Right, Vincent. I’ve earlier mentioned from memory titles of films played at the lamented Astor and Victoria but, until Marriott pays blood money, shall refrain silently from doing so again, except perhaps in code designed for readers who already know a lot about movies. For example, if I mentioned “the film that played at the Victoria and won an academy award for color cinematography in 1947,” you’d know that it was the picture in which a true-blue six-time unrewarded AA nominee played a nun in the Himalayas, right? I’m not being, um, Narcissistic here. I may be BO Bill, but old-time Popeye fans will think of Marriott as BO Plenty.
SimonL—You once asked about RCMH shows without the Rockettes. In addition to their absence during “Madama Butterfly” in ‘34, they left town for a couple of weeks in Summer '37 to perform in Paris in the Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques dans la Vie Moderne. The week of 27 June was designated for Exposition des Dances, so perhaps that was the interval? Films at that time were “Ever Since Eve” (with Marion Davies, opening 24 June) and “New Faces of 1937” (with Milton Berle, opening 1 July). Can you picture those seventy-two legs kicking down the steps of the Palais de Trocadero/Chaillot? I believe I’ve seen a photo of it. The best way to check on this would be to consult NYTimes microfilms for those dates, but it’s late and my library is closed.
You’re right about “clearance.” As a kid visiting family in Quincy MA in the late ‘40s and early '50s, I remember a billboard at the local train station (the Red Line to Boston) advertising current attractions at RCMH (“Look For the Silver Lining,” “On the Town,” “Sunset Boulevard”) in the usual austere format (no pictorials, except for an abstract sketch of the proscenium arch and a single Rockette) with a starred notice: “Now playing at RCMH. Coming soon to Boston.”
I’ve got to agree with Vito about better screen and sound at the Roxy. Its screen was a tad smaller (60' seems about right), but it was gently curved, and the projection was sharp as a tack. And its stereo sound was perfect. On the RCMH page at this site, I’ve remarked about horizontal lines on its screen where the panels joined (and on a resolutely flat screen, too), along with a persistent echo (especially in a less-than-full house) and evident lack of magnetic stereophonic sound. Fly space at RCMH was too narrow for a curved screen and a multiple sound system. But because the Roxy sacrificed fly space for its film presentation, its stage shows offered fewer elaborate sets and a more static display. Win some, lose some.
Yes, “Executive Suite” played in May ‘54, but I didn’t see that film there then, so I can’t comment. A '50s Pictorial Program that my parents purchased when we saw “The Greatest Show on Earth” in Jan '52 displays a b&w photo of the Ballet performing “an enchanting divertissement in a scene inspired by cherry blossom time in Eashington D.C.” The more-or-less realistic set shows trees in blossom, with the capitol dome in a dusky background. The dancers wear Martha-Graham-inspired flowing shifts and are joined with hands raised in the air bearing blossom branches. No doubt a revival of this ballet accompanied the show in May '54. I don’t remember ever having seen it.
The “Art” was the “Art” and was located on Hancock Street, close to City Hall and diagonally across from the historic Unitarian Church. The design was Art Deco. I saw “The Prince of Foxes” there in January ‘50, whence I associate it with 20C-Fox films (theaters in those days were wedded to particular studios). At the Strand in Summer '50 I saw “The Flame and the Arrow,” whence I link it to Warner Bros. Both films initiated me to Renaissance Italy, an awful thing to have done. The Strand had a Palladian design. The theater that you call the Regent might very well have been the one I called the Capitol. It was located near St. John the Baptist RC Church and was designed in streamlined Beaux Arts. I remember seeing the sepia-tinted “Lust for Gold” there in Summer '49. My staggering recall for such details might be a curse, but sites like this can put different generations in touch with a common cultural history. Quincyites ought to get these theaters listed on this site.
