Sad story. The Mary Anderson was a wonderful downtown theater of the era. It had one of those star-studded ceilings with revolving clouds, and a fine old ornate lobby with staircase, urns, and the rest.
The Mary Anderson’s fate paralleled that of Fourth Street, with various attempts to salvage it that in fact promoted its decline. In the early 60s, the balcony was closed off and turned into The Penthouse Theater. ‘Cleopatra’ showed at the Penthouse. That, of course, was the end of the Mary Anderson’s ceiling.
Louisville saved the Brown Theater but not the Mary Anderson. RIP.
Like other people, I assumed that the theater was named for the second-rate actress with small parts in “Gone With the Wind” and “Lifeboat.” But it was the older stage actress who had a Louisville connection. It would be interesting to know how the theater came to be named for her.
Sad story. The Mary Anderson was a wonderful downtown theater of the era. It had one of those star-studded ceilings with revolving clouds.
The Mary Anderson’s fate paralleled that of Fourth Street. In the early 60s, the balcony was closed off and turned into The Penthouse Theater. ‘Cleopatra’ showed at the Penthouse. That, of course, was the end of the great Mary Anderson ceiling.
Louisville saved the Brown Theater but not the Mary Anderson. RIP.
Like other people, I assumed that the theater was named for the second-rate actress with small parts in “Gone With the Wind” and “Lifeboat.” But it was the older stage actress who had a Louisville connection. It would be interesting to know how the theater came to be named for her.
I saw ‘Psycho’ at the St. Johns in the summer of 1960. I’m surprised to read what I surely knew at the time, that the theater lasted only a couple of months after that.
The Town and Country opened in the 1950s. It was the first non-downtown first-run theater in the Jacksonville area. It was in a small pre-mall strip shopping center; the box office was on the sidewalk in line with the facades of the shops.
The address originally was not University Boulevard; it was only later that a number of long streets from Arlington to Lakewood were consolidated with that name. I don’t remember what the street was called when the Town and Country opened.
I saw “Auntie Mame” and “Advise and Consent” there. It wasn’t a twin until considerably later.
In the 60s, the Five Points coverted to show Cinerama movies, and for a while it concentrated on the (relatively few) available movies in that format. I saw “This is Cinerama!” there (that’s the one with the roller coaster), and later “How the West Was Won.” The Five Points also showed “2001: A Space Odyssey,” which was in fake Cinerama: I remember at the first showing I attended, the sound system was set wrong and the opening “2001” theme from Richard Strauss was ear-splittingly loud. THAT was one of my most impressive movie experiences ever.
Before that, I remember taking a bus to see Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” at the Five Points. This was daring for my 13-year-old self. I believe that there was an attempt to restrict attendance to adults, but somehow I got in.
There was a restaurant nearby, Hargrave’s Steak House (I may have the name misspelled) where my family would sometimes eat prior to a movie at the Five Points.
I think that the wonderful survival of the San Marco must have something to do with the theater’s positioning itself, circa 1960, as an ‘art theater’: for a while it called itself the San Marco Art Theater (or probably Theatre). At the time, this meant high culture, not adult material. One day a week (Wednesday, as I recall) the San Marco showed genuinely arty stuff, which was something extraordinary in the cultural desert of Jacksonville. I recall going to see a matinee of the filmed opera “Marriage of Figaro.” I was the only one in the place, not surprisingly, and the box office lady sold me a ticket at an unofficial discount (there were special high prices on the art days).
Before that, in the mid-50s, the San Marco was a typical neighborhood theater. I remember the familiar summer morning cartoon marathons for baby-boomer children.
I must’ve seen 200 movies at the San Marco during my growing-up years. The last one I remember was “Lillies of the Field,” with Sidney Poitier, though there were others because I lived in Jax for another four years after that movie was released.
When I went back to Southside Jacksonville for the last time (the last family funeral) in 2003, it was nice to sit outside the nearly Starbucks and look at the San Marco marquee. The theater is just about my only distinctive memory of the place where I grew up; it was, and happily, still is, something extraordinary in a city that hardly had any identity at all before it snagged an NFL team to give people there something to pretend to talk about.
