Warren— I’m thrilled to learn that the Dyker was still using its decently-equipped stage in ‘47 (evidently early in that year, since the advertised Dennis Morgan movie had opened on B'way the previous December). The only live show I remember from the Dyker in that era was the Olson and Johnson Party that I recounted last 1 Sept.on this page. I have the faintest memory of a live (and disappointing, because it didn’t measure up to stage fare in Manhattan) afternoon show for children associated with Disney’s “Melody Time,” likely in Summer '48 during that film’s nabe release. In those years, the Dyker didn’t offer Vaudeville as regularly as Loew’s Bay Ridge nearby. The prime venue for RKO vaudeville nearby was the magnificent Prospect on 9 Street at 5 Avenue.
KenRoe— Thanks for the photos of the current interior. Oddly, the ivory coloration captures what I recall as the original cream tones in the mid-'40s. As I recounted above in March '05, during the (very) early '50s the theater received a facelift that introduced a pale green scheme to the walls. But the ceiling rotunda never ever sported a blue cloud formation in those days. It was then a tan-and-brown recessed projection.
Warren— Thanks for the notes on MGM’s Realllife Process in “Billy the Kid,” which opened on 17 Oct ‘30. Within two weeks (30 Oct), Warner Bros. debuted its own VitaScope process (unadvertised in the NYT ads) in “Kismet” (with Otis Skinner and Loretta Young!) at the Hollywood on a two-a-day/reserved-seats basis. While the Roxy abbreviated its live acts when it showed “The Big Trail,” at least the Capitol gave you a complete stage show at standard prices. What swell class!
Stopette served as the original sponsor of that show, no? It always seemed difficult to imagine Ms Kilgallen applying it to hereself. Arlene Francis, o.k., and Bennett Cerf, sure; John Daly, definitely. But Dorothy?
That breadbox must’ve had wings to transport those ladies from the Kings to the Valencia between 9:30 and 10:30 pm. The interview couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen or twenty minutes, no? The mad dash would have made them grateful for Stopette Deodorant, yes?
Bill Heulbig—
Me, I’m the anamorphic image of the guy who thought CinemaScope 55 an exciting process.
Warren—
So Lois Moran’s stint in “The Dancers” came after “Renegades” — that’s a bummer. The latter, with Myrna Loy and Bela Lugosi (though second- and third-billed after Warner Baxter) evidently drew the sixty-four legs back from B'klyn to the Main Stem. Ahh. For a brief, shining moment—two weeks in all—, Fabian’s Fox knew glory.
A million thanks for the comic strip (and of “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” When the strip appeared in the Daily News over the stretch of a week, I carefully clipped each one, and at the end imagined what the film would be like. A month or so later, the pic screened at my local RKO Dyker nabe, and I watched it with amazement.
I love the adjacent ads— for “Captain Horatio Hornblower” at RCMH and “The People against O'Hara” at … Loew’s State? Thanks for unreeling those newspaper spools from fifty-five years ago.
“Bus Stop†opened at the Roxy on 31 Aug. ’56. The next day, the ever phlegmatic Bosley Crowther surged in his NYT review: “MM Arrives: Glitters as Floozie,†and went on to gush: “Hold on to your chairs, everybody, and get set for a rattling surprise. MM has finally proved herself an actress in ‘Bus Stop.’ She and the picture are swell!†I immediately phoned my friend, and we hightailed to E. 50 Street on the BMT.
Seeing this picture at the Roxy remains one of the most exhilarating movie-going experiences of my life. Maybe it’s because as a fourteen-year-old I unexpectedly but hormonically enjoyed MM for the very first time, and instantly intuited a lifetime of sexual bliss ahead of me. Maybe it’s because the whole presentation at the Roxy was just terrific, topped off by a stage extravaganza that displayed the incomparable work of the set designers and technical crew. For a detailed description, scroll above to my previous post of 5 January 2006.
