A nice decorative touch is the terrazzo pavement leading up to the long ticket counter. The pavement looks very much like that in the entrance of the Wiltern, Los Angeles.
Yes, the “Pandora” lettering was from the use of the Empire’s exterior for “The Last Action Hero.” The interior of the fictitious Pandora Theatre was the Orpheum in Los Angeles, since restored and still operating for both live shows and movies, and with its original pipe organ still in use (a friend of mine tunes it).
As I recall, the Hill closed in the mid-1980s. Though I never attended the Hill (as its name had been shortened to by that time), in its later years under UA operation, I remember the films advertised in the paper as being more generalized firstrun product rather than arthouse fare. I do know that the art film policy was indeed the original, as an article in a trade magazine at the time of the theatre’s opening stated so. Coffee was also originally available in the lobby, in addition to the usual concessions. Illuminated signage was kept very minimal, consisting of “Hill Theatre” in single-tube white neon, mounted to a freestanding steel frame.
I don’t have any information on the planned downtown multiplex they’re talking about here, but I’m hoping it’s the plan which was batted about years ago which would include restoration of the very-intact art deco Alameda Theatre.
REgarding the little independent theatre…more power to him!
Re. the first article on the list, about the Harding Theatre: once again here we have a developer and his architect giving false statements that a building is not a contributing fixture to the neighborhood. Not so. I was in the Harding theatre several times in about 2002 to help remove all the art deco light fixtures and some of the seats because the church congregation was going to throw them away. The church had no intention of removing or damaging any of the theatre’s original Gothic styled plasterwork, which was (is?) 95 percent still extant and intact, with the ornately coffered ceiling still bearing what is either its original decorative paint, or perhaps a second early redecoration.
The underside of the balcony, with two covelit domes, is intact, and the organ grilles, fronted by false balconettes, are likewise intact, as is the proscenium for the most part, the latter being slightly altered.
The Harding was a product of the prolific theatre architects the Reid Bros. It’s not their finest theatre, but it is a handsome building and comparatively well preserved, when you compare it to the remodelings which most of their other theatres underwent in later years.
As a footnote, the fixtures we removed were resold for restoration and subsequent sale, save for two ceiling fixtures, which I am hoping to see ultimately installed in the entrance vestibule of the Del Mar Theatre, Santa Cruz, and the illuminated restroom signs (which dated from the Harding’s 1920s opening) which are in the process of being refurbished as illuminated balcony directional signs for the Golden State Theatre, Monterey. Both abovementioned theatres are in various stages of restoration.
While I personally am too involved in the Golden State project to add another theatre preservation project to my plate, I heartily applaud any effort to make sure the Harding remains as some sort of public assembly structure, and see a sensitive adaptation of the historical ambiance.
The Town and Country Cinema in Sunnyvale opened in the 1920s as the Strand. It was later called the Sunnyvale, then Town and Country. It still stands, with a few historical details evident on its exterior, and is now a restaurant and nightclub.
The Strand was originally called Hoyt’s Theatre. It opened in the Teens. It was remodeled in the Twenties, the architect being either William Lee Woolett, who was the architect for Grauman’s Metropolitan (later the Paramount) in Downtown Los Angeles, or at the very least, someone who had access to either his designs or the same supplier of ornamental plaster details. The remodeling of Hoyt’s made the auditorium look like a scaled-down and simplified version of the Metropolitan—with many of the same motifs employed. In its last years, these auditorium details were painted over in pink, aqua, and white.
When Hoyt’s was new, my adopted grandmother, Mary Tolson (Bruce) was a girl. A neighborhood couple “employed” her to be on babysitting duty while they attended a vaudeville and movie show at the theatre. Before it was time for them to leave, Mary kept hinting, “I’ve never been to Hoyt’s Theatre.” She was so persistent in her hinting that finally the couple wound up taking her with them on their date, employing someone else to do the babysitting. Mary is now in her mid-nineties, and her stories of moviegoing in Long Beach played a significant part in my becoming interested in old theatres.
I saw several of my first movies at the Crest in the 60s, including, “Around the World in 80 Days,” “The Sound of Music,” “Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines,” and I THINK the first movie I ever saw, “The Greatest Story Ever Told.” (though maybe this was at one of the other theatres on Atlantic) As I was only 3, I slept through most of that one, though I remember seeing Mary and baby Jesus, and making the visual connection to similar images on Christmas cards—hey, I was only 3!
