I can confirm the immediately previous post. I remember seeing “The Sound of Music” at the Crest. It was one of probably the first three or four movies I ever saw.
The interior decoration of the 4th Avenue was done by Heinsbergen.
If you look at the 1940s photo of the mezzanine, you will notice on the right a wall over the staircase which is covered in square metal-leafed bas relief panels, depicting wildlife. Some of these patterns were also cast and installed in another Heinsbergen-decorated theatre, the Garden (1949) in San Jose, CA. The wildlife panels were in a single row atop the wall which backed the concession counter.
The Garden Theatre remained very well preserved through its 1988 closing. In 1989, the Garden was gutted and turned into an office and retail building. The abovementioned relief panels were removed, along with many other decorative features, prior to the building’s conversion. Many features now appear in a couple of other Bay Area theatres, but I have yet to see the wildlife relief panels displayed anywhere.
The Garden’s exterior remains largely intact, in fact the vertical sign had its neon restored just this past summer.
I remember that, sometime in the 1980s, a similar find was made of original posters painted by the in-house artist at the Eastman Theatre in Rochester, New York. This theatre has long been a performing arts center, and was considered to be a cut above other theatres even when built. It was designed by McKim, Mead, and White—top perveyors of the “serious” Beaux-Arts style. Anyway, it was decided by the management at that time that the posters which were shipped with the movies were too garish and commonplace for so classy a theatre, and so the staff artist made “new” handpainted posters for each movie that played. They were very striking in their design. Anyway, I don’t remember if they were discovered in the theatre or somewhere offsite, but many decades later, they got their just due. I think (not positive) Smithsonian magazine ran an article about the posters and their artist, and that’s where I learned about it.
Part of the facade of the Maya Cinemas is a replica of the facade of the Crystal Theatre, which was a 1930s art deco remodeling of the 1910 Brown’s Opera House, which was demolished—along with several other adjacent buildings—to make way for the new cinema complex. The replicated Crystal facade and vertical sign (which reads Maya Cinemas) is quite competently executed. This writer, however, wishes that the original facade had been preserved and incorporated into the new structure, as was the original plan. Still, replication is better than having lost all trace of what was once there.
I applaud the theatre in throwing the kids out. I agree with the majority of the posters above as to the reasons why. One of the reasons (though by no means the only reason) we have these kids who behave so sloppily is that they are the offspring of those who were of the hippie and immediate post-hippie generation, and the over psychoanalized child-rearing trends which followed it. I believe in what that generation wanted in terms of peace and environmentalism, and by all means applaud the recent out-in-the-open intolerance of actual ABUSE of children, but my very loving parents taught me about both trust and OBEDIENCE. Nowadays, the latter word is only applied to pets, or to adults engaging in certain private consentual activities.
Rules exist because they are the cement of society. Good manners exist because they are the cement of the soul.
I’ve never been inside this theatre, although my folks attended it in the 1950s. I’ve long enjoyed its exterior. Usually it’s the facade which is the main attention getter—and the Fairfax has a nice deco one, but for me and doubtlessly for some others, the faded and overlapping layers of signage on the rear of the stage fly tower are what sets this theatre apart, with things like, “FOX FAIRFAX The Place to Go!” “FAIRFAX THEATRE Glorifying the talking screen” and a notification of seat prices, which was repainted a number of times as prices changed.
Congratulations to Jack and Jennifer on the completion of their book! I am looking forward to yet another theatre history treat. Jack’s book, Theatres of San Francisco, is a work I have revisited repeatedly, at times to check on a specific theatre for my own knowledge/research, and sometimes just because this book is such fun to page through. Jennifer contacted me regarding a couple of knowledge tidbits for the book. I don’t know yet if she was able to make use of them in the final product, but no matter, it was a pleasure to meet her over the phone—she was most gracious. And Jack’s contageous enthusiastic storytelling talents in the area of both the fun and the rigours of exhibition—which are so engaging in person—come through very clearly via the printed word.
It should be noted that the auditorium looked quite different for most of the theatre’s life than it does in the UCLA Archive photos. It was given a Moderne remodeling, and that is what survived by the time the theatre closed. I don’t know how the lobby and mezzanine spaces looked by then. I have somewhere a newspaper clipping showing the auditorium shortly before demolition, and it was attractive, but nothing like the wild Italianate-On-Acid appearance it had when first built!
