Well, I was asking about the booth and anything else that wasn’t readily available to the general public, including the mezzanine and balcony levels, as Dave has described, and the backstage, basement and any other parts of the building that we never got to see. Whenever I went there the balcony was closed. I never saw the State beyond the ground floor and always wondered what the place looked like at the top of that marble staircase.
It’s interesting that such a spacious theater would have such a cramped, hot booth. What kind of projectors were used? Were they of recent vintage at the time or did they date back a few decades? I always remember the ‘Scope image at the State as very sharp and bright, much superior to some other theaters.
Dave, one thing that was never used when I went to the State was stereo sound, which some have said the State had. Motion pictures using stereo sound were not at all common back then, so it’s not surprising it wasn’t used very often. Can you recall some films in which it was?
Turning an old theater into a performing arts center, including showing movies, takes friends at city hall who in turn have friends in the corporate world. York had that with Mayor John Krout and Louis Appell of Susquehanna Pfaltzgraff (whose grandfather built the Strand.) That’s how the Strand-Capitol came to be. In 1973 Harrisburg was suffering through one its worst administrations in city hall. The next mayor, Steve Reed, like him or not, would have jumped through hoops to save the State. He tried to save the Colonial but it was too late. (Apparently he didn’t feel much affection for the Senate, however, if that axe story is accurate!) Downtown York was a ghost town and the Strand-Capitol helped turn it around. The State could have done the same thing for Harrisburg. I just think some things are worth saving and the State was one of them.
23 weeks for “MASH?” I stand corrected, Norelco. You should know. And I’m not surprised that with continuous shows, even that film played to an empty house occasionally. When I worked at the Eric as an usher, I remember that happening sometimes on Sunday afternoons, so it wasn’t just the downtown theaters.
Norrelco, you have an insider’s view of the State the rest of us can only dream of. What was it like upstairs?
Ross – I should have mentioned this before – excellent write-up on the State! The address of the State Theater Building was 208-212 Locust Street. The building housed the theater, several adjacent businesses and a large number of offices. So large was this building that Harrisburg’s original Channel 27, WCMB-TV, had offices and studios there. (WCMB-TV was a Dumont affiliate and went dark in 1957, but the studios remained intact and unused until the building was demolished, I’m told.) The State was Harrisburg’s prestige theater. It played a lot of the usual stuff that Hollywood was releasing, but when important films came to town, they played the State, at least until the Eric and Trans Lux were built. Among the films I remember seeing at the State: “Thunderball,” “The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm” (not in Cinerama), “Planet of the Apes,” “Mutiny on the Bounty” (the Brando version), and “7th Voyage of Sinbad.” My first movie at the State was “Journey to the Center of the Earth.” I also saw “MASH” at the State, which had the longest downtown run in my memory, 17 weeks. I was told by someone that the State had the largest Cinemascope screen on the East Coast. I don’t know if that was true but it was really big.
John, your well-known accuracy is a little off on this one. The State was never a Loew’s or Fox property. It was constructed on the site of the Orpheum Theatre by the Wilmer and Vincent circuit in 1926, at a cost of one million dollars. Grand opening was April 12th, 1926. The State was co-owned with the Colonial, Victoria (demolished in 1945) and the Majestic (later called the Rio.) Ownership passed to Fabian Theatres in the 1950s and 60s. Fabian retained ownership of the building and leased both the State and Colonial to United Artists Theatres in the early 1970s. When the building was sold, UA’s lease was terminated. The last picture to grace the State’s huge screen was, sadly, X-rated. The theatre closed November 25th, 1973, and was demolished in August of 1974. The last film I saw there was “Deliverance.” Although a citizens group formed to save the State, the city wasn’t sympathetic toward historic preservation at the time. The idea was scuttled by a “consultant” who declared that the project was economically infeasible. The cost to renovate the State would be one and a half million dollars, he said, and the powers agreed that an old theater just wasn’t worth such a price tag. Idiots. What a complete exercise in stupidity and short-sightedness. What that theater would have brought to downtown would have paid for itself time and time again. A beautiful theater, even in it’s latter days, and a wonderful place to see a movie. I was there dozens of times and never thought it would end. I really miss the State.
And Barry Sullivan was damn good actor, too. He was just one of those people destined to play second banana in “A” pictures and the lead in “B’s.” As such, he probably had a longer and more versatile career than many people who were bigger “stars.”