The Plaza Theater was located in Phillips Highway Plaza, a non-descript early enclosed mall. That stretch of Phillips Highway (US 1 in South Jacksonville) had been something of a wasteland at least since I-95 opened, even though I-95 was only a few blocks north. I assume the Plaza was an attempt to promote development in that area, but it wasn’t successful; that area is still dumpy.
The theater was an early example of a non-downtown first-run theater. It opened in the late-50s or early 60s. There was nothing ‘neighborhood’ about it; if you went there, you drove.
The Plaza Theater’s box office and entrance were inside the mall, something unusual at that time. The theater itself was large for a new theater of the time, and thoroughly undistinguished in design and architecture.
For a while, at least, the Plaza got some first-run movies. I recall seeing the Burton-Taylor-Zeffirelli ‘Taming of the Shrew’ there in 1967. The last movie I recall seeing there was “Earthquake” in 1974: the huge bass speakers that created the special rumbling effect were set at the back of the steeply raked aisles, and you had to walk around them to get to the lobby.
This one won’t have many mourners.
I saw ‘Ben Hur,’ “West Side Story,‘ and 'Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’ at the Center Theater—and many others in the 50s and 60s. The arcade was cool to a youngster—you could come in off two entirely different streets—and I remember (I hope accurately) that both box offices were functioning in the 50s.
After the 1960 renovation, the Center specialized briefly in ‘road show’ attractions, that being one of the dumber attempts to compete with television. ‘Prestige’ movies like ‘Ben Hur’ and "Flower Drum Song' were held back from national release for weeks or months, then opened in smaller cities with reserved-seating and other kinds of fake urban elegance.
Ironically, what really did enable movies to compete with television—‘adult’ material (at first, dirty words)—arrived with ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?’ in 1966. My friend and I made a point of going to see that, at the Center, on the afternoon of the first day, for fear that the authorities would shut the movie down, as had happened elsewhere in the South.
The renovation ruined whatever architectural distinction the theater had. The Center was ‘modern,’ comfortable, and bland.
Alas, that the State Theater came to that. When student film culture got going in the 60s, the State was where it was at. I saw “The Graduate” there.
Sad story. The Mary Anderson was a wonderful downtown theater of the era. It had one of those star-studded ceilings with revolving clouds, and a fine old ornate lobby with staircase, urns, and the rest.
The Mary Anderson’s fate paralleled that of Fourth Street, with various attempts to salvage it that in fact promoted its decline. In the early 60s, the balcony was closed off and turned into The Penthouse Theater. ‘Cleopatra’ showed at the Penthouse. That, of course, was the end of the Mary Anderson’s ceiling.
Louisville saved the Brown Theater but not the Mary Anderson. RIP.
Like other people, I assumed that the theater was named for the second-rate actress with small parts in “Gone With the Wind” and “Lifeboat.” But it was the older stage actress who had a Louisville connection. It would be interesting to know how the theater came to be named for her.
Sad story. The Mary Anderson was a wonderful downtown theater of the era. It had one of those star-studded ceilings with revolving clouds.
The Mary Anderson’s fate paralleled that of Fourth Street. In the early 60s, the balcony was closed off and turned into The Penthouse Theater. ‘Cleopatra’ showed at the Penthouse. That, of course, was the end of the great Mary Anderson ceiling.
Louisville saved the Brown Theater but not the Mary Anderson. RIP.
Like other people, I assumed that the theater was named for the second-rate actress with small parts in “Gone With the Wind” and “Lifeboat.” But it was the older stage actress who had a Louisville connection. It would be interesting to know how the theater came to be named for her.
The marquee with the Kaywood name is still there, a rare survival for which the New Horizon Faith Outreach Center is to be thanked.
I saw ‘Psycho’ at the St. Johns in the summer of 1960. I’m surprised to read what I surely knew at the time, that the theater lasted only a couple of months after that.
The Town and Country opened in the 1950s. It was the first non-downtown first-run theater in the Jacksonville area. It was in a small pre-mall strip shopping center; the box office was on the sidewalk in line with the facades of the shops.
The address originally was not University Boulevard; it was only later that a number of long streets from Arlington to Lakewood were consolidated with that name. I don’t remember what the street was called when the Town and Country opened.