I clearly remember the opening cartoon titles of “Magnificent Men…”, and my Mom telling me that the words I saw flying across the screen were the names of the people who made the movie, and that these words were called “credits."
My most vivid memory of the interior was that the ladies restroom had red and white checkered tile walls. I was taken to that room by my Mom, since I was too young to use the men’s restroom by myself. I do have a vague memory of the curved couches in the lobby next to the passage to the sunken restrooms, and I remember the shape of the vertical sign tower. Later, seeing pictures in the Preston Kaufman "Skouras-ized for Showmanship” publication confirmed these memories.
The pleasure was mutual, Douglas of Fresno! Since you and others have commented on the “Casablanca” screening, I’ll just share a minute observation which particularly delighted me, and that was how the gold leafing of the organ grilles and surrounding ornamentation sparkled subtly in the glow from the movie screen—a sight not seen in this theatre regularly for decades.
You state that the interior has been only partially gutted. I have heard this before. What remains, and is it viewable? I have seen old photos of the stupendously decorated auditorium, and it would be interesting to see if any of that survives.
I too, remeber Domenic Temporale, who was our host when the Theatre Historical Society visited the Palace during our 1990 Conclave. He was very hospitable.
I am looking forward to visiting the newly-reopened Presidio sometime soon. Although the article mentioned above that the interior facelift makes use of the theatre’s art deco style, one significant thing is gone forever—the enormous sheetmetal sunburst chandelier from the center of the auditorium ceiling. It was removed in pieces. These pieces were rescued by a local antique dealer (not the usual “antique dealer friend” I’ve mentioned in many postings before, who has saved a multitude of fixtures from Bay Area theatres being remodeled or destroyed), and I chanced upon some of these pieces being offered for sale at the Art Deco and Modern Antique Show and Sale earlier this month at San Francisco’s Concourse Exhibition Center. The dealer had a photo of the rest of the pieces. This fixture was huge. I remember photographing it when seeing a movie at the Presidio in 1990.
Just for fun, here’s an explanation of the name “Luxor.” It is an anglicization of “Al Uqsor,” which in Arabic basically means “The Castle,” referring to the ruins of the temple of the god Amun in what is now the heart of Luxor, Egypt. In the Roman Period, the temple had been surrounded by a fortress wall and converted to a Legion outpost, with the innermost parts of the temple converted into a cult center for the reigning Emperor. By the time of the Arab Conquest in the 600s AD, both the ancient Egyptian and Roman ruins inspired the Arabs to name the place after the buildings they saw.
Since F.P. didn’t give any contact info, I can’t tell him this directly, but although I had a childhood quiet fascination with old theatres all along, it was the release of Styx' Paradise Theatre album (during my Senior year in high school) which was the magic catalyst which turned me into an out-and-out old theatre buff.
This theatre opened circa 1981 as the Pajaro Showplace. It was a triplex from the beginning. Originally, the boxy structure was painted in a couple of shades of brown. The three identical auditoriums were very plain, with raked seating, turquoise blue soundfold on the walls, and a cubist art deco carpet pattern in shades of blue. When the theatre was built, an article and architect’s rendering appeared in the Register-Pajaronian newspaper heralding the theatre as the beginning of a revival for downtown Watsonville. This really didn’t pan out. Our family lived in nearby Aptos, but both we and our friends nearly always went north to Santa Cruz for our movies. I do remember seeing “Gandhi” at this theatre, and I know I went there a couple of other times in the early and mid 1980s. I’m not sure of the exact year, but I remember it being renamed sometime in the 1990s as the Galaxy, at which time the exterior was given a teal color scheme.
With the opening of the Green Valley cinemas, and the triplexing of the 1923 Fox in the 1990s, perhaps there was too much competition. In the early 1980s when the Pajaro Showplace opened, there was only the Fox and Centre (the latter since demolished) operating downtown, and both were single-screen Spanish language houses. The only other firstrun movie venue at that time was the Starlite Drive-In (long since demolished).
The “new” small World Theatre mentioned in the main description retained the old Chinese charactered vertical neon sign from the previous World Theatre.
Canvas murals from the theatre’s days as the Verdi (presumably, as they had an Italian feel) were salvaged, and much later were offered for sale at Swallowtail, an antique store on Polk St. The price was steep, and the murals were quite large. They depicted neoclassic female nude figures in a romantic setting—foliage, foutains, columns or somesuch (I only saw them once, and this was nearly a decade ago). By the style of the painting, I would guess a Twenties or even Thirties date for them, but they could have been older. They were purely Neoclassic, not at all Art Deco, but the coloration and brush technique of rendering suggested the time period I speak of.