Does anyone know where some interior views from the Belmont’s Skouras remodel years might be seen? I was last in there in 1973, but my memory is quite clear. I would love to check it against actual photos. I remember the big sculpted golden swirls around the screen, and blue-toned murals of an almost Boticellian Venus—but with a long, flowing dress—in circular medallions on the sidewalls. Even as a kid I thought of the famous Boticelli painting, and thought maybe in the days when the Belmont was built (not then knowing it was a redecoration) people were too prudish to accept a “true” (nude) version.
Good grief! I’m going to be passing by Long Beach in a few weeks. I’d better try to photograph the Atlantic while I can. I went to the Crest as a very young kid—but never, as well as I can recall—the Atlantic. So many theatres in Long Beach gone, nearly all. Even in the late 60s and early 70s there was so much about this city to enchant one. Now…so little.
I will always remember a delightful bit of showmanship employed on the night I first attended the Metro, in 1984…to see the then current remake of the Orwellian, “1984,” with John Hurt and Richard Burton (the latter’s final feature). After the previews, the curtain closed, all the deco chandeliers dimmed to their RED circuit, and Eurythmics' then popular hit, “Sex Crime (1984)” boomed over the sound system, fading out about 2/3 of the way into the song on the line, “pull the bricks down one by one by one…” Then the curtain raised once more, the lights went to their BLUE circuit, and the film began. Whoever was the manager back then had a true flair for theatrics! I will never forget it!
From Gary Parks:
Right now I’m at the mercy of a rather antiquated computer setup. I’m happy to scan the prints and email. The whole posting on the web thing is a little cumbersome right now. Feel free to email me. As long as the requests don’t get too numerous. One can get overwhelmed. :–)
Firstoff, a little historic correction: The theatre was designed by James and Merrit Reid. The office of Timothy Pflueger did the 1941 remodel, which is mainly what one sees today in the auditorium. The vertical sign dates from this time, but the marquee dates from an earlier and more lighthanded redecoration, as does the deco sunburst pattern you see today on the inner lobby ceiling once you enter.
The plasterwork in the outer and inner lobbies is mostly from 1924. The paintwork on the outer lobby ceiling is 1924, save for some minor embellishments by artist Kelly Cool during the 1998 refurbishing. She also did the arched murals which are on either side as you proceed from the outer to inner lobby.
The lobby as remodeled by Pflueger no longer exists, having been totally removed during the 1998 refurbishing, at which time the original 1924 lobby was largely restored, with some sympathetic updating.
The auditorium features murals by the Heinsbergen decorating firm. These date from Pflueger’s remodeling. The ceiling, save for the 1998 acoustical panels, chandeliers and 1941 paint, is from 1924.
Behind the draped and plastered angled walls on either side of the screen are hidden extensive intact remnants if the 1924 auditorium. These include large Ionic columns surmounted by eagles clutching shields, and arched niches containing urns and long-disconnected cove lighting. The organ chambers, though empty, are intact, and their openwork grilles, though slightly damaged, are largely extant.
I was one of the historical advisors to the 1998 renovation, and was a guest at the subsequent Grand Reopening. I would love to see the Metro escape demolition, even if it meant only a partial retention of the building. While preserving the building intact would be my first choice, even a reuse of the building’s shell, with a restoration of the facade’s key decorative elements is preferable to complete demolition, which will likely give birth to yet another example of slavish, tired devotion to the long-outdated and academically-loved but (usually) publically-loathed Bauhaus style, or worse, a poorly proportioned attempt at historicism such as is so common today—a style best described as “Lego Mediterranean.”
All this being said, I am not currently in a position to actively help in the fight to save the Metro—professional and preexisting volunteer obligations preclude this—but I would be more than happy to share copies of the photos I took in 1998 of the 1924 architectural features which exist behind the 1941 walls, as well as extensive knowledge of theatres designed by Reid Bros., having been closely involved with the ongoing preservation and restoration efforts at the Reid-designed Golden State Theatre in Monterey, as well as a little aid in the efforts to save San Francisco’s Harding Theatre.