Thanks for all the info about Grandeur at the Roxy. I had all along imagined that “The Big Trail†opened on the wonderful MagnaScope screen at the Rivoli. It drove me to the archives for some context. Here’s the opening day ad (NY Times, Friday 24 Oct. ’30) promoting “15 Big Reasons†to crash the Roxy’s gates:
Apparently the Roxy suspended its stage presentation during this film’s run. There’s no mention of a live show in the copy. Meanwhile, the following Sunday (26 Oct. ’30) the Times included a ad (lower right) for the B’kln Fox announcing a De Luxe stage show with “32 Roxyettes, Courtesy Roxy Theater N.Y,†implying that the sixty-four legs took to the IRT when Grandeur preempted the boards on W. 50th (we hope Russell Markert provided carfare: a nickel could also buy a Depression apple):
The same page (upper right) touts the Gala Opening of our treasured RKO Mayfair later that week, with Amos ‘n’ Andy in “Check and Double Check.†Patrons of RKO Vaudeville could have enjoyed Ruth Etting, Pat Rooney, William Gaxton, and Morton Downey at the Palace, or, over the river in B’kln again, Lillian Roth at the Albee. The RKO nabes were holding forth with “All Quiet on the Western Front†(mid-right column):
The stage at the Roxy deserved its brief respite. Just three weeks later, “The Big Trail†reached a disappointing dead end and was replaced by Lois Moran in “The Dancers†The theater’s footlights blazed to life again with 250 artists in a Dance Spectacle titled “Rhythm.†The NY Times’s ad for Friday 14 Nov. ’30 links the Roxy to the B’kln Fox with the same film day-dating there, accompanied by the latter’s own stage show. (Fanchon and Marco, then at the Fox, had been regulars at the Roxy.) This coupling mirrors the pairing of the Times Square and B’kln Paramounts with their day-dating of “Laughter,†accompanied by different stage shows (me, I would’ve subwayed to Rudy Vallee instead of to Block and Sully). The same day, “Morocco†opened at the Rivoli, displacing Eddie Cantor’s early-Technicolor “Whoopee†after its seven-week run there:
All the while, no fewer than five reserved-seat road-shows occupied B’way: “War Nurse†at the Astor; “Kismet†(with Warner Bros.’ own unadvertised VitaScope wide-screen process) at the Hollywood; “Outward Bound†(displacing George Arliss in “Old English†at the Warner Bros).; D.W. Griffiths’s “Lincoln†at the Central (aka on this site Movieland; but also named seriatim Gotham, Holiday, and Forum); and Howard Hughes’s “Hell’s Angels†day-dating at the (old) Criterion and the Gaiety (aka Victoria). Wide-screens, reserved seats, and suspended stage showsâ€"all premonitions of the later 1950s-1960s when H’wood despaired and resorted to gimmicks.
People actually used the circuit’s name for “Century’s” Meadows, “Loew’s” Valencia, and the “RKO” Keith’s Flushing? Was that a custom in Queens? In B'klyn, we cited just “the Alpine,” “the Dyker,” “the Albee,” “the Met,” etc. Certainly nobody ever said “Fabian’s Fox” (poor Fabian, lost and forgotten).
Upon crossing the river to Manhattan, we Brooklynites talked about “the Palace,” but curiously used the designation “Loew’s State” for that flagship theater. We distinguished the “B'klyn Paramount” from its 43 Street counterpart by calling the latter the “New York Paramount,” though the ads referred to it as the “Times Square Paramount.”
If I had lived in Queens, I would have grown hoarse from vocalizing all those two- and three-syllable circuit names.
People actually used the circuit’s name for “Century’s” Meadows, “Loew’s” Valencia, and the “RKO” Keith’s Flushing? Was that a custom in Queens? In B'klyn, we cited just “the Alpine,” “the Dyker,” “the Albee,” “the Met,” etc. Certainly nobody ever said “Fabian’s Fox” (poor Fabian, lost and forgotten).
Upon crossing the river to Manhattan, we Brooklynites talked about “the Palace,” but curiously used the designation “Loew’s State” for that flagship theater. We distinguished the “B'klyn Paramount” from its 43 Street counterpart by calling the latter the “New York Paramount,” though the ads referred to it as the “Times Square Paramount.”
If I had lived in Queens, I would have grown hoarse from vocalizing all those two- and three-syllable circuit names.
The 1965 policing of Michael McClure’s “The Beard†took place in California, not NYC. The play depicts an encounter in the afterlife between Jean Harlow and BoxOfficeBillâ€"oops, I mean Billy the Kidâ€"and it includes profanity and a simulated sex act.
After the police closed down four performances at different venues in San Francisco and Berkeley and arrested cast members upon each of fourteen consecutive performances in LA, the ACLU successfully defended its right to be staged. The California legislature then introduced an anti-obscenity bill, but the proposal was quickly defeated. There’s an account of these events in the Preface to the play’s printed edition (San Francisco: City Lights, 1967).
On 24 Oct. ’67 the play opened uneventfully in NYC in an off-Broadway production at the Evergreen Theater on W 11 Street, directed by the estimable Rip Torn, and it won two Village Voice Obie Awards. Walter Kerr wrote that it was “a children’s play that children ought not to see,†or words to that effect. A London production was hailed by the mighty Kenneth Tynan as “a heterosexual milestone.â€
Charles Sandblom was also the architect of the treasured Harbor Theater in Brooklyn. A bit larger than the Polk, but wonderfully comfortable and attractive, the Harbor had been part of the Interboro hand-me-down-late-run circuit before turning independent and joining Premiere Showcase in the early ‘60s.
In Jackson Heights on 83 Street between Roosevelt and 37 Avenues, the Colony was another likewise comfortable and attractive late-run art deco theater. These theaters were great places to catch major-studio productions just before reaching their last sunsets.
On October ’29, just days before Black Friday, no fewer than five B’way theaters were running two-a-day reserved-seat all-sound film shows at elevated prices:
at the old Criterion: Helen Morgan in “Applauseâ€
at the Astor: “Hollywood Revueâ€
at the Embassy: King Vidor’s “Hallelujahâ€
at the Warner Bros. (52 Street): George Arliss in “Disraeliâ€
at the Winter Garden: “Golddiggers of Broadway†(entirely in Technicolor).
