In ken mc’s photo of some of the united artists plugging the UA theatre, I recognize Mary Pickford, Doug Fairbanks, and D.W. Griffith, but does anyone know who the other two are? The man in the upper left (either an actor or the head usher!) looks a bit like Lionel Barrymore (?), while the other strikes me as a money man/producer. Chaplin must be late.
Lost Memory, that’s an elegant frontage (of the Ohio Theatre). In my opinion, there’s nothing finer than a curved marquee with white letters on black. I used to change the marquee letters on the Paramount in Seattle (during that great house’s funky rock concert phase in the 70s, and with a faulty ladder, no less!), and I’ve always been intrigued with how the white on black letters were changed, as opposed to the later plastic hook-mount letters on rails.
That’s what I like about this site: so many who are dedicated to our great movie palace heritage. The mighty UA in LA can stimulate many discussions which can go in many directions.
Thanks for the update, Mark. The project sounds very exciting. I have the 1940 volume (complete with attached color postcard of exit signs and other fixtures, plus the clippings envelope at the rear), so I’m very interested to see what the other volumes reveal. High resolution scans will be very welcome. Look forward to it.
I don’t think it can be understated about Sid Grauman: the man REALLY knew what he was doing! His excellent taste, his eye for detail, and his mission to elevate his audience into a higher quality bracket were all high water marks in the history of showmanship. Those are things that make the Metropolitan such a stunner.
Loyal fans, keep those photos coming, however obscure!
The Paramount/Metropolitan is the kind of theatre that only gets more intriguing the more one learns about it. The picture links above are totally fascinating. More would be very welcome, if anyone knows of any.
Does anyone know why Sid Grauman sold out so soon after it was built? Perhaps to fund the later Chinese?
William Lee Woollett’s design is fantastic, savage, bizarre, intimidating, legendary, and totally wonderful. I’m delighted to learn that the old babe gave its demolishers a hell of a time in ‘63. Reminds me of when the Orpheum in Seattle was razed, which took a very long time, so well built was it.
If the previous link does not go all the way in, you can go to the USC archive search page and type in, naturally, ‘United Artists’. Lots of other theatre-oriented pix in the archive as well.
One more note about the UA mezzanine issue. Grauman’s Chinese went through considerable remodeling to accommodate the installation of the Cinerama clone, Cinemiracle (not worth it!). Not only was the projection room moved to the ground floor, but the great globe of the central chandelier was never re-hung. I love the wide, wide screen, but not at the expense of major items like mezzanines!
Here are more UA-oriented pix from the USC archive. The big Texaco sign is plainly seen in one shot. And the UA’s ‘cathedral crown’ is also seen, with and without the ‘Texaco’ neon.
The removal of the mezzanine seems like quite a radical move for basic widescreen adaptation. Anamorphic processes like CinemaScope would not have required so much (vandalistic!) remodeling. Perhaps this has already been discussed, but I wonder, is there a possibility that there was an attempt to fit the house for Cinerama? That would entail quite a bit of alteration. Grauman’s Chinese across town has a very low level projection room. And S.L. ‘Roxy’ Rothafel had a tendency to have the projection rooms on the ground floor in his theatres. Even the mammoth Roxy in NYC had its projectors at mid-level.
And yes, I agree, the UA is nothing short of a triumph! There is something truly awesome about it, and maybe just a little bit of a forbidding quality, which only adds to the mystique. The facade looks like something out of ‘Citzen Kane’ – from Xanadu itself! It is an (undiscovered) national treasure. And to think that it still stands!
This theatre, to use Ben M. Hall’s immortal phrase, ‘out-Chinesed Grauman’s Chinese’. Long may it reign!
Amongst many highlights are the exit signs, beautifully done!