Very, VERY cute story! When I, in an advanced reading group in 2nd grade, started reading Greek and Roman mythology, my Dad taught me the three Classical orders of column capitals—Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. He unleashed a monster, for, whenever we would be driving around the Los Angeles metropolitan area, I would bark-out the various column types whenever I’d spot them. At some point around that time, when telling me some anecdote about his childhood moviegoing experience in Waterbury, CT, he remarked that the biggest movie theatre in town, Poli’s Palace (Lamb, 1922, though Dad was unaware of that) had a line of Corinthian columns all across its facade. Dad had last seen that theatre circa 1936. When I visited that same theatre on my first Theatre Historical Society Conclave in 1990, sure enough, there they were, Corinthian columns on the Palace’s facade! Amazing what we retain in our memories.
My wife and I saw “Pirates of the Carribean 2” at the Central while on the home stretch of a three-week road trip through the Southwest last month. Even though the movie had been out for several weeks, there were probably about twenty patrons, mostly kids, with a parent or parents, in attendance. The staff of two teenage girls and one late teen/early twentysomething (?) young man welcomed us, and let me take pictures and showed me the old coal-burning furnace backstage. Although a late Thirties theatre, there is a rather deep stage (no fly tower), with the screen mounted at its rear. We were told that once in a great while the stage is still used for local events, most recently a fashion show for a local clothing retailer.
The exterior and interior of the theatre are not restored, but quite well preserved, if a little world-weary looking. The sign tower’s green neon letters still light up, and there is wonderful yellow backlit paneling in the reader board. The doors are beautiful. The lobby has gone through remodeling, probably in the Seventies or Eighties. The auditorium has soundfold-covered walls, but the ceiling still features rich art deco cast plasterwork with original decorative paint, and huge saucer-shaped light fixtures.
We were told that the theatre was built using all local talent and labor.
My wife and I discovered the Fox upon approaching Trinidad from New Mexico while on our Southwest vacation last month. I had no idea of its existence—and I know of a lot of theatres! While our schedule did not permit us to stay in Trinidad long enough to see “House by the Lake,” the movie which was playing there that night, I took many photos of the exterior from all sides, and shots of the gilded plaster and mosaic-floored lobby through the glass of the front doors. Indeed, what a spectacular building! I’m surprised to find that it was designed by the “lesser-known” of the Rapp Brothers.
The next day, we were in Golden, for a reunion of my father-in-law’s family, and I met a cousin of my father-in-law who is a realtor in Trinidad, and he described the theatre’s interior to me much like the account above, though in a little less detail architecturally. He also said that it had been used a few times in relatively recent years for some stage presentations, though this had been a rare occurrance. Next time we travel to Colorado for another family event, we will make a point of visiting the Fox. I hope it remains open long enough!
I saw this theatre when traveling home from Death Valley in 2000 with friends. Unfortunately I was cameraless. I have since seen photos of when the theatre was new, and the exterior as I saw it was virtually unchanged from what the photos show, save for the removal of the FOX name from the marquee. The interior was very plain, save for the ubiquitous floral swirls of what would eventually be known as the Skouras Style. The concession counter was adorned with these swirls on panels of etched aluminum, as was done in so many Fox houses of the day. In its heyday, this theatre must have been a little visual oasis (both decoratively and via the product exhibited therein) in what was and is a majestically bleak and culturally remote part of California.
I made a brief stop in Avenal on my way to Visalia this past weekend. Some rebuilding has been undertaken at the theatre site. Storefronts to the right of the theatre entrance have been rebuilt in a contemporary style, but are not yet occupied. Storefronts to the left of the theatre are framed and not yet completed, and look to be a replication of what was there formerly. The theatre entrance has been cleared of debris, with the damaged box office and poster case areas somewhat cleaned up and temporarily stabilized. Looking into the now roofless lobby and into the auditorium, it appears debris has been cleared out of there as well.
Last weekend, I saw the Strand Theatre for the first time. I was interested in finding it because the uncle of a friend of mine was organist there in the silent film era. Unfortunately I’ve lost contact with my friend, but I met his uncle in the mid-1990s, who was living in a wonderful old house in Palo Alto at the time. He had several pianos and electronic organs in his home, and lent me a tape of some recent piano compositions of his, which amazingly (for a man of his years) sounded remarkably like the comtemporary jazz/new age fusion so popular in the last two decades. He said that the theatre was called the State then, so presumably the name change from Strand to State took place very early—in the Twenties.