I’m intrigued by the starting times of the De-Luxe Wonder Stage Shows in the ad for “Applause†(evidently in January, 1930; the film opened a two-a-day run at the old Criterion on 7 Oct. ’29): 1:00, 3:45, 7:00, and 9:00 (with a referred-to morning film at an 11:00 am bargain price). That’s highly irregular scheduling which implies some complete shows ran for just two hours, while others promised three and a quarter hours of entertainment.
Might the real schedule have been normalized to 1:00, 4:00, 7:00 and 10:00 pm, with the advertisement doing its best to rope in afternoon ladies (for whom a 4:00 start would have suggested too late an exit to preside over family suppers) and evening couples (for whom a 10:00 start would have implied a post-midnight exit with a sleep-deprived next day)?
A three-hour complete show seems reasonable in any case for a 90-to-110-minute feature film, forty-minute five-act variety show, and a half-hour or so of newsreel, short subjects, coming attractions, and intermission. In contemporaneous newspaper ads for the Roxy, Paramount, Capitol, et al. I’ve seen similarly irregular timetables. The point is moot, since performances were continuous and audiences were socialized to drop in at any time and leave when the loop came ‘round again.
As Joan Crawford used to say, whom was kidding whom?
I’ve mentioned this before, but James McCourt’s “Queer Street” has a terrific account of the Polk as a teenage hangout in the 1950s. McCourt does a few spots as a confidante and former interviewer of Bette Davis in Turner Classic Movie’s tribute to the star, “Stardust,” airing this evening at 6:30 pm.
No Sunbrock Circus memories here. Instead, some archival notes about Beatrice Kay’s departure: On 3 Nov. ’43, she was replaced on the Roxy’s stage by a one-wheel bicycle. On that date, the NYT ad drops her name and replaces it with that of Walter Nillson, a celebrated cyclist performer who livened up many Roxy stage shows in the ‘30s and ‘40s.
The remaining cast members held over since the opening on 30 Oct. were Danny Kaye; Ralph Olsen and Lyn Shirley (a dance team?); the Ben Yost Singers; McCord and Lind (comic performers?); Tommy Tucker and his Orchestra, featuring Amy Arnell, Don Brown, and Kerwin Sommerville; and of course the Roxyettes and the Roxy Orchestra, directed by Paul Ash.
Gotham seemed A-Okaye that season, as the Strand was concurrently featuring Sammy Kaye and his Orchestra, along with Shea and Raymond, on stage, with “Thank Your Lucky Stars†on screen. The Capitol offered Duke Ellington, Peg-Leg Bates, and Lena Horne on stage between screenings of Nelson Eddy in “Phamtom of the Opera.†The Ink Spots and Tony Pastor’s Orchestra took over the Paramount’s stage, while Mary Martin held its screen in “True to Life.†Loew’s State would have lured me into its dark depths with refined Burlesque star Ann Corio (a.k.a. “Sarong Girl,†“Swamp Woman,†and “Jungle Sirenâ€) shimmying to Herb Miller’s Band on stage, alternating with Jimmy Cagney in “Johnny Come Lately†on screen. (Nineteen years later I finally saw Ann Corio do her star turn in the wildly popular “This Was Burlesque†on B’wayâ€"as a college kid in 1962, I attended in the name of doing historical research.)
Warren— Thanks for the info on the Freudian double-bill, timely for this week’s celebration of Sigmund’s 150th birthday. As an unabashed Freudian, I delighted in it. One of my movie-going buddies from the ‘60s wrote an homage to Freud in last week’s Wall Street Journal, which tickled me even though it missed the point. We owe a lot to F because his approach (though not conclusions) were so wonderfully counterintuitiveâ€"a healthy psyche is not always a happy psyche, but its tensions are good because the simplistic alternative is worse.
“Secrets of a Soul†is a 1927 film directed by GW Pabst about a grown man’s phobia of knives (sounds silly, but Pabst is, well, Pabst and appropriately named for his papally blue ribbon distinction). “Eternal Mask†is a 1937 Swiss film about guilt obsession directed by Werner Hochbaum (I don’t know whether phallic Hochbaum is appropriately named). In both cases, the psychoanalysis is dumb (there is no talking cure). Freud’s social theory is what sets him apart, and a good reason to celebrate his 150th. Cheers to the Fifth Avenue for celebrating him.
Lost Memory: Lamb, the architect of the Fifth Avenue? The mind boggles.
As Warren writes in his terrific book on Lucy and Desi, LLT was filmed in June-July ‘53. By that date, MGM cinematographers routinely allowed for top-and-bottom cropping to fit the wide screens that debuted in May of that year. Instead of installing a modish wide screen, RCMH simply used its magnascope screen (double the previous size, but still with the old 1:1.33 ratio) for full-length features from “Shane” (April '53) until its Christmas show in Dec. '53 (“Easy to Love” in a 1.65 ratio, somewhat narrower than the 1:1.85 ratio favored by other theaters at the time). After “Knights of the Round Table” in CinemaScope (Jan. '54), “LLT” opened on RCMH’s wide screen at 1:1.65 ratio, approx. 32'x53’ across the 70' proscenium opening. (The CinemasScope screen covered 27'x68'; yes, it all seemed a bit small in the vast expanse of that great theater.)