Yes, representing cherry blossoms against a golden backdrop, with abstract tree branches and blue birds in flight, it provided a setting for the Rockettes in the show accompanying “The Chalk Garden” in Spring ‘64, no? I forget the music accompanying the dance routine, but I believe the orchestral overture offered a suite from “Madame Butterfly.” The occasion marked international cooperation upon the opening of the '64 World’s Fair. If Japan presented the gift in the '50s, I’m straining to recall when I might have seen it then. It must have been for a springtime show, huh?
mb848—It was likely on route 37. The years were ‘49-'50 and I was seven to eight years old, a pint-sized nut about movies who more than a half-century later still has disturbingly vivid and usually accurate memories about the circumstances I saw them in. I remember seeing two films at the Braintree: “The Loves of Carmen” and “The Daughter of Rosie O'Grady,” likely in the summers of '49 and '50 respectively. I’m sorry I can’t be more precise about the location: I clearly recall that it was on a major highway between Quincy and Braintree in the days before the present route 93/3. Is it possible that route 3 has been modernized from an older thoroughfare that might have been accessed the drive-in? or that the drive-in was located further east on route 53 in East Braintree? I’ve named a few indoor theaters in Quincy (i’m less sure about the Publix than the others, but it was a theater on Washington Street that showed Paramount films where I saw “Fancy Pants”), and am curious about their fates. I grew up in Brooklyn NY and visited my transplanted aunt several times during that period. During my college years in the early '60s, I passed through the area because some friends lived nearby. At that time, Quincy seemed the same as it had been a decade earlier. On more recent work-related trips there, I’ve encountered great changes.
“The Visit” is a startling play, as it begins with an absurd premise (an old woman demands the death of a former lover for jilting her many decades earlier) and delivers on it when the victim’s friends comply with murder. Farce turns into tragedy. The Lunts were perfectly cast despite themselves, since their talent and celebrity for drawing-room comedy led audiences to expect the latter until the action veered toward horrifying drama. What I most remember about this performance in Summer ‘58 was a stage trick that had escaped me at the time: after Fontanne made her demand, she turned upstage and dropped her shawl, revealing that she wore a backless dress. The audience gasped. A friend explained that the aged actress, bareback in the spotlight, suddenly looked looked like a young woman. To this sixteen-year-old, a bare back was little more than a bare back.
Right—from the late ‘40s through the '60s, neither the Astor nor the Victoria were wedded to any particular studios, but both played prestigious products from all of them. If you scan through a list of films nominated for Academy Awards in those years, an at least perceived if not real barometer of quality, you’ll find that most of these films played at the Astor, Victoria, or Rivoli.
C—I surmised that you might have been confused about the location.
Warren— The Center’s proscenium opening was 60', so, yes, the screen likely covered the entire proscenium and was masked for movie ratio at, say, 36' x 27'. In my comment on 15 Dec above, I recounted my memory of a see-through scrim during an ice show there in ‘46. That scrim could well have been the movie screen. RCMH used its screen for see-through effects achieved through back lighting: e.g., the beginning of the Nativity with cloud-projection pierced by the back-lit angel singing “O Holy Night,” and the entire Underseas Ballet with wave-projection fronting the back lit dance ensemble.
It’s hardly a tiny plot of land. The ticket lobby on the SE corner of 6 Avenue and E. 49 Street (79'7" x 45'4", reverse symmetrical with the entrance of RCMH a block north) fed into a Grand Foyer rather narrower than that of RCMH. After the theater’s demolition, this space became a large glass-walled demonstration room for RCA products. The length from far wall of the Foyer to the rear wall of the stage was the standard city block of 200'8". The stage wall abutted E. 48 Street, and measured 158' along the street beginning 79'7" from 6 Avenue. After demolition, it became a public garage and was topped by several stories of new office space. The reconstruction merged seamlessly with materials and style of the older building.
Mikeoaklandpark— Those are accurate data, and others could supplement them with dozens more. But why give Marriott the fruit of your labors scott-free?
The Marriott Corp can well afford to pay a skilled researcher to do the leg work (or, rather, to let his or her fingers do the walking) through the NYT or Variety serials. Warren has already provided the key leads. Heaven knows such bibliographic talents get little recognition, even as mamouth corporations squander millions on trivial, self-enchanted pursuits. And heaven knows they frequently resort to quick and greedy grabs at info-facts to satisfy their wants. And heaven help the researcher who messes up this Astor/Victoria project from my reminiscent perspective: one single mistake will get him or her laughed off this page.