But back to the theatre itself—
The structure is built of brick. There is a large office/commercial block fronting the auditorium portion. Only the far right storefront is in use. The other three are boarded up, as is the entrance. The marquee has been removed, but an inscription in the stone or terra cotta entablature atop the office block still reads, STRAND THEATRE. The theatre features a fly tower and a surprisingly deep stage for a theatre in a city the size of Dinuba. Judging by the auditorium’s size from the outside, the seating capacity must have been nearly or slightly over 1000.
I took pictures. I held my digital camera up to a 1" crack at the top of the plywood blocking the Auditorium Left exit door. This produced an image of what lay beyond, which is a cobweb-draped plaster-walled passage, with another doorway beyond, presumably leading into the auditorium. Past that…only darkness.
Not sure about other names for the Studio in Sacramento, but I do know that its facade is preserved, along with the facade of the Esquire to its left, as the front of the big IMAX theatre which replaced the Esquire (which had previously spent some years with a remodeled interior as an office building.
According to an article on Bay Area vintage theatres in the San Francisco Chronicle last weekend, the Mexico (Mayfair) is possibly going to house an aquarium/fish store. It could suffer worse fates! Hopefully at least the exterior design will be respected.
The second photo submitted by ken mc shows South Second Street (with the Jose) in the mid-1980s, when the street was ripped up for the Downtown Transit Mall. While the end result of the mall’s construction was ultimately a positive one for Downtown, the construction process was very hard on the businesses at the time. You can see that the Jose was weathering the storm by staying open with the triple feature policy it had presented for decades. At this point it would have still been operating under General Theatrical Co.
In the above entry by ken mc, the first photo with the theatre sign reading VITAPHONE shows the Victory Theatre, which later became the Crest, and burned in the 60s. Nearly all the buildings on the right side of the street in the photo are gone. The Knights of Columbus building on the left side still survives.
I can confirm the immediately previous post. I remember seeing “The Sound of Music” at the Crest. It was one of probably the first three or four movies I ever saw.
The interior decoration of the 4th Avenue was done by Heinsbergen.
If you look at the 1940s photo of the mezzanine, you will notice on the right a wall over the staircase which is covered in square metal-leafed bas relief panels, depicting wildlife. Some of these patterns were also cast and installed in another Heinsbergen-decorated theatre, the Garden (1949) in San Jose, CA. The wildlife panels were in a single row atop the wall which backed the concession counter.
The Garden Theatre remained very well preserved through its 1988 closing. In 1989, the Garden was gutted and turned into an office and retail building. The abovementioned relief panels were removed, along with many other decorative features, prior to the building’s conversion. Many features now appear in a couple of other Bay Area theatres, but I have yet to see the wildlife relief panels displayed anywhere.
The Garden’s exterior remains largely intact, in fact the vertical sign had its neon restored just this past summer.
Good grief. I can’t believe I have NEVER before seen a photo of or heard of this theatre! It’s a beaut!!
I remember that, sometime in the 1980s, a similar find was made of original posters painted by the in-house artist at the Eastman Theatre in Rochester, New York. This theatre has long been a performing arts center, and was considered to be a cut above other theatres even when built. It was designed by McKim, Mead, and White—top perveyors of the “serious” Beaux-Arts style. Anyway, it was decided by the management at that time that the posters which were shipped with the movies were too garish and commonplace for so classy a theatre, and so the staff artist made “new” handpainted posters for each movie that played. They were very striking in their design. Anyway, I don’t remember if they were discovered in the theatre or somewhere offsite, but many decades later, they got their just due. I think (not positive) Smithsonian magazine ran an article about the posters and their artist, and that’s where I learned about it.
Part of the facade of the Maya Cinemas is a replica of the facade of the Crystal Theatre, which was a 1930s art deco remodeling of the 1910 Brown’s Opera House, which was demolished—along with several other adjacent buildings—to make way for the new cinema complex. The replicated Crystal facade and vertical sign (which reads Maya Cinemas) is quite competently executed. This writer, however, wishes that the original facade had been preserved and incorporated into the new structure, as was the original plan. Still, replication is better than having lost all trace of what was once there.