And, yes, Minnelli’s genius and his demands on the technical staff compensated for the disaster that was Ansco Color. As a nutty kid with a camera at the time, I squeezed out whatever pennies I came across for color rather than b&w film (color film cost lots more than b&w then) and a few times went for Ansco rather than Eastman Kodak because MGM had endorsed Ansco. But to my eleven-year-old eyes, it immediately appeared greatly inferior.
In a few weeks, when I get myself out of a deadline mode at work, I’ll resume photo-bucketing my stock of Showplace Programs—I should reach the one for LLT about five weeks into the run.
I should have included some notes on the competition to the Capitol’s Christmas stage show in ‘45.
Patrons had little to regret if they happened on Tommy Dorsey et al. as holday-season overflow from “The Bells of St. Mary’s†at RCMH or “Leave Her to Heaven†at the Roxy (where Carl Ravazza’s Orchestra dominated the stage, with Ravazza and Carol Landis performing vocals, Tony and Sally De Marco showing off their ballroom dancing, and the ventriloquist Paul Winchell plying the dummy’s mouth).
They could have proceeded down B’way to the Strand, where Hal McIntyre’s Orchestra helped Johnny Desmond vocalize and the Slam Steward Trip tap dance (Joan Leslie occupied the screen in “Too Young to Knowâ€); or to Loew’s State, where Earl Carroll’s Vanities with “All Star Cast! The World’s Most Beautiful Girls†filled the house between screenings of “Kiss and Tell†starring Shirley Temple, the moppet now in her teen years; or to the Paramount, where Woody Herman’s orchestra cued Dorothy Keller’s songs and Buddy Lester’s comedy routine, yielding screen time to Betty Hutton in “The Stork Club.â€
Coppola’s “Godfather†memorably offers a (pitch-perfect) shot of Al Pacino and Diane Keaton attending RCMH that season. I remember that Nativity show, though not as a paying customer (my grandfather slipped $5 ot so to a white-gloved usher between shows at the W. 51 exit doors and spirited my mom, my aunt, and me inside—that’s the way you worked it in olde New York). But I would have been quite happy to have lined up at the Capitol instead.
Lost Memory— Wonderful photo! It is our treasured Capitol in NYC. “It Started with a Kiss” opened there on 19 August ‘59.
Sean Vincent Quinn: The Capitol’s stage shows were magnificent. While the theater booked fewer up-to-the-minute super-stars than the Paramount did, it certainly composed programs that had better shape, form, heft, and elegance than the Paramount’s.
Take the Capitol’s romance with the Dorsey Brothers. Tommy was hailed as the World’s Greatest Trombonist, and Jimmy as the World’s Greatest Saxophonist. The one followed the other onto the Capitol’s stage in the first post-war Thanksgiving and Christmas presentations of 1945.
On 22 November, Jimmy headlined the stage show that featured Carlos Ramirez (vocalist: “Granadaâ€)and Lowe, Hite, and Stanley (comedy team from “New Faces of 1937â€). The movie was Vincente Minelli’s “Yolanda and the Thief†with Fred Astaire and Lucille Bremer.
On 21 December, Tommy moved onto the stage with George Prentice (vocalist) and the Slate Brothers (tap dance trio featured in “Anchors Aweighâ€). The film was John Ford’s “They Were Expendable†with Robert Montgomery.
On 24 January, the Dorseys vacated the Capitol’s stage for the Glen Miller Orchestra with Tex Beneke on sax (“Hey! Ba Ba Re Bopâ€). The screen played host to “The Harvey Girls†with Judy Garland. Who could have resisted that?
According to ibdb.com, “Plane Crazy,” devised by Suzy Conn, never opened on B'way. “Boeing Boeing,” a play similar in theme, had a disasterous run at the Cort in Feb. ‘65, folding within three weeks; erstwhile MGM teen throb Carleton Carpenter was reduced to playing stand-by for its star, Ian Carmichael.
“A Face in the Crowd,” advertised on the Mayfair’s billboard in RobertR’s photo album on the Victoria’s page, opened at the Globe on 28 May ‘57. The Palace was still offering “8 Big Acts” of Vaudeville in '57. Squint as I might, I can’t make out the film’s title on the Palace’s marquee—to me, it seems to have the words “Killer Racoons” in it, but I can find no listing for any movie with that phrase in the streamer; nor for any movie beginning with “It’s” and including “Kill[er[[s]]].”
It takes an Upstate newspaper to report the news! And what great news. And what an upbeat turn in the history of the Alpine, one of the very few Loew’s theaters built without a stage for live shows. Every showplace deserves a stage, and now the Alpine will have one. May Bay Ridgites break down the doors forever after. Evcharisto, Nico Nicolaos!
Warren— I’m thrilled to learn that the Dyker was still using its decently-equipped stage in ‘47 (evidently early in that year, since the advertised Dennis Morgan movie had opened on B'way the previous December). The only live show I remember from the Dyker in that era was the Olson and Johnson Party that I recounted last 1 Sept.on this page. I have the faintest memory of a live (and disappointing, because it didn’t measure up to stage fare in Manhattan) afternoon show for children associated with Disney’s “Melody Time,” likely in Summer '48 during that film’s nabe release. In those years, the Dyker didn’t offer Vaudeville as regularly as Loew’s Bay Ridge nearby. The prime venue for RKO vaudeville nearby was the magnificent Prospect on 9 Street at 5 Avenue.