The Audion was know as a Western house, as mostly that genre, from the Monogram and Republic studios, was the staple. Occasionally a first rank picture would show, like John Ford’s ‘How Green Was My Valley’. By the 1960s the house was shuttered. It is noted for its Deco ‘spillway’ facade, recently painted. The marquee is intact. The western end of it is butted up against the canopy of its nextdoor neighbor, the Pix (a.k.a. The Village; Grand Central – recently closed). Its lobby is modest but pleasant. Auditorium access is via two ramps which flank this narrow house. Some of the original accoustic wall covering remains, stencilled in dim Deco patterns. The stage had a proper fly gallery, and the pit below is considerable. The Audion remained derelict until an enterprising furniture builder turned it into an antiques mall in the mid 1980s.
saps, I look forward to your observations. I used to work at the Paramount (still standing) and the Music Hall (now long gone), so my Seattle movie palace thoughts are a mixture of the wistful and the glorious. The Cinerama dodged a bullet, and for that we can all be grateful. Happy touring!
I would add that, after the 1980s ‘restoration’ of the Liberty, the landmark vertical sign was altered, unfavorably, I’m afraid. Atop the platform used to be a very, very Deco tower extention, probably about five feet high. It was outlined in neon, in the form of circles and other streamlined shapes. The effect was similar to the vertical spotlight seen in the 20th Century-Fox logo. In the mini-tower’s latter days, the neon tubing had obviously become damaged (perhaps from Ellensburg’s famous windiness), so, those who altered the theatre simply junked the whole extention. The pinnicle is sorely missed by the few who ever noticed it, as the ‘flat top’ has an unfinished look to it. Details such as these are always meaningful, otherwise the architect never would have put it there in the first place.
glovedude, your adventures with the UA are wonderful – the stuff of dreams. Sort of reminds me when I worked at the late Music Hall in Seattle. The backer of the Vegas-style stage show which we worked defaulted, so we, the crew, ‘held’ the Music Hall for a couple days, hoping to get our pay (we never did get it), but there wasn’t one corner in that place we didn’t explore during that time. And we thought we already knew the place! At least the great UA is still standing. Post-Gene Scott, a renaissance of sorts still might occur there. Where’s Sid Grauman when we need him?
PS: what’s the ‘Harry Edwards’ script about? Any good?
saps, when in Seattle, check out the bare remains of what was once a great theatre town: the Paramount, on Pine St, is the grandest. Rapp & Rapp in fine form, in association with the regional movie palace wizard, B. Marcus Priteca. Next, the 5th Avenue, which, in Ben Hall’s immortal phrase, ‘nearly out-Chinesed Grauman’s Chinese’ is a fine specimen in a dignified building. Both houses are in excellent (restored) condition, the 5th less so. The Coliseum, also on 5th, remains in frontage form only, as its interior is now, sadly, just another Banana Republic. But what a frontage it is, with ‘COLISEVM’ spelled out in Roman Empire form, way up there under the cornice. All three survivors, interestingly, used to be members of the Fox Westcoast chain. The marvelously oddball Moore, which still uses a sandbag fly gallery backstage, is down on 2nd. Almost more like a lodge hall than a theatre. Long gone in the immediate vicinity: the Town, the Music Box, the Blue Mouse, the Music Hall, and the beloved Orpheum. The Egyptian, up Pine St, actually was a masonic hall turned into theatre. Nice atmosphere. The Neptune, up in the University District, is fairly low key, but it sports busts of the sea god around the periphery of the auditorium, with eyes that glow in sea-greenish-blue. The Rivoli, the last burlesque house in Seattle, bowed to the wrecking ball in the early 1970s. This said, seeing the Cinerama restored was a major lift in a town known for being a filmgoers' paradise, but ironically, not a good turf for movie palace restoration, except in the two cases above.
I saw ‘Grand Prix’ and ‘2001’ here in Cinerama-ish presentations, as well as many other fine films, including ‘Lord of the Rings’, in lavish style. Then, in 2004, ‘How The West Was Won’ in 3-strip Cinerama. The two side projectors were from Peru! An unforgettable experience. It was as if I’d never seen the film before. Synchronization was excellent. Never has Alfred Newman’s score sounded so good, or the color been better. The artistry of John Ford’s Civil War sequence was a revelation. The three projectionists were welcoming and cheerfully addressed our group’s many questions. There were so many of us that we could hardly fit in the spacious righthand projection booth! And on Superbowl day, no less. I had an original program booklet, which made a hit in the general vicinity.
