As an Assistant Manager in August of 1986, I met my husband while working at the National. At the time, Westwood Managers would gather at Josephina’s after hours to drink and B.S. while seated by the fireplace. This was Westwood with cruisers and gangsters, stars and premieres, and young twentysomethings so full of themselves—– full of potential and craving excitement.
Last summer, my husband and I visited LA and brought our children (ages 15, 12, and 8) to see the National for the first time. They have heard all the stories, they have seen the photo albums loaded with snap shots. Shock and sadness cannot begin to describe the feelings I felt as we walked up to the box office to read the sign that said: Theatre Closed. Thank you for your patronage.
Together we walked on the sidewalk along the lobby side doors, peeking inside through cupped hands to see the office, the preview lounge, the hallway to the guys locker room and the grand staircase. As I stood there feeling the growing loss I glanced down at the footing of one of the marble pillars (one of several that adorned the lobby side doors). At the bottom it was cracking with age.
Before I knew it, I gave the footing a quick, swift kick with my boot. Amidst a chorus of yells from my children— “MOM, what are you DOING?” I dislodged a 5 inch piece of that marble and ran back to our minivan to keep it safe.
That piece of marble has now been added to my treasures of the National. Mann’s National (my cashiers used to answer the phone Nan’s National) Without that place I wouldn’t have married the beautiful soul I still share life with all of these years later.
RIP National Theatre. Thanks Cinema Treasures for allowing me the opportunity to confess my vandalism and bare my heart.
As an Assistant Manager in August of 1986, I met my husband while working at the National. At the time, Westwood Managers would gather at Josephina’s after hours to drink and B.S. while seated by the fireplace. This was Westwood with cruisers and gangsters, stars and premieres, and young twentysomethings so full of themselves—– full of potential and craving excitement.
Last summer, my husband and I visited LA and brought our children (ages 15, 12, and 8) to see the National for the first time. They have heard all the stories, they have seen the photo albums loaded with snap shots. Shock and sadness cannot begin to describe the feelings I felt as we walked up to the box office to read the sign that said: Theatre Closed. Thank you for your patronage.
Together we walked on the sidewalk along the lobby side doors, peeking inside through cupped hands to see the office, the preview lounge, the hallway to the guys locker room and the grand staircase. As I stood there feeling the growing loss I glanced down at the footing of one of the marble pillars (one of several that adorned the lobby side doors). At the bottom it was cracking with age.
Before I knew it, I gave the footing a quick, swift kick with my boot. Amidst a chorus of yells from my children— “MOM, what are you DOING?” I dislodged a 5 inch piece of that marble and ran back to our minivan to keep it safe.
That piece of marble has now been added to my treasures of the National. Mann’s National (my cashiers used to answer the phone Nan’s National) Without that place I wouldn’t have married the beautiful soul I still share life with all of these years later.
RIP National Theatre. Thanks Cinema Treasures for allowing me the opportunity to confess my vandalism and bare my heart.