KenRoe— Thanks for the photos of the current interior. Oddly, the ivory coloration captures what I recall as the original cream tones in the mid-'40s. As I recounted above in March '05, during the (very) early '50s the theater received a facelift that introduced a pale green scheme to the walls. But the ceiling rotunda never ever sported a blue cloud formation in those days. It was then a tan-and-brown recessed projection.
Warren— Thanks for the notes on MGM’s Realllife Process in “Billy the Kid,” which opened on 17 Oct ‘30. Within two weeks (30 Oct), Warner Bros. debuted its own VitaScope process (unadvertised in the NYT ads) in “Kismet” (with Otis Skinner and Loretta Young!) at the Hollywood on a two-a-day/reserved-seats basis. While the Roxy abbreviated its live acts when it showed “The Big Trail,” at least the Capitol gave you a complete stage show at standard prices. What swell class!
Stopette served as the original sponsor of that show, no? It always seemed difficult to imagine Ms Kilgallen applying it to hereself. Arlene Francis, o.k., and Bennett Cerf, sure; John Daly, definitely. But Dorothy?
That breadbox must’ve had wings to transport those ladies from the Kings to the Valencia between 9:30 and 10:30 pm. The interview couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen or twenty minutes, no? The mad dash would have made them grateful for Stopette Deodorant, yes?
Bill Heulbig—
Me, I’m the anamorphic image of the guy who thought CinemaScope 55 an exciting process.
Warren—
So Lois Moran’s stint in “The Dancers” came after “Renegades” — that’s a bummer. The latter, with Myrna Loy and Bela Lugosi (though second- and third-billed after Warner Baxter) evidently drew the sixty-four legs back from B'klyn to the Main Stem. Ahh. For a brief, shining moment—two weeks in all—, Fabian’s Fox knew glory.
Bill Huelbig—
A million thanks for the comic strip (and of “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” When the strip appeared in the Daily News over the stretch of a week, I carefully clipped each one, and at the end imagined what the film would be like. A month or so later, the pic screened at my local RKO Dyker nabe, and I watched it with amazement.
I love the adjacent ads— for “Captain Horatio Hornblower” at RCMH and “The People against O'Hara” at … Loew’s State? Thanks for unreeling those newspaper spools from fifty-five years ago.
Our dear, sweet Kathleen Carroll sounds like Miss Manners in that woefully begotten review, no?
Here’s a Program from exactly Fifty Years Ago Today:
View link
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“Bus Stop†opened at the Roxy on 31 Aug. ’56. The next day, the ever phlegmatic Bosley Crowther surged in his NYT review: “MM Arrives: Glitters as Floozie,†and went on to gush: “Hold on to your chairs, everybody, and get set for a rattling surprise. MM has finally proved herself an actress in ‘Bus Stop.’ She and the picture are swell!†I immediately phoned my friend, and we hightailed to E. 50 Street on the BMT.
Seeing this picture at the Roxy remains one of the most exhilarating movie-going experiences of my life. Maybe it’s because as a fourteen-year-old I unexpectedly but hormonically enjoyed MM for the very first time, and instantly intuited a lifetime of sexual bliss ahead of me. Maybe it’s because the whole presentation at the Roxy was just terrific, topped off by a stage extravaganza that displayed the incomparable work of the set designers and technical crew. For a detailed description, scroll above to my previous post of 5 January 2006.
Thanks for all the info about Grandeur at the Roxy. I had all along imagined that “The Big Trail†opened on the wonderful MagnaScope screen at the Rivoli. It drove me to the archives for some context. Here’s the opening day ad (NY Times, Friday 24 Oct. ’30) promoting “15 Big Reasons†to crash the Roxy’s gates:
View link
Apparently the Roxy suspended its stage presentation during this film’s run. There’s no mention of a live show in the copy. Meanwhile, the following Sunday (26 Oct. ’30) the Times included a ad (lower right) for the B’kln Fox announcing a De Luxe stage show with “32 Roxyettes, Courtesy Roxy Theater N.Y,†implying that the sixty-four legs took to the IRT when Grandeur preempted the boards on W. 50th (we hope Russell Markert provided carfare: a nickel could also buy a Depression apple):
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The same page (upper right) touts the Gala Opening of our treasured RKO Mayfair later that week, with Amos ‘n’ Andy in “Check and Double Check.†Patrons of RKO Vaudeville could have enjoyed Ruth Etting, Pat Rooney, William Gaxton, and Morton Downey at the Palace, or, over the river in B’kln again, Lillian Roth at the Albee. The RKO nabes were holding forth with “All Quiet on the Western Front†(mid-right column):
View link
The stage at the Roxy deserved its brief respite. Just three weeks later, “The Big Trail†reached a disappointing dead end and was replaced by Lois Moran in “The Dancers†The theater’s footlights blazed to life again with 250 artists in a Dance Spectacle titled “Rhythm.†The NY Times’s ad for Friday 14 Nov. ’30 links the Roxy to the B’kln Fox with the same film day-dating there, accompanied by the latter’s own stage show. (Fanchon and Marco, then at the Fox, had been regulars at the Roxy.) This coupling mirrors the pairing of the Times Square and B’kln Paramounts with their day-dating of “Laughter,†accompanied by different stage shows (me, I would’ve subwayed to Rudy Vallee instead of to Block and Sully). The same day, “Morocco†opened at the Rivoli, displacing Eddie Cantor’s early-Technicolor “Whoopee†after its seven-week run there:
All the while, no fewer than five reserved-seat road-shows occupied B’way: “War Nurse†at the Astor; “Kismet†(with Warner Bros.’ own unadvertised VitaScope wide-screen process) at the Hollywood; “Outward Bound†(displacing George Arliss in “Old English†at the Warner Bros).; D.W. Griffiths’s “Lincoln†at the Central (aka on this site Movieland; but also named seriatim Gotham, Holiday, and Forum); and Howard Hughes’s “Hell’s Angels†day-dating at the (old) Criterion and the Gaiety (aka Victoria). Wide-screens, reserved seats, and suspended stage showsâ€"all premonitions of the later 1950s-1960s when H’wood despaired and resorted to gimmicks.
