorious reply received mention in ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ director Raoul Walsh’s memoir ๐๐ข๐ค๐ฉ ๐๐ข๐ฏ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐๐ช๐ด ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ. Recalling a warning from Fox executive Winfield Sheehan about how intently the Hays Office was monitoring them, Walsh wrote:
๐๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ต๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐๐ง๐ง๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ด๐ฑ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ. ๐๐ญ ๐๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ณ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ถ๐ฑ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐๐ค๐๐ข๐จ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ต๐ต๐บ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ต๐ต๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ง๐ง: โ๐ ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ข๐บ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ.โ ๐๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ญ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ข ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฑ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ ๐๐ค๐๐ข๐จ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ต ๐ช๐ต ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ญ๐บ. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ถ๐จ๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐จ๐ถ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ช๐ข๐ฏ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ช๐ค ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ข๐ญ๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐ข ๐ซ๐ข๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ท๐ช๐ฆ๐ธ. ๐๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ต๐ข๐จ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐บ, ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ช๐ต ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐ค๐ญ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ.
The phrase recurs within moments as Flagg tells Yump “I’ve got the lay of the land! Where’s Mariana?”
Sometime afterward, Yump gets interrupted as he begins singing a coarse ditty to a flock of local ladies, and in a subsequent scene emerges with them from beneath a pile of hay. Needless to say, some local censors saw to it that the song was even shorter and the hay romp obliterated.
๐ฅ๐๐ฃ๐๐ฅ๐ง๐๐ ๐๐๐ง๐ช๐๐๐ก Flagg and Quirt was so chock with impish insinuation as to become a trademark. Sample line: “You think you’re a big shot with the broads, don’t you? Let me tell you something, Quirt … if a girl was looking for what you’ve got to offer, she’d have to use a microscope!”
This species of raillery also appears in a segment where they discuss tropical temptress Mariana, played by French siren Lily Damita (sometimes credited as “Lili,” who’d later become wife and ex-wife of Errol Flynn):
๐๐น๐ฎ๐ด๐ด: Listen, I’ll bet you twenty bucks, even with the head start you’ve got on me, I can make her.
๐ค๐๐ถ๐ฟ๐: That’s a bet. I’ve been itching for seven years to take your dough.
๐๐น๐ฎ๐ด๐ด: You’ve been itching for seven years, but don’t blame it on me!
Sufficiently subtle or not so much? That’s the sort of question that challenged official watchdogs. But Walsh and company didn’t restrict the issues to risquรฉ dialogue, as for instance a casual adultery reference when Flagg finds Quirt’s address book and reads a notation adjacent to one of the women’s names: “Husband traveling man.”
But although Walsh boasted of foiling certain excisions to ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, these wins turned ultimately Pyrrhic in that his movie helped accelerate the movement for tighter content restrictions. As mentioned, the studios established the Production Code months later, then began strict enforcement in 1934, a year after the final Flagg and Quirt sequel.
๐ฆ๐ข, ๐๐๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ง๐๐๐ง cardboard display at the Madison.
Mariana’s indecorous pose across Flagg and Quirt evokes the “lap scene,” a sequence that particularly incited religious and civic opposition. Compounding the uproar was the setting, Mariana’s bedroom.
In that scene, Mariana nestles on Quirt’s lap in a passionate clinch before a sound at the door startles them. Fearing it’s her aunt, whom we’ve seen violently chase the two Marines away from Mariana, the young woman hides Quirt in a closet. She then discovers her visitor is Flagg, upon whose own lap she perches before her aunt shows up for real.
During the episode, both Marines pledge to marry her, sentiments we’re to understand are less than sincere. But of course Mariana’s own sexual duplicity is abundantly blatant as well.
๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ ๐ง๐๐๐ฆ is soon followed by a scene in a jungle thicket that reiterates the love triangle’s pervasive deceit, ending with Quirt carrying Mariana away in his arms as the screen goes dark. Flash forward a couple of months, when we find Mariana’s aunt – once so fiercely opposed to Quirt and Flagg coming anywhere near her niece – pressuring Quirt to marry the young woman.
This about-face goes unexplained, but no interpretation is plausible except that Mariana is pregnant, reminiscent of Quirt narrowly evading a shotgun wedding in ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐บ. The predicament gets punctuated when Flagg separately frets he’ll be reported to the general because of Mariana’s condition. The boys' quandary ends when Mariana reveals she stole money from the hapless Yanks to bail her highly effeminate boyfriend out of jail and intends to marry ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฎ.
We’re left to guess why the fiancรฉ was locked up. But our Marines sail away in the glow of a loose moral outcome and unpunished vice, the sort of targets that would soon enough trigger Hays Code gunfire.
