The Commons 6 was a nice hall as suburban halls went, which it did as soon as Carmike opened the 17 screen Windsong 17 the street. The building was torn down and a completely new retail store was built on the site. When in Knoxville do visit the former site of the Commons 6 as one of the best Asian restaurants is right next door. “Taste of Tai” is worth the trip to Knoxville.
Lou, looking forward to the book. Sounds like a jewel. My mom (age 80) grew up in Nashville and so maybe those “of a certain age” never called it the Vendome, but when she talks about the Loew’s in downtown Nashville, she always means the Loew’s Cresent. And you know, mother is NEVER wrong. Just ask her.
Actually Gail, the old “colored” box office still exists too. It is hidden behind new solid metal doors that were installed in the 1982 renovation. Several remodelings have changed the path of the stairs that once led from the Beale Street box office up to the segregated balcony. The result is that, opening those doors reveals the old box office window and the steps rising into the darkness. A floor has been inserted over the stairs at the 2nd floor level to create a storage closet in the former stair-well.
The old Beale Street box office is now used by the concessions manager. There once was a small marquee on Beale Street too: that has been removed.
In the Knoxville News-Sentinal Wednesday November 8, 2006, section “C” is a short article about this theatre closing due to competition from the big chains, cost of upgrading to digital and declining income. It does mention the address 3800 Neal Road as the site and that the 1 acre parcel would probably be converted into other commercial uses.
The article mentions that the “theatre opened in 1983, was renovated twice and had three screens added in the 1990’s…”
The theatre reportedly closed on October 23, 2006.
When and why? 1978 and it wasn’t making enough money for the ower.
In the 1960’s these old theatres were considered a dime-a-dozen – every town had a beat-up Loew’s that had been butchered for Cinerama, a Paramount that hadn’t been painted in 40 years, a Warner with seats that were harder than oak church pews, the balcony at your local Orpheum hadn’t seen anyone but a couple of ushers sneeking cigarettes since Fred & Ginger had danced across the screen, the stage curtains at your Majestic were rotting, the lights were half burned out at your United Artists, the marquee at your Bijou didn’t have all its neon burning anymore.
The land all those glorius, abused, magnificient, drafty old theatres was sitting on was prime realestate for a concrete and steel office building or a parking lot for the neighboring department store to try and lure customers back from the suburbs.
Jack Coursey had some sad, but compelling photos of the Paramount as it was being torn down at
Actually, I mis-spoke: there were four on Church – Paramount, Tennessee, Cresent (later Loew’s Cresent) and Vendome (later Loew’s Vendome). And just off Church were the 5th Avenue and the Knickerbocker. Of the list, the Paramount was the grandest, the Vendome the oldest.
There must have been others but I haven’t done the research to unearth them. I do have an old Nashville post card that show’s a sign in the distance that clearly reads “Orpheum” but it could be that one of the other halls was booking Orpheum vaudeville and it wasn’t a theatre named Orpheum – you know the Audacious Theatre presents Orpheum Vaudeville and Lubish Film favorites at popular prices – that sort of thing.
Patsy, I think you confuse our Fox with a much older, finer hall. This was just a plain-jane, 1960’s box on the highway: it’s nothing worth resurrecting. Only the name “Fox” connects it to the extraordinary buildings in Atlanta, Detroit and St. Louis.
This is something of a tangent, but the man, W. C. Handy, lived and worked in Memphis during the early 1900’s. There is an interesting article at Wikipedia
that gives a good outline of his life. A statue of Handy stands on Beale Street near Fourth, placed there long after the old Handy theatre had been abandonded. A performance space named after him seems a much more fitting tribute than a statue, though I doubt the Orpheum, which stands at Main and Beale, will be renamed any time soon. It seems doubtful the theatre in Orange Mound will be saved.