“Jail Busters” featured the Bowery Boys and “Loophole” was a 1954 retread starring Barry Sullivan, a man born to play the lead in B pictures, as a bank clerk accused of theft. Both from Monogram/Allied Artists. And I had to look ‘em up on IMDB, 'cause I didn’t remember them either. I’m a movie buff and I’ve been surprised when I look at theater listings from the 40s, 50s, 60s, even 70s and 80s, and I don’t remember the titles of 99% of the movies. It’s not a bad memory, it’s just that so much is, was, and always has been, generally forgettable. Now maybe the Grand was showing those pictures on a Monday or Tuesday night, and had something great on the weekend, but one has to ask who would have come out on a cold February night and paid good money to sit through those two pictures. The last guy on the block without a TV? Five or ten years years before there might have been a crowd any night of the week, for anything, but playing movies like that in 1956 would have hastened the end for any theater. Just as making movies like that hastened the end of Monogram.
Chuck, I have added my e-mail address to my profile. I don’t have time to do write-ups myself but I’m always happy to add what information or thoughts I have to someone else’s.
One thing I remember about the Colonial (in addition to all the things above) was that it always seemed so dark, even when the lights were on. I tried to examine the walls one time and they looked like some shade of brown. Perhaps it was just years of collected grime. The Colonial did have side boxes and a balcony, none of which were ever open at any time I went there. I always thought the Colonial seemed neglected (faded elegance was a good description, Ross), especially compared to the co-owned State. Its elegance was faded too but not to the degree of the Colonial.
Thanks for the info, Chuck. If I had to make a guess I would say sometime in 1955 was the Grand’s last picture show. 1956 at the latest. It’s listed in an industry publication I have dated 1955 and it may have even been gone by the publication date, as many theaters were. 1955 seemed to be a watershed year for closures.
Seating at the Penway was 812 according to a 1955 Film Daily yearbook in my collection, which sounds more accurate than 512. I remember how attractive the marquee of this theater was at night, even into the 1970s. Sadly, it really got beat up and ugly toward the last. The Penway ran black exploitation films, some first-run, in the 70s. It’s last gasp was running Christian films. I remember seeing a newspaper ad for it. No theater name. It just said “Christian Movies,” and the current feature was “The Grim Reaper.” (I wonder if the candy counter stocked Red Devils during that one? Ha-ha.) I don’t think the Christian format lasted long and in 1986 it was made into a CVS drug store. Today it houses a social service organization called Rejoice Inc. The marquee is completely gone but if you know what you’re looking for you can see that it was once a theater, one of the nicest neighborhood houses in the area.
That store was either called the Music Box, as you suggest, or the Juke Box. I was only in there a couple of times as a kid but remember it as a real rockin' joint with music playing loud. It was a good place to find a 45 that you couldn’t find downtown.
The Grand had a small, half-circle kind of marquis as a I recall, extending just over the sidewalk, and part of the facade was in maroon polished glass or something like that. I think the Grand may have closed as early as 1956 or 57. It was always closed from when I remember going by it, and that was 1959 or 60. One of the many casualties of TV.
The Grand had 700 seats, a good size for a neighborhood theater of the time. I’ve seen it listed in local papers as operating in the 1920s, so it was showing movies before talkies. We always passed this theater and the one a couple of blocks away on 13th Street (the Roxy) while riding the bus into town, and although both were closed, they interested me as a kid. In the early 60s the Grand became a church. They took down the neon letters spelling “Grand” and replaced them with the name of the church, Evangel Temple. When that folded it was turned into the Grand Roller Rink. (“Norelco,” shed some light on how the floor was leveled, would you?) After that the Grand again became a church, first catering to African-Americans, then Hispanics, reflecting the changing ethnicity of the neighborhood. In the early 2000s the city began demolishing condemned buildings that were in danger of collapse, and the Grand finally met its end.
“Norelco,” I’ll have to e-mail you with some questions about the Paxtang, my own childhood venue. I have a question about the Grand, however. My dad lived on 13th Street in the 1920s (and on Liberty Street in the 1930s, “penway14”)and attended the Grand. He once told me that the Grand was a “reverse” theatre, that when you entered the auditorium the seats were facing you and that you walked up to find a seat, with the screen to your side and back. I’d never heard of such a thing at the time and thought that I either misunderstood him or he was thinking of somewhere else. I’m sure he didn’t make it up and even at 90 his mind was sharp as a tack. So was the Grand a reverse theatre? Were there any among the many places you worked?
Nice to read your memories of the Rio, Ross! Although the Rio existed in my lifetime (barely) I only know it from newspaper articles. I recall reading that the Rio (which was associated with the State and Colonial) became an “action house” after the Victoria on Market Street was closed and demolished for a 5 & 10 in the 1940s. Westerns were a specialty. Roy Rogers (riding Trigger) appeared on stage a few times as did many other Western stars. Harrisburg radio legend Ed K. Smith used to broadcast a live kids show on WHP radio every Saturday from the Rio. I’ve always supposed that with the demise of Westerns and B pictures (which became television) there wasn’t enough product available to sustain three theaters owned by the same company downtown and the Rio got the ax. I’ve seen photos of the exterior and it was really attractive.
