Roxy Theatre

stepale2 on May 11, 2005 at 11:45 am

In 1988 I was writing a book about Times Square. It ALMOST was published, but for reasons beyond my control, it did not happen. The design layout scheme was cost prohibitive and there were other problems as well, but that’s another story. Here are the opening paragraphs from the Roxy chapter— the photos are missing. The book was meant to be a heavly illlustrated with over 1000 pix, which was part of the problem……

The ROXY
The 1920s were a decade of flamboyance. Herbert Lubin, a film producer turned real estate developer, who was intoxicated by the spirit of the times, wanted to build “the most sumptuous theater in the world” on the corner of 50th Street and Seventh Avenue. To help him realize his dream, Lubin lured "Roxy” Rothafel away from the Capitol by offering to name what was to be known as the “Cathedral of the Motion Picture,” after Roxy—as well as by giving him complete control of the design and operation of the theater— plus a share of the profits. But Rothafel’s grandiose ideas coupled with architect Walter Ahlschlager’s extravagant plans, were too much for Lubin’s pocketbook (the cost of the theater escalated from $6,000,000 to $10,000,000) so a week before the Roxy was was to open, Lubin sold his interest to William Fox, head of the Fox Theater chain and the Fox Film Corporation.

Caption: The main entrance was leased from the adjoining Manger Hotel, which was renamed the Taft in 1932.

Caption: There were six boxoffices in the outer lobby.

Caption: The Roxy was often referred to as the “Cathedral of the Motion Picture,” and its 50th Street facade was said to resemble the Cathedreal at Valladolid in Italy.

Caption: “Harold, I see my theater like the insisde of a great bronze bowl,” Roxy told Harold Rambusch, the theater’s decorator. “Every thing in tones of antique gold. Warm. Very, very rich. Gorgeous.”

Caption: (for the shot of the rotunda)
For twenty-five cents anyone could spend a couple of hours in this palacial setting. The rotunda (ushers reportedly would get sacked if they called it a “lobby”).and the adjoining foyers could hold 2,500 patrons who might have to wait as long as an hour before being seated in the auditorium. Twelve green marble columns supported a dome from which this twenty-foot chandelier was suspended. The oval-shaped rug was said to be the world’s largest and heaviest.
(The best rotunda pic can be found at the Smithsonian.)

Caption (for ground floor plan): Walter Ahlschlager’s placement of the auditorium made good use of the Roxy’s irregular plot. The stage, 60 feet deep by 70 feet wide, was divided into four sections, two of which were equipped with elevators. The musicians were seated on an elevator that could be raised up to stage level. When the Roxy opened, there were three Kimbal organ consoles as well as 100 muscians in the pit.

Caption: Most theaters had projection booths directly above the balcony; at the Roxy, they were in front of the mezzenine, insuring a bright and distortion-free picture as the projectors were only 100 feet from the screen. The Roxy’s 5,920 seats looked down upon the stage, enabling the entire audience to see the feet of the dancers.
(Photo and neg of proscenium and stairs in photo file B NYPL. Best clipping file for the Roxy is MWEZ + n.c.20,278 and there is a good collection of Partington’s performance shots filed under
MFL + n.c. 1829. Early pictures of Roxy are in MFL + n.c.1830)

Backstage, there were five floors of dressing rooms, a costume workroom, rehearsal halls, a projection room, a cafeteria, as well as a hospital, gymnasium, barber shop, plus Roxy’s broadcasting studio.

Even at eleven dollars a seat, the opening night was a sell-out. Gloria Swanson, star of The Loves of Sunya,“ the first motion picture to be shown, recalls the event in her 1980 autobiography:

