The address of this was 448 West Baseline. As of early 1980, The Meralta, Criterion, Norwalk Twin and Holiday Theatres became 49¢ theatres; by mid-March of that year, the Uptown in Pasadena and Studio Theatre did, too.
lostmemory, that photograph must’ve been taken many years ago – the conquistador/native mural is long-gone, and someone had installed a window about halfway up the left side of the marquee. Additionally, the Oxnard Theatre was known as the Fox Oxnard from 1969 to 1980. I was vaguely aware of it being in downtown Oxnard but never went inside before it was demolished.
This is a huge, gorgeous cinema right off Las Ramblas heading north on the way to Casa-Museu Gaudi. The marquee covers the breadth of the building outside and it looks very, very old. We were there in April and, while we never got the chance to see what was playing at the time, we knew that it would’ve been a total experience.
It’s a smaller sign, and they’re up to “im Sing Theatre” now, but there’s now way they’re going to make this into a single-family residence – unless that family happens to be the Manson Family; it’s terribly tacky and drab, with security gates where the walls use to be.
I first found the Palm as all good neighborhood theatres should be found: completely by accident. A couple of years ago, visiting the Bay Area, on an unscheduled pit stop, the way to the freeway was lost and in a bid to find it, a corner was turned and BAM came the Palm, looming in the windshield and seen briefly in the rear-view mirror before the brakes were smashed and the car parked – all the better to see you, my dear. Having found out about the final evening of the Palm on this very site, I went to the final evening of The Palm with my girlfriend, having made friends with the guy behind the counter – likely the friendly fellow people initially encountered when they entered; he’d been working there and the Burbank since 1991 – and knowing that the final evening of screenings would be important indeed, seeing as this was the last neighborhood theatre converted to straight porn left in California (there’s still the Tomkat in West Hollywood), however. Initially the manager was standoffish but was very kind when he discovered our intentions to document the Palm’s last night were pure; we got some shots of the projection booth, and many of the lobby interiors – except for the interior of the theatre itself, which was simply too dark and the house lights weren’t due up until midnight. We’d have to leave early, so we never got those shots; possibly the former manager or the other employees took some after the videos ended.
I recorded the final schedule off the answering machine, as well as tape-recording 45 minutes worth of sounds during one of the screenings. The regulars were truly, sincerely sad that this era was ending – it had caught them too suddenly to bring in prints of things like “Deep Throat” or “Behind the Green Door” – yet there was a celebratory air as people filtered through the theatre and the employees took our photographs and vice-versa. I even brought my raincoat in honor of the occasion, and was photographed in it. Yes, at one point, my girlfriend was prodded by a man sitting behind us – she promptly told him off and that was that – and couples who came in either had people approach and sexualize them, or tell them in no uncertain terms to buzz off. I find going to pornographic theatres a rather furtive, taxing affair – despite my stylish and sartorial exterior, I know I’m a square but I don’t care who gives me stares. Having someone masturbating near oneself during a film is a weird experience, to say the absolute least (despite our over-sexualized society, sex in an adult theatre becomes a discomfiting situation due to its immediate reality). That said, the patrons were generally respectful of our personal space, which took off some of the edge. There were swingers doing unspeakable things in the partition behind the screen. A faint mist descended from the cloud cover, making the neon spelling out P-A-L-M even more aethereal. It’s always sad when a theatre dies – this one, despite what the realists say in this newspaper or that, was no exception – and on driving away, there was a feeling not unlike spending an afternoon with a relative one knows is terminally, irrevocably ill.
The Mini Cinema was located at 631 West Hueneme Road, later became a bank and is now currently vacant, as is most of the adjacent shopping centre. At no point did the Marina and the Mini exchange names. There is currently a World Market in the space where the Esplanade 3 once sat.
There is a photograph – with a radically different marquee much like the current Arlington’s – of this theatre in 1924 in one of the booth’s at Joe’s Steakhouse, just south of the theatre on State Street.
Prior to its life as a medical clinic, it was a Chuck E. Cheese just before it became the medical clinic. Come to think of it, there was another Fox Oxnard further east, too.
The address of this was 448 West Baseline. As of early 1980, The Meralta, Criterion, Norwalk Twin and Holiday Theatres became 49¢ theatres; by mid-March of that year, the Uptown in Pasadena and Studio Theatre did, too.
lostmemory, that photograph must’ve been taken many years ago – the conquistador/native mural is long-gone, and someone had installed a window about halfway up the left side of the marquee. Additionally, the Oxnard Theatre was known as the Fox Oxnard from 1969 to 1980. I was vaguely aware of it being in downtown Oxnard but never went inside before it was demolished.
This theatre was located at 1020 South Gallatin Pike.
This was known as the Solari Theatre as of February 5, 1980.