And to finish off the digression, Beale Street seems to have become Beale “Street” because of W.C. Handy’s tune Beale Street Blues. Typically, Memphis' East/West thoroughfares are “Avenues” and supposedly, the name Beale Avenue was changed due to the popularity of the song.
I attended Western Kentucky University from 1980 to 1982 and this was the closest theatre to the campus: an easy 10 minute walk from the top of “the hill.” The last film I remember seeing at the State was “The Postman Always Rings Twice” (the Jack Nicholson, Jessica Lange version). My memory of the building is not sharp, but I recall it being in good condition, a long, sloped floor lobby, streamlined, curving walls and a dark, cool interior.
The only thing that really stands out is a ridiculous detail: the marquee was an asymetrical triangle, one long face and one short face. College street is/was one-way and the long side faced the wrong way. On-coming traffic only saw the short side and the somewhat abbreviated text.
The State does stand on Fountain Square which is one of the loveliest public squares around. The other theatre on Fountain Square, the art deco style Capitol, (q.v.) has been beautifully restored.
A friend of mine grew up in Gatlinburg. She sent the following reminiscence:
The Gatlinburg Cinema was first the Jerry Lewis Cinema, and I remember well when it opened. Living above it in Rattlesnake Hollow, my sister and I thought it was pretty cool not only to have a movie theater in town (we always had to go to knoxville before then to see movies) but to be able to walk to it —wow.
Our dad walked us down the hill to the very first movie, “The Cowboys” with John Wayne. I remember feeling very adult because they
said the word “shit” in it.
I also remember when the mysterious “The Exorcist” showed there because we would monitor the crowds, like it was a big event.
The same movie would play for a couple of weeks, I guess.
I do remember going to some sort of monster show in 7th grade, I think. It was more of a live, theater thing, supposed to be very scary. It didn’t scare me and I was disappointed.
I attended Western Kentucky University during the period when the theatre was being renovated. Through some friends of friends I got a tour of the building right before it reopened in 1981. As the building is – and seems to have always been – quite plain inside, one oddity in the auditorium stands out in my mind.
High on the side wall, house left, is something that looks for all the world like a metal rain gutter. It runs almost the entire length of the auditorium. Nobody knew for sure what it was for: a cove light trough? a chase for ropes to pull the main curtain from the projection booth? a piece of deocoration? a make-do fix for a leaky roof?
Since no one could say for sure what it was, and in an effort to maintain any and all decorative details that still existed, it was painted a lovely old-gold and left right where it was.
It’s been 25 years since I’ve been in the theatre: wonder if it’s still there.
LuisV, the link in the opening post under “Related Websites” has an option called “virtual tour” and it did work for me just now. You’ll find some professional photos there of the interior and another view of the predecessor building. Cheers!
Jack and Lost Memory, I’ve found an old image of the Vendome and have it in JPEG format. If you’d like a copy for your files I’d be happy to e-mail it to you. Feel free to contact me through my personal link below.
Years ago I walked this site because I had seen the theatre mentioned in the city directories and was curious if it still stood. I had been researching pre-sound era theatres so I believe that it was standing before 1927.
The theatre was built as part of a retail development with two shops to the right and two shops to the left of the theatre entrance. Each shop bore the same name, but it wasn’t “Harlem.” I believe that each was a “Gem:” Gem Theatre, Gem Barber Shop, Gem Dairy Bar, Gem Hats, etc. However, after 20 years I can neither tell you with 100% certainty if the name was actually Gem or not, nor exactly what the stores sold.
About 1987 I did go down to Florida Street (not exactly the best part of town) and walked the area. The theatre and shops were of red brick and but a single story tall at street level. The shops were all vacant and the theatre’s marquee was gone. The theatre’s poster cases still hung on the walls – so I knew I was in the right place – their glass doors smashed away. The scar on the side walk where the free standing box office had once stood was clearly visible. Walking past the box office, there were no doors, it was a covered entrance open to the street with more poster cases on the side walls: not an uncommon design. What did make it unusual was that only a few feet beyond the box-office was a stairway the full width of the corridor. Ascending the stairs lead to a pair of chained doors, obviously the entrance into an orchestra foyer or standee area.