Knowledgable Quincyites ought to list some of the town’s old and now evidently demolished local theaters on this site. In the late ‘40s and early '50s when my aunt lived on Presidents Lane in Quincy, I remember visiting a few wonderful theaters: the Art on Hancock Street, the Strand on Coddington, the Capitol on Quincy, the Publix on Washington (or so I believe their names and approximate locations to have been). About ten years ago on a visit to Boston, I took the Red Line from Cambridge and walked the streets, finding that none of these theaters remained. On the town line between Quincy and Braintree, there was a drive-in theater aptly named the “Braintree.”
RobertR wondered what the Alpine’s interior might have looked like before it was subdivided. It looked like a gigantic oven. At least to my childish imagination, that’s how it compared when, one day in the late ‘40s, I peered into our kitchen stove and asked whether anyone could show a movie inside it. The Alpine was big and boxy, and it appeared all the more so because it had no balcony. Neighborhood lore had it that the builders discovered a structural flaw in construction and so, instead of adding a balcony, they extended the length of the building to accommodate a larger orchestra. You can in fact see two distinct stages of construction if you examine the building on its 69 Street side, walking east from 5 Avenue: the larger unit close to the avenue has a darker-toned brick; then there’s a cement pilaster, and the second, smaller unit in reddish brick continues eastward in a distinctively different, aesthetically mismatched style.
The interior likewise divided into two large, squarish units. The bigger one was dimly lit by four orange-tinted stained-glass light fixtures high on the ceiling. The smaller one close to the screen was even more dimly lit by four tiny gray light fixtures, whence my comparison to the family oven. The floor plan followed these unit-divisions, with a trans-horizontal aisle paralleling the division. Five vertical aisles produced four sections of seats. The matron-supervised Children’s Section occupied the far-left section in the front part of the house. The Smokers’ Section occupied the entire right-half of the house.
Because of the orchestra’s forward sprawl, the pre-CinemaScope screen appeared quite small from the rear sections. Except for a small apron in front of the screen, there was no stage, and instead of a proscenium, the area around the screen was draped with dark maroon curtains. The curtains parted just enough to reveal the screen and its thin black border. Both apron and curtains were eliminated to make room for a curved panoramic screen in Fall ’53. The latter, quite sizable but in the old 1.33 ratio, was replaced the following Spring by a wider but flat CinemaScope screen, which Loew’s management advertised as the largest in Brooklyn. In that dark, cavernous space, hardly any screen could have been large enough. In this same space, the sound echoed off the smooth, undecorated walls, especially when the house was empty. Though to this kid’s eyes, the single-screen Alpine might have looked like an oven, it had a super air-conditioning system and none of the musty smell that I remember at other naborhood theaters.
RoxyDon—Thanks for acknowleding my research. It was a sweat-free effort: the info comes from “The NY Times Directory of the Film,” ed. Arthur Knight, Arno Press/Random House, 1971, an index to the first six volumes of the complete multi-volume “NY Times Film Reviews,” currently compiled through the early 1990s. It’s cool to know that you were ushering at the Roxy when I saw a bunch of films there as a kid—betcha we encountered each other!
I’ve seen lots of live theater at The Public, but missed seeing any film there. Did The Little have columns supporting the ceiling as the live space had? I can tolerate columns for live theater, but coudn’t imagine doing so for film. Lexicologically, could we refer to this venue as “The Public’s ‘Little Theater’”?
The Alpine does not take a bow in SNF. The opening scene occurs on 86 Street and 20 Avenue near the Benson theater. You might discern Loew’s Oriental in the distance. The sociological distinctions in this film are exquisite. Vinnie’s girl-friend lives near 4 Avenue, and a key scene in her neighborhood takes place on 86 Street between 4th and 5th Avenues in front of a Key Food supermarket (is it still there? Century dept store now dominates this block), across the street from the long-gone RKO Shore Road theater. The Odyssey Disco stood on 65 Street and (I’m not exactly sure) 10 Avenue?