The restoration of the theatre itself is stunning. The moderne/populuxe feel of the place is 10 times better than the original, which was simply an endless array of dull red curtains. The Seattle Cinerama should serve as an inspiration to theatre owners everywhere! Bless you, Paul Allen!
Yes, the Examiner building’s turquoise-clad exterior (if I’m not mistaken) makes a compelling mate to the UA’s more solemn appearance. And the lively City Library not far away enhances the neighborhood even more. Many readers no doubt know that Julia Morgan was Wm Randolph Heart’s favorite architect, who got the plum job of designing San Simeon, a theatrical building is there ever was one.
The Liberty opened in 1940, and quickly outshone the Pix (now triplexed as the Grand Central, after being known in the 70s-80s as the Village) and its adjacent mate, the Audion (now an antiques mall-ette), a few blocks away. The exterior colors were formerly aqua and white. The box office used to be located in a stand-alone kiosk under the marquee, until a drunk driver smashed his car into it, circa late 60s. The interior was comfortably moderne, with a huge, bold indirect lighting fixture in the shape of a three-sided rectangle, which clearly exposed the bubble gum wads on the ceiling. Some kid threw a milkshake at the screen during a Jerry Lewis matinee, and the stain was seen for years afterwards. It was a pleasant small town house, and carried a genuine importantness with it. On the exterior wall, above the marquee, is a large panel which looks like curtains. As a kid I thought it was some sort of preview screen, opened on special occasions. On closer (and older) examination, the ‘curtains’ were discovered to be concrete! The circular window, mentioned above, was indeed mindlessly filled in when the house was triplexed in the mid 80s. It opened into the men’s restroom, just above the urinals! Like the rest of the room, the window was trimmed out in elegant orange and blue tile. The shameful patchjob, seen on the exterior, is a small indicator of the brain-dead conversion job inside. The auditorium was raped, but the main and upper lobbies are fairly intact.
This sprightly little house enjoyed its sunset years as ‘The Granada Organ Loft’. Silent pictures, both well known and obscure, were screened here, accompanied by live pipe organ playing. My childhood recollections are dim about the place, but I remember my family and I went only once. Can’t recall the picture, but the pipe organ was especially fine. In special passages of organ pieces, a delightful ‘special effects’ box would open above the procenium, revealing an ingenious and endearing display of mechanical tambourines and other percussion instruments, which of course made a big hit with the audience. Its innocence and charm are long gone.
Most certainly the organ was preserved, but I have no idea where or how. I believe the ‘Seattle Times’ ran a few stories on the Granada’s demise (early 1970s?).
Having heard this morning of the passing of Gene Scott, I wonder, what now for the great United Artists? The above messages have helped. I’m very glad to see so many caring people following the status of this and many other houses.
I was lucky enough as a kid to wander through the old Orpheum in Seattle as they were just beginning to strip it for demolition. I worked in the same city’s Paramount in the 1970s (live concerts) and the late Music Hall (aka John Hamrick’s Music Hall, Seattle 7th Avenue, etc.) in the 1980s. It was the Music Hall’s final hurrah, a Vegas-type revue called ‘Music Hallelujah’. A chunk of gilded plaster, handed to me by a sympathetic workman, is about all I have left, besides the memories!
So, after seeing so many fine houses vanish in an uncaring Seattle, I was bowled over by LA’s Broadway parade of stunning picture palaces. Haven’t been there since ‘87, but from the Million Dollar all the way down to the UA, I thought, thank heavens that Broadway is a tad run down, otherwise these houses would not still be standing. To me the UA is the most awe-inspiring. The mass of its mysterious frontage, and that Gothic-screened water tank on the roof made powerful impressions. This was during its Latino film phase, and I didn’t have time to buy a ticket just to see the interior, as I would have happily done. I was just amazied and comforted that the old babe was still there at all, given the heartless attitude I was familiar with in Seattle. Naturally, not going in has added to the building’s mystique to me over the years.
KenRoe, any possibility that we can see any of your pictures of this ‘Roxy of the West’?
In ken mc’s photo of some of the united artists plugging the UA theatre, I recognize Mary Pickford, Doug Fairbanks, and D.W. Griffith, but does anyone know who the other two are? The man in the upper left (either an actor or the head usher!) looks a bit like Lionel Barrymore (?), while the other strikes me as a money man/producer. Chaplin must be late.