A limousine arrived for Henri and me at seven-thirty, [Swanson was married to Henri, Marquis de la Falaise, at the time] and the short drive from Sixth Avenue and Fifty-eighth Street to the theater at Seventh Avenue and Fiftieth Street — ordinarily less than five minutes by car — took half an hour, owing to the traffic congestion caused by the sea of people that had been building up around the theater since late afternoon. Policeman on horseback spotted our car and slowly cleared the way for us. The driver told Henri that Mayor Walker had put a hundred extra cops on just for the opening and the cops had told him that the crowd in the street numbered well over ten thousand.
When we pulled up under the marquee and got out of the car, a tremendous roar went up. In the blinding glare of a double row of kleig lights trained on the shiny new building, I turned and waived, and before I could turn again and enter the theater, an unstoppable wave of people surged forward and almost knocked us over. In spite of the efforts of the police, we had to fight our way into the lobby in order not to be crushed against the closed doors and walls.
Inside the monumental foyer, in front of an inclined bank of red and white carnations that spelled out his name, Roxy stood with his family, being photographed with celebrities. Henri and I joined them to kiss and shake hands with the people we knew in a steady blaze of flash powder. Roxy had pulled out all the stops. The parade of notables included four U.S. Senators, three U.S. Generals, three consul generals, two borough presidents, the governor of New Jersey, and the minister of Lithuania, as well as Adolph Ochs, Mrs. Otto Kahn, and Mr. and Mrs. Jimmy Walker. The crowd almost broke down the doors when Charlie Chaplin tried to sneak in unnoticed, and they went wild again when they recognized Harold Lloyd and his wife. We stood there for twenty minutes and greeted an endless stream of people with engraved invitations: the Shuberts, Irving Berlin, Lois Wilson, Sport Ward, Hope Hampton, Tommy Meighan, Joe Schenck, Walter Wanger, Wil Hays — even Jesse Lasky. Then we all took our seats down front in the great auditorium, and the show began.

Chimes were the first thing one heard on opening night. After the third note, the auditorium went black. Then a spotlight picked up a mysterious figure dressed in a monk’s robe who read the invocation:
“Ye portals bright, high and majestic, open to our gaze the path to Wonderland, and show us the realm where fantasy reigns, where romance, where adventure flourish. Let every day’s toil be forgotten under thy sheltering roof—O glorious, mighty hall—thy magic and thy charm unite us all to worship at beauty’s throne…Let there be light!”

And was there light. And how! The Roxy’s lighting plant had three times the capacity of any other theater and used enough power to light a city of a quarter of a million.

(Include a short description of the first show. (or the program)

As the first nighters were filing out, Roxy proudly exclaimed, “Take a look at this stupendous theater, it’s the Roxy and I’m Roxy and I’d rather be Roxy than John D. Rockefeller or Henry Ford!”

JimRankin on May 11, 2005 at 10:12 am

TC’s comment about the “bell” is illuminating and I wonder where he found such detail about the installations by Deagon. Lest anyone assume that he is talking about a glockenspiel, the “bell” was a ten thousand pound, 15-foot-high array of tubes which were struck by ‘hammers’ as soleniods with dampers controlled from the organ console! The photo of them on page 88 the late Ben Hall’s landmark book “The Best Remaining Seats: The Story of the Golden Age of the Movie Palace” shows why they were referred to most often as “chimes.” The previous page claims that there were 21 notes to this indoor carillon, but we won’t quibble about the total since it must have been a wondorous sound in any case! I believe that I somewhere read that they were mounted above the ceiling near the stage where a separate division of the organ, called the “Fanfare Organ” was located. I too react with the thought ‘what a waste to demolish such with the theatre’ but it occurs to me: ‘where would one quickly move and install such a massive instrument?!!’ Few buildings are large enought to receive a 15-foot-square, ten thousand pound musical instrument.

stepale2 on May 9, 2005 at 11:31 am

Thanks BillH. Right you are. Newman’s score for “Bernadette” must have been the first not use the traditional Fox fanfare, as it came out in 1943. Thanks again :–)

VincentParisi on May 9, 2005 at 9:16 am

I always assumed the Music Hall always had such long lines because it was just more popular. If the lines were too long at the Hall you went to the Roxy because you knew you’d get in. Also why did such major Fox film as some of the Temple films at her height of popularity, On the Avenue, Anna and the King, and The Ghost and Mrs Muir play at the Hall and not at the Roxy?

Simon L. Saltzman on May 7, 2005 at 7:49 pm

Does anyone remember when the Roxy organ was no longer being played during the intervals? I know they used canned music during the late 1950s. Was the organ played during the engagement of “The Robe?” And I know this is off-subject, but when did the Paramount, Capitol and Strand stop using their organs during the interval?

JimRankin on May 2, 2005 at 11:02 pm

At today’s prices, in US dollars, on prime real estate such as the original was built upon, and the to the standards of quality expected in the 1920s, the ROXY would no doubt cost upwards of 350 million dollars. Far lesser quality designs of performing spaces today are being built for upwards of that figure, so it is a nice fantasy to hope that such could come to be, but while a few billionnaires could afford to build such a temple to entertainment with the added features of comfort and safety demanded today, it will never come to be. Some of the craftsmanship of those days is now essentially gone, and everyone involved today would be looking for ways to make it cheaper no matter how much you paid them, for our society of yesteryear had more of what money cannot buy: integrity.