๐๐ง'๐ฆ ๐จ๐ก๐ฆ๐จ๐ฅ๐ฃ๐ฅ๐๐ฆ๐๐ก๐, then, that official gatekeepers brandished scissors, but the film’s caginess made their job exasperatingly difficult. At that pre-Code juncture the censoring was done by state and local boards who were accustomed to snipping away at silent movies, where replacing problematic speech was as simple as swapping out intertitles.
Talkies, by contrast, presented confounding technical challenges for would-be bowdlerizers. Clipping unacceptable dialogue meant also interrupting music and ambient noise, creating a jarring effect. In a movie as loaded with blue humor as ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, the choice essentially came down to three possibilities: slash it to ribbons and effectively make it unwatchable, let Fox off with some impotent fist-shaking, or ban the film entirely.
The extreme option presented difficulties since the production relied so heavily on winks rather than outright defiance (though total bans did occur, as in Nova Scotia). In addition, the script’s ambiguities permitted filmmakers to feign innocence while accusing regulators of being the ones with dirty minds.
๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐: The title itself, as you might guess under the circumstances, also raised speculation about suggestive wordplay. Regardless, it acquired irony because shortly before filming ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ, director Walsh lost his right eye while driving in the Mojave Desert. This occurred when a jackrabbit hurtled into his windshield and launched shattered glass into his face. An apocryphal story had it that a heartless critic suggested divine retribution based on Matthew 5:29 (“if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out”).
Walsh had been a triple-threat director, writer and actor whose roles included John Wilkes Booth in D.W. Griffith’s ๐๐ช๐ณ๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ข ๐๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ. Indeed his accident happened while he was on location for ๐๐ฏ ๐๐ญ๐ฅ ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ป๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ข, which cast him as the Cisco Kid. But the disaster caused him to leave acting forever, devoting himself entirely to his other specialties.
And he was a great success. The return of Quirt and Flagg proved so popular that it generated two more sequels, ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ญ๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด (1931) and ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ (1933). Walsh was at the helm for all but the last, and would afterward direct dozens more films including the classics ๐๐ช๐จ๐ฉ ๐๐ช๐ฆ๐ณ๐ณ๐ข with Humphrey Bogart and ๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ต with Cagney.
๐ก๐ข๐ง ๐ค๐จ๐๐ง๐ three months before its general release ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ premiered at the palatial Roxy Theatre just off Times Square, where it demolished the first-week record by grossing more than $170,000. Because of this explosive interest, theater operator Samuel “Roxy” Rothafel ordered continuous showings from early morning to late at night. With almost 6,000 seats turning over at that rate, the venue served 25,000 to 30,000 patrons some days.
Under the headline “Dialogue Does Help,” ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ ๐ ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฌ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด reported
[Producer] ๐๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ข๐ฎ ๐๐ฐ๐น ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐จ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ The Cock-Eyed World, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข ๐ด๐ฆ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐น๐บ ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ค๐ข๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ณ. ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ง๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐จ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ข๐ค๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ณ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฅ๐ด. ๐๐ต ๐ช๐ด, ๐ข๐ด ๐๐ข๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ ๐๐ข๐ญ๐ด๐ฉ, ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ณ๐ฆ๐ค๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ, ๐ด๐ต๐บ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ถ๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐๐ข๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ข๐ช๐ด๐ช๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ, ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ ๐ณ๐ข๐ธ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ, ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต, ๐ซ๐ถ๐ฅ๐จ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ซ๐ข๐ค๐ถ๐ญ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ญ๐ข๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ด๐ง๐ช๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ถ๐ค๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ช๐ต ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐จ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ข๐ถ๐ฅ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐ด, ๐ช๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐จ๐ช๐ง๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ช๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ช๐น๐ต๐บ-๐ง๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ธ๐ช๐ต.
A separate ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด review noted the movie’s geographical shifts and observed wryly that “In the tropics Mariana (Lily Damita) puts in a far from chaste appearance and forms the most Southern argument for Flagg and Quirt.”
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ ๐ ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ณ meanwhile noted that the “ribald” screenplay proved “as loyal as the censors would allow to the sinewy vocabulary of our service men.”
๐ช๐๐๐ก ๐ง๐๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ฉ๐๐ opened nationwide, criticism often went heavier on caveats compared to Gotham’s warm greeting. The trade paper ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ช๐ค๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ธ๐ด called it “filled with the rawest, roughest, and most rugged humor ever spoken from a screen. Exhibitors can prepare for record-smashing crowds, but they must also prepare for the blushes of their more sensitive patrons.”