People actually used the circuit’s name for “Century’s” Meadows, “Loew’s” Valencia, and the “RKO” Keith’s Flushing? Was that a custom in Queens? In B'klyn, we cited just “the Alpine,” “the Dyker,” “the Albee,” “the Met,” etc. Certainly nobody ever said “Fabian’s Fox” (poor Fabian, lost and forgotten).
Upon crossing the river to Manhattan, we Brooklynites talked about “the Palace,” but curiously used the designation “Loew’s State” for that flagship theater. We distinguished the “B'klyn Paramount” from its 43 Street counterpart by calling the latter the “New York Paramount,” though the ads referred to it as the “Times Square Paramount.”
If I had lived in Queens, I would have grown hoarse from vocalizing all those two- and three-syllable circuit names.
People actually used the circuit’s name for “Century’s” Meadows, “Loew’s” Valencia, and the “RKO” Keith’s Flushing? Was that a custom in Queens? In B'klyn, we cited just “the Alpine,” “the Dyker,” “the Albee,” “the Met,” etc. Certainly nobody ever said “Fabian’s Fox” (poor Fabian, lost and forgotten).
Upon crossing the river to Manhattan, we Brooklynites talked about “the Palace,” but curiously used the designation “Loew’s State” for that flagship theater. We distinguished the “B'klyn Paramount” from its 43 Street counterpart by calling the latter the “New York Paramount,” though the ads referred to it as the “Times Square Paramount.”
If I had lived in Queens, I would have grown hoarse from vocalizing all those two- and three-syllable circuit names.
PKoch—
The 1965 policing of Michael McClure’s “The Beard†took place in California, not NYC. The play depicts an encounter in the afterlife between Jean Harlow and BoxOfficeBillâ€"oops, I mean Billy the Kidâ€"and it includes profanity and a simulated sex act.
After the police closed down four performances at different venues in San Francisco and Berkeley and arrested cast members upon each of fourteen consecutive performances in LA, the ACLU successfully defended its right to be staged. The California legislature then introduced an anti-obscenity bill, but the proposal was quickly defeated. There’s an account of these events in the Preface to the play’s printed edition (San Francisco: City Lights, 1967).
On 24 Oct. ’67 the play opened uneventfully in NYC in an off-Broadway production at the Evergreen Theater on W 11 Street, directed by the estimable Rip Torn, and it won two Village Voice Obie Awards. Walter Kerr wrote that it was “a children’s play that children ought not to see,†or words to that effect. A London production was hailed by the mighty Kenneth Tynan as “a heterosexual milestone.â€
Charles Sandblom was also the architect of the treasured Harbor Theater in Brooklyn. A bit larger than the Polk, but wonderfully comfortable and attractive, the Harbor had been part of the Interboro hand-me-down-late-run circuit before turning independent and joining Premiere Showcase in the early ‘60s.
In Jackson Heights on 83 Street between Roosevelt and 37 Avenues, the Colony was another likewise comfortable and attractive late-run art deco theater. These theaters were great places to catch major-studio productions just before reaching their last sunsets.
On October ’29, just days before Black Friday, no fewer than five B’way theaters were running two-a-day reserved-seat all-sound film shows at elevated prices:
at the old Criterion: Helen Morgan in “Applauseâ€
at the Astor: “Hollywood Revueâ€
at the Embassy: King Vidor’s “Hallelujahâ€
at the Warner Bros. (52 Street): George Arliss in “Disraeliâ€
at the Winter Garden: “Golddiggers of Broadway†(entirely in Technicolor).
I’m intrigued by the starting times of the De-Luxe Wonder Stage Shows in the ad for “Applause†(evidently in January, 1930; the film opened a two-a-day run at the old Criterion on 7 Oct. ’29): 1:00, 3:45, 7:00, and 9:00 (with a referred-to morning film at an 11:00 am bargain price). That’s highly irregular scheduling which implies some complete shows ran for just two hours, while others promised three and a quarter hours of entertainment.