Awwarkâ€"you made me do it. I cracked open my cache of programs and playbills sealed up since a move in 1976. Here, from the program for “Bus Stop†in Sept. ’56, is “A story in verse†by the Roxy’s Managing Director Robert C. Rothafel, announcing the ice show “Magic of the Stage.â€
All stage magic, dear people, and please hear me well,
Has a charming, and most wond’rous story to tell… .
Now the bone, and the rag, and the hank of dyed hair,
The Director auditions on stage, bleak and bare… .
… ‘Tis the tale of the magic of Scenery to tell… .
And now, the Director has taken his stand,
Thus the God-likened power of light, to command… .
Tireless master halts briefly for passing review
Of effects in HI-FI, the magnetic and new… .
Costumes and make-up cast magical spell,
Over all on the stage and the patrons as well.
It’s a hoot from a stuffed owl, and you gotta love it! In prose, Rothafel also wrote a Personal Message to the Patrons for each new stage show. Here, from the program for “The Sun Also Rises†in August ’57, is his blurb for “Showplane,†devised on the theme of air travel: “In essence, containing perhaps more showmanship than many show business ventures, Miss Betty Murray’s idea for ‘Showplane’ was brought to reality by Pan American World Airlines… . Ever seeking the timely and the new, ‘Showplane’ offers to the Roxy, highly imaginative, new sources for new faces and new formats. Thus working cooperatively with Pan Am and Miss Murray, makes an exciting reality of bringing to the Roxy stage, outstanding personalities and ideas from Showplane’s travels throughout Pan Am’s world of 82 countries.†I reproduce the purple prose verbatim. What might a ‘50s school marm do with its non sequiturs, redundancies, whimsical punctuation, and broken syntax?
Here, finally, is Rothafel fudging the truth about CinemaScope 55 (much discussed in previous postings for the Roxy) in his Message for “The King and I†in June ’56: “For a motion picture of such magnitude, … we at the Roxy are grateful to Twentieth Century Fox. In this instance our appreciation is twofoldâ€"for grandeur and excellence in entertainment; and for pioneering developments in sound engineeringâ€"making possible the completed innovation of the century (introduced with CinemaScope 55 and “Carouselâ€)â€"Six channel magnetic sound. Spending again as much as was spent before, the Roxy now enjoys the finest and most modern equipment achievements, making possible the presentation of CinemaScope 55 with new six channel High Fidelity and True Directional Magnetic and Stereophonic Sound.†I like that: “the completed innovation of the century†and “equipment achievements.â€
Yes, the Roxy could be “tacky"â€"but who’d want to complain? Maybe "camp” is the better word—it confers an affectionate note.
And “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” in ‘45. The creme-de-la-creme would have to be “All About Eve” in October '50. Also in the running would be “Laura,” “Miracle on 34 Street,” “Night and the City,” and “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.” I saw none of them there, but I remember their newspaper ads —always more brassy (for comedy) or lurid (for drama) than comparable ads for ever-so-dignified RCMH.
Yes, Vito, natch', even if it was to see “Scudda Hoo! Scudda Hay!” which opened there in Spring ‘48: that all-time stinker about a boy (Lon McCallister) and two mules (which he preferred to June Haver) marked Marilyn Monroe’s screen debut (as an innocent hayseed)—Natalie Wood is also in the pic (and it sometimes airs on TCM). The Roxy was pre-eminently the home of the garishly technicolored Betty Grable/Dan Dailey musicals (“Mother Wore Tights”!), which would be fun to see. Best of all might be Clifton Webb’s Mr. Belvedere series, starting with “Sitting Pretty,” which I remember seein there with a St. Patrick’s Day themed stage show (green-clad choruses singing “I’m looking over a Four-Leaf Clover”) in March '48 (with previews of the afore-mentioned “Scudda Hoo! Scudda Hay!”).
