In 1997, I was delighted to get a tour of the closed Orick Theatre from then 80-something-year-old Bob McNamara, who built the theatre. Here is the information he gave me:
Broke ground: June 6, 1947.
Opened: New Year’s Day 1948.
Apartments in same building were not finished by that time.
The theatre was last used fulltime commercially in the late Sixties, and sporadically for special events for several years after that.
At the time of my tour (1997), building was for sale. At the time Orick’s population was 650.
Mr. MacNamara gave me five old tickets which were still in the theatre: One for 30-cents, one for 90-cents, and three for 65-cents.
I took photos of the theatre inside and out, including a photo of Bob MacNamara and his son outside the theatre. The art deco chandeliers still lit up, as did the curtain lights, but the curtain motor was broken. He didn’t fire up the projectors, but he did turn on the slide projector, which still had a slide advertising a local merchant in it. A record was still on the turntable in the booth which was playable over the theatre’s sound system.
On the exterior beneath the storefront windows were sections of glass block which were lit from behind with neon. Mr. MacNamara disconnected them after a flood in the Sixties. These features are no longer visible today, as I stopped by the Orick this past Spring.
The bottom portion of the box office was, and still is, stored in the lobby.
In the vintage photo on the abovementioned link to the site showing historic buildings of Martinez, it is clear that the vertical sign is of the style often used by T&D in those days—California poppies done in lightbulbs, with a bouquet of poppies at the top. Most of these signs were for theatres named “California,” but appeared on other names in the T&D circuit. The only two signs I know of so styled in existence are an original example on the California in Dunsmuir, and a carefully-designed replica on the California, San Jose.
I should mention that the State’s entrance was moved to the corner of the building nearest the viewer in the 1930s remodel. That’s where the battered marquee mentioned in my previous post was located. Also, the entrance walls featured shiny black tile from sidewalk to soffit, with some turquoise and other colored tiles as accents. This tilework, like the marquee, was removed, and the entrance centered back where it was in its first years as a theatre when the office conversion took place.
All exterior cast ornament on the State Theatre building was preserved in its conversion to the Contra Costa County Public Defenders office. It still looks very much like a theatre, with a very obvious fly tower, as well as the theatrical urns and cornicework. Sadly, the corner marquee, still extant circa 1995, and photographed by me, did not survive the conversion. It was one of those zig-zag Thirties Fox West Coast jobs, with its red and white striping faded but intact, but hardly a scrap of neon clinging to it. Likely, its retention would have made a County office building just a little too festive.
The Amir is featured in Theatre Catalog, 1952 Volume, in a section on new cinema theatres in Egypt. I have yet to visit Alexandria, but during my second trip to Egypt, in 2005, I made a point to view several of the old theatres in Downtown Cairo on Talaat Harb Street, which is a couple of blocks from the Egyptian Museum.
Thanks for sharing this. I had no idea of the existence of this mural. Sad to see it’s going away. At least it had a somewhat lengthy life. I’ve painted a handful of murals—much smaller, and indoor. My largest one was “only” 600 square feet. It was in a coffeehouse which changed hands three months after I completed the mural. The new owner wanted to have a different look to the place and painted it over in plain creme color…or tried to. I derived some satisfaction that they had to hire a faux painter to do a custom textured finish to the wall, as I’d used such vivid colors that they kept coming through subsequent layers of paint like multicolored ghosts. Their problem, not mine. At least I got lots of photos. I would love to someday do an artistic homage to the old theatres of my youth. It might yet happen.