I saw that story on WGAL.com too, and if they are having problems it may be because the place looks so uninviting. Take a look at that screen. I saw it a few months ago and thought “I guess they’ll whitewash it when the season starts.†I drove by again the first week of the season. No change. Looks like it hasn’t been painted in years. It’s those things that make people think you don’t care and once lost, they don’t come back. They show double-features of two first-run movies, at a reasonable price, in what is becoming a heavily-populated area 15 miles southwest of Harrisburg. They’re open only on weekends, and in previous seasons the place is packed every night. If they’re losing money on concessions because people bring their own stuff, well hasn’t that always been an issue for drive-ins? Perhaps they need to look at the service they are providing as an issue. The family that runs it was paid generously for that property. They can certainly afford to have a clean, white screen. As one of only two remaining DI’s in the Harrisburg metro area, they shouldn’t be hurting. I would hate to see Haar’s close, but if they can’t make going there an inviting experience, give it up.
This theatre is no longer in operation and has been transformed into an apartment building called Center Stage Apartments. This little theatre had a bit of a notorious reputation in the early 1970s when it was called the “Holly Art Theatre” and showed XXX porn. The owner, an old guy with a craggy voice and some kind of New Yorky accent used to do radio commercials for it on one of the Carlisle stations. They were hysterical. I’ll never forget the one for one particular feature. It went something like this: “Now showing at da Holly Aht Theatre. "Thar She Blows.” The story of men and women who go down to the sea in ships.“ Priceless.
Bryan: Thanks for that link. As it was still referred to as the Strand Theater, at least part of it must have still existed at that time, though I’m sure it was not in business. By the address it would seem to have been a large building, probably with storefronts and apartments. The fire was arson, and tragically two people were killed. I wonder if the theater itself was still sitting there decaying, an open invitation for vandalism. I checked with the Carlisle Sentinel and their archives have all been transferred to the Cumberland County Historical Society, which is only three doors down from where the Strand once stood. If and when I have a chance to go there I’ll check it out.
This theater was operated by Comerford-Publix Theaters, and was still operating as of 1955. Presumably it closed not long after that, as friends who grew up in Carlisle have no memory of it. The population of Carlisle at that time was around 14000, and perhaps having two theaters in town, each with seating over 1000, was too much for the market to bear, given the new popularity of “free” TV. I don’t recall any empty theater being destroyed by fire in August 1972, but that was a busy summer, what with Tropical Storm Agnes and all, and perhaps the building had been converted to some other use.
Dennis and John: We should all try to get together at some point and talk Central PA theaters. I grew up in the Harrisburg area and now live in York, and know quite a bit about theaters in those towns, but I know very little about Lancaster other than what you’ve posted here. I’d love to see your scrapbooks too.
Camp Hill is a community across the Susquehanna River from Harrisburg, PA. The Hill was a nice theater with 900 reclining seats. I never before or since have been in a theater with seats quite like that. Big screen too. I went there many times. It wasn’t fancy, nor was it plain, as it had attractive decorative touches. Just a nice, well-maintained neighborhood house. The Hill opened post-WWII, I think, as it is not listed in the 1945 Film Daily Yearbook. It was a second-run house until 1963 when it switched to first-run. The Hill was part of Harry Chertkoff’s small chain and was large enough to sustain a first-run policy. In fact, until the Camp Hill Twin was built, the Hill was the only first-run theater on the West Shore. At the time the only first-run theaters in the area were the State, Senate and Colonial in downtown Harrisburg, the Uptown (also in the city) and the Eric in Swatara Township.
The 1970s was a tough time for a lot of older, single-screen theaters. Energy costs skyrocketed so heating and air conditioning were much more expensive, and multiple theaters like the Camp Hill Twin and the 6 at the Capital City Mall began to take away first-run product. The Eric and the Trans-Lux were twinned, further depleting first-run availability. Several of the drive-ins had become first-run too. In the mid-70s the Hill began showing foreign films, art films and revival classics as a way to keep going. I saw a reissue of Disney’s “Fantasia” and the Basil Rathbone version of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” there. The last time I went there, to see a reissue of the restored “King Kong,” it had gotten kind of shabby. Apparently the roof had leaked and there was a long white streak along the right-hand wall caused by water, and the place smelled kinda musty.
I’ve always thought the loss of the Hill was tragic. Camp Hill is an upscale community with many busy, well-kept independent retail shops and restaurants along the main street. Had the Hill survived it would be a real theatrical jewel today. It was major loss for Camp Hill to be sure. I remember seeing it during demolition but I don’t recall the year. Can anyone else supply exact dates?
