Mr. Vogel: If memory serves, I seem to recall both the California and the Town being open as Pussycat theaters at the same time. I have a recollection of taking notice of the same film title being shown at both theaters at the same time and find the booking as odd.
One thing I do seem to remember about the putative ‘first opera house’ was the existence of some fixtures that appeared to be re-purposed gas light fixtures and, bit more dimly, the possible presence of box seating on the sides. Again, I am working from dim memories growing dimmer every day.
I probably attended, at one time or another, almost all of the theaters in Downtown LA and Hollywood, not to mention a goodly number of nabes and Westside theaters. Your experience at the Regent was more than typical of the other Main St. theaters and then some. If it wasn’t out of the curiosity to see what the interiors of the theaters looked like, I wouldn’t have had a reason to go into any of them. Still, at least I got to see some of those now lost treasures before they faded away.
Mr. Vogel: I’m sorry I can’t really be more specific; it has been over 45 years and my memory is not what it was. It might have been the California, but IIRK, didn’t the Pussycat chain pretty much overhaul the interiors of their theaters, obliterating much of whatever remained of the of the original decor? It is entirely possible my recollection of the opera house claim may have been an exaggeration by some manager or other staff as to the provenance of the theater; some of them were also of an age when their own memories were ‘fuzzy’.
I moved to LA from San Francisco in early 1970 and quickly got a job working at a bank data processing center located on Main St. between 4th and 5th street. I worked the swing shift, starting at about 4:00pm and ending at about 1:00am. The entire area was a sort of a 24/7 battle zone. Just up the street was the old Follies Burlesque and just down the street, opposite was the Regent. There were a few “hole-in-the-wall” theaters and some arcade setups, some of which defy description other than “sleaze”. One of the times I went to the Follies, not long before its final closing, I got to go backstage and to an area upstairs where the were still posters, standups, and other advertising objects from the burlesque glory days. The Rolling Stones did some still and video photography for their “Exiles on Main Street” album cover art and promo films on Main St., Downtown LA. Some of the stills, on the original cover art, show some of the entrances and exterior lobby displays of some of the theaters; there are “Exiles” related videos on YouTube also showing film footage of some of the theater exteriors.
The Linda Lea was used for filming after its closure; I recall seeing the interior lobby used in the film “The Crow: City of Angels” and in a couple of TV crime drama series.
Regarding the photo link — I apologize on two counts:
1) I just found this website the same night I made my first post and didn’t know how to properly post a link;
2) I was also unaware of the “Photos” tab at the top of the Linda Lea Theater page; the photo in question is the first one to the left when the tab is clicked and the year in the caption is 1937; I should have known, on a site as extensively detailed as Cinema Treasures, someone had already posted the picture
I’m sorry I couldn’t be more specific on the theater you were asking about and thank you for you response and comments.
The description says ca. 1937, but it seems to be perhaps a bit earlier.
Starting around 1974, I used to go see movies at the Linda lea on an almost weekly basis, interspersed by viewings at the Toho La Brea and the Kokusai. I loved that old Linda Lea theater and was both saddened and angered by the theater’s fate. If you called the theater, a recording would give you the list of films (there were 3 films per bill) and their starting times. The recording would start off in English and whoever did the recordings tended to sound a bit like the villain in an old WWII move; the opening phrase: “This is the Linda Lea Theater, the home of Toei Films, exclusively!” Imagine this being said in a voice reminiscent of Sessue Hayakawa. After the English version, the whole spiel would be given again in Japanese.
The inside of the theater was basically one big box with the screen taking up pretty much all of the west wall; there were two, IIRC, exit doors below the screen in either corner. The theater did have a balcony and the balcony had a feature you don’t see anymore: a crying room; this was a walled off section of south side of the balcony with a large floor-to-ceiling pane of heavy glass; at the rear of the section were heavy drapes to muffle any sound from the area; in earlier days, patrons with small crying or fidgeting children who still wanted to see the film would be ‘exiled’ to the crying room so as not to disturb the other patrons.
There were quite a few aspects of the theater that held over from the earlier periods. The men’s restroom had “scratching plates” mounted on the wall next to the urinals so the men could strike their matches and light up a smoke while answering natures call. When I first came t LA in 1970, I was fascinated by all the old theaters still existing in downtown LA, particularly those east of Broadway. Those fine old theaters, some a bit worse for wear, some on their last legs, were like magnets to me and I spent a goodly amount of time visiting them and exploring the insides. One, whose name I have forgotten, I found out later had been the very first opera house in LA; st the time I saw it, it was an x-rated movie house, but a great deal of the old interior was still intact. Sadly, it was torn down, like a lot of the old Main St. theaters, often for nothing better than to become one more parking lot. I am thankful I got to see them before they faded away and I am very thankful for the help of the sometimes befuddled theater managers or projectionists who put up with me asking questions rather than seeing the films, or whatever, was on the bill.