Star Wars had aleady been out for two and a half months by the time I first saw it. The theatre was the relatively humble UA 41st Ave. Playhouse in Capitola, CA. The little triplex still exists as the 41st Ave. Cinema. The reason I waited so long to see it was that right after 8th Grade graduation, my parents and I drove up the Coast to Oregon for a couple of weeks. Right after that, I went to summer camp for five weeks. While there, I met a few kids who had seen this movie called Star Wars. From their hyper descriptions, all I could gather was that there were spaceships, lasers, and a princess. I was intregued, mildly. But then, my best friend Jeff (one of my very best friends to this day) wrote me a letter and described it as like being “solid 2001, but way more neat stuff.” I knew I could trust my friend’s assessment, and by the time I got home from camp, he was ready to see it again. So, he, my parents, my cousin Grant, and my adopted grandma Margaret all went to see it. I was blown away. I remember walking out of that matinee showing gesturing wildly about all the ships diving and swooping. I saw it a couple of other times before 9th Grade began, and saw it on video the following Christmas. What? Saw it on video? In 1977? Well, my oldest cousin (also named Gary) was a projectionist for UA in the L.A. area, and he and some buddies hooked up one of those gigantic video recorders to the projection system, and produced a tape which he allowed my cousin Grant and I to watch as many times as we wanted to over the Christmas holiday on their TV. The images were slightly squished vertically, and the sound was inferior, but we didn’t care. This was our own personal Star Wars tape for several days. We watched it five times before I had to leave to go back home to Northern California. All my school friends thought I’d gotten the best present.
When Star Wars was re-released many years later, before the final Trilogy came out, I considered going to see it with as many of the people I had seen it with originally. This was impossible, however. Dad and my adopted grandma had passed away, Mom was not available, Jeff was living in Southern California. But my cousin Grant was going to UC Berkeley, and so he and I went to the Coronet in San Francisco and saw it. The old magic was still there, although we both agreed that by more recent standards it moved a little slow for an action-packed movie. One more memory—in the audience was then-San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown, sitting with a gorgeous woman who was wearing a feminine version of the same (likely Armani) suit the Mayor was wearing. There were a couple of security guys nearby, watching over the Mayor. The Coronet was packed, and cheers and laughter welled-up in the audience much as they had in ‘77.
During a brief breakfast stop in Salinas on the way to Visalia this past weekend, I got to check out the Fox facade. It’s wearing a nice bright paint job, similar to, but a little simpler than its previous one. The vertical sign and marquee have likewise been repainted. The reader boards have been removed from the marquee, presumably for either new ones or new signage. The frames of the poster cases are now done in gold. The box office gleams with fresh paint and polish. The lobby still has its dark early 1990s carpeting, but the walls are painted in reddish hues, much nicer, I think, than the previous salmon and blue-grey. I noticed one small tragedy: The last remaining etched glass door panel is now cracked. The front doors—and their etched panels—have long been the only publically visible feature of the original Neoclassical facade. In the 1990s, I made a rubbing of the then-still-extant other remaining etched panel, with the idea that this would be an insurance policy if ever all of the panels were gone. I still have the rubbing. The panel I took it from was a little more defined in its design than the one extant today.
As a longtime etched glass artist, I will try to contact the new operators, and see if I can be of service. I will not use this Cinematreasures post to trumpet my business contact information, but anyone involved with the project is welcome to contact me below, and we’ll take it from there.
Well, here I am again one year later. This last weekend we did our family gathering in Visalia, and we swung by the Avenal on the way home. It looks the same in front as it did when I last posted. Around the back, however, it was a slightly different story. The “sound blister” has been cut away, and that enabled me to see into, and photograph, the ruins of the auditorium. Debris has been cleared away, and the charred heavy beams of the roof are still silouhetted against the sky. The interior wall surfaces look saveable—scorched, and in some places crumbled. The matching circular mural vignettes depicting spear-wielding men on horseback which flank the proscenium are damaged, but restorable. The fluted plaster proscenium is scorched and water-damaged, and will have to be replaced.
During the intervening past year, I have been told that the legal proceedings regarding the cause of the fire, and who was responsible, have been continuing.
Nice to see this spricing-up of the Palace. I visited it with the Theatre Historical Society in 1995. The whole building is highly restorable. Most, if not all, of the interior plasterwork is there, and the atmospheric auditorium could easily be brought back with a lot of paint, and new wiring.
Terrific idea! I’ve been a THSA member since 1987, and have registered, but this is a wonderful way to get folks in Cinematreasures easily introduced to THSA. This is a great example of “symbiosis” between these kindred organizations—one relatively new, and one relatively venerable.