What a sad irony that the few Jim-Crow-era theatres that allowed blacks at all, forced them up long stairways to the top balconies. This theatre, which must have been built for an exclusively black audience, still had its patrons tramping up another long dark stairway.
I could see sunlight through the cracks between the doors.
I walked back down the steps, out to the street and around the corner onto Farrow and then up a rather short, steep hill. There I found the poured concrete floor slab of the auditorium, a good eight or ten feet above the level of the Florida Street entrance. The auditorium walls were long gone, substantial trees growing through the cracked and broken concrete floor, leaves too thick to discern any detail that might have been imprinted in the floor.
Looking back at the chained doors I had just left, it became obvious that the stairs had led patrons up to the orchestra level and onto a bridge over the alley which ran behind the store fronts. Memphis' much grander Loew’s State had a similar arrangement.
Of the auditorium, nothing taller the floor slab was still standing. The slab was obviously that of a theatre floor though: that unmistakable wide, half-bowl shape.
The satellite photos, available through the Google link above, seem to indicate that the lobby building still stands (though the pointer seems to be a little too low) and if you use your imagination, you can see still see the outline of the auditorium between the retail block and the apartments a half block beyond.
First, the Ritz was equipped with a small Kilgen pipe organ in a single chamber at one side of the stage. It was removed long ago, current location unknown.
The Circuit Playhouse (a.k.a. the Ritz and the Guild) is a magnificent example of the adaptive reuse of an historic building: it was extensively remodeled to accomodate live theatre. The original stage and pipe organ chamber still exist and are part of the rehearsal hall. Costume shop, dressing rooms and storage were also accomodated into the space that was once the area closest to the screen. The significantly reduced auditorium is not without a certain bohemian charm. The tiny lobby had a shabby-chic facelift which is entirely appropriate for the venue.
It should be noted that under Jackie Nichols direction, Playhouse-On-The-Square and its sister facility, Circuit Playhouse, provide live theatre of the absolute highest quality. Mr. Nichols has proven himself not only a theatrical director of exceptional talent but also a businessman with financial acumen seemingly equal to Donald Trump’s. His playhouse facilities have been financially successful for nearly 40 years. His approach to recreating old buildings for new uses approaches the level of visionary.
(Think the praise is too effusive? You haven’t seen what he’s done.)
indicates that new facilities are in the works that will replace both of 1920’s-era movie theatres. We can only hope that the Memphian and the Ritz (to use their former names)
will find new uses and continue to entertain future generations.
Correction to the above: the Gem and the Dixie also still stand. Knoxville has four buildings remaining from the earliest days of cinema, though of course, only one is still a theatre.
Coinsidentally, a friend lives at this address, the upper floor having been coverted to condomeniums. I experienced a classic double take upon putting the two addresses together.
His research also noted the quick passing of the Dixie Theatre. The street level retail space was a cafe for decades in the 2nd half of the 20th century. The upper floors apparently vacant for 50 years before the recent renovation for residential use.
“Joy’s” must have been retail/commercial: maybe a department store? Where’re all the old Maison Blanche employees when you need them to talk about the competition down the street, around the corner and off to the left?
jazzland, thanks for your excellent answer to my question of 9-9-06. Interesting that New Orleans' two largest theatres were built with such similar lobby plans. But then, I personally haven’t seen any other theatres the actually spanned an entire block – allowing fully developed (though secondary) entrances on three sides.
ken mc, I too was confused for a moment looking at the 1963 photo listed above and seeing the name “Joy’s” in the background. If I’m not mistaken, in that view we’re on Canal looking down Rampart Street. Obviously the Joy Theatre was on Canal, not one of the cross streets. It’s worth a chuckle that in 1963 you could stand on the corner of Canal and Rampart and look one way and see a big, flashy vertical sign reading JOY and look the other way and see a big, flashy vertical sign reading JOY’S.