Congratulations, Jack and Jennifer! I’ll be buying the book presently!
I applaud the theatre in throwing the kids out. I agree with the majority of the posters above as to the reasons why. One of the reasons (though by no means the only reason) we have these kids who behave so sloppily is that they are the offspring of those who were of the hippie and immediate post-hippie generation, and the over psychoanalized child-rearing trends which followed it. I believe in what that generation wanted in terms of peace and environmentalism, and by all means applaud the recent out-in-the-open intolerance of actual ABUSE of children, but my very loving parents taught me about both trust and OBEDIENCE. Nowadays, the latter word is only applied to pets, or to adults engaging in certain private consentual activities.
Rules exist because they are the cement of society. Good manners exist because they are the cement of the soul.
I’ve never been inside this theatre, although my folks attended it in the 1950s. I’ve long enjoyed its exterior. Usually it’s the facade which is the main attention getter—and the Fairfax has a nice deco one, but for me and doubtlessly for some others, the faded and overlapping layers of signage on the rear of the stage fly tower are what sets this theatre apart, with things like, “FOX FAIRFAX The Place to Go!” “FAIRFAX THEATRE Glorifying the talking screen” and a notification of seat prices, which was repainted a number of times as prices changed.
Congratulations to Jack and Jennifer on the completion of their book! I am looking forward to yet another theatre history treat. Jack’s book, Theatres of San Francisco, is a work I have revisited repeatedly, at times to check on a specific theatre for my own knowledge/research, and sometimes just because this book is such fun to page through. Jennifer contacted me regarding a couple of knowledge tidbits for the book. I don’t know yet if she was able to make use of them in the final product, but no matter, it was a pleasure to meet her over the phone—she was most gracious. And Jack’s contageous enthusiastic storytelling talents in the area of both the fun and the rigours of exhibition—which are so engaging in person—come through very clearly via the printed word.
It should be noted that the auditorium looked quite different for most of the theatre’s life than it does in the UCLA Archive photos. It was given a Moderne remodeling, and that is what survived by the time the theatre closed. I don’t know how the lobby and mezzanine spaces looked by then. I have somewhere a newspaper clipping showing the auditorium shortly before demolition, and it was attractive, but nothing like the wild Italianate-On-Acid appearance it had when first built!
Does anyone know where some interior views from the Belmont’s Skouras remodel years might be seen? I was last in there in 1973, but my memory is quite clear. I would love to check it against actual photos. I remember the big sculpted golden swirls around the screen, and blue-toned murals of an almost Boticellian Venus—but with a long, flowing dress—in circular medallions on the sidewalls. Even as a kid I thought of the famous Boticelli painting, and thought maybe in the days when the Belmont was built (not then knowing it was a redecoration) people were too prudish to accept a “true” (nude) version.
Good grief! I’m going to be passing by Long Beach in a few weeks. I’d better try to photograph the Atlantic while I can. I went to the Crest as a very young kid—but never, as well as I can recall—the Atlantic. So many theatres in Long Beach gone, nearly all. Even in the late 60s and early 70s there was so much about this city to enchant one. Now…so little.
I will always remember a delightful bit of showmanship employed on the night I first attended the Metro, in 1984…to see the then current remake of the Orwellian, “1984,” with John Hurt and Richard Burton (the latter’s final feature). After the previews, the curtain closed, all the deco chandeliers dimmed to their RED circuit, and Eurythmics' then popular hit, “Sex Crime (1984)” boomed over the sound system, fading out about 2/3 of the way into the song on the line, “pull the bricks down one by one by one…” Then the curtain raised once more, the lights went to their BLUE circuit, and the film began. Whoever was the manager back then had a true flair for theatrics! I will never forget it!
From Gary Parks:
Right now I’m at the mercy of a rather antiquated computer setup. I’m happy to scan the prints and email. The whole posting on the web thing is a little cumbersome right now. Feel free to email me. As long as the requests don’t get too numerous. One can get overwhelmed. :–)
Firstoff, a little historic correction: The theatre was designed by James and Merrit Reid. The office of Timothy Pflueger did the 1941 remodel, which is mainly what one sees today in the auditorium. The vertical sign dates from this time, but the marquee dates from an earlier and more lighthanded redecoration, as does the deco sunburst pattern you see today on the inner lobby ceiling once you enter.