Nice to at least see a view of the vertical. This is the only photo I’ve ever seen of the Campus while still a theatre. I can see the dome of UC Berkeley’s International House (still extant) in the distance at the end of the street. I recall that building was opened in 1931. My landlady when I was living in Oakland in the ‘80s was a resident of International House that year that it opened, so the photo would date after 1931.
Yeah, our doggone sue-happy society. That’s why I and one friend who’s in the architectural salvage business have numerous times, after exhausting official channels, waited for Sunday in the early morning, hopped fences, and taken what would otherwise have been destroyed. Because of this, light fixtures and ornamental plaster from several San Francisco theatres gutted for condos now have found second life—beautifully restored—lighting and decorating several Bay Area homes…including our own. To be fair, though, some property owners were perfectly happy to have my friend sign a waiver, and then for a fairly low purchase price, let him remove what he wanted.
I saw and photographed this neon treasure for the first time less than two weeks ago. Truly a must for neon buffs. With regards to the above comment that the theatre opened in 1923, that’s not a surprise. The exterior sidewalls of the auditorium clearly look much older than the facade. Ornamental brickwork and tile clearly make a 1920s date of original construction very likely.
My wife and I enjoyed seeing “The Lives of Others” at the Hollywood week-before-last. The exterior is looking really nice. The Fifties-style marquee still does its job in a tawdry way, but the rest of the exterior is painted nicely, and the newly repainted and relamped vertical sign is an animated stunner! It’s a wonderful thing that is happening at the Hollywood. Though clearly there is much work to be done, much has already been accomplished. If I lived in or near Portland, I’d get involved in it!
It seems the Guild is currently being used as some sort of construction manager’s office for the huge development project across the street, which as of now, consists of a truly colossal pit in the ground and what looks to be the beginnning of a vast subterranean parking garage. The tall old building immediately to the left of the Guild is being given a refurbishing. It shares much of the same exterior ornament as the Guild, including the little niches occupied by busts of famous composers. Hopefully, when the dust settles, the Guild will still remain.
My wife and I enjoyed “Children of Men” at the Bagdad week-before-last. This theatre has a wonderful atmosphere. I would not call it restored, but certainly well-preserved and nicely maintained. The restaurant in the front of the building has fantastic muralwork which compliments, but doesn’t imitate, the intact decorative painting of the theatre proper. I would call the historic decorative style of the theatre’s interior to be “Islamo-Byzantine Meets the Book of Kells.”
I saw and photographed the exterior of the Savoy last week. By chance, the woman who owns and operates it came out and spoke with me. She told me that it was built in the Thirties, and indeed was originally called the Colonial. She named the theatre Savoy after a favorite dog of hers, whom she’d named after the Savoy Brown band(!), with full knowledge that there are plenty of old theatres the world over with the name Savoy. A friend of hers from Canada painted the mural which is on the exterior wall facing you as you drive Northward on 101. The wall holding the mural is not actually a wall of the theatre, but the sole surviving wall of a grocery store which once stood next to the theatre. The owner of the grocery had long ago feared that the theatre would burn someday due to the projector, and so erected the concrete wall to protect his store. Ironically, it was the grocery store which eventually burned down. There was a restaurant and gas station on the other side of the theatre. These are now replaced by a modern building. The previous owner of the theatre also operated theatres in Weed, and the California Theatre in Dunsmuir. The present owner of the Savoy had her eyes longingly on the Dunsmuir Cal, but it was too large a project for her to get involved in.
I saw and photographed the exterior of this cute, turquoise-hued deco ziggurat-facaded theatre last week. It is still called The Ark, and appears to still be functioning. I could see into the homey lobby, likewise painted turquoise, and see that clearly, the building is occupied by people for whom aesthetics and charm matter. Here’s hoping it continues.
This tiny theatre houses a Wurlitzer! Who’d’ve thought! More power to them! I saw and photographed the exterior last week. It appears just as in the previous post by Don Lewis.
