Piedmont Theatre

The Piedmont is actually a 1934 remodeling of a 1917 theater. Originally single-screened, it fell victim to changing trends and was plexed in the mid-1980’s (one of the last single-screens, at least in the Bay Area, to do so).

Chuck, the streets of Piedmont are not in the city of Piedmont. That area is actually Oakland. Being an Oaklander, I just wanted to set you straight. Just like Rockridge, Montclare village and the Claremont hotel are actually in the city of Oakland.

Here are some more night shots of the Piedmont Theatre from July 2008.

The June, 1934, issue of The Architect & Engineer had this item about the remodeling of the Piedmont Theatre:

“Extensive alterations and additions are to be made to the Piedmont Theater, Oakland, from plans by A. A. Cantin, 557 Market Street, San Francisco. About $10,000 will be expended on the improvements, which will be in charge of A. J. Hopper.”

Saw JAWS there twice in the summer of 1975. I was 12. It may have been the East Bay’s exclusive run of the movie at the time. Not sure where JAWS was playing in San Francisco at the time. 1st time I saw it was a matinee maybe the the 1st or second week of release. Loved it, of course. Not a lot of folks in the theater. I recall sitting in the balcony the 2nd time I saw it, an evening show, a packed house. The balcony was the smoking section at the time. My dad had decided to indulge and taken taken me, and went for a pee break before the film started. He told me to find a seat down front in the orchestra. I found a couple of free seats while he went to the bathroom, but upon sitting, I soon saw why the crowded theater had two choice free seats: some drunk bastard had just puked on the floor next to his seat, and was ranting incoherently. I hightailed it outta there and intercepted my old man coming back from the bathroom, imploring him to find us seats in the smoking section (the balcony). He couldn’t understand; he knew I hated the smell of cigarette smoke (he himself was a pipe smoker), but I was insistent, because I thought my father would have 86ed the whole excursion had he found out some drunk had puked in the theater (my dad was reluctant to take me to some dopey movie about a shark in the first place). I suffered through the viewing in a haze of cigarette smoke for my old man’s sake so we could enjoy the movie. We get home, he recounts the experience to his wife (my stepmother), with the conclusively derisive putdown, “And then at the end, the shark jumps out of the water ON TO THE BOAT! Can you believe it?!?!” He couldn’t even suspend his disbelief for that plot contrivance in order to enjoy the pleasure the movie would have brought him. I’ve since learned one can underestimate a driven animal at one’s peril.