Might the real schedule have been normalized to 1:00, 4:00, 7:00 and 10:00 pm, with the advertisement doing its best to rope in afternoon ladies (for whom a 4:00 start would have suggested too late an exit to preside over family suppers) and evening couples (for whom a 10:00 start would have implied a post-midnight exit with a sleep-deprived next day)?
A three-hour complete show seems reasonable in any case for a 90-to-110-minute feature film, forty-minute five-act variety show, and a half-hour or so of newsreel, short subjects, coming attractions, and intermission. In contemporaneous newspaper ads for the Roxy, Paramount, Capitol, et al. I’ve seen similarly irregular timetables. The point is moot, since performances were continuous and audiences were socialized to drop in at any time and leave when the loop came ‘round again.
As Joan Crawford used to say, whom was kidding whom?
RobertR—
That’s a great photo, with a marvelous feel for the era and superb detail on the Loew’s building in the left background.
I’ve mentioned this before, but James McCourt’s “Queer Street” has a terrific account of the Polk as a teenage hangout in the 1950s. McCourt does a few spots as a confidante and former interviewer of Bette Davis in Turner Classic Movie’s tribute to the star, “Stardust,” airing this evening at 6:30 pm.
No Sunbrock Circus memories here. Instead, some archival notes about Beatrice Kay’s departure: On 3 Nov. ’43, she was replaced on the Roxy’s stage by a one-wheel bicycle. On that date, the NYT ad drops her name and replaces it with that of Walter Nillson, a celebrated cyclist performer who livened up many Roxy stage shows in the ‘30s and ‘40s.
The remaining cast members held over since the opening on 30 Oct. were Danny Kaye; Ralph Olsen and Lyn Shirley (a dance team?); the Ben Yost Singers; McCord and Lind (comic performers?); Tommy Tucker and his Orchestra, featuring Amy Arnell, Don Brown, and Kerwin Sommerville; and of course the Roxyettes and the Roxy Orchestra, directed by Paul Ash.
Gotham seemed A-Okaye that season, as the Strand was concurrently featuring Sammy Kaye and his Orchestra, along with Shea and Raymond, on stage, with “Thank Your Lucky Stars†on screen. The Capitol offered Duke Ellington, Peg-Leg Bates, and Lena Horne on stage between screenings of Nelson Eddy in “Phamtom of the Opera.†The Ink Spots and Tony Pastor’s Orchestra took over the Paramount’s stage, while Mary Martin held its screen in “True to Life.†Loew’s State would have lured me into its dark depths with refined Burlesque star Ann Corio (a.k.a. “Sarong Girl,†“Swamp Woman,†and “Jungle Sirenâ€) shimmying to Herb Miller’s Band on stage, alternating with Jimmy Cagney in “Johnny Come Lately†on screen. (Nineteen years later I finally saw Ann Corio do her star turn in the wildly popular “This Was Burlesque†on B’wayâ€"as a college kid in 1962, I attended in the name of doing historical research.)
An earlier version of me would likely have attended the stage performance of Paul Robeson, José Ferrer, Uta Hagen, and Margaret Webster in “Othello†at the Shubert and, for a nightcap, might have dropped into the midnight screening of Bette Davis in “Old Acquaintance†at the Hollywood. But nothing would have gotten me into RCMH for “Lassie Come Home†with “Autumn Album†on the great stage. That’s one show I would have passed up.
Warren— Thanks for the info on the Freudian double-bill, timely for this week’s celebration of Sigmund’s 150th birthday. As an unabashed Freudian, I delighted in it. One of my movie-going buddies from the ‘60s wrote an homage to Freud in last week’s Wall Street Journal, which tickled me even though it missed the point. We owe a lot to F because his approach (though not conclusions) were so wonderfully counterintuitiveâ€"a healthy psyche is not always a happy psyche, but its tensions are good because the simplistic alternative is worse.
“Secrets of a Soul†is a 1927 film directed by GW Pabst about a grown man’s phobia of knives (sounds silly, but Pabst is, well, Pabst and appropriately named for his papally blue ribbon distinction). “Eternal Mask†is a 1937 Swiss film about guilt obsession directed by Werner Hochbaum (I don’t know whether phallic Hochbaum is appropriately named). In both cases, the psychoanalysis is dumb (there is no talking cure). Freud’s social theory is what sets him apart, and a good reason to celebrate his 150th. Cheers to the Fifth Avenue for celebrating him.
Lost Memory: Lamb, the architect of the Fifth Avenue? The mind boggles.
As Warren writes in his terrific book on Lucy and Desi, LLT was filmed in June-July ‘53. By that date, MGM cinematographers routinely allowed for top-and-bottom cropping to fit the wide screens that debuted in May of that year. Instead of installing a modish wide screen, RCMH simply used its magnascope screen (double the previous size, but still with the old 1:1.33 ratio) for full-length features from “Shane” (April '53) until its Christmas show in Dec. '53 (“Easy to Love” in a 1.65 ratio, somewhat narrower than the 1:1.85 ratio favored by other theaters at the time). After “Knights of the Round Table” in CinemaScope (Jan. '54), “LLT” opened on RCMH’s wide screen at 1:1.65 ratio, approx. 32'x53’ across the 70' proscenium opening. (The CinemasScope screen covered 27'x68'; yes, it all seemed a bit small in the vast expanse of that great theater.)