I saw “Auntie Mame” and “Advise and Consent” there. It wasn’t a twin until considerably later.
In the 60s, the Five Points coverted to show Cinerama movies, and for a while it concentrated on the (relatively few) available movies in that format. I saw “This is Cinerama!” there (that’s the one with the roller coaster), and later “How the West Was Won.” The Five Points also showed “2001: A Space Odyssey,” which was in fake Cinerama: I remember at the first showing I attended, the sound system was set wrong and the opening “2001” theme from Richard Strauss was ear-splittingly loud. THAT was one of my most impressive movie experiences ever.
Before that, I remember taking a bus to see Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” at the Five Points. This was daring for my 13-year-old self. I believe that there was an attempt to restrict attendance to adults, but somehow I got in.
There was a restaurant nearby, Hargrave’s Steak House (I may have the name misspelled) where my family would sometimes eat prior to a movie at the Five Points.
I think that the wonderful survival of the San Marco must have something to do with the theater’s positioning itself, circa 1960, as an ‘art theater’: for a while it called itself the San Marco Art Theater (or probably Theatre). At the time, this meant high culture, not adult material. One day a week (Wednesday, as I recall) the San Marco showed genuinely arty stuff, which was something extraordinary in the cultural desert of Jacksonville. I recall going to see a matinee of the filmed opera “Marriage of Figaro.” I was the only one in the place, not surprisingly, and the box office lady sold me a ticket at an unofficial discount (there were special high prices on the art days).
Before that, in the mid-50s, the San Marco was a typical neighborhood theater. I remember the familiar summer morning cartoon marathons for baby-boomer children.
I must’ve seen 200 movies at the San Marco during my growing-up years. The last one I remember was “Lillies of the Field,” with Sidney Poitier, though there were others because I lived in Jax for another four years after that movie was released.
When I went back to Southside Jacksonville for the last time (the last family funeral) in 2003, it was nice to sit outside the nearly Starbucks and look at the San Marco marquee. The theater is just about my only distinctive memory of the place where I grew up; it was, and happily, still is, something extraordinary in a city that hardly had any identity at all before it snagged an NFL team to give people there something to pretend to talk about.
The Plaza Theater was located in Phillips Highway Plaza, a non-descript early enclosed mall. That stretch of Phillips Highway (US 1 in South Jacksonville) had been something of a wasteland at least since I-95 opened, even though I-95 was only a few blocks north. I assume the Plaza was an attempt to promote development in that area, but it wasn’t successful; that area is still dumpy.
The theater was an early example of a non-downtown first-run theater. It opened in the late-50s or early 60s. There was nothing ‘neighborhood’ about it; if you went there, you drove.
The Plaza Theater’s box office and entrance were inside the mall, something unusual at that time. The theater itself was large for a new theater of the time, and thoroughly undistinguished in design and architecture.
For a while, at least, the Plaza got some first-run movies. I recall seeing the Burton-Taylor-Zeffirelli ‘Taming of the Shrew’ there in 1967. The last movie I recall seeing there was “Earthquake” in 1974: the huge bass speakers that created the special rumbling effect were set at the back of the steeply raked aisles, and you had to walk around them to get to the lobby.
This one won’t have many mourners.
I saw ‘Ben Hur,’ “West Side Story,‘ and 'Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’ at the Center Theater—and many others in the 50s and 60s. The arcade was cool to a youngster—you could come in off two entirely different streets—and I remember (I hope accurately) that both box offices were functioning in the 50s.
After the 1960 renovation, the Center specialized briefly in ‘road show’ attractions, that being one of the dumber attempts to compete with television. ‘Prestige’ movies like ‘Ben Hur’ and "Flower Drum Song' were held back from national release for weeks or months, then opened in smaller cities with reserved-seating and other kinds of fake urban elegance.
Ironically, what really did enable movies to compete with television—‘adult’ material (at first, dirty words)—arrived with ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?’ in 1966. My friend and I made a point of going to see that, at the Center, on the afternoon of the first day, for fear that the authorities would shut the movie down, as had happened elsewhere in the South.
The renovation ruined whatever architectural distinction the theater had. The Center was ‘modern,’ comfortable, and bland.