Right, Vincent. I’ve earlier mentioned from memory titles of films played at the lamented Astor and Victoria but, until Marriott pays blood money, shall refrain silently from doing so again, except perhaps in code designed for readers who already know a lot about movies. For example, if I mentioned “the film that played at the Victoria and won an academy award for color cinematography in 1947,” you’d know that it was the picture in which a true-blue six-time unrewarded AA nominee played a nun in the Himalayas, right? I’m not being, um, Narcissistic here. I may be BO Bill, but old-time Popeye fans will think of Marriott as BO Plenty.
SimonL—You once asked about RCMH shows without the Rockettes. In addition to their absence during “Madama Butterfly” in ‘34, they left town for a couple of weeks in Summer '37 to perform in Paris in the Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques dans la Vie Moderne. The week of 27 June was designated for Exposition des Dances, so perhaps that was the interval? Films at that time were “Ever Since Eve” (with Marion Davies, opening 24 June) and “New Faces of 1937” (with Milton Berle, opening 1 July). Can you picture those seventy-two legs kicking down the steps of the Palais de Trocadero/Chaillot? I believe I’ve seen a photo of it. The best way to check on this would be to consult NYTimes microfilms for those dates, but it’s late and my library is closed.
You’re right about “clearance.” As a kid visiting family in Quincy MA in the late ‘40s and early '50s, I remember a billboard at the local train station (the Red Line to Boston) advertising current attractions at RCMH (“Look For the Silver Lining,” “On the Town,” “Sunset Boulevard”) in the usual austere format (no pictorials, except for an abstract sketch of the proscenium arch and a single Rockette) with a starred notice: “Now playing at RCMH. Coming soon to Boston.”
I’ve got to agree with Vito about better screen and sound at the Roxy. Its screen was a tad smaller (60' seems about right), but it was gently curved, and the projection was sharp as a tack. And its stereo sound was perfect. On the RCMH page at this site, I’ve remarked about horizontal lines on its screen where the panels joined (and on a resolutely flat screen, too), along with a persistent echo (especially in a less-than-full house) and evident lack of magnetic stereophonic sound. Fly space at RCMH was too narrow for a curved screen and a multiple sound system. But because the Roxy sacrificed fly space for its film presentation, its stage shows offered fewer elaborate sets and a more static display. Win some, lose some.
Yes, “Executive Suite” played in May ‘54, but I didn’t see that film there then, so I can’t comment. A '50s Pictorial Program that my parents purchased when we saw “The Greatest Show on Earth” in Jan '52 displays a b&w photo of the Ballet performing “an enchanting divertissement in a scene inspired by cherry blossom time in Eashington D.C.” The more-or-less realistic set shows trees in blossom, with the capitol dome in a dusky background. The dancers wear Martha-Graham-inspired flowing shifts and are joined with hands raised in the air bearing blossom branches. No doubt a revival of this ballet accompanied the show in May '54. I don’t remember ever having seen it.
The “Art” was the “Art” and was located on Hancock Street, close to City Hall and diagonally across from the historic Unitarian Church. The design was Art Deco. I saw “The Prince of Foxes” there in January ‘50, whence I associate it with 20C-Fox films (theaters in those days were wedded to particular studios). At the Strand in Summer '50 I saw “The Flame and the Arrow,” whence I link it to Warner Bros. Both films initiated me to Renaissance Italy, an awful thing to have done. The Strand had a Palladian design. The theater that you call the Regent might very well have been the one I called the Capitol. It was located near St. John the Baptist RC Church and was designed in streamlined Beaux Arts. I remember seeing the sepia-tinted “Lust for Gold” there in Summer '49. My staggering recall for such details might be a curse, but sites like this can put different generations in touch with a common cultural history. Quincyites ought to get these theaters listed on this site.