I saw and photographed this theatre’s exterior last week. One of the young women who work there apologized that the COLISEUM name was not lit up on one side of the marquee. She said that the firm who built and maintained the present marquee was from Portland and had gone out of business, and the theatre staff had yet to find a new neon contractor to take care of the problem.
We were let into the tiny and plain lobby. There is a photo on the lobby wall of the theatre exterior when new, which shows a vertical sign to the right of the facade. Below this is a little written tribute to the theatre, written by a longtime patron.
I was let into the Liberty for a five-minute look by a gracious box office employee last week. The interior is every bit as ornate and fanciful as the facade over the entrance.
I have been told that arrangements are underway to acquire and install a theatre pipe organ.
I saw and photographed this theatre last week. It still looks the same as in the above photo. Some of the letters on the reader board reading “Movie Theatre” have now fallen off, and the second floor windows seem to have been filled with some king of casing and sash.
I saw and photographed what remains of the Capitol week-before-last. A beautiful theatre was sacrificed for a handful of parking spaces. The facade could have been retained without losing any parking, but it made way for a row of pathetic little bushes.
The stagehouse remains, with the proscenium opening closed-off by cement blocks. One sidewall of the auditorium still mostly stands—bare concrete with some fragments of textured decorative plaster and the stepped outline of the balcony risers. One Corinthian column in white-glazed terra cotta stands as the sole remainder of the theatre facade proper. To the right of this, an ornamental doorway surmounted by a niche containing an urn now serves as a storage place for dumpsters. Originally, this passage lead from the balcony fire escape out to the street. The office and retail portion of the Capitol building remains intact and functioning, and continues all around the corner to the facade of the separate Elsinore Theatre. The Capitol’s still-standing stagehouse backs up to one end of the Elsinore’s stagehouse.
I got to go inside this cinema week-before-last, and meet the current owner, who very graciously showed me around the place and hung out for conversation about area theatres.
This cinema is worth attending just for the wildly creative and eclectic decor alone. Among the accoutrements, the metal channel letters from the marquee of the STATE Theatre in Corvallis, now demolished.
In 1997, I was delighted to get a tour of the closed Orick Theatre from then 80-something-year-old Bob McNamara, who built the theatre. Here is the information he gave me:
Broke ground: June 6, 1947.
Opened: New Year’s Day 1948.
Apartments in same building were not finished by that time.
The theatre was last used fulltime commercially in the late Sixties, and sporadically for special events for several years after that.
At the time of my tour (1997), building was for sale. At the time Orick’s population was 650.
Mr. MacNamara gave me five old tickets which were still in the theatre: One for 30-cents, one for 90-cents, and three for 65-cents.
I took photos of the theatre inside and out, including a photo of Bob MacNamara and his son outside the theatre. The art deco chandeliers still lit up, as did the curtain lights, but the curtain motor was broken. He didn’t fire up the projectors, but he did turn on the slide projector, which still had a slide advertising a local merchant in it. A record was still on the turntable in the booth which was playable over the theatre’s sound system.
On the exterior beneath the storefront windows were sections of glass block which were lit from behind with neon. Mr. MacNamara disconnected them after a flood in the Sixties. These features are no longer visible today, as I stopped by the Orick this past Spring.
The bottom portion of the box office was, and still is, stored in the lobby.
In the vintage photo on the abovementioned link to the site showing historic buildings of Martinez, it is clear that the vertical sign is of the style often used by T&D in those days—California poppies done in lightbulbs, with a bouquet of poppies at the top. Most of these signs were for theatres named “California,” but appeared on other names in the T&D circuit. The only two signs I know of so styled in existence are an original example on the California in Dunsmuir, and a carefully-designed replica on the California, San Jose.
I should mention that the State’s entrance was moved to the corner of the building nearest the viewer in the 1930s remodel. That’s where the battered marquee mentioned in my previous post was located. Also, the entrance walls featured shiny black tile from sidewalk to soffit, with some turquoise and other colored tiles as accents. This tilework, like the marquee, was removed, and the entrance centered back where it was in its first years as a theatre when the office conversion took place.