Ken, excellent photo. The Saenger’s lobby (and the Loew’s State across the street) was a “T” shape with the main entrance on Canal and canopies and marquees on the sides. I’ve never known how those side doors were used: was there a ticket taker at all three locations? Were the sides only used as exit ways? These are not “orchestra foyer” doors so they’re not just emergeny exits. I’d love to hear from some former ushers or theatre employees who remember how the crowds were handled in the old days.
The 1915 Knoxville City Directory lists 10 theaters operating and showing moving pictures. They are listed below with the year they opened. Only two from that list still stand: the Gay/Strand is now an office building, and the Bijou – a 1st rate showplace.
two movie theaters had opened and closed by 1915. Those were:
Bonita 1911 to 1912 (Gay St)
Lyric 1911 to 1913 (Vine Ave)
Knoxville’s vast Market House (on Market Square) had been used to show motion pictures on at least one occassion
and Knoxville’s two grandest theaters opened later
Riviera 1920 to 1988 (Gay St)
Tennessee 1928 to present (Gay St)
Gay Street, Knoxille’s own great white way (and no kidding, it was once called “The Gay Way”) would have been a joy to see in those days. But nostalgia aside, we are quite fortunate that two theaters survive in such good condition.
The Commons 6 was a nice hall as suburban halls went, which it did as soon as Carmike opened the 17 screen Windsong 17 the street. The building was torn down and a completely new retail store was built on the site. When in Knoxville do visit the former site of the Commons 6 as one of the best Asian restaurants is right next door. “Taste of Tai” is worth the trip to Knoxville.
This space has been converted to retail use – a Dollar General I believe. Ironic, since when I was kid, the old Princess was the Dollar General store.
Lou, looking forward to the book. Sounds like a jewel. My mom (age 80) grew up in Nashville and so maybe those “of a certain age” never called it the Vendome, but when she talks about the Loew’s in downtown Nashville, she always means the Loew’s Cresent. And you know, mother is NEVER wrong. Just ask her.
Got a projected publishing date for the book?
Actually Gail, the old “colored” box office still exists too. It is hidden behind new solid metal doors that were installed in the 1982 renovation. Several remodelings have changed the path of the stairs that once led from the Beale Street box office up to the segregated balcony. The result is that, opening those doors reveals the old box office window and the steps rising into the darkness. A floor has been inserted over the stairs at the 2nd floor level to create a storage closet in the former stair-well.
The old Beale Street box office is now used by the concessions manager. There once was a small marquee on Beale Street too: that has been removed.
In the Knoxville News-Sentinal Wednesday November 8, 2006, section “C” is a short article about this theatre closing due to competition from the big chains, cost of upgrading to digital and declining income. It does mention the address 3800 Neal Road as the site and that the 1 acre parcel would probably be converted into other commercial uses.
The article mentions that the “theatre opened in 1983, was renovated twice and had three screens added in the 1990’s…”
The theatre reportedly closed on October 23, 2006.
When and why? 1978 and it wasn’t making enough money for the ower.
In the 1960’s these old theatres were considered a dime-a-dozen – every town had a beat-up Loew’s that had been butchered for Cinerama, a Paramount that hadn’t been painted in 40 years, a Warner with seats that were harder than oak church pews, the balcony at your local Orpheum hadn’t seen anyone but a couple of ushers sneeking cigarettes since Fred & Ginger had danced across the screen, the stage curtains at your Majestic were rotting, the lights were half burned out at your United Artists, the marquee at your Bijou didn’t have all its neon burning anymore.
The land all those glorius, abused, magnificient, drafty old theatres was sitting on was prime realestate for a concrete and steel office building or a parking lot for the neighboring department store to try and lure customers back from the suburbs.