The Continental (formerly the Encore) was a Laemmle theatre as of July 4, 1980.
The Carriage Square was an SRO theatre as of May 18, 1980.
They absolutely did show Spanish porn, as of the early 1980s. So there.
The one that’s now a market / swap meet is the one whose tower can be seen from the highway. It’s a Quonset hut structure.
Is this the theatre that’s now a market / swap meet?
This should just be listed as “closed”, because it’s certainly still there – booth, screen, auditorium and all.
This theatre features prominently in the film “Fade to Black” (1980).
The Berry Gordy film in question is “The Last Dragon”.
Incredibly small screens and extortionately high ticket prices. The GCC Beverly Connection across the street is completely gone now, too.
Further Villa Glen confusion here: /theaters/2182/
For the record, I drove past this building on Saturday and there was no fence around it or any other sign demolition was to begin today.
This is a huge, gorgeous cinema right off Las Ramblas heading north on the way to Casa-Museu Gaudi. The marquee covers the breadth of the building outside and it looks very, very old. We were there in April and, while we never got the chance to see what was playing at the time, we knew that it would’ve been a total experience.
Was this theatre known at one point as the Alpine Theatre? The Kim Sing is at the corner of Alpine and Figueroa.
It’s a smaller sign, and they’re up to “im Sing Theatre” now, but there’s now way they’re going to make this into a single-family residence – unless that family happens to be the Manson Family; it’s terribly tacky and drab, with security gates where the walls use to be.
A Survivor’s Story.
I first found the Palm as all good neighborhood theatres should be found: completely by accident. A couple of years ago, visiting the Bay Area, on an unscheduled pit stop, the way to the freeway was lost and in a bid to find it, a corner was turned and BAM came the Palm, looming in the windshield and seen briefly in the rear-view mirror before the brakes were smashed and the car parked – all the better to see you, my dear. Having found out about the final evening of the Palm on this very site, I went to the final evening of The Palm with my girlfriend, having made friends with the guy behind the counter – likely the friendly fellow people initially encountered when they entered; he’d been working there and the Burbank since 1991 – and knowing that the final evening of screenings would be important indeed, seeing as this was the last neighborhood theatre converted to straight porn left in California (there’s still the Tomkat in West Hollywood), however. Initially the manager was standoffish but was very kind when he discovered our intentions to document the Palm’s last night were pure; we got some shots of the projection booth, and many of the lobby interiors – except for the interior of the theatre itself, which was simply too dark and the house lights weren’t due up until midnight. We’d have to leave early, so we never got those shots; possibly the former manager or the other employees took some after the videos ended.
I recorded the final schedule off the answering machine, as well as tape-recording 45 minutes worth of sounds during one of the screenings. The regulars were truly, sincerely sad that this era was ending – it had caught them too suddenly to bring in prints of things like “Deep Throat” or “Behind the Green Door” – yet there was a celebratory air as people filtered through the theatre and the employees took our photographs and vice-versa. I even brought my raincoat in honor of the occasion, and was photographed in it. Yes, at one point, my girlfriend was prodded by a man sitting behind us – she promptly told him off and that was that – and couples who came in either had people approach and sexualize them, or tell them in no uncertain terms to buzz off. I find going to pornographic theatres a rather furtive, taxing affair – despite my stylish and sartorial exterior, I know I’m a square but I don’t care who gives me stares. Having someone masturbating near oneself during a film is a weird experience, to say the absolute least (despite our over-sexualized society, sex in an adult theatre becomes a discomfiting situation due to its immediate reality). That said, the patrons were generally respectful of our personal space, which took off some of the edge. There were swingers doing unspeakable things in the partition behind the screen. A faint mist descended from the cloud cover, making the neon spelling out P-A-L-M even more aethereal. It’s always sad when a theatre dies – this one, despite what the realists say in this newspaper or that, was no exception – and on driving away, there was a feeling not unlike spending an afternoon with a relative one knows is terminally, irrevocably ill.
I was there with my photographer on the last night of business.
The Mini Cinema was located at 631 West Hueneme Road, later became a bank and is now currently vacant, as is most of the adjacent shopping centre. At no point did the Marina and the Mini exchange names. There is currently a World Market in the space where the Esplanade 3 once sat.
There is a photograph – with a radically different marquee much like the current Arlington’s – of this theatre in 1924 in one of the booth’s at Joe’s Steakhouse, just south of the theatre on State Street.
Here’s a bunch of them in California: http://www.militarynewcomers.com/Theater.htm
The Temple was announced as opening on February 9, 1980 as the U.S. Cinema.
Prior to its life as a medical clinic, it was a Chuck E. Cheese just before it became the medical clinic. Come to think of it, there was another Fox Oxnard further east, too.