All exterior cast ornament on the State Theatre building was preserved in its conversion to the Contra Costa County Public Defenders office. It still looks very much like a theatre, with a very obvious fly tower, as well as the theatrical urns and cornicework. Sadly, the corner marquee, still extant circa 1995, and photographed by me, did not survive the conversion. It was one of those zig-zag Thirties Fox West Coast jobs, with its red and white striping faded but intact, but hardly a scrap of neon clinging to it. Likely, its retention would have made a County office building just a little too festive.
The Amir is featured in Theatre Catalog, 1952 Volume, in a section on new cinema theatres in Egypt. I have yet to visit Alexandria, but during my second trip to Egypt, in 2005, I made a point to view several of the old theatres in Downtown Cairo on Talaat Harb Street, which is a couple of blocks from the Egyptian Museum.
Thanks for sharing this. I had no idea of the existence of this mural. Sad to see it’s going away. At least it had a somewhat lengthy life. I’ve painted a handful of murals—much smaller, and indoor. My largest one was “only” 600 square feet. It was in a coffeehouse which changed hands three months after I completed the mural. The new owner wanted to have a different look to the place and painted it over in plain creme color…or tried to. I derived some satisfaction that they had to hire a faux painter to do a custom textured finish to the wall, as I’d used such vivid colors that they kept coming through subsequent layers of paint like multicolored ghosts. Their problem, not mine. At least I got lots of photos. I would love to someday do an artistic homage to the old theatres of my youth. It might yet happen.
Star Wars had aleady been out for two and a half months by the time I first saw it. The theatre was the relatively humble UA 41st Ave. Playhouse in Capitola, CA. The little triplex still exists as the 41st Ave. Cinema. The reason I waited so long to see it was that right after 8th Grade graduation, my parents and I drove up the Coast to Oregon for a couple of weeks. Right after that, I went to summer camp for five weeks. While there, I met a few kids who had seen this movie called Star Wars. From their hyper descriptions, all I could gather was that there were spaceships, lasers, and a princess. I was intregued, mildly. But then, my best friend Jeff (one of my very best friends to this day) wrote me a letter and described it as like being “solid 2001, but way more neat stuff.” I knew I could trust my friend’s assessment, and by the time I got home from camp, he was ready to see it again. So, he, my parents, my cousin Grant, and my adopted grandma Margaret all went to see it. I was blown away. I remember walking out of that matinee showing gesturing wildly about all the ships diving and swooping. I saw it a couple of other times before 9th Grade began, and saw it on video the following Christmas. What? Saw it on video? In 1977? Well, my oldest cousin (also named Gary) was a projectionist for UA in the L.A. area, and he and some buddies hooked up one of those gigantic video recorders to the projection system, and produced a tape which he allowed my cousin Grant and I to watch as many times as we wanted to over the Christmas holiday on their TV. The images were slightly squished vertically, and the sound was inferior, but we didn’t care. This was our own personal Star Wars tape for several days. We watched it five times before I had to leave to go back home to Northern California. All my school friends thought I’d gotten the best present.
When Star Wars was re-released many years later, before the final Trilogy came out, I considered going to see it with as many of the people I had seen it with originally. This was impossible, however. Dad and my adopted grandma had passed away, Mom was not available, Jeff was living in Southern California. But my cousin Grant was going to UC Berkeley, and so he and I went to the Coronet in San Francisco and saw it. The old magic was still there, although we both agreed that by more recent standards it moved a little slow for an action-packed movie. One more memory—in the audience was then-San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown, sitting with a gorgeous woman who was wearing a feminine version of the same (likely Armani) suit the Mayor was wearing. There were a couple of security guys nearby, watching over the Mayor. The Coronet was packed, and cheers and laughter welled-up in the audience much as they had in ‘77.
