I worked at the Midwest in ‘67-'68. It was a grand old theater, classic in every way. From the huge lobby, to the mezanine overlooking the lobby, to the seven story auditorium, this theater was designed to be spacious and comfortable.
The booth was the finest I ever worked in… just lacked a dumb-waiter for toting heavy film cases up seven stories of stairs, lol. As a sixteen year old kid I put on some muscle toting those film cases that year, heh haha.
The theater itself originally opened as a stage play house. Behind the screen was another old screen built on a massive stage fronted by an orchestra pit. Behind the stage and down a set of stairs were dressing and costume rooms.
In the booth one wall was covered in lighting controls. One could adjust the lights of the auditorium to suit any mood, or spot-light any location. Though at the time I worked there the spots were long gone and we used only one set of the controls to of course light and dim the auditorium.
The screen had massive curtains across it. At times the motor that opened and closed the curtains would kick a breaker, located front and center of the screen on the floor behind the curtains. I would have to run down seven stories, through the auditorium, part the curtains and reset the breaker… then dash back up stairs and open the curtains. It was as a result of this action that I discovered the old screen, stage, orchestra pit and dressing rooms.
One additional feature that I marveled at was the star display in the ceiling of the auditorium. There were some 750 holes drilled randomly in the ceiling. An electrical system distributed power to each of the holes where a simple metal funnel, like one would add oil to your car with, acted as a lamp shade for each light bulb. Each socket had a simple bimetallic flasher, about the size of a nickle, in it and the light bulb screwed into the socket. The assembly then sat over one of the holes and from the auditorium, looking up, they appeared to be stars twinkling in the “darkened sky”.
Looking at the light controls in the booth I had noticed one was labeled “STARS” so I flipped it and as one would I looked out of the booth and low and behold there were maybe fifty stars blinking. Crawling up in the attic (okay, I admit, I am somewhat akin to a cat when it comes to curiosity) I discovered there were hundreds of fixtures, most of which the bulb was burned out. I volunteered to provide the labor, volunteering my pal and best friend who also worked there, and the Bartons agreed to buy the bulbs and new flashers (as some of the lights that were burning were not flashing), and we replaced all of the bulbs and flashers. It took us about a month to replace them all but it was well woth the trouble. I tell you it was a magnificent display to behold.
The Agnew belonged to R. Lewis Barton (Barton Theaters) and caught fire inside around +/-1964 or 65. The fire stated in the generator room and gutted the booth with heavy smoke damage throughout the building.
I was in the building and in fact in the booth some days after the fire. I lived next door to the Bartons offices and used to help Harold Combs (Baton son-in-law) deliver candy and popcorn to the theaters.
I was just a kid at the time. I had gone to the Agnew with Harold just to look over the damage and to see if there was anything salvagable from the booth. There was absolutely nothing salvagable. After the fire the Bartons renovated the building but it never reopened to my knowledge as a movie theater.
There was a local disc jockey in Oklahoma City, and if I remember correctly it was Danny Kaye, who leased the building and operated a teen club, called The Teen Club (lol) out of it with a local television show saturday mornings, along the lines of American Bandstand. He tried to take it national with syndication… but never quite made it, again to my knowledge.
Speaking of belated comments, I can only hope that Harold above ever sees this. If you do, I want you to know that if your father was “Harold”… he was one of the nicest, kindest, gentleman I ever knew.
I grew up living next door to Robert Lewis Barton. I worked in almost every theater the Bartons owned with the exception of the Continental. I was actually at the employee’s premier showing of The Greatest Story Ever Told which was held the morning of the day of the Grand Opening that evening.
I am going to cut this here, for now, just to be sure things are working as I am a new contributor. If this works, heh haha, then I have a truckload of information to add regarding Barton Theaters.
I worked at the Midwest in ‘67-'68. It was a grand old theater, classic in every way. From the huge lobby, to the mezanine overlooking the lobby, to the seven story auditorium, this theater was designed to be spacious and comfortable.
The booth was the finest I ever worked in… just lacked a dumb-waiter for toting heavy film cases up seven stories of stairs, lol. As a sixteen year old kid I put on some muscle toting those film cases that year, heh haha.
The theater itself originally opened as a stage play house. Behind the screen was another old screen built on a massive stage fronted by an orchestra pit. Behind the stage and down a set of stairs were dressing and costume rooms.
In the booth one wall was covered in lighting controls. One could adjust the lights of the auditorium to suit any mood, or spot-light any location. Though at the time I worked there the spots were long gone and we used only one set of the controls to of course light and dim the auditorium.
The screen had massive curtains across it. At times the motor that opened and closed the curtains would kick a breaker, located front and center of the screen on the floor behind the curtains. I would have to run down seven stories, through the auditorium, part the curtains and reset the breaker… then dash back up stairs and open the curtains. It was as a result of this action that I discovered the old screen, stage, orchestra pit and dressing rooms.
One additional feature that I marveled at was the star display in the ceiling of the auditorium. There were some 750 holes drilled randomly in the ceiling. An electrical system distributed power to each of the holes where a simple metal funnel, like one would add oil to your car with, acted as a lamp shade for each light bulb. Each socket had a simple bimetallic flasher, about the size of a nickle, in it and the light bulb screwed into the socket. The assembly then sat over one of the holes and from the auditorium, looking up, they appeared to be stars twinkling in the “darkened sky”.
Looking at the light controls in the booth I had noticed one was labeled “STARS” so I flipped it and as one would I looked out of the booth and low and behold there were maybe fifty stars blinking. Crawling up in the attic (okay, I admit, I am somewhat akin to a cat when it comes to curiosity) I discovered there were hundreds of fixtures, most of which the bulb was burned out. I volunteered to provide the labor, volunteering my pal and best friend who also worked there, and the Bartons agreed to buy the bulbs and new flashers (as some of the lights that were burning were not flashing), and we replaced all of the bulbs and flashers. It took us about a month to replace them all but it was well woth the trouble. I tell you it was a magnificent display to behold.
The Agnew belonged to R. Lewis Barton (Barton Theaters) and caught fire inside around +/-1964 or 65. The fire stated in the generator room and gutted the booth with heavy smoke damage throughout the building.
I was in the building and in fact in the booth some days after the fire. I lived next door to the Bartons offices and used to help Harold Combs (Baton son-in-law) deliver candy and popcorn to the theaters. I was just a kid at the time. I had gone to the Agnew with Harold just to look over the damage and to see if there was anything salvagable from the booth. There was absolutely nothing salvagable. After the fire the Bartons renovated the building but it never reopened to my knowledge as a movie theater.
There was a local disc jockey in Oklahoma City, and if I remember correctly it was Danny Kaye, who leased the building and operated a teen club, called The Teen Club (lol) out of it with a local television show saturday mornings, along the lines of American Bandstand. He tried to take it national with syndication… but never quite made it, again to my knowledge.
Speaking of belated comments, I can only hope that Harold above ever sees this. If you do, I want you to know that if your father was “Harold”… he was one of the nicest, kindest, gentleman I ever knew.
I grew up living next door to Robert Lewis Barton. I worked in almost every theater the Bartons owned with the exception of the Continental. I was actually at the employee’s premier showing of The Greatest Story Ever Told which was held the morning of the day of the Grand Opening that evening.
I am going to cut this here, for now, just to be sure things are working as I am a new contributor. If this works, heh haha, then I have a truckload of information to add regarding Barton Theaters.