Regional takes:
East Coast: “The film relies heavily on a vulgar streak of humor that would never have been permitted in the silent era. Hearing these roughnecks roar their crude flirtations through the new theater loudspeakers makes one long for the quiet dignity of the subtitle card.” ๐๐ฐ๐ด๐ต๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฃ๐ฆ
West Coast: “Flagg and Quirt are back, but this time their mouths are wide open and the vocabulary is straight from the barracks. It is a rowdy, bawdy, and completely unblushing chronicle that sacrifices narrative for a continuous stream of camp-fire ribaldry.” ๐๐ฐ๐ด ๐๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด
Midwest: “A dizzying, raucous, and heavily perfumed exhibition of low-comedy. While the technical achievement of the sound recording cannot be denied, the screenplay is little more than a vehicle for a traveling salesman’s joke book.” ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐ด๐ข๐ด ๐๐ช๐ต๐บ ๐๐ต๐ข๐ณ
๐๐ก ๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ข๐ง of the day, the film was the bee’s knees at the national box office. Although records are incomplete, ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ appears to have finished in second place by a length in domestic grosses. It trailed only ๐โ๐ ๐๐ณ๐ฐ๐ข๐ฅ๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐บ, a musical that would win the Oscar for Best Picture and which featured a Technicolor sequence – Color winning out over Off-Color.
So, in the end, was ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ-๐๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ truly contrary to heartland standards and values of the time?
Well, it played in Peoria, didn’t it?
Former ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฐ๐ต๐ข ๐๐ต๐ข๐ณ ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ฃ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฆ columnist and amateur architectural critic James Lileks visited Berryville at lileks.com today and writes of the Main Theatre: “Were it not for the marquee, youโd have no idea this was a movie theater. In fact youโre not sure it is. But it is.”
Here’s more regarding the 1936 world premiere of ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ฉ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฎ ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ค๐ต๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด at the Madison, and its personal appearance by rubber-faced leading man Joe E. Brown:
The slapstick comedy was based on stories by former Caterpillar mechanic William Hazlett Upson, with shooting locations that included Cat’s East Peoria assembly plant. The company also supplied tractors for use in the film.
What follows is from the Manhattan-based ๐๐ฐ๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ช๐ค๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ข๐ญ๐ฅ, a weekly trade journal for the film industry, in an edition published a few weeks after the event.
“As Peoria is the home of the Caterpillar, around which the story of ‘Earthworm Tractor’ was written, good showmanship called for the premiere of the picture in that spot, the opening put over at the Madison Theatre in giant fashion under the wing of Len C. Worley, Great States [Theater Corp.] city manager, and E. G. Fitzgibbons, zone publicity director. Tractor company officials, newspapers and civic heads also came in on the campaign, topped by the personal appearance at the opening of Joe E. Brown.
“This event was of course made much of locally. Mayor [Edward Nelson Woodruff] proclaimed a Brown Day, streets were decorated and lighted, the festivities put on with all the premiere accessories, including lobby broadcast to introduce the celebrities. ‘Earthworm Black,’ new style color, was advertised by women’s stories in conjunction with the opening and many social gatherings duly publicised were held before and after the performance.
“Newspapers gave the star everything in the house, to judge from the tear sheets. In addition to the pages and pages of stories, interviews and art, autographed photos were given to those advertising on classified page and tickets to the opening offered for subscriptions. ‘Hyperbole’ contest for most exaggerated description of the star was also run for five days, paper carrying daily photos and two-column stories on the stunt. Co-op ‘welcome’ ads were numerous, especially five-column full taken by the tractor company.”
Yeah, lots of memories. A bat flapping around the rotunda during a show, a guy in a gorilla suit passing out free bananas with each admission to a “Planet of the Apes” sequel, and packed midnight movies on weekends during which a theater manager would make regular rounds ordering slumped-over miscreants to sit up straight and get their knees and feet off the seats in front of them.
The Oakley Drive-In’s screen snapped on September 9, 1992 when a thunderstorm pounded it with straight-line tornadic winds. As its supports fractured, a huge section of the structure pancaked and crashed into the parking lot.
Oakley fans naturally feared the owner, National Amusements, wouldn’t reopen in 1993 or ever, despite an outpouring of community appeals. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ค๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ข๐ต๐ช ๐๐ฐ๐ด๐ต quoted Joe Bob Briggs, who was then the host of TNT’s ๐๐ฐ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ฃ'๐ด ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ-๐ช๐ฏ ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ, saying he’d heard about the Oakley’s destruction and planned to monitor and support preservation efforts.
To the delight and surprise of many, however, National Amusements responded by building an updated, more heavily reinforced screen. One result was that the theater remained open for the 1995 release of Martin Scorsese’s ๐๐ข๐ด๐ช๐ฏ๐ฐ, whose cast included none another than Joe Bob himself.
All told, the Oakley continued in business for a dozen years after the deluge, before closing forever amid a perfect storm of economic realities.