Prior to demolition, the auditorium chandeliers visible in the photo were salvaged. I remeber seeing them sitting in the lobby as demolition of the auditorium commenced.
Now that this theatre and the State (Golden State) have been sold by United Artists/Regal, the name has once again reverted to Regency. It is currently being run by local exhibitors, showing movies at bargain prices.
I should make a correction here. The flood photograph which showed Main St. covered with water and with the Pajaro Theatre in the background was not from the 1955 flood, but rather from an earlier flood, which would have happened between 1931 and 1938, as the marquee of the Fox Theatre is in the foreground, and it is the version of the marquee which existed between those years. A new Fox marquee (which lasted until the early 1990s) was added in 1938 when Main St. was widened. The marquee of the Pajaro was rectangular, and looked to have been of Twenties or early Thirties vintage, as was the vertical sign.
The Lux marquee was originally to have been retained in the conversion to a Goodwill store in the mid-eighties, but some individuals from the city (there we go again!) felt that the marquee would appear as a remnant of what they felt was the “skid row” (their words, from an article about the remodeling at the time) section of Broadway. I photographed the marquee shortly before its removal, but during the daytime only. I regret never having done so at night. It was a particularly fine example, with rings and rings of horozontal neon in green, yellow, red, and white. Very shortly before its removal someone turned it on for a period—day and night.
While the theatre was vacant, a sign fastened to the attraction board said, “Theatre Available 550 seats or will remodel to suit.” So this was the accurate seating capacity at closing, most likely.
The influence of Reid Bros. is evident in the design of this facade, which bears many similarities to that of their Coliseum Theatre in San Francisco (still standing and converted to a Walgreens and luxury condos, but with facade intact). Of the two, I would say the Eureka house is the prettier, though both should be noted for exhibiting the Craftsman influence in their detailing along with the obligatory Rennaissance applied ornament.
A nice decorative touch is the terrazzo pavement leading up to the long ticket counter. The pavement looks very much like that in the entrance of the Wiltern, Los Angeles.
Yes, the “Pandora” lettering was from the use of the Empire’s exterior for “The Last Action Hero.” The interior of the fictitious Pandora Theatre was the Orpheum in Los Angeles, since restored and still operating for both live shows and movies, and with its original pipe organ still in use (a friend of mine tunes it).
As I recall, the Hill closed in the mid-1980s. Though I never attended the Hill (as its name had been shortened to by that time), in its later years under UA operation, I remember the films advertised in the paper as being more generalized firstrun product rather than arthouse fare. I do know that the art film policy was indeed the original, as an article in a trade magazine at the time of the theatre’s opening stated so. Coffee was also originally available in the lobby, in addition to the usual concessions. Illuminated signage was kept very minimal, consisting of “Hill Theatre” in single-tube white neon, mounted to a freestanding steel frame.
I don’t have any information on the planned downtown multiplex they’re talking about here, but I’m hoping it’s the plan which was batted about years ago which would include restoration of the very-intact art deco Alameda Theatre.
REgarding the little independent theatre…more power to him!
Re. the first article on the list, about the Harding Theatre: once again here we have a developer and his architect giving false statements that a building is not a contributing fixture to the neighborhood. Not so. I was in the Harding theatre several times in about 2002 to help remove all the art deco light fixtures and some of the seats because the church congregation was going to throw them away. The church had no intention of removing or damaging any of the theatre’s original Gothic styled plasterwork, which was (is?) 95 percent still extant and intact, with the ornately coffered ceiling still bearing what is either its original decorative paint, or perhaps a second early redecoration.
The underside of the balcony, with two covelit domes, is intact, and the organ grilles, fronted by false balconettes, are likewise intact, as is the proscenium for the most part, the latter being slightly altered.
The Harding was a product of the prolific theatre architects the Reid Bros. It’s not their finest theatre, but it is a handsome building and comparatively well preserved, when you compare it to the remodelings which most of their other theatres underwent in later years.
As a footnote, the fixtures we removed were resold for restoration and subsequent sale, save for two ceiling fixtures, which I am hoping to see ultimately installed in the entrance vestibule of the Del Mar Theatre, Santa Cruz, and the illuminated restroom signs (which dated from the Harding’s 1920s opening) which are in the process of being refurbished as illuminated balcony directional signs for the Golden State Theatre, Monterey. Both abovementioned theatres are in various stages of restoration.