Finally some good news about this abadoned movie palace. It has been purchased by a group of people who have the intent of restoring it to its 1928 splendor for stage productions and movies. Their web site has all the information. Good luck to them! Hanover PA is a great area. http://www.hanovertheater.info/
But for an unfortunate accident brought on by years of neglect, the Colonial Theater might have survived as a performing arts center. After the public relations black eye the city got from the demolition of the grand old State Theater in 1974, and a new administration more sympathetic to preservation, the city was anticipating the renovation of the Colonial to its former splendor. But it was not to be.
I recall the Colonial during my downtown movie going days in the late 50s, 60s and early 70s as heavy on action, horror, sci fi, teen pictures, anything from AIP and Toho. William Castle’s gimmicky thrillers always played the Colonial, including “House on Haunted Hill,†during which a skeleton on wires appeared from one of the side boxes and drifted over the audiences’ heads on its way up to the balcony. The prestigious pictures usually played the co-owned State, although I saw “El Cid†and “A Man for All Seasons†at the Colonial, so there were rare exceptions. The first movie I remember seeing at the Colonial was “The Time Machine†in 1960. The last was the X-rated cartoon “Fritz the Cat†in 1973.
The Colonial seated 1,095, although the balcony and side boxes were never open any time I attended. A former vaudeville theater, the Colonial had an equipped stage and an orchestra pit. The interior style was Italian Renaissance, reminiscent of an opera house. It opened as a theater in 1912.
The Colonial, the State and the Rio (closed in 1953) were part of the Wilmer & Vincent chain, and in the 50s and 60s were owned by Fabian Theaters. United Artists leased the Colonial and State from Fabian in the early 70s. The Colonial outlasted the State by a couple of years, turning to blaxploitation, martial arts and urban-themed action pictures, often on double-bills. I don’t recall the Colonial playing XXX features, but it may have happened occasionally, and there was certainly some soft-core in the mix. The Colonial limped to a quiet close in December 1976, with the marquee set-up of its last feature, a martial arts picture, remaining on the marquee for years thereafter. The building was subsequently bought and sold by a series of investors, in 1978, 1979 and 1982, and in the ensuing years the empty theater deteriorated badly. A general-alarm fire set by an arsonist caused further damage in 1978.
“Colonial Theater Collapses†read the headline in the Sunday Patriot-News on September 11th, 1983. The day before, shortly after 12 noon, the roof of the Colonial collapsed, pushing out the east side wall and showering 3rd Street with bricks, debris and a cloud of dust. The owners reported that the roof had been sagging noticeably for several months but said that there had been no indication that the theater was in danger of collapse, although a city inspector had reported that the walls were bulging the Friday before. That Saturday it finally gave out, bringing down a large part of the roof and the east side wall. There were no injuries. No cars were passing by at the time, although four vehicles parked along 3rd St. were demolished.
It could have been much worse. In true Hollywood fashion, a woman pushing a baby carriage had cleared the wall by less than five minutes before the collapse. On any weekday, the 3rd Street bus stop would have been crowded with people. A man who had parked his car beside the theater was standing at the corner of Market and 3rd when the wall gave out, crushing his vehicle. Adjacent to the theater’s west wall, a private club that on a weekday would have been filled with a lunchtime crowd was severely damaged. And strangest of all, a crew was set to begin working on the Colonial’s weakened roof the following Monday, shoring it up from the inside. The city had purchased a tarp for $6,500 which was to be placed over the roof after it had been braced and stabilized, in anticipation of restoring the Colonial as a performing arts center. It seemed as if the grand old lady had given up her life at just the right moment.
The auditorium portion of the Colonial was quickly demolished. The Market Street façade and front portion of the building, which dated back to 1836 as the Wilson, Derr and Locheil Hotels, was spared, minus the marquee, and an office building was built behind it where the Colonial Theater had for so many years, through two world wars, two major floods, the advent of TV and a dying downtown, entertained the people of Pennsylvania’s capital city.
Credit where credit is due: Details of the Colonial Theater collapse were derived from articles written by Mary Bradley, Mary Klaus and Randy Myers of the Harrisburg PA Patriot-News and published in 1983, and one anonymous article published in 1982. Everything else is from my own research and memory.
Dennis: This is so weird. I had literally just put the finishing touches on my own memories of the Colonial and its unfortunate demise, which I was going to add to Cinema Treasures, when I logged-in and saw your post. You and I are just about the same age and I not only attended the Colonial and the other downtown Harrisburg theaters in the 50s and 60s, I grew up in Paxtang and went to that little bijou just about every week, usually on Saturday afternoon or Friday night. We were probably in the same audience together many many times. You obviously remember the Paxtang’s impressario, Samuel “Doc” Gladsden (originally Goldstein), although I recall him as a more colorful character than you do. I’d just been having an e-mail exchange with another CT member about that very subject. What a small world. Glad to see a photo of the Colonial. If you have any others of the Colonial or State, please post them.