[Deleted] on May 2, 2005 at 5:53 pm

There used to be a Roxy Theatre In Wellington, New Zealand. It was built in 1913 and closed in 1974 then demolished the same year to makeway for a highrise office tower in Manners Street. It used to show continues movies I am not sure what the style of it was but it was a popular movie palace in Wellington, New Zealand. I hope my comment sounds right!

veyoung52 on April 23, 2005 at 9:11 pm

Do you mean an actual horizontal 35mm Technirama print of AMAME?

mrchangeover on April 23, 2005 at 12:55 pm

bobb:
Good to see someone cared enough to present Carousel that way after so long. Any plans to expand the project?

chconnol on April 21, 2005 at 2:26 pm

HERE’S AN INTERESTING/FUNNY ARTICLE FROM THE APRIL 17 NY TIMES ABOUT THE NY MOVIE GOING…

‘The Aristocrats,’ Coming Soon to a Theater Near You
By DAMIEN CAVE

INUTES after I arrived at an Upper West Side multiplex on the opening weekend of “The Passion of the Christ” last year, a 40-ish man sitting beside me threatened to knock out a gentleman who had cracked into his knees by leaning back in an obviously broken chair. Both of them cried through the film and exchanged dirty looks afterward.

In the past year I’ve witnessed an array of such outbursts at theaters around the city. I’ve watched demanding young couples ask entire rows of people to move so they could sit together and neck. I’ve listened to teenagers talking on cellphones, crazy people talking to themselves, and not-so-crazy people talking to the screen.

As much as this boisterous expression often makes me long for a DVD and a large-screen television, it also makes me proud. At any moment, New Yorkers are likely to form an ad hoc community, booing at lame dialogue or confronting people who try to cut in line. No other city where I’ve watched a film, save perhaps Havana, can match New York for its active audience participation.

But the city’s moviegoing experience may be poised for a change. In the past few years, a trend of so-called first-class moviegoing has begun to spread. Amenities like assigned seats, waiter service and even piano bars are migrating from London and Tokyo to places like Los Angeles and even Louisville.

In New York, where a taste for pampering is part of our urban DNA, first-class cinema would seem a perfect fit. In fact, the market has already been cracked: since 2003, three theaters in the Loew’s 34th Street multiplex have had two rows of assigned, red leather seats that cost about $5 extra, a price that includes access to an usher who delivers concessions.

To a certain extent, the city already tried such an approach decades earlier. In the 1930’s, special seating was common at picture palaces like the Roxy, and for decades ushers made sure people sat where they belonged. During the 70’s, an upscale theater was installed in the basement of the Plaza, with assigned plush green seats available for an extra $1.50. The Ziegfeld tried assigned seating in the 1990’s.

These last two efforts failed. New Yorkers were unwilling to pay extra, or unable to abandon a first-come-first-served mentality. But the climate may be changing. National Amusements, one of the nation’s largest theater chains, plans to equip every new multiplex it builds with some form of premium seating; cities from Toledo to Philadelphia already have such amenities.

Could New York be next, I wondered. And if so, would it be treason for me to try to taste the future?

With Loew’s 34th Street the only option for a test run, I bought two tickets on Fandango.com for the 8:05 p.m. showing of “Hitch” on the night it opened, and felt prepared to be impressed. Maybe it was nostalgia for the picture palaces. Maybe, despite paying $30.98 for two tickets, I liked knowing that my wife and I could arrive late without fear of kinking our necks in the front row, or fighting our way through the eggbeater of legs and grumbles to reach the only remaining empty seats.

When we saw that the movie was sold out, we felt particularly pleased, though we did wonder a bit sheepishly if we would have to kick people out of our seats. An usher was standing at the two “guest express” rows, so that concern disappeared. Then we showed him our tickets.

“H7 and G7,” he said. Then, pointing to my wife, he added: “O.K., you’re in this row, and you’re behind her.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “The seats are not together?”

“No,” the usher replied. “I’m sorry.”

My wife and I complained. We hemmed, we hawed. We asked if we could sit together and then ask the people who came afterward to move. The usher told us to inquire at the guest services desk. It simply offered us a refund. We declined.

Later, I asked another usher if this sort of thing was common.

“Did you buy your seats from Fandango?” she asked.

“That’s the problem,” she said. “They just assign you the best seats available. If you want to pick your seats, you have to come to the box office.”