The plasterwork in the outer and inner lobbies is mostly from 1924. The paintwork on the outer lobby ceiling is 1924, save for some minor embellishments by artist Kelly Cool during the 1998 refurbishing. She also did the arched murals which are on either side as you proceed from the outer to inner lobby.
The lobby as remodeled by Pflueger no longer exists, having been totally removed during the 1998 refurbishing, at which time the original 1924 lobby was largely restored, with some sympathetic updating.
The auditorium features murals by the Heinsbergen decorating firm. These date from Pflueger’s remodeling. The ceiling, save for the 1998 acoustical panels, chandeliers and 1941 paint, is from 1924.
Behind the draped and plastered angled walls on either side of the screen are hidden extensive intact remnants if the 1924 auditorium. These include large Ionic columns surmounted by eagles clutching shields, and arched niches containing urns and long-disconnected cove lighting. The organ chambers, though empty, are intact, and their openwork grilles, though slightly damaged, are largely extant.
I was one of the historical advisors to the 1998 renovation, and was a guest at the subsequent Grand Reopening. I would love to see the Metro escape demolition, even if it meant only a partial retention of the building. While preserving the building intact would be my first choice, even a reuse of the building’s shell, with a restoration of the facade’s key decorative elements is preferable to complete demolition, which will likely give birth to yet another example of slavish, tired devotion to the long-outdated and academically-loved but (usually) publically-loathed Bauhaus style, or worse, a poorly proportioned attempt at historicism such as is so common today—a style best described as “Lego Mediterranean.”
All this being said, I am not currently in a position to actively help in the fight to save the Metro—professional and preexisting volunteer obligations preclude this—but I would be more than happy to share copies of the photos I took in 1998 of the 1924 architectural features which exist behind the 1941 walls, as well as extensive knowledge of theatres designed by Reid Bros., having been closely involved with the ongoing preservation and restoration efforts at the Reid-designed Golden State Theatre in Monterey, as well as a little aid in the efforts to save San Francisco’s Harding Theatre.
Very, VERY cute story! When I, in an advanced reading group in 2nd grade, started reading Greek and Roman mythology, my Dad taught me the three Classical orders of column capitals—Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. He unleashed a monster, for, whenever we would be driving around the Los Angeles metropolitan area, I would bark-out the various column types whenever I’d spot them. At some point around that time, when telling me some anecdote about his childhood moviegoing experience in Waterbury, CT, he remarked that the biggest movie theatre in town, Poli’s Palace (Lamb, 1922, though Dad was unaware of that) had a line of Corinthian columns all across its facade. Dad had last seen that theatre circa 1936. When I visited that same theatre on my first Theatre Historical Society Conclave in 1990, sure enough, there they were, Corinthian columns on the Palace’s facade! Amazing what we retain in our memories.
My wife and I saw “Pirates of the Carribean 2” at the Central while on the home stretch of a three-week road trip through the Southwest last month. Even though the movie had been out for several weeks, there were probably about twenty patrons, mostly kids, with a parent or parents, in attendance. The staff of two teenage girls and one late teen/early twentysomething (?) young man welcomed us, and let me take pictures and showed me the old coal-burning furnace backstage. Although a late Thirties theatre, there is a rather deep stage (no fly tower), with the screen mounted at its rear. We were told that once in a great while the stage is still used for local events, most recently a fashion show for a local clothing retailer.
The exterior and interior of the theatre are not restored, but quite well preserved, if a little world-weary looking. The sign tower’s green neon letters still light up, and there is wonderful yellow backlit paneling in the reader board. The doors are beautiful. The lobby has gone through remodeling, probably in the Seventies or Eighties. The auditorium has soundfold-covered walls, but the ceiling still features rich art deco cast plasterwork with original decorative paint, and huge saucer-shaped light fixtures.
We were told that the theatre was built using all local talent and labor.