Well, I was asking about the booth and anything else that wasn’t readily available to the general public, including the mezzanine and balcony levels, as Dave has described, and the backstage, basement and any other parts of the building that we never got to see. Whenever I went there the balcony was closed. I never saw the State beyond the ground floor and always wondered what the place looked like at the top of that marble staircase.
It’s interesting that such a spacious theater would have such a cramped, hot booth. What kind of projectors were used? Were they of recent vintage at the time or did they date back a few decades? I always remember the ‘Scope image at the State as very sharp and bright, much superior to some other theaters.
Dave, one thing that was never used when I went to the State was stereo sound, which some have said the State had. Motion pictures using stereo sound were not at all common back then, so it’s not surprising it wasn’t used very often. Can you recall some films in which it was?
Turning an old theater into a performing arts center, including showing movies, takes friends at city hall who in turn have friends in the corporate world. York had that with Mayor John Krout and Louis Appell of Susquehanna Pfaltzgraff (whose grandfather built the Strand.) That’s how the Strand-Capitol came to be. In 1973 Harrisburg was suffering through one its worst administrations in city hall. The next mayor, Steve Reed, like him or not, would have jumped through hoops to save the State. He tried to save the Colonial but it was too late. (Apparently he didn’t feel much affection for the Senate, however, if that axe story is accurate!) Downtown York was a ghost town and the Strand-Capitol helped turn it around. The State could have done the same thing for Harrisburg. I just think some things are worth saving and the State was one of them.
23 weeks for “MASH?” I stand corrected, Norelco. You should know. And I’m not surprised that with continuous shows, even that film played to an empty house occasionally. When I worked at the Eric as an usher, I remember that happening sometimes on Sunday afternoons, so it wasn’t just the downtown theaters.
Norrelco, you have an insider’s view of the State the rest of us can only dream of. What was it like upstairs?
Ross – I should have mentioned this before – excellent write-up on the State! The address of the State Theater Building was 208-212 Locust Street. The building housed the theater, several adjacent businesses and a large number of offices. So large was this building that Harrisburg’s original Channel 27, WCMB-TV, had offices and studios there. (WCMB-TV was a Dumont affiliate and went dark in 1957, but the studios remained intact and unused until the building was demolished, I’m told.) The State was Harrisburg’s prestige theater. It played a lot of the usual stuff that Hollywood was releasing, but when important films came to town, they played the State, at least until the Eric and Trans Lux were built. Among the films I remember seeing at the State: “Thunderball,” “The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm” (not in Cinerama), “Planet of the Apes,” “Mutiny on the Bounty” (the Brando version), and “7th Voyage of Sinbad.” My first movie at the State was “Journey to the Center of the Earth.” I also saw “MASH” at the State, which had the longest downtown run in my memory, 17 weeks. I was told by someone that the State had the largest Cinemascope screen on the East Coast. I don’t know if that was true but it was really big.
John, your well-known accuracy is a little off on this one. The State was never a Loew’s or Fox property. It was constructed on the site of the Orpheum Theatre by the Wilmer and Vincent circuit in 1926, at a cost of one million dollars. Grand opening was April 12th, 1926. The State was co-owned with the Colonial, Victoria (demolished in 1945) and the Majestic (later called the Rio.) Ownership passed to Fabian Theatres in the 1950s and 60s. Fabian retained ownership of the building and leased both the State and Colonial to United Artists Theatres in the early 1970s. When the building was sold, UA’s lease was terminated. The last picture to grace the State’s huge screen was, sadly, X-rated. The theatre closed November 25th, 1973, and was demolished in August of 1974. The last film I saw there was “Deliverance.” Although a citizens group formed to save the State, the city wasn’t sympathetic toward historic preservation at the time. The idea was scuttled by a “consultant” who declared that the project was economically infeasible. The cost to renovate the State would be one and a half million dollars, he said, and the powers agreed that an old theater just wasn’t worth such a price tag. Idiots. What a complete exercise in stupidity and short-sightedness. What that theater would have brought to downtown would have paid for itself time and time again. A beautiful theater, even in it’s latter days, and a wonderful place to see a movie. I was there dozens of times and never thought it would end. I really miss the State.
And Barry Sullivan was damn good actor, too. He was just one of those people destined to play second banana in “A” pictures and the lead in “B’s.” As such, he probably had a longer and more versatile career than many people who were bigger “stars.”
“Jail Busters” featured the Bowery Boys and “Loophole” was a 1954 retread starring Barry Sullivan, a man born to play the lead in B pictures, as a bank clerk accused of theft. Both from Monogram/Allied Artists. And I had to look ‘em up on IMDB, 'cause I didn’t remember them either. I’m a movie buff and I’ve been surprised when I look at theater listings from the 40s, 50s, 60s, even 70s and 80s, and I don’t remember the titles of 99% of the movies. It’s not a bad memory, it’s just that so much is, was, and always has been, generally forgettable. Now maybe the Grand was showing those pictures on a Monday or Tuesday night, and had something great on the weekend, but one has to ask who would have come out on a cold February night and paid good money to sit through those two pictures. The last guy on the block without a TV? Five or ten years years before there might have been a crowd any night of the week, for anything, but playing movies like that in 1956 would have hastened the end for any theater. Just as making movies like that hastened the end of Monogram.