Jack Coursey had some sad, but compelling photos of the Paramount as it was being torn down at
View link
Patsy, please refer to my post of October 3, 2005 at 5:57 a.m. above(thankfully, Pacific time). It begins “Jack, tisk tisk tisk…”
Actually, I mis-spoke: there were four on Church – Paramount, Tennessee, Cresent (later Loew’s Cresent) and Vendome (later Loew’s Vendome). And just off Church were the 5th Avenue and the Knickerbocker. Of the list, the Paramount was the grandest, the Vendome the oldest.
There must have been others but I haven’t done the research to unearth them. I do have an old Nashville post card that show’s a sign in the distance that clearly reads “Orpheum” but it could be that one of the other halls was booking Orpheum vaudeville and it wasn’t a theatre named Orpheum – you know the Audacious Theatre presents Orpheum Vaudeville and Lubish Film favorites at popular prices – that sort of thing.
Patsy, I think you confuse our Fox with a much older, finer hall. This was just a plain-jane, 1960’s box on the highway: it’s nothing worth resurrecting. Only the name “Fox” connects it to the extraordinary buildings in Atlanta, Detroit and St. Louis.
Cheers
Will
This is something of a tangent, but the man, W. C. Handy, lived and worked in Memphis during the early 1900’s. There is an interesting article at Wikipedia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W_C_Handy
that gives a good outline of his life. A statue of Handy stands on Beale Street near Fourth, placed there long after the old Handy theatre had been abandonded. A performance space named after him seems a much more fitting tribute than a statue, though I doubt the Orpheum, which stands at Main and Beale, will be renamed any time soon. It seems doubtful the theatre in Orange Mound will be saved.
And to finish off the digression, Beale Street seems to have become Beale “Street” because of W.C. Handy’s tune Beale Street Blues. Typically, Memphis' East/West thoroughfares are “Avenues” and supposedly, the name Beale Avenue was changed due to the popularity of the song.
I attended Western Kentucky University from 1980 to 1982 and this was the closest theatre to the campus: an easy 10 minute walk from the top of “the hill.” The last film I remember seeing at the State was “The Postman Always Rings Twice” (the Jack Nicholson, Jessica Lange version). My memory of the building is not sharp, but I recall it being in good condition, a long, sloped floor lobby, streamlined, curving walls and a dark, cool interior.
The only thing that really stands out is a ridiculous detail: the marquee was an asymetrical triangle, one long face and one short face. College street is/was one-way and the long side faced the wrong way. On-coming traffic only saw the short side and the somewhat abbreviated text.
The State does stand on Fountain Square which is one of the loveliest public squares around. The other theatre on Fountain Square, the art deco style Capitol, (q.v.) has been beautifully restored.
A friend of mine grew up in Gatlinburg. She sent the following reminiscence:
The Gatlinburg Cinema was first the Jerry Lewis Cinema, and I remember well when it opened. Living above it in Rattlesnake Hollow, my sister and I thought it was pretty cool not only to have a movie theater in town (we always had to go to knoxville before then to see movies) but to be able to walk to it —wow.
Our dad walked us down the hill to the very first movie, “The Cowboys” with John Wayne. I remember feeling very adult because they
said the word “shit” in it.
I also remember when the mysterious “The Exorcist” showed there because we would monitor the crowds, like it was a big event.
The same movie would play for a couple of weeks, I guess.
I do remember going to some sort of monster show in 7th grade, I think. It was more of a live, theater thing, supposed to be very scary. It didn’t scare me and I was disappointed.
The floors were indeed sticky.
Everything was red I think.
Popcorn to the left. Two entrances.
I attended Western Kentucky University during the period when the theatre was being renovated. Through some friends of friends I got a tour of the building right before it reopened in 1981. As the building is – and seems to have always been – quite plain inside, one oddity in the auditorium stands out in my mind.