In 1975, I moved into an apartment complex on La Mirada Ave, a half a block down on the same north side of the street as the Filmarte. I still live in the same complex 42 years later. When I first saw the building, it was being used as a rehearsal sound stage for major musical acts of the time. The interior of the building was sufficiently large enough for the acts to deploy their full stage tour sets and rehearse as if they were playing in a large venue. You could walk by the building and hear through the closed doors the likes of Three Dog Night and Maria Muldar; on particularly hot summer nights, the very large loading dock doors on the north side of the building were sometimes open for ventilation and, if the act didn’t try to conceal their presence by hanging light, loose drapes over the doorway, passersby could catch a glimpse of the performers.
There was a small and reputedly very high end French restaurant located at the corner of the building in the space shown as the “Autocrat Cleaners” in the photo at the top of this page. The restaurant closed suddenly and I noticed, when I passed by, an IRS seal on the door citing non-payment of taxes.
The building technically still stands. The fire (which was an event I somehow managed to sleep through) did indeed gut the interior, but the walls and most of the roof remained. The fire itself was rumored by some in this neighborhood as being possibly connected to other fires around the same period that gutted the Hollywood Ranch Market, the Ametron store next door to the Filmarte, and a few others. After the fire, the building interior was fully gutted, excavations were made to create underground parking, and the interior was rebuilt as office space. One of the casualties of the renovation was an inscription some fan(s) had made in wet cement of undying love for Donna Summer when the steps had been replaced during a previous remodeling. The building was little used after the fire and renovation and stood vacant for extended periods of time. After a time, the County of Los Angeles Dept. of Mental Health moved into the building and established a clinic, which is still functioning.
A bit of trivia: the last photo ever or Jame Dean alive was taken directly across the street from the Filmarte location.
Mr. Vogel: If memory serves, I seem to recall both the California and the Town being open as Pussycat theaters at the same time. I have a recollection of taking notice of the same film title being shown at both theaters at the same time and find the booking as odd.
One thing I do seem to remember about the putative ‘first opera house’ was the existence of some fixtures that appeared to be re-purposed gas light fixtures and, bit more dimly, the possible presence of box seating on the sides. Again, I am working from dim memories growing dimmer every day.
I probably attended, at one time or another, almost all of the theaters in Downtown LA and Hollywood, not to mention a goodly number of nabes and Westside theaters. Your experience at the Regent was more than typical of the other Main St. theaters and then some. If it wasn’t out of the curiosity to see what the interiors of the theaters looked like, I wouldn’t have had a reason to go into any of them. Still, at least I got to see some of those now lost treasures before they faded away.
Mr. Vogel: I’m sorry I can’t really be more specific; it has been over 45 years and my memory is not what it was. It might have been the California, but IIRK, didn’t the Pussycat chain pretty much overhaul the interiors of their theaters, obliterating much of whatever remained of the of the original decor? It is entirely possible my recollection of the opera house claim may have been an exaggeration by some manager or other staff as to the provenance of the theater; some of them were also of an age when their own memories were ‘fuzzy’.
I moved to LA from San Francisco in early 1970 and quickly got a job working at a bank data processing center located on Main St. between 4th and 5th street. I worked the swing shift, starting at about 4:00pm and ending at about 1:00am. The entire area was a sort of a 24/7 battle zone. Just up the street was the old Follies Burlesque and just down the street, opposite was the Regent. There were a few “hole-in-the-wall” theaters and some arcade setups, some of which defy description other than “sleaze”. One of the times I went to the Follies, not long before its final closing, I got to go backstage and to an area upstairs where the were still posters, standups, and other advertising objects from the burlesque glory days. The Rolling Stones did some still and video photography for their “Exiles on Main Street” album cover art and promo films on Main St., Downtown LA. Some of the stills, on the original cover art, show some of the entrances and exterior lobby displays of some of the theaters; there are “Exiles” related videos on YouTube also showing film footage of some of the theater exteriors.
The Linda Lea was used for filming after its closure; I recall seeing the interior lobby used in the film “The Crow: City of Angels” and in a couple of TV crime drama series.