Hi Chuck! I’d be glad to add whatever info and memories I have. My e-mail address has been added to my profile.
Chuck, I have added my e-mail address to my profile. I don’t have time to do write-ups myself but I’m always happy to add what information or thoughts I have to someone else’s.
One thing I remember about the Colonial (in addition to all the things above) was that it always seemed so dark, even when the lights were on. I tried to examine the walls one time and they looked like some shade of brown. Perhaps it was just years of collected grime. The Colonial did have side boxes and a balcony, none of which were ever open at any time I went there. I always thought the Colonial seemed neglected (faded elegance was a good description, Ross), especially compared to the co-owned State. Its elegance was faded too but not to the degree of the Colonial.
Thanks for the info, Chuck. If I had to make a guess I would say sometime in 1955 was the Grand’s last picture show. 1956 at the latest. It’s listed in an industry publication I have dated 1955 and it may have even been gone by the publication date, as many theaters were. 1955 seemed to be a watershed year for closures.
Seating at the Penway was 812 according to a 1955 Film Daily yearbook in my collection, which sounds more accurate than 512. I remember how attractive the marquee of this theater was at night, even into the 1970s. Sadly, it really got beat up and ugly toward the last. The Penway ran black exploitation films, some first-run, in the 70s. It’s last gasp was running Christian films. I remember seeing a newspaper ad for it. No theater name. It just said “Christian Movies,” and the current feature was “The Grim Reaper.” (I wonder if the candy counter stocked Red Devils during that one? Ha-ha.) I don’t think the Christian format lasted long and in 1986 it was made into a CVS drug store. Today it houses a social service organization called Rejoice Inc. The marquee is completely gone but if you know what you’re looking for you can see that it was once a theater, one of the nicest neighborhood houses in the area.
That store was either called the Music Box, as you suggest, or the Juke Box. I was only in there a couple of times as a kid but remember it as a real rockin' joint with music playing loud. It was a good place to find a 45 that you couldn’t find downtown.
The Grand had a small, half-circle kind of marquis as a I recall, extending just over the sidewalk, and part of the facade was in maroon polished glass or something like that. I think the Grand may have closed as early as 1956 or 57. It was always closed from when I remember going by it, and that was 1959 or 60. One of the many casualties of TV.
The Grand had 700 seats, a good size for a neighborhood theater of the time. I’ve seen it listed in local papers as operating in the 1920s, so it was showing movies before talkies. We always passed this theater and the one a couple of blocks away on 13th Street (the Roxy) while riding the bus into town, and although both were closed, they interested me as a kid. In the early 60s the Grand became a church. They took down the neon letters spelling “Grand” and replaced them with the name of the church, Evangel Temple. When that folded it was turned into the Grand Roller Rink. (“Norelco,” shed some light on how the floor was leveled, would you?) After that the Grand again became a church, first catering to African-Americans, then Hispanics, reflecting the changing ethnicity of the neighborhood. In the early 2000s the city began demolishing condemned buildings that were in danger of collapse, and the Grand finally met its end.
“Norelco,” I’ll have to e-mail you with some questions about the Paxtang, my own childhood venue. I have a question about the Grand, however. My dad lived on 13th Street in the 1920s (and on Liberty Street in the 1930s, “penway14”)and attended the Grand. He once told me that the Grand was a “reverse” theatre, that when you entered the auditorium the seats were facing you and that you walked up to find a seat, with the screen to your side and back. I’d never heard of such a thing at the time and thought that I either misunderstood him or he was thinking of somewhere else. I’m sure he didn’t make it up and even at 90 his mind was sharp as a tack. So was the Grand a reverse theatre? Were there any among the many places you worked?
Nice to read your memories of the Rio, Ross! Although the Rio existed in my lifetime (barely) I only know it from newspaper articles. I recall reading that the Rio (which was associated with the State and Colonial) became an “action house” after the Victoria on Market Street was closed and demolished for a 5 & 10 in the 1940s. Westerns were a specialty. Roy Rogers (riding Trigger) appeared on stage a few times as did many other Western stars. Harrisburg radio legend Ed K. Smith used to broadcast a live kids show on WHP radio every Saturday from the Rio. I’ve always supposed that with the demise of Westerns and B pictures (which became television) there wasn’t enough product available to sustain three theaters owned by the same company downtown and the Rio got the ax. I’ve seen photos of the exterior and it was really attractive.