And, yes, Minnelli’s genius and his demands on the technical staff compensated for the disaster that was Ansco Color. As a nutty kid with a camera at the time, I squeezed out whatever pennies I came across for color rather than b&w film (color film cost lots more than b&w then) and a few times went for Ansco rather than Eastman Kodak because MGM had endorsed Ansco. But to my eleven-year-old eyes, it immediately appeared greatly inferior.
In a few weeks, when I get myself out of a deadline mode at work, I’ll resume photo-bucketing my stock of Showplace Programs—I should reach the one for LLT about five weeks into the run.
I should have included some notes on the competition to the Capitol’s Christmas stage show in ‘45.
Patrons had little to regret if they happened on Tommy Dorsey et al. as holday-season overflow from “The Bells of St. Mary’s†at RCMH or “Leave Her to Heaven†at the Roxy (where Carl Ravazza’s Orchestra dominated the stage, with Ravazza and Carol Landis performing vocals, Tony and Sally De Marco showing off their ballroom dancing, and the ventriloquist Paul Winchell plying the dummy’s mouth).
They could have proceeded down B’way to the Strand, where Hal McIntyre’s Orchestra helped Johnny Desmond vocalize and the Slam Steward Trip tap dance (Joan Leslie occupied the screen in “Too Young to Knowâ€); or to Loew’s State, where Earl Carroll’s Vanities with “All Star Cast! The World’s Most Beautiful Girls†filled the house between screenings of “Kiss and Tell†starring Shirley Temple, the moppet now in her teen years; or to the Paramount, where Woody Herman’s orchestra cued Dorothy Keller’s songs and Buddy Lester’s comedy routine, yielding screen time to Betty Hutton in “The Stork Club.â€
Coppola’s “Godfather†memorably offers a (pitch-perfect) shot of Al Pacino and Diane Keaton attending RCMH that season. I remember that Nativity show, though not as a paying customer (my grandfather slipped $5 ot so to a white-gloved usher between shows at the W. 51 exit doors and spirited my mom, my aunt, and me inside—that’s the way you worked it in olde New York). But I would have been quite happy to have lined up at the Capitol instead.
Lost Memory— Wonderful photo! It is our treasured Capitol in NYC. “It Started with a Kiss” opened there on 19 August ‘59.
Sean Vincent Quinn: The Capitol’s stage shows were magnificent. While the theater booked fewer up-to-the-minute super-stars than the Paramount did, it certainly composed programs that had better shape, form, heft, and elegance than the Paramount’s.
Take the Capitol’s romance with the Dorsey Brothers. Tommy was hailed as the World’s Greatest Trombonist, and Jimmy as the World’s Greatest Saxophonist. The one followed the other onto the Capitol’s stage in the first post-war Thanksgiving and Christmas presentations of 1945.
On 22 November, Jimmy headlined the stage show that featured Carlos Ramirez (vocalist: “Granadaâ€)and Lowe, Hite, and Stanley (comedy team from “New Faces of 1937â€). The movie was Vincente Minelli’s “Yolanda and the Thief†with Fred Astaire and Lucille Bremer.
On 21 December, Tommy moved onto the stage with George Prentice (vocalist) and the Slate Brothers (tap dance trio featured in “Anchors Aweighâ€). The film was John Ford’s “They Were Expendable†with Robert Montgomery.
On 24 January, the Dorseys vacated the Capitol’s stage for the Glen Miller Orchestra with Tex Beneke on sax (“Hey! Ba Ba Re Bopâ€). The screen played host to “The Harvey Girls†with Judy Garland. Who could have resisted that?
RobertR—
Who would want to live under David Niven?
According to ibdb.com, “Plane Crazy,” devised by Suzy Conn, never opened on B'way. “Boeing Boeing,” a play similar in theme, had a disasterous run at the Cort in Feb. ‘65, folding within three weeks; erstwhile MGM teen throb Carleton Carpenter was reduced to playing stand-by for its star, Ian Carmichael.
“A Face in the Crowd,” advertised on the Mayfair’s billboard in RobertR’s photo album on the Victoria’s page, opened at the Globe on 28 May ‘57. The Palace was still offering “8 Big Acts” of Vaudeville in '57. Squint as I might, I can’t make out the film’s title on the Palace’s marquee—to me, it seems to have the words “Killer Racoons” in it, but I can find no listing for any movie with that phrase in the streamer; nor for any movie beginning with “It’s” and including “Kill[er[[s]]].”
It takes an Upstate newspaper to report the news! And what great news. And what an upbeat turn in the history of the Alpine, one of the very few Loew’s theaters built without a stage for live shows. Every showplace deserves a stage, and now the Alpine will have one. May Bay Ridgites break down the doors forever after. Evcharisto, Nico Nicolaos!