Regarding the photo link — I apologize on two counts:
1) I just found this website the same night I made my first post and didn’t know how to properly post a link;
2) I was also unaware of the “Photos” tab at the top of the Linda Lea Theater page; the photo in question is the first one to the left when the tab is clicked and the year in the caption is 1937; I should have known, on a site as extensively detailed as Cinema Treasures, someone had already posted the picture
I’m sorry I couldn’t be more specific on the theater you were asking about and thank you for you response and comments.
I couldn’t open a couple of the photo links in the other comments, so please excuse if this is a repeat:
http://photos.lapl.org/carlweb/jsp/FullRecord?databaseID=968&record=4&controlNumber=5072735
The description says ca. 1937, but it seems to be perhaps a bit earlier.
Starting around 1974, I used to go see movies at the Linda lea on an almost weekly basis, interspersed by viewings at the Toho La Brea and the Kokusai. I loved that old Linda Lea theater and was both saddened and angered by the theater’s fate. If you called the theater, a recording would give you the list of films (there were 3 films per bill) and their starting times. The recording would start off in English and whoever did the recordings tended to sound a bit like the villain in an old WWII move; the opening phrase: “This is the Linda Lea Theater, the home of Toei Films, exclusively!” Imagine this being said in a voice reminiscent of Sessue Hayakawa. After the English version, the whole spiel would be given again in Japanese.
The inside of the theater was basically one big box with the screen taking up pretty much all of the west wall; there were two, IIRC, exit doors below the screen in either corner. The theater did have a balcony and the balcony had a feature you don’t see anymore: a crying room; this was a walled off section of south side of the balcony with a large floor-to-ceiling pane of heavy glass; at the rear of the section were heavy drapes to muffle any sound from the area; in earlier days, patrons with small crying or fidgeting children who still wanted to see the film would be ‘exiled’ to the crying room so as not to disturb the other patrons.
There were quite a few aspects of the theater that held over from the earlier periods. The men’s restroom had “scratching plates” mounted on the wall next to the urinals so the men could strike their matches and light up a smoke while answering natures call. When I first came t LA in 1970, I was fascinated by all the old theaters still existing in downtown LA, particularly those east of Broadway. Those fine old theaters, some a bit worse for wear, some on their last legs, were like magnets to me and I spent a goodly amount of time visiting them and exploring the insides. One, whose name I have forgotten, I found out later had been the very first opera house in LA; st the time I saw it, it was an x-rated movie house, but a great deal of the old interior was still intact. Sadly, it was torn down, like a lot of the old Main St. theaters, often for nothing better than to become one more parking lot. I am thankful I got to see them before they faded away and I am very thankful for the help of the sometimes befuddled theater managers or projectionists who put up with me asking questions rather than seeing the films, or whatever, was on the bill.
In 1975, I moved into an apartment complex on La Mirada Ave, a half a block down on the same north side of the street as the Filmarte. I still live in the same complex 42 years later. When I first saw the building, it was being used as a rehearsal sound stage for major musical acts of the time. The interior of the building was sufficiently large enough for the acts to deploy their full stage tour sets and rehearse as if they were playing in a large venue. You could walk by the building and hear through the closed doors the likes of Three Dog Night and Maria Muldar; on particularly hot summer nights, the very large loading dock doors on the north side of the building were sometimes open for ventilation and, if the act didn’t try to conceal their presence by hanging light, loose drapes over the doorway, passersby could catch a glimpse of the performers.
There was a small and reputedly very high end French restaurant located at the corner of the building in the space shown as the “Autocrat Cleaners” in the photo at the top of this page. The restaurant closed suddenly and I noticed, when I passed by, an IRS seal on the door citing non-payment of taxes.
The building technically still stands. The fire (which was an event I somehow managed to sleep through) did indeed gut the interior, but the walls and most of the roof remained. The fire itself was rumored by some in this neighborhood as being possibly connected to other fires around the same period that gutted the Hollywood Ranch Market, the Ametron store next door to the Filmarte, and a few others. After the fire, the building interior was fully gutted, excavations were made to create underground parking, and the interior was rebuilt as office space. One of the casualties of the renovation was an inscription some fan(s) had made in wet cement of undying love for Donna Summer when the steps had been replaced during a previous remodeling. The building was little used after the fire and renovation and stood vacant for extended periods of time. After a time, the County of Los Angeles Dept. of Mental Health moved into the building and established a clinic, which is still functioning.
A bit of trivia: the last photo ever or Jame Dean alive was taken directly across the street from the Filmarte location.