I saw that story on WGAL.com too, and if they are having problems it may be because the place looks so uninviting. Take a look at that screen. I saw it a few months ago and thought “I guess they’ll whitewash it when the season starts.†I drove by again the first week of the season. No change. Looks like it hasn’t been painted in years. It’s those things that make people think you don’t care and once lost, they don’t come back. They show double-features of two first-run movies, at a reasonable price, in what is becoming a heavily-populated area 15 miles southwest of Harrisburg. They’re open only on weekends, and in previous seasons the place is packed every night. If they’re losing money on concessions because people bring their own stuff, well hasn’t that always been an issue for drive-ins? Perhaps they need to look at the service they are providing as an issue. The family that runs it was paid generously for that property. They can certainly afford to have a clean, white screen. As one of only two remaining DI’s in the Harrisburg metro area, they shouldn’t be hurting. I would hate to see Haar’s close, but if they can’t make going there an inviting experience, give it up.
This theatre is no longer in operation. At last word it has been converted into an apartment building known as the Center Stage Apartments.
This theatre is no longer in operation and has been transformed into an apartment building called Center Stage Apartments. This little theatre had a bit of a notorious reputation in the early 1970s when it was called the “Holly Art Theatre” and showed XXX porn. The owner, an old guy with a craggy voice and some kind of New Yorky accent used to do radio commercials for it on one of the Carlisle stations. They were hysterical. I’ll never forget the one for one particular feature. It went something like this: “Now showing at da Holly Aht Theatre. "Thar She Blows.” The story of men and women who go down to the sea in ships.“ Priceless.
Bryan: Thanks for that link. As it was still referred to as the Strand Theater, at least part of it must have still existed at that time, though I’m sure it was not in business. By the address it would seem to have been a large building, probably with storefronts and apartments. The fire was arson, and tragically two people were killed. I wonder if the theater itself was still sitting there decaying, an open invitation for vandalism. I checked with the Carlisle Sentinel and their archives have all been transferred to the Cumberland County Historical Society, which is only three doors down from where the Strand once stood. If and when I have a chance to go there I’ll check it out.
This theater was operated by Comerford-Publix Theaters, and was still operating as of 1955. Presumably it closed not long after that, as friends who grew up in Carlisle have no memory of it. The population of Carlisle at that time was around 14000, and perhaps having two theaters in town, each with seating over 1000, was too much for the market to bear, given the new popularity of “free” TV. I don’t recall any empty theater being destroyed by fire in August 1972, but that was a busy summer, what with Tropical Storm Agnes and all, and perhaps the building had been converted to some other use.
Dennis and John: We should all try to get together at some point and talk Central PA theaters. I grew up in the Harrisburg area and now live in York, and know quite a bit about theaters in those towns, but I know very little about Lancaster other than what you’ve posted here. I’d love to see your scrapbooks too.
Camp Hill is a community across the Susquehanna River from Harrisburg, PA. The Hill was a nice theater with 900 reclining seats. I never before or since have been in a theater with seats quite like that. Big screen too. I went there many times. It wasn’t fancy, nor was it plain, as it had attractive decorative touches. Just a nice, well-maintained neighborhood house. The Hill opened post-WWII, I think, as it is not listed in the 1945 Film Daily Yearbook. It was a second-run house until 1963 when it switched to first-run. The Hill was part of Harry Chertkoff’s small chain and was large enough to sustain a first-run policy. In fact, until the Camp Hill Twin was built, the Hill was the only first-run theater on the West Shore. At the time the only first-run theaters in the area were the State, Senate and Colonial in downtown Harrisburg, the Uptown (also in the city) and the Eric in Swatara Township.
The 1970s was a tough time for a lot of older, single-screen theaters. Energy costs skyrocketed so heating and air conditioning were much more expensive, and multiple theaters like the Camp Hill Twin and the 6 at the Capital City Mall began to take away first-run product. The Eric and the Trans-Lux were twinned, further depleting first-run availability. Several of the drive-ins had become first-run too. In the mid-70s the Hill began showing foreign films, art films and revival classics as a way to keep going. I saw a reissue of Disney’s “Fantasia” and the Basil Rathbone version of “The Hound of the Baskervilles” there. The last time I went there, to see a reissue of the restored “King Kong,” it had gotten kind of shabby. Apparently the roof had leaked and there was a long white streak along the right-hand wall caused by water, and the place smelled kinda musty.
I’ve always thought the loss of the Hill was tragic. Camp Hill is an upscale community with many busy, well-kept independent retail shops and restaurants along the main street. Had the Hill survived it would be a real theatrical jewel today. It was major loss for Camp Hill to be sure. I remember seeing it during demolition but I don’t recall the year. Can anyone else supply exact dates?