Lost Memory, that’s an elegant frontage (of the Ohio Theatre). In my opinion, there’s nothing finer than a curved marquee with white letters on black. I used to change the marquee letters on the Paramount in Seattle (during that great house’s funky rock concert phase in the 70s, and with a faulty ladder, no less!), and I’ve always been intrigued with how the white on black letters were changed, as opposed to the later plastic hook-mount letters on rails.
That’s what I like about this site: so many who are dedicated to our great movie palace heritage. The mighty UA in LA can stimulate many discussions which can go in many directions.
Thanks for the update, Mark. The project sounds very exciting. I have the 1940 volume (complete with attached color postcard of exit signs and other fixtures, plus the clippings envelope at the rear), so I’m very interested to see what the other volumes reveal. High resolution scans will be very welcome. Look forward to it.
Again, any progress on this project?
Sorry folks, in the previous message I meant to say, I don’t think it can be OVERSTATED about Sid…
I don’t think it can be understated about Sid Grauman: the man REALLY knew what he was doing! His excellent taste, his eye for detail, and his mission to elevate his audience into a higher quality bracket were all high water marks in the history of showmanship. Those are things that make the Metropolitan such a stunner.
Loyal fans, keep those photos coming, however obscure!
The Paramount/Metropolitan is the kind of theatre that only gets more intriguing the more one learns about it. The picture links above are totally fascinating. More would be very welcome, if anyone knows of any.
Does anyone know why Sid Grauman sold out so soon after it was built? Perhaps to fund the later Chinese?
William Lee Woollett’s design is fantastic, savage, bizarre, intimidating, legendary, and totally wonderful. I’m delighted to learn that the old babe gave its demolishers a hell of a time in ‘63. Reminds me of when the Orpheum in Seattle was razed, which took a very long time, so well built was it.
If the previous link does not go all the way in, you can go to the USC archive search page and type in, naturally, ‘United Artists’. Lots of other theatre-oriented pix in the archive as well.
One more note about the UA mezzanine issue. Grauman’s Chinese went through considerable remodeling to accommodate the installation of the Cinerama clone, Cinemiracle (not worth it!). Not only was the projection room moved to the ground floor, but the great globe of the central chandelier was never re-hung. I love the wide, wide screen, but not at the expense of major items like mezzanines!
Here are more UA-oriented pix from the USC archive. The big Texaco sign is plainly seen in one shot. And the UA’s ‘cathedral crown’ is also seen, with and without the ‘Texaco’ neon.
View link
A remarkable, dizzying view of the UA vertical sign from far up in the building:
View link
The removal of the mezzanine seems like quite a radical move for basic widescreen adaptation. Anamorphic processes like CinemaScope would not have required so much (vandalistic!) remodeling. Perhaps this has already been discussed, but I wonder, is there a possibility that there was an attempt to fit the house for Cinerama? That would entail quite a bit of alteration. Grauman’s Chinese across town has a very low level projection room. And S.L. ‘Roxy’ Rothafel had a tendency to have the projection rooms on the ground floor in his theatres. Even the mammoth Roxy in NYC had its projectors at mid-level.
And yes, I agree, the UA is nothing short of a triumph! There is something truly awesome about it, and maybe just a little bit of a forbidding quality, which only adds to the mystique. The facade looks like something out of ‘Citzen Kane’ – from Xanadu itself! It is an (undiscovered) national treasure. And to think that it still stands!
Any updates on the DVD of the Jay Emanuel Exhibitor Catalogues?
This theatre, to use Ben M. Hall’s immortal phrase, ‘out-Chinesed Grauman’s Chinese’. Long may it reign!
Amongst many highlights are the exit signs, beautifully done!