Yes, representing cherry blossoms against a golden backdrop, with abstract tree branches and blue birds in flight, it provided a setting for the Rockettes in the show accompanying “The Chalk Garden” in Spring ‘64, no? I forget the music accompanying the dance routine, but I believe the orchestral overture offered a suite from “Madame Butterfly.” The occasion marked international cooperation upon the opening of the '64 World’s Fair. If Japan presented the gift in the '50s, I’m straining to recall when I might have seen it then. It must have been for a springtime show, huh?
mb848—It was likely on route 37. The years were ‘49-'50 and I was seven to eight years old, a pint-sized nut about movies who more than a half-century later still has disturbingly vivid and usually accurate memories about the circumstances I saw them in. I remember seeing two films at the Braintree: “The Loves of Carmen” and “The Daughter of Rosie O'Grady,” likely in the summers of '49 and '50 respectively. I’m sorry I can’t be more precise about the location: I clearly recall that it was on a major highway between Quincy and Braintree in the days before the present route 93/3. Is it possible that route 3 has been modernized from an older thoroughfare that might have been accessed the drive-in? or that the drive-in was located further east on route 53 in East Braintree? I’ve named a few indoor theaters in Quincy (i’m less sure about the Publix than the others, but it was a theater on Washington Street that showed Paramount films where I saw “Fancy Pants”), and am curious about their fates. I grew up in Brooklyn NY and visited my transplanted aunt several times during that period. During my college years in the early '60s, I passed through the area because some friends lived nearby. At that time, Quincy seemed the same as it had been a decade earlier. On more recent work-related trips there, I’ve encountered great changes.
“The Visit” is a startling play, as it begins with an absurd premise (an old woman demands the death of a former lover for jilting her many decades earlier) and delivers on it when the victim’s friends comply with murder. Farce turns into tragedy. The Lunts were perfectly cast despite themselves, since their talent and celebrity for drawing-room comedy led audiences to expect the latter until the action veered toward horrifying drama. What I most remember about this performance in Summer ‘58 was a stage trick that had escaped me at the time: after Fontanne made her demand, she turned upstage and dropped her shawl, revealing that she wore a backless dress. The audience gasped. A friend explained that the aged actress, bareback in the spotlight, suddenly looked looked like a young woman. To this sixteen-year-old, a bare back was little more than a bare back.
Right—from the late ‘40s through the '60s, neither the Astor nor the Victoria were wedded to any particular studios, but both played prestigious products from all of them. If you scan through a list of films nominated for Academy Awards in those years, an at least perceived if not real barometer of quality, you’ll find that most of these films played at the Astor, Victoria, or Rivoli.
C—I surmised that you might have been confused about the location.
Warren— The Center’s proscenium opening was 60', so, yes, the screen likely covered the entire proscenium and was masked for movie ratio at, say, 36' x 27'. In my comment on 15 Dec above, I recounted my memory of a see-through scrim during an ice show there in ‘46. That scrim could well have been the movie screen. RCMH used its screen for see-through effects achieved through back lighting: e.g., the beginning of the Nativity with cloud-projection pierced by the back-lit angel singing “O Holy Night,” and the entire Underseas Ballet with wave-projection fronting the back lit dance ensemble.
It’s hardly a tiny plot of land. The ticket lobby on the SE corner of 6 Avenue and E. 49 Street (79'7" x 45'4", reverse symmetrical with the entrance of RCMH a block north) fed into a Grand Foyer rather narrower than that of RCMH. After the theater’s demolition, this space became a large glass-walled demonstration room for RCA products. The length from far wall of the Foyer to the rear wall of the stage was the standard city block of 200'8". The stage wall abutted E. 48 Street, and measured 158' along the street beginning 79'7" from 6 Avenue. After demolition, it became a public garage and was topped by several stories of new office space. The reconstruction merged seamlessly with materials and style of the older building.
Sorry— the Drive-In was aptly named the “Quintree.”
Mikeoaklandpark— Those are accurate data, and others could supplement them with dozens more. But why give Marriott the fruit of your labors scott-free?
The Marriott Corp can well afford to pay a skilled researcher to do the leg work (or, rather, to let his or her fingers do the walking) through the NYT or Variety serials. Warren has already provided the key leads. Heaven knows such bibliographic talents get little recognition, even as mamouth corporations squander millions on trivial, self-enchanted pursuits. And heaven knows they frequently resort to quick and greedy grabs at info-facts to satisfy their wants. And heaven help the researcher who messes up this Astor/Victoria project from my reminiscent perspective: one single mistake will get him or her laughed off this page.