High on the side wall, house left, is something that looks for all the world like a metal rain gutter. It runs almost the entire length of the auditorium. Nobody knew for sure what it was for: a cove light trough? a chase for ropes to pull the main curtain from the projection booth? a piece of deocoration? a make-do fix for a leaky roof?
Since no one could say for sure what it was, and in an effort to maintain any and all decorative details that still existed, it was painted a lovely old-gold and left right where it was.
It’s been 25 years since I’ve been in the theatre: wonder if it’s still there.
LuisV, the link in the opening post under “Related Websites” has an option called “virtual tour” and it did work for me just now. You’ll find some professional photos there of the interior and another view of the predecessor building. Cheers!
Jack and Lost Memory, I’ve found an old image of the Vendome and have it in JPEG format. If you’d like a copy for your files I’d be happy to e-mail it to you. Feel free to contact me through my personal link below.
The Bristol Paramount has had another Wurlitzer organ installed: not the original instrument but one of similar design.
Years ago I walked this site because I had seen the theatre mentioned in the city directories and was curious if it still stood. I had been researching pre-sound era theatres so I believe that it was standing before 1927.
The theatre was built as part of a retail development with two shops to the right and two shops to the left of the theatre entrance. Each shop bore the same name, but it wasn’t “Harlem.” I believe that each was a “Gem:” Gem Theatre, Gem Barber Shop, Gem Dairy Bar, Gem Hats, etc. However, after 20 years I can neither tell you with 100% certainty if the name was actually Gem or not, nor exactly what the stores sold.
About 1987 I did go down to Florida Street (not exactly the best part of town) and walked the area. The theatre and shops were of red brick and but a single story tall at street level. The shops were all vacant and the theatre’s marquee was gone. The theatre’s poster cases still hung on the walls – so I knew I was in the right place – their glass doors smashed away. The scar on the side walk where the free standing box office had once stood was clearly visible. Walking past the box office, there were no doors, it was a covered entrance open to the street with more poster cases on the side walls: not an uncommon design. What did make it unusual was that only a few feet beyond the box-office was a stairway the full width of the corridor. Ascending the stairs lead to a pair of chained doors, obviously the entrance into an orchestra foyer or standee area.
What a sad irony that the few Jim-Crow-era theatres that allowed blacks at all, forced them up long stairways to the top balconies. This theatre, which must have been built for an exclusively black audience, still had its patrons tramping up another long dark stairway.
I could see sunlight through the cracks between the doors.
I walked back down the steps, out to the street and around the corner onto Farrow and then up a rather short, steep hill. There I found the poured concrete floor slab of the auditorium, a good eight or ten feet above the level of the Florida Street entrance. The auditorium walls were long gone, substantial trees growing through the cracked and broken concrete floor, leaves too thick to discern any detail that might have been imprinted in the floor.
Looking back at the chained doors I had just left, it became obvious that the stairs had led patrons up to the orchestra level and onto a bridge over the alley which ran behind the store fronts. Memphis' much grander Loew’s State had a similar arrangement.
Of the auditorium, nothing taller the floor slab was still standing. The slab was obviously that of a theatre floor though: that unmistakable wide, half-bowl shape.
The satellite photos, available through the Google link above, seem to indicate that the lobby building still stands (though the pointer seems to be a little too low) and if you use your imagination, you can see still see the outline of the auditorium between the retail block and the apartments a half block beyond.
First, the Ritz was equipped with a small Kilgen pipe organ in a single chamber at one side of the stage. It was removed long ago, current location unknown.
The Circuit Playhouse (a.k.a. the Ritz and the Guild) is a magnificent example of the adaptive reuse of an historic building: it was extensively remodeled to accomodate live theatre. The original stage and pipe organ chamber still exist and are part of the rehearsal hall. Costume shop, dressing rooms and storage were also accomodated into the space that was once the area closest to the screen. The significantly reduced auditorium is not without a certain bohemian charm. The tiny lobby had a shabby-chic facelift which is entirely appropriate for the venue.