The Audion was know as a Western house, as mostly that genre, from the Monogram and Republic studios, was the staple. Occasionally a first rank picture would show, like John Ford’s ‘How Green Was My Valley’. By the 1960s the house was shuttered. It is noted for its Deco ‘spillway’ facade, recently painted. The marquee is intact. The western end of it is butted up against the canopy of its nextdoor neighbor, the Pix (a.k.a. The Village; Grand Central – recently closed). Its lobby is modest but pleasant. Auditorium access is via two ramps which flank this narrow house. Some of the original accoustic wall covering remains, stencilled in dim Deco patterns. The stage had a proper fly gallery, and the pit below is considerable. The Audion remained derelict until an enterprising furniture builder turned it into an antiques mall in the mid 1980s.
saps, I look forward to your observations. I used to work at the Paramount (still standing) and the Music Hall (now long gone), so my Seattle movie palace thoughts are a mixture of the wistful and the glorious. The Cinerama dodged a bullet, and for that we can all be grateful. Happy touring!
I would add that, after the 1980s ‘restoration’ of the Liberty, the landmark vertical sign was altered, unfavorably, I’m afraid. Atop the platform used to be a very, very Deco tower extention, probably about five feet high. It was outlined in neon, in the form of circles and other streamlined shapes. The effect was similar to the vertical spotlight seen in the 20th Century-Fox logo. In the mini-tower’s latter days, the neon tubing had obviously become damaged (perhaps from Ellensburg’s famous windiness), so, those who altered the theatre simply junked the whole extention. The pinnicle is sorely missed by the few who ever noticed it, as the ‘flat top’ has an unfinished look to it. Details such as these are always meaningful, otherwise the architect never would have put it there in the first place.
glovedude, your adventures with the UA are wonderful – the stuff of dreams. Sort of reminds me when I worked at the late Music Hall in Seattle. The backer of the Vegas-style stage show which we worked defaulted, so we, the crew, ‘held’ the Music Hall for a couple days, hoping to get our pay (we never did get it), but there wasn’t one corner in that place we didn’t explore during that time. And we thought we already knew the place! At least the great UA is still standing. Post-Gene Scott, a renaissance of sorts still might occur there. Where’s Sid Grauman when we need him?
PS: what’s the ‘Harry Edwards’ script about? Any good?
saps, when in Seattle, check out the bare remains of what was once a great theatre town: the Paramount, on Pine St, is the grandest. Rapp & Rapp in fine form, in association with the regional movie palace wizard, B. Marcus Priteca. Next, the 5th Avenue, which, in Ben Hall’s immortal phrase, ‘nearly out-Chinesed Grauman’s Chinese’ is a fine specimen in a dignified building. Both houses are in excellent (restored) condition, the 5th less so. The Coliseum, also on 5th, remains in frontage form only, as its interior is now, sadly, just another Banana Republic. But what a frontage it is, with ‘COLISEVM’ spelled out in Roman Empire form, way up there under the cornice. All three survivors, interestingly, used to be members of the Fox Westcoast chain. The marvelously oddball Moore, which still uses a sandbag fly gallery backstage, is down on 2nd. Almost more like a lodge hall than a theatre. Long gone in the immediate vicinity: the Town, the Music Box, the Blue Mouse, the Music Hall, and the beloved Orpheum. The Egyptian, up Pine St, actually was a masonic hall turned into theatre. Nice atmosphere. The Neptune, up in the University District, is fairly low key, but it sports busts of the sea god around the periphery of the auditorium, with eyes that glow in sea-greenish-blue. The Rivoli, the last burlesque house in Seattle, bowed to the wrecking ball in the early 1970s. This said, seeing the Cinerama restored was a major lift in a town known for being a filmgoers' paradise, but ironically, not a good turf for movie palace restoration, except in the two cases above.
I saw ‘Grand Prix’ and ‘2001’ here in Cinerama-ish presentations, as well as many other fine films, including ‘Lord of the Rings’, in lavish style. Then, in 2004, ‘How The West Was Won’ in 3-strip Cinerama. The two side projectors were from Peru! An unforgettable experience. It was as if I’d never seen the film before. Synchronization was excellent. Never has Alfred Newman’s score sounded so good, or the color been better. The artistry of John Ford’s Civil War sequence was a revelation. The three projectionists were welcoming and cheerfully addressed our group’s many questions. There were so many of us that we could hardly fit in the spacious righthand projection booth! And on Superbowl day, no less. I had an original program booklet, which made a hit in the general vicinity.