Knowledgable Quincyites ought to list some of the town’s old and now evidently demolished local theaters on this site. In the late ‘40s and early '50s when my aunt lived on Presidents Lane in Quincy, I remember visiting a few wonderful theaters: the Art on Hancock Street, the Strand on Coddington, the Capitol on Quincy, the Publix on Washington (or so I believe their names and approximate locations to have been). About ten years ago on a visit to Boston, I took the Red Line from Cambridge and walked the streets, finding that none of these theaters remained. On the town line between Quincy and Braintree, there was a drive-in theater aptly named the “Braintree.”
whoops — that’s “neighborhood,” not “naborhood.”
RobertR wondered what the Alpine’s interior might have looked like before it was subdivided. It looked like a gigantic oven. At least to my childish imagination, that’s how it compared when, one day in the late ‘40s, I peered into our kitchen stove and asked whether anyone could show a movie inside it. The Alpine was big and boxy, and it appeared all the more so because it had no balcony. Neighborhood lore had it that the builders discovered a structural flaw in construction and so, instead of adding a balcony, they extended the length of the building to accommodate a larger orchestra. You can in fact see two distinct stages of construction if you examine the building on its 69 Street side, walking east from 5 Avenue: the larger unit close to the avenue has a darker-toned brick; then there’s a cement pilaster, and the second, smaller unit in reddish brick continues eastward in a distinctively different, aesthetically mismatched style.
The interior likewise divided into two large, squarish units. The bigger one was dimly lit by four orange-tinted stained-glass light fixtures high on the ceiling. The smaller one close to the screen was even more dimly lit by four tiny gray light fixtures, whence my comparison to the family oven. The floor plan followed these unit-divisions, with a trans-horizontal aisle paralleling the division. Five vertical aisles produced four sections of seats. The matron-supervised Children’s Section occupied the far-left section in the front part of the house. The Smokers’ Section occupied the entire right-half of the house.
Because of the orchestra’s forward sprawl, the pre-CinemaScope screen appeared quite small from the rear sections. Except for a small apron in front of the screen, there was no stage, and instead of a proscenium, the area around the screen was draped with dark maroon curtains. The curtains parted just enough to reveal the screen and its thin black border. Both apron and curtains were eliminated to make room for a curved panoramic screen in Fall ’53. The latter, quite sizable but in the old 1.33 ratio, was replaced the following Spring by a wider but flat CinemaScope screen, which Loew’s management advertised as the largest in Brooklyn. In that dark, cavernous space, hardly any screen could have been large enough. In this same space, the sound echoed off the smooth, undecorated walls, especially when the house was empty. Though to this kid’s eyes, the single-screen Alpine might have looked like an oven, it had a super air-conditioning system and none of the musty smell that I remember at other naborhood theaters.
RoxyDon—Thanks for acknowleding my research. It was a sweat-free effort: the info comes from “The NY Times Directory of the Film,” ed. Arthur Knight, Arno Press/Random House, 1971, an index to the first six volumes of the complete multi-volume “NY Times Film Reviews,” currently compiled through the early 1990s. It’s cool to know that you were ushering at the Roxy when I saw a bunch of films there as a kid—betcha we encountered each other!
Concurrently, the Roxy was showing “Carousel” (16 Feb, eight weeks) and “The King and I” (28 June, nine weeks).
“Picnic” began a five-week run at RCHM on 16 Feb ‘56, and “Duchin” played at RCMH for seven weeks beginning on 22 June '56.
I’ve seen lots of live theater at The Public, but missed seeing any film there. Did The Little have columns supporting the ceiling as the live space had? I can tolerate columns for live theater, but coudn’t imagine doing so for film. Lexicologically, could we refer to this venue as “The Public’s ‘Little Theater’”?
The Alpine does not take a bow in SNF. The opening scene occurs on 86 Street and 20 Avenue near the Benson theater. You might discern Loew’s Oriental in the distance. The sociological distinctions in this film are exquisite. Vinnie’s girl-friend lives near 4 Avenue, and a key scene in her neighborhood takes place on 86 Street between 4th and 5th Avenues in front of a Key Food supermarket (is it still there? Century dept store now dominates this block), across the street from the long-gone RKO Shore Road theater. The Odyssey Disco stood on 65 Street and (I’m not exactly sure) 10 Avenue?