Worse, we weren’t even allowed to rejoin the general population. And a few minutes after we sat down, a group of three people hammered home the inadequacy of our “premium” choice. The three asked several people to move, and for $5 less per person, they managed to arrive later and sit together in a row only two feet behind me.

Art Levitt, the chief executive of Fandango, said that premium seating was “a pilot program only” and that the company and Loew’s were still working out the kinks.

Perhaps my experience was an anomaly. I asked a couple in front me for their opinion. “We love it,” the woman said, sipping a $4 soda. Turns out they were from Texas.

Actual New Yorkers were far less complimentary. Out of two dozen people I interviewed, most said they wanted nothing to do with perks like assigned seating.

“If I had all the money in the world, I wouldn’t do it,” said Carl Goodman, a curator at the American Museum of the Moving Image in Astoria, Queens. “Once you’re in the theater, there should be no hierarchy.”

Devon McGoldrick, a graduate student at Columbia University who was waiting for “Million Dollar Baby” at Loew’s West 68th Street theater, added: “I think it’s ridiculous. They bring you concessions, right? From a public health perspective, how much lazier can we get?”

BUT a handful disagreed. Several parents said they welcomed the service because it meant they could arrive later and spend less money on baby sitting. Margaret Jones, a manager at Macy’s who was waiting to see “Meet the Fockers” in a nonpremium theater at the Loew’s 34th, added: “I’ve been a New Yorker for 30 years. I’m tired of it. I’d rather have some special attention.”

My own experience made me side with the critics. But I also left the theater strangely encouraged. The beauty of New York audiences is such that no single gimmick seems to radically alter why we go to the movies or what we do once we get there.

The words of Pauline Kael, the New Yorker critic, came to mind. In 1971, she described a Times Square theater in which an audience was enthralled with the film “Billy Jack.” It was a bustling place, she wrote, electric in expectation, and when a character “said there was no place people could get a square deal – not in this country, not in the world – a voice bellowed ‘New York!’ and the theater shook with laughter, and with solidarity.”

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chconnol on April 21, 2005 at 1:39 pm

“flush with the arrogance of Modernism”

You have no idea how that one statement pretty much says it all.

From talking to my parents and architects and my own humble research, I’ve come to the conclusion that the post WWII years, architecturally speaking, were one in which they threw the baby out with the bathwater. What I mean is that, yes, there were structures that frankly had oulived their usage and should’ve been destroyed. But there was eventually a wholesale destruction, especially during the 1960’s where too many viable structures were simply destroyed for money’s sake.

People thought that the sleek modernism was somehow reflective of a new hope…a new brighter future. This generation was fed this propaganda during the 1939 World’s Fair. They pictured these old structures (including Victorian homes) as gloomy places and out of date. Unfortunately, the lack of maintenance on these places (as one poster for The Roxy states above, it looked “tired” in the late 50’s) only helped to convince people that placed like the Roxy should be gotten rid of. And what was put in place of the Roxy? Has anyone ever seen it? I see it every single day and I still cannot believe what a pedestrian and completely unimaginative building they put in it’s place. Truly pathetic.

VincentParisi on April 21, 2005 at 12:46 pm

Unfortunately Hall’s book did little in the short run to end the slaughter. In the few years following its publication we were to lose 3 of the great houses Hall featured; the NY Paramount, the Capitol and the SF Fox. Then years later the Strand and the Rivoli.

JimRankin on April 21, 2005 at 9:49 am

Benjamin does well to give due credit to the BEST REMAINING SEATS… since it is still the Landmark book it was when first published in 1961. The late author, Ben Hall, would have been delighted at the preservation of so many fine movie palaces around the nation and around the globe partially due to his book. Yes, the book is out of print, but if one looks, one can still find the first edition which was issued only in hardbound, and that edition is the only one with the 5 color plates (frontispiece and 4 pages); the captions for which were retained in later editions even though they were gone due to the latter day publishers being too cheap to reprint them.

One need not avoid the two subsequent editions of 1975 and 1987 in softbound since they contain all of the sparkling text of the gifted writer, but also revised captions for some photos for those theatres that had passed away in the intervening years. If you will miss the color plates that much, go to any library having the first edition and COLOR copy the color plates and insert them into the other edition you buy and, Voila!, you have a duplicate of the first edition! Do not miss reading his wonderful way with words which will infect you with his enthusiasm for his subject. If you can’t find it at local book stors, go to www.Amazon.com and type in the title; they often have used copies available.