Judging from the matched fonts, I assume it was the ad preparer who misspelled “Cemetery” rather than the movie producers, who undoubtedly had certain standards to uphold.
The Bijou Roxy Ritz suffered a famous raid by Cincinnatiโs Vice Squad in 1977.
The triple-threat theater specialized in a mix of arthouse films, midnight cult movies, and second-run features. It also featured a bar. Patrons were permitted to carry cocktails into viewing areas, an unusual amenity for its day.
Trouble began after the cinema booked ๐ถ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ 2000, a sci-fi comedy directed by schlockmeister Al Adamson. Because the movie contained nudity and suggestive themes, it was rated R (or in some markets, self-applied an X-rating for marketing purposes, though it wasnโt a hardcore film).
This led Cincinnatiโs Vice Squad to bust the theater under an old ordinance prohibiting adult films being shown where liquor was served. Although the lawโs original intent was to prohibit taverns from showing stag films, city officials applied it rigidly to the Bijou Roxy Ritz.
Charges resulted in the theater having to pay a nuisance fine, but the cityโs trump card was the future threat to the theaterโs liquor license if it continued showing films with โprovocativeโ or softcore content.
Regardless of whether the theater became more circumspect in its bookings as a result, it closed the following year, citing lack of business.
๐ ๐จ๐ฆ๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ ๐ฆ๐ง๐ฅ๐๐๐ฆ owned the Deer Park Theater in the late 1960s. Saul was a Detroit native and onetime piano prodigy whose publicity materials boasted that he’d played three times with the Detroit Symphony at age 9.
His greatest success came as a pianist and singer with Somethin' Smith and the Redheads, an easy-listening trio that achieved modest national success in the Fifties. Saul co-founded the band as a music major at UCLA with two fellow students, banjoist Robert Hugh “Red” Robinson (aka “Somethin' Smith”) and violinist / bassist Major Short.
The group’s peak hit, a jaunty version of Billy Mayhew’s “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie,” was released by Epic Records in 1955 and reached No. 7 on Billboard’s chart. Another cover, “In a Shanty in Old Shanty Town,” cracked the Top 30 a year later. The band appeared on the nationally televised ๐๐ช๐ค๐ฌ ๐๐ญ๐ข๐ณ๐ฌ ๐๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ธ in September 1958, a broadcast that included Fabian and Johnny Nash.
Also during the 1950s, Saul and his wife, Tulsa native Neva Thane Striks, operated Chez Neva, a lodge for touring actors and other theater personnel. The inn sat in Newport, Kentucky, across the Ohio River from Cincinnati.
๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ ๐ฆ๐จ๐๐๐๐ฅ๐๐ critical injuries in November 1959 while piloting a private plane that crashed near Bloomington, Indiana, leaving him unable to tour or even play piano for a lengthy period. In the mid-‘60s, with the Somethin’ Smith band dissolved, he formed a duo called the Saloonatics with Ralph Guenther, Cincinnati-area banjoist and former bassist for King Records.
Together they released one album, 1969’s ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ป๐บ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐๐ณ๐ข๐ป๐บ ๐๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด on Bethlehem Records. Its liner notes, attributed to Dick Clark, announced that “Here are two experienced professionals finally getting the recognition they deserve.”
The men also shared business investments. Ralph, like Saul, was a WWII veteran and entrepreneur. As a lithographer, Ralph had founded Advance Litho Plate Co. in 1949. His partnership with Saul included buying The Old Saloon, a tavern in the Kenwood neighborhood near Deer Park, where the Saloonatics often entertained. Over the years the bar changed hands and was demolished in the mid 2010s. Ralph died in 2006 at age 88.
๐ฆ๐๐จ๐ ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐๐ three times. He wed Neva in 1949, three years after his Navy service ended. They divorced and she died in 2001 at age 76. His second wife Mae Striks co-owned the Deer Park Theater with him. He was married to Deborah J. Pinkerton from 1977 until his death.
That death arrived on December 3, 1979, after a heart attack in a Chicago hotel. Saul was 54. He was in town to pitch his manuscript about music education methods to a prospective publisher and died only hours before that appointment. Saul’s remains were buried at Rest Haven Memorial Park in Cincinnati’s Evendale suburb.
In the photo section I’ve attached Saul’s obituary from ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ค๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ข๐ต๐ช ๐๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ช๐ณ๐ฆ๐ณ, along with some other Saul memorabilia. I cobbled this mini-bio from various Internet sources and sidestepped details where threadbare accounts differed, so corrections and additions are most welcome.
Wonderful theater, specializes in family movies. Great sports pub part of the building.
Hometown connection to its ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ opening: Tyrone Power was a Cincinnati native.