Finally some good news about this abadoned movie palace. It has been purchased by a group of people who have the intent of restoring it to its 1928 splendor for stage productions and movies. Their web site has all the information. Good luck to them! Hanover PA is a great area. http://www.hanovertheater.info/
But for an unfortunate accident brought on by years of neglect, the Colonial Theater might have survived as a performing arts center. After the public relations black eye the city got from the demolition of the grand old State Theater in 1974, and a new administration more sympathetic to preservation, the city was anticipating the renovation of the Colonial to its former splendor. But it was not to be.
I recall the Colonial during my downtown movie going days in the late 50s, 60s and early 70s as heavy on action, horror, sci fi, teen pictures, anything from AIP and Toho. William Castle’s gimmicky thrillers always played the Colonial, including “House on Haunted Hill,†during which a skeleton on wires appeared from one of the side boxes and drifted over the audiences’ heads on its way up to the balcony. The prestigious pictures usually played the co-owned State, although I saw “El Cid†and “A Man for All Seasons†at the Colonial, so there were rare exceptions. The first movie I remember seeing at the Colonial was “The Time Machine†in 1960. The last was the X-rated cartoon “Fritz the Cat†in 1973.
The Colonial seated 1,095, although the balcony and side boxes were never open any time I attended. A former vaudeville theater, the Colonial had an equipped stage and an orchestra pit. The interior style was Italian Renaissance, reminiscent of an opera house. It opened as a theater in 1912.
The Colonial, the State and the Rio (closed in 1953) were part of the Wilmer & Vincent chain, and in the 50s and 60s were owned by Fabian Theaters. United Artists leased the Colonial and State from Fabian in the early 70s. The Colonial outlasted the State by a couple of years, turning to blaxploitation, martial arts and urban-themed action pictures, often on double-bills. I don’t recall the Colonial playing XXX features, but it may have happened occasionally, and there was certainly some soft-core in the mix. The Colonial limped to a quiet close in December 1976, with the marquee set-up of its last feature, a martial arts picture, remaining on the marquee for years thereafter. The building was subsequently bought and sold by a series of investors, in 1978, 1979 and 1982, and in the ensuing years the empty theater deteriorated badly. A general-alarm fire set by an arsonist caused further damage in 1978.
“Colonial Theater Collapses†read the headline in the Sunday Patriot-News on September 11th, 1983. The day before, shortly after 12 noon, the roof of the Colonial collapsed, pushing out the east side wall and showering 3rd Street with bricks, debris and a cloud of dust. The owners reported that the roof had been sagging noticeably for several months but said that there had been no indication that the theater was in danger of collapse, although a city inspector had reported that the walls were bulging the Friday before. That Saturday it finally gave out, bringing down a large part of the roof and the east side wall. There were no injuries. No cars were passing by at the time, although four vehicles parked along 3rd St. were demolished.
It could have been much worse. In true Hollywood fashion, a woman pushing a baby carriage had cleared the wall by less than five minutes before the collapse. On any weekday, the 3rd Street bus stop would have been crowded with people. A man who had parked his car beside the theater was standing at the corner of Market and 3rd when the wall gave out, crushing his vehicle. Adjacent to the theater’s west wall, a private club that on a weekday would have been filled with a lunchtime crowd was severely damaged. And strangest of all, a crew was set to begin working on the Colonial’s weakened roof the following Monday, shoring it up from the inside. The city had purchased a tarp for $6,500 which was to be placed over the roof after it had been braced and stabilized, in anticipation of restoring the Colonial as a performing arts center. It seemed as if the grand old lady had given up her life at just the right moment.
The auditorium portion of the Colonial was quickly demolished. The Market Street façade and front portion of the building, which dated back to 1836 as the Wilson, Derr and Locheil Hotels, was spared, minus the marquee, and an office building was built behind it where the Colonial Theater had for so many years, through two world wars, two major floods, the advent of TV and a dying downtown, entertained the people of Pennsylvania’s capital city.
Credit where credit is due: Details of the Colonial Theater collapse were derived from articles written by Mary Bradley, Mary Klaus and Randy Myers of the Harrisburg PA Patriot-News and published in 1983, and one anonymous article published in 1982. Everything else is from my own research and memory.
Dennis: This is so weird. I had literally just put the finishing touches on my own memories of the Colonial and its unfortunate demise, which I was going to add to Cinema Treasures, when I logged-in and saw your post. You and I are just about the same age and I not only attended the Colonial and the other downtown Harrisburg theaters in the 50s and 60s, I grew up in Paxtang and went to that little bijou just about every week, usually on Saturday afternoon or Friday night. We were probably in the same audience together many many times. You obviously remember the Paxtang’s impressario, Samuel “Doc” Gladsden (originally Goldstein), although I recall him as a more colorful character than you do. I’d just been having an e-mail exchange with another CT member about that very subject. What a small world. Glad to see a photo of the Colonial. If you have any others of the Colonial or State, please post them.