While I personally am too involved in the Golden State project to add another theatre preservation project to my plate, I heartily applaud any effort to make sure the Harding remains as some sort of public assembly structure, and see a sensitive adaptation of the historical ambiance.
The Town and Country Cinema in Sunnyvale opened in the 1920s as the Strand. It was later called the Sunnyvale, then Town and Country. It still stands, with a few historical details evident on its exterior, and is now a restaurant and nightclub.
This theatre was in the Pike area, roughly between the Tracy (ex-Capitol) and Strand (ex-Hoyt’s) Theatres.
The Strand was originally called Hoyt’s Theatre. It opened in the Teens. It was remodeled in the Twenties, the architect being either William Lee Woolett, who was the architect for Grauman’s Metropolitan (later the Paramount) in Downtown Los Angeles, or at the very least, someone who had access to either his designs or the same supplier of ornamental plaster details. The remodeling of Hoyt’s made the auditorium look like a scaled-down and simplified version of the Metropolitan—with many of the same motifs employed. In its last years, these auditorium details were painted over in pink, aqua, and white.
When Hoyt’s was new, my adopted grandmother, Mary Tolson (Bruce) was a girl. A neighborhood couple “employed” her to be on babysitting duty while they attended a vaudeville and movie show at the theatre. Before it was time for them to leave, Mary kept hinting, “I’ve never been to Hoyt’s Theatre.” She was so persistent in her hinting that finally the couple wound up taking her with them on their date, employing someone else to do the babysitting. Mary is now in her mid-nineties, and her stories of moviegoing in Long Beach played a significant part in my becoming interested in old theatres.
The front of this theatre features a fine streamlined neon sign and marquee, well worth seeing if in the area.
I saw several of my first movies at the Crest in the 60s, including, “Around the World in 80 Days,” “The Sound of Music,” “Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines,” and I THINK the first movie I ever saw, “The Greatest Story Ever Told.” (though maybe this was at one of the other theatres on Atlantic) As I was only 3, I slept through most of that one, though I remember seeing Mary and baby Jesus, and making the visual connection to similar images on Christmas cards—hey, I was only 3!
I clearly remember the opening cartoon titles of “Magnificent Men…”, and my Mom telling me that the words I saw flying across the screen were the names of the people who made the movie, and that these words were called “credits."
My most vivid memory of the interior was that the ladies restroom had red and white checkered tile walls. I was taken to that room by my Mom, since I was too young to use the men’s restroom by myself. I do have a vague memory of the curved couches in the lobby next to the passage to the sunken restrooms, and I remember the shape of the vertical sign tower. Later, seeing pictures in the Preston Kaufman "Skouras-ized for Showmanship” publication confirmed these memories.
The pleasure was mutual, Douglas of Fresno! Since you and others have commented on the “Casablanca” screening, I’ll just share a minute observation which particularly delighted me, and that was how the gold leafing of the organ grilles and surrounding ornamentation sparkled subtly in the glow from the movie screen—a sight not seen in this theatre regularly for decades.
You state that the interior has been only partially gutted. I have heard this before. What remains, and is it viewable? I have seen old photos of the stupendously decorated auditorium, and it would be interesting to see if any of that survives.
I too, remeber Domenic Temporale, who was our host when the Theatre Historical Society visited the Palace during our 1990 Conclave. He was very hospitable.
I should add that the box office and the extensive terrazzo sidewalk are also still there.
I am looking forward to visiting the newly-reopened Presidio sometime soon. Although the article mentioned above that the interior facelift makes use of the theatre’s art deco style, one significant thing is gone forever—the enormous sheetmetal sunburst chandelier from the center of the auditorium ceiling. It was removed in pieces. These pieces were rescued by a local antique dealer (not the usual “antique dealer friend” I’ve mentioned in many postings before, who has saved a multitude of fixtures from Bay Area theatres being remodeled or destroyed), and I chanced upon some of these pieces being offered for sale at the Art Deco and Modern Antique Show and Sale earlier this month at San Francisco’s Concourse Exhibition Center. The dealer had a photo of the rest of the pieces. This fixture was huge. I remember photographing it when seeing a movie at the Presidio in 1990.