During a brief breakfast stop in Salinas on the way to Visalia this past weekend, I got to check out the Fox facade. It’s wearing a nice bright paint job, similar to, but a little simpler than its previous one. The vertical sign and marquee have likewise been repainted. The reader boards have been removed from the marquee, presumably for either new ones or new signage. The frames of the poster cases are now done in gold. The box office gleams with fresh paint and polish. The lobby still has its dark early 1990s carpeting, but the walls are painted in reddish hues, much nicer, I think, than the previous salmon and blue-grey. I noticed one small tragedy: The last remaining etched glass door panel is now cracked. The front doors—and their etched panels—have long been the only publically visible feature of the original Neoclassical facade. In the 1990s, I made a rubbing of the then-still-extant other remaining etched panel, with the idea that this would be an insurance policy if ever all of the panels were gone. I still have the rubbing. The panel I took it from was a little more defined in its design than the one extant today.
As a longtime etched glass artist, I will try to contact the new operators, and see if I can be of service. I will not use this Cinematreasures post to trumpet my business contact information, but anyone involved with the project is welcome to contact me below, and we’ll take it from there.
Well, here I am again one year later. This last weekend we did our family gathering in Visalia, and we swung by the Avenal on the way home. It looks the same in front as it did when I last posted. Around the back, however, it was a slightly different story. The “sound blister” has been cut away, and that enabled me to see into, and photograph, the ruins of the auditorium. Debris has been cleared away, and the charred heavy beams of the roof are still silouhetted against the sky. The interior wall surfaces look saveable—scorched, and in some places crumbled. The matching circular mural vignettes depicting spear-wielding men on horseback which flank the proscenium are damaged, but restorable. The fluted plaster proscenium is scorched and water-damaged, and will have to be replaced.
During the intervening past year, I have been told that the legal proceedings regarding the cause of the fire, and who was responsible, have been continuing.
Nice to see this spricing-up of the Palace. I visited it with the Theatre Historical Society in 1995. The whole building is highly restorable. Most, if not all, of the interior plasterwork is there, and the atmospheric auditorium could easily be brought back with a lot of paint, and new wiring.
Terrific idea! I’ve been a THSA member since 1987, and have registered, but this is a wonderful way to get folks in Cinematreasures easily introduced to THSA. This is a great example of “symbiosis” between these kindred organizations—one relatively new, and one relatively venerable.
Nice to at least see a view of the vertical. This is the only photo I’ve ever seen of the Campus while still a theatre. I can see the dome of UC Berkeley’s International House (still extant) in the distance at the end of the street. I recall that building was opened in 1931. My landlady when I was living in Oakland in the ‘80s was a resident of International House that year that it opened, so the photo would date after 1931.
Yeah, our doggone sue-happy society. That’s why I and one friend who’s in the architectural salvage business have numerous times, after exhausting official channels, waited for Sunday in the early morning, hopped fences, and taken what would otherwise have been destroyed. Because of this, light fixtures and ornamental plaster from several San Francisco theatres gutted for condos now have found second life—beautifully restored—lighting and decorating several Bay Area homes…including our own. To be fair, though, some property owners were perfectly happy to have my friend sign a waiver, and then for a fairly low purchase price, let him remove what he wanted.
I saw and photographed this neon treasure for the first time less than two weeks ago. Truly a must for neon buffs. With regards to the above comment that the theatre opened in 1923, that’s not a surprise. The exterior sidewalls of the auditorium clearly look much older than the facade. Ornamental brickwork and tile clearly make a 1920s date of original construction very likely.
My wife and I enjoyed seeing “The Lives of Others” at the Hollywood week-before-last. The exterior is looking really nice. The Fifties-style marquee still does its job in a tawdry way, but the rest of the exterior is painted nicely, and the newly repainted and relamped vertical sign is an animated stunner! It’s a wonderful thing that is happening at the Hollywood. Though clearly there is much work to be done, much has already been accomplished. If I lived in or near Portland, I’d get involved in it!
It seems the Guild is currently being used as some sort of construction manager’s office for the huge development project across the street, which as of now, consists of a truly colossal pit in the ground and what looks to be the beginnning of a vast subterranean parking garage. The tall old building immediately to the left of the Guild is being given a refurbishing. It shares much of the same exterior ornament as the Guild, including the little niches occupied by busts of famous composers. Hopefully, when the dust settles, the Guild will still remain.