My wife and I discovered the Fox upon approaching Trinidad from New Mexico while on our Southwest vacation last month. I had no idea of its existence—and I know of a lot of theatres! While our schedule did not permit us to stay in Trinidad long enough to see “House by the Lake,” the movie which was playing there that night, I took many photos of the exterior from all sides, and shots of the gilded plaster and mosaic-floored lobby through the glass of the front doors. Indeed, what a spectacular building! I’m surprised to find that it was designed by the “lesser-known” of the Rapp Brothers.
The next day, we were in Golden, for a reunion of my father-in-law’s family, and I met a cousin of my father-in-law who is a realtor in Trinidad, and he described the theatre’s interior to me much like the account above, though in a little less detail architecturally. He also said that it had been used a few times in relatively recent years for some stage presentations, though this had been a rare occurrance. Next time we travel to Colorado for another family event, we will make a point of visiting the Fox. I hope it remains open long enough!
I saw this theatre when traveling home from Death Valley in 2000 with friends. Unfortunately I was cameraless. I have since seen photos of when the theatre was new, and the exterior as I saw it was virtually unchanged from what the photos show, save for the removal of the FOX name from the marquee. The interior was very plain, save for the ubiquitous floral swirls of what would eventually be known as the Skouras Style. The concession counter was adorned with these swirls on panels of etched aluminum, as was done in so many Fox houses of the day. In its heyday, this theatre must have been a little visual oasis (both decoratively and via the product exhibited therein) in what was and is a majestically bleak and culturally remote part of California.
I made a brief stop in Avenal on my way to Visalia this past weekend. Some rebuilding has been undertaken at the theatre site. Storefronts to the right of the theatre entrance have been rebuilt in a contemporary style, but are not yet occupied. Storefronts to the left of the theatre are framed and not yet completed, and look to be a replication of what was there formerly. The theatre entrance has been cleared of debris, with the damaged box office and poster case areas somewhat cleaned up and temporarily stabilized. Looking into the now roofless lobby and into the auditorium, it appears debris has been cleared out of there as well.
Last weekend, I saw the Strand Theatre for the first time. I was interested in finding it because the uncle of a friend of mine was organist there in the silent film era. Unfortunately I’ve lost contact with my friend, but I met his uncle in the mid-1990s, who was living in a wonderful old house in Palo Alto at the time. He had several pianos and electronic organs in his home, and lent me a tape of some recent piano compositions of his, which amazingly (for a man of his years) sounded remarkably like the comtemporary jazz/new age fusion so popular in the last two decades. He said that the theatre was called the State then, so presumably the name change from Strand to State took place very early—in the Twenties.
But back to the theatre itself—
The structure is built of brick. There is a large office/commercial block fronting the auditorium portion. Only the far right storefront is in use. The other three are boarded up, as is the entrance. The marquee has been removed, but an inscription in the stone or terra cotta entablature atop the office block still reads, STRAND THEATRE. The theatre features a fly tower and a surprisingly deep stage for a theatre in a city the size of Dinuba. Judging by the auditorium’s size from the outside, the seating capacity must have been nearly or slightly over 1000.
I took pictures. I held my digital camera up to a 1" crack at the top of the plywood blocking the Auditorium Left exit door. This produced an image of what lay beyond, which is a cobweb-draped plaster-walled passage, with another doorway beyond, presumably leading into the auditorium. Past that…only darkness.
Not sure about other names for the Studio in Sacramento, but I do know that its facade is preserved, along with the facade of the Esquire to its left, as the front of the big IMAX theatre which replaced the Esquire (which had previously spent some years with a remodeled interior as an office building.
According to an article on Bay Area vintage theatres in the San Francisco Chronicle last weekend, the Mexico (Mayfair) is possibly going to house an aquarium/fish store. It could suffer worse fates! Hopefully at least the exterior design will be respected.
The second photo submitted by ken mc shows South Second Street (with the Jose) in the mid-1980s, when the street was ripped up for the Downtown Transit Mall. While the end result of the mall’s construction was ultimately a positive one for Downtown, the construction process was very hard on the businesses at the time. You can see that the Jose was weathering the storm by staying open with the triple feature policy it had presented for decades. At this point it would have still been operating under General Theatrical Co.
In the above entry by ken mc, the first photo with the theatre sign reading VITAPHONE shows the Victory Theatre, which later became the Crest, and burned in the 60s. Nearly all the buildings on the right side of the street in the photo are gone. The Knights of Columbus building on the left side still survives.