It should be noted that under Jackie Nichols direction, Playhouse-On-The-Square and its sister facility, Circuit Playhouse, provide live theatre of the absolute highest quality. Mr. Nichols has proven himself not only a theatrical director of exceptional talent but also a businessman with financial acumen seemingly equal to Donald Trump’s. His playhouse facilities have been financially successful for nearly 40 years. His approach to recreating old buildings for new uses approaches the level of visionary.
(Think the praise is too effusive? You haven’t seen what he’s done.)
The Playhouse webside’s “history” page
View link
indicates that new facilities are in the works that will replace both of 1920’s-era movie theatres. We can only hope that the Memphian and the Ritz (to use their former names)
will find new uses and continue to entertain future generations.
Correction to the above: the Gem and the Dixie also still stand. Knoxville has four buildings remaining from the earliest days of cinema, though of course, only one is still a theatre.
Coinsidentally, a friend lives at this address, the upper floor having been coverted to condomeniums. I experienced a classic double take upon putting the two addresses together.
His research also noted the quick passing of the Dixie Theatre. The street level retail space was a cafe for decades in the 2nd half of the 20th century. The upper floors apparently vacant for 50 years before the recent renovation for residential use.
“Joy’s” must have been retail/commercial: maybe a department store? Where’re all the old Maison Blanche employees when you need them to talk about the competition down the street, around the corner and off to the left?
jazzland, thanks for your excellent answer to my question of 9-9-06. Interesting that New Orleans' two largest theatres were built with such similar lobby plans. But then, I personally haven’t seen any other theatres the actually spanned an entire block – allowing fully developed (though secondary) entrances on three sides.
ken mc, I too was confused for a moment looking at the 1963 photo listed above and seeing the name “Joy’s” in the background. If I’m not mistaken, in that view we’re on Canal looking down Rampart Street. Obviously the Joy Theatre was on Canal, not one of the cross streets. It’s worth a chuckle that in 1963 you could stand on the corner of Canal and Rampart and look one way and see a big, flashy vertical sign reading JOY and look the other way and see a big, flashy vertical sign reading JOY’S.
But joy is what New Orleans is all about, right?
Ken, excellent photo. The Saenger’s lobby (and the Loew’s State across the street) was a “T” shape with the main entrance on Canal and canopies and marquees on the sides. I’ve never known how those side doors were used: was there a ticket taker at all three locations? Were the sides only used as exit ways? These are not “orchestra foyer” doors so they’re not just emergeny exits. I’d love to hear from some former ushers or theatre employees who remember how the crowds were handled in the old days.
The Cheri still stands and is in use as a church.
The 1915 Knoxville City Directory lists 10 theaters operating and showing moving pictures. They are listed below with the year they opened. Only two from that list still stand: the Gay/Strand is now an office building, and the Bijou – a 1st rate showplace.
Staub’s / a.k.a. Lyric 1872 (Gay St)
Lyceum / a.k.a. Majestic 1908 (Gay St)
Crystal 1908 (Gay St)
Bijou 1909 (Gay St)
Grand 1911 (Gay St)
Gay / a.k.a. Strand 1911 (Gay St)
Rex 1912 (Gay St)
Gem 1913 (Vine Ave)
Queen 1914 (Gay St)
Dixie 1915 (Central Ave)
two movie theaters had opened and closed by 1915. Those were:
Bonita 1911 to 1912 (Gay St)
Lyric 1911 to 1913 (Vine Ave)
Knoxville’s vast Market House (on Market Square) had been used to show motion pictures on at least one occassion
and Knoxville’s two grandest theaters opened later
Riviera 1920 to 1988 (Gay St)
Tennessee 1928 to present (Gay St)
Gay Street, Knoxille’s own great white way (and no kidding, it was once called “The Gay Way”) would have been a joy to see in those days. But nostalgia aside, we are quite fortunate that two theaters survive in such good condition.
Dixie 1915