My wife and I enjoyed “Children of Men” at the Bagdad week-before-last. This theatre has a wonderful atmosphere. I would not call it restored, but certainly well-preserved and nicely maintained. The restaurant in the front of the building has fantastic muralwork which compliments, but doesn’t imitate, the intact decorative painting of the theatre proper. I would call the historic decorative style of the theatre’s interior to be “Islamo-Byzantine Meets the Book of Kells.”
I saw and photographed the exterior of the Savoy last week. By chance, the woman who owns and operates it came out and spoke with me. She told me that it was built in the Thirties, and indeed was originally called the Colonial. She named the theatre Savoy after a favorite dog of hers, whom she’d named after the Savoy Brown band(!), with full knowledge that there are plenty of old theatres the world over with the name Savoy. A friend of hers from Canada painted the mural which is on the exterior wall facing you as you drive Northward on 101. The wall holding the mural is not actually a wall of the theatre, but the sole surviving wall of a grocery store which once stood next to the theatre. The owner of the grocery had long ago feared that the theatre would burn someday due to the projector, and so erected the concrete wall to protect his store. Ironically, it was the grocery store which eventually burned down. There was a restaurant and gas station on the other side of the theatre. These are now replaced by a modern building. The previous owner of the theatre also operated theatres in Weed, and the California Theatre in Dunsmuir. The present owner of the Savoy had her eyes longingly on the Dunsmuir Cal, but it was too large a project for her to get involved in.
I saw and photographed the exterior of this cute, turquoise-hued deco ziggurat-facaded theatre last week. It is still called The Ark, and appears to still be functioning. I could see into the homey lobby, likewise painted turquoise, and see that clearly, the building is occupied by people for whom aesthetics and charm matter. Here’s hoping it continues.
This tiny theatre houses a Wurlitzer! Who’d’ve thought! More power to them! I saw and photographed the exterior last week. It appears just as in the previous post by Don Lewis.
I saw and photographed this theatre’s exterior last week. One of the young women who work there apologized that the COLISEUM name was not lit up on one side of the marquee. She said that the firm who built and maintained the present marquee was from Portland and had gone out of business, and the theatre staff had yet to find a new neon contractor to take care of the problem.
We were let into the tiny and plain lobby. There is a photo on the lobby wall of the theatre exterior when new, which shows a vertical sign to the right of the facade. Below this is a little written tribute to the theatre, written by a longtime patron.
I was let into the Liberty for a five-minute look by a gracious box office employee last week. The interior is every bit as ornate and fanciful as the facade over the entrance.
I have been told that arrangements are underway to acquire and install a theatre pipe organ.
I saw and photographed this theatre last week. It still looks the same as in the above photo. Some of the letters on the reader board reading “Movie Theatre” have now fallen off, and the second floor windows seem to have been filled with some king of casing and sash.
I saw and photographed what remains of the Capitol week-before-last. A beautiful theatre was sacrificed for a handful of parking spaces. The facade could have been retained without losing any parking, but it made way for a row of pathetic little bushes.
The stagehouse remains, with the proscenium opening closed-off by cement blocks. One sidewall of the auditorium still mostly stands—bare concrete with some fragments of textured decorative plaster and the stepped outline of the balcony risers. One Corinthian column in white-glazed terra cotta stands as the sole remainder of the theatre facade proper. To the right of this, an ornamental doorway surmounted by a niche containing an urn now serves as a storage place for dumpsters. Originally, this passage lead from the balcony fire escape out to the street. The office and retail portion of the Capitol building remains intact and functioning, and continues all around the corner to the facade of the separate Elsinore Theatre. The Capitol’s still-standing stagehouse backs up to one end of the Elsinore’s stagehouse.
I got to go inside this cinema week-before-last, and meet the current owner, who very graciously showed me around the place and hung out for conversation about area theatres.
This cinema is worth attending just for the wildly creative and eclectic decor alone. Among the accoutrements, the metal channel letters from the marquee of the STATE Theatre in Corvallis, now demolished.
The metal channel letters reading STATE from the marquee are now included in the funky and eclectic interior decor of Corvallis' Avalon Cinema.