The restoration of the theatre itself is stunning. The moderne/populuxe feel of the place is 10 times better than the original, which was simply an endless array of dull red curtains. The Seattle Cinerama should serve as an inspiration to theatre owners everywhere! Bless you, Paul Allen!
Please excuse the typo in the previous message: for Heart’s read Hearst’s
Yes, the Examiner building’s turquoise-clad exterior (if I’m not mistaken) makes a compelling mate to the UA’s more solemn appearance. And the lively City Library not far away enhances the neighborhood even more. Many readers no doubt know that Julia Morgan was Wm Randolph Heart’s favorite architect, who got the plum job of designing San Simeon, a theatrical building is there ever was one.
The Liberty opened in 1940, and quickly outshone the Pix (now triplexed as the Grand Central, after being known in the 70s-80s as the Village) and its adjacent mate, the Audion (now an antiques mall-ette), a few blocks away. The exterior colors were formerly aqua and white. The box office used to be located in a stand-alone kiosk under the marquee, until a drunk driver smashed his car into it, circa late 60s. The interior was comfortably moderne, with a huge, bold indirect lighting fixture in the shape of a three-sided rectangle, which clearly exposed the bubble gum wads on the ceiling. Some kid threw a milkshake at the screen during a Jerry Lewis matinee, and the stain was seen for years afterwards. It was a pleasant small town house, and carried a genuine importantness with it. On the exterior wall, above the marquee, is a large panel which looks like curtains. As a kid I thought it was some sort of preview screen, opened on special occasions. On closer (and older) examination, the ‘curtains’ were discovered to be concrete! The circular window, mentioned above, was indeed mindlessly filled in when the house was triplexed in the mid 80s. It opened into the men’s restroom, just above the urinals! Like the rest of the room, the window was trimmed out in elegant orange and blue tile. The shameful patchjob, seen on the exterior, is a small indicator of the brain-dead conversion job inside. The auditorium was raped, but the main and upper lobbies are fairly intact.
This sprightly little house enjoyed its sunset years as ‘The Granada Organ Loft’. Silent pictures, both well known and obscure, were screened here, accompanied by live pipe organ playing. My childhood recollections are dim about the place, but I remember my family and I went only once. Can’t recall the picture, but the pipe organ was especially fine. In special passages of organ pieces, a delightful ‘special effects’ box would open above the procenium, revealing an ingenious and endearing display of mechanical tambourines and other percussion instruments, which of course made a big hit with the audience. Its innocence and charm are long gone.
Most certainly the organ was preserved, but I have no idea where or how. I believe the ‘Seattle Times’ ran a few stories on the Granada’s demise (early 1970s?).
Having heard this morning of the passing of Gene Scott, I wonder, what now for the great United Artists? The above messages have helped. I’m very glad to see so many caring people following the status of this and many other houses.
I was lucky enough as a kid to wander through the old Orpheum in Seattle as they were just beginning to strip it for demolition. I worked in the same city’s Paramount in the 1970s (live concerts) and the late Music Hall (aka John Hamrick’s Music Hall, Seattle 7th Avenue, etc.) in the 1980s. It was the Music Hall’s final hurrah, a Vegas-type revue called ‘Music Hallelujah’. A chunk of gilded plaster, handed to me by a sympathetic workman, is about all I have left, besides the memories!
So, after seeing so many fine houses vanish in an uncaring Seattle, I was bowled over by LA’s Broadway parade of stunning picture palaces. Haven’t been there since ‘87, but from the Million Dollar all the way down to the UA, I thought, thank heavens that Broadway is a tad run down, otherwise these houses would not still be standing. To me the UA is the most awe-inspiring. The mass of its mysterious frontage, and that Gothic-screened water tank on the roof made powerful impressions. This was during its Latino film phase, and I didn’t have time to buy a ticket just to see the interior, as I would have happily done. I was just amazied and comforted that the old babe was still there at all, given the heartless attitude I was familiar with in Seattle. Naturally, not going in has added to the building’s mystique to me over the years.
KenRoe, any possibility that we can see any of your pictures of this ‘Roxy of the West’?
Many thanks.