Just for fun, here’s an explanation of the name “Luxor.” It is an anglicization of “Al Uqsor,” which in Arabic basically means “The Castle,” referring to the ruins of the temple of the god Amun in what is now the heart of Luxor, Egypt. In the Roman Period, the temple had been surrounded by a fortress wall and converted to a Legion outpost, with the innermost parts of the temple converted into a cult center for the reigning Emperor. By the time of the Arab Conquest in the 600s AD, both the ancient Egyptian and Roman ruins inspired the Arabs to name the place after the buildings they saw.
Since F.P. didn’t give any contact info, I can’t tell him this directly, but although I had a childhood quiet fascination with old theatres all along, it was the release of Styx' Paradise Theatre album (during my Senior year in high school) which was the magic catalyst which turned me into an out-and-out old theatre buff.
This theatre opened circa 1981 as the Pajaro Showplace. It was a triplex from the beginning. Originally, the boxy structure was painted in a couple of shades of brown. The three identical auditoriums were very plain, with raked seating, turquoise blue soundfold on the walls, and a cubist art deco carpet pattern in shades of blue. When the theatre was built, an article and architect’s rendering appeared in the Register-Pajaronian newspaper heralding the theatre as the beginning of a revival for downtown Watsonville. This really didn’t pan out. Our family lived in nearby Aptos, but both we and our friends nearly always went north to Santa Cruz for our movies. I do remember seeing “Gandhi” at this theatre, and I know I went there a couple of other times in the early and mid 1980s. I’m not sure of the exact year, but I remember it being renamed sometime in the 1990s as the Galaxy, at which time the exterior was given a teal color scheme.
With the opening of the Green Valley cinemas, and the triplexing of the 1923 Fox in the 1990s, perhaps there was too much competition. In the early 1980s when the Pajaro Showplace opened, there was only the Fox and Centre (the latter since demolished) operating downtown, and both were single-screen Spanish language houses. The only other firstrun movie venue at that time was the Starlite Drive-In (long since demolished).
The “new” small World Theatre mentioned in the main description retained the old Chinese charactered vertical neon sign from the previous World Theatre.
Canvas murals from the theatre’s days as the Verdi (presumably, as they had an Italian feel) were salvaged, and much later were offered for sale at Swallowtail, an antique store on Polk St. The price was steep, and the murals were quite large. They depicted neoclassic female nude figures in a romantic setting—foliage, foutains, columns or somesuch (I only saw them once, and this was nearly a decade ago). By the style of the painting, I would guess a Twenties or even Thirties date for them, but they could have been older. They were purely Neoclassic, not at all Art Deco, but the coloration and brush technique of rendering suggested the time period I speak of.
The Regency is now being operated as a bargain movie house by an independent exhibitor.
Prior to demolition, the auditorium chandeliers visible in the photo were salvaged. I remeber seeing them sitting in the lobby as demolition of the auditorium commenced.
Now that this theatre and the State (Golden State) have been sold by United Artists/Regal, the name has once again reverted to Regency. It is currently being run by local exhibitors, showing movies at bargain prices.
I should make a correction here. The flood photograph which showed Main St. covered with water and with the Pajaro Theatre in the background was not from the 1955 flood, but rather from an earlier flood, which would have happened between 1931 and 1938, as the marquee of the Fox Theatre is in the foreground, and it is the version of the marquee which existed between those years. A new Fox marquee (which lasted until the early 1990s) was added in 1938 when Main St. was widened. The marquee of the Pajaro was rectangular, and looked to have been of Twenties or early Thirties vintage, as was the vertical sign.
The Lux marquee was originally to have been retained in the conversion to a Goodwill store in the mid-eighties, but some individuals from the city (there we go again!) felt that the marquee would appear as a remnant of what they felt was the “skid row” (their words, from an article about the remodeling at the time) section of Broadway. I photographed the marquee shortly before its removal, but during the daytime only. I regret never having done so at night. It was a particularly fine example, with rings and rings of horozontal neon in green, yellow, red, and white. Very shortly before its removal someone turned it on for a period—day and night.
While the theatre was vacant, a sign fastened to the attraction board said, “Theatre Available 550 seats or will remodel to suit.” So this was the accurate seating capacity at closing, most likely.
The influence of Reid Bros. is evident in the design of this facade, which bears many similarities to that of their Coliseum Theatre in San Francisco (still standing and converted to a Walgreens and luxury condos, but with facade intact). Of the two, I would say the Eureka house is the prettier, though both should be noted for exhibiting the Craftsman influence in their detailing along with the obligatory Rennaissance applied ornament.