Awwarkâ€"you made me do it. I cracked open my cache of programs and playbills sealed up since a move in 1976. Here, from the program for “Bus Stop†in Sept. ’56, is “A story in verse†by the Roxy’s Managing Director Robert C. Rothafel, announcing the ice show “Magic of the Stage.â€
All stage magic, dear people, and please hear me well,
Has a charming, and most wond’rous story to tell… .
Now the bone, and the rag, and the hank of dyed hair,
The Director auditions on stage, bleak and bare… .
… ‘Tis the tale of the magic of Scenery to tell… .
And now, the Director has taken his stand,
Thus the God-likened power of light, to command… .
Tireless master halts briefly for passing review
Of effects in HI-FI, the magnetic and new… .
Costumes and make-up cast magical spell,
Over all on the stage and the patrons as well.
It’s a hoot from a stuffed owl, and you gotta love it! In prose, Rothafel also wrote a Personal Message to the Patrons for each new stage show. Here, from the program for “The Sun Also Rises†in August ’57, is his blurb for “Showplane,†devised on the theme of air travel: “In essence, containing perhaps more showmanship than many show business ventures, Miss Betty Murray’s idea for ‘Showplane’ was brought to reality by Pan American World Airlines… . Ever seeking the timely and the new, ‘Showplane’ offers to the Roxy, highly imaginative, new sources for new faces and new formats. Thus working cooperatively with Pan Am and Miss Murray, makes an exciting reality of bringing to the Roxy stage, outstanding personalities and ideas from Showplane’s travels throughout Pan Am’s world of 82 countries.†I reproduce the purple prose verbatim. What might a ‘50s school marm do with its non sequiturs, redundancies, whimsical punctuation, and broken syntax?
Here, finally, is Rothafel fudging the truth about CinemaScope 55 (much discussed in previous postings for the Roxy) in his Message for “The King and I†in June ’56: “For a motion picture of such magnitude, … we at the Roxy are grateful to Twentieth Century Fox. In this instance our appreciation is twofoldâ€"for grandeur and excellence in entertainment; and for pioneering developments in sound engineeringâ€"making possible the completed innovation of the century (introduced with CinemaScope 55 and “Carouselâ€)â€"Six channel magnetic sound. Spending again as much as was spent before, the Roxy now enjoys the finest and most modern equipment achievements, making possible the presentation of CinemaScope 55 with new six channel High Fidelity and True Directional Magnetic and Stereophonic Sound.†I like that: “the completed innovation of the century†and “equipment achievements.â€
Yes, the Roxy could be “tacky"â€"but who’d want to complain? Maybe "camp” is the better word—it confers an affectionate note.
And “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” in ‘45. The creme-de-la-creme would have to be “All About Eve” in October '50. Also in the running would be “Laura,” “Miracle on 34 Street,” “Night and the City,” and “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.” I saw none of them there, but I remember their newspaper ads —always more brassy (for comedy) or lurid (for drama) than comparable ads for ever-so-dignified RCMH.
Yes, Vito, natch', even if it was to see “Scudda Hoo! Scudda Hay!” which opened there in Spring ‘48: that all-time stinker about a boy (Lon McCallister) and two mules (which he preferred to June Haver) marked Marilyn Monroe’s screen debut (as an innocent hayseed)—Natalie Wood is also in the pic (and it sometimes airs on TCM). The Roxy was pre-eminently the home of the garishly technicolored Betty Grable/Dan Dailey musicals (“Mother Wore Tights”!), which would be fun to see. Best of all might be Clifton Webb’s Mr. Belvedere series, starting with “Sitting Pretty,” which I remember seein there with a St. Patrick’s Day themed stage show (green-clad choruses singing “I’m looking over a Four-Leaf Clover”) in March '48 (with previews of the afore-mentioned “Scudda Hoo! Scudda Hay!”).