In the movie houses of the holy

Posted by rhsmith on August 15, 2008

I’ve crawled around up in the rafters of Notre Dame de Paris but I think back more often to the movies I’ve seen at the Tampa Theater (pictured above), where I’ve visited friends over the years. That historical landmark was the handiwork of Romanian-American architect John Eberson, who built over a hundred grand movie palaces all over the country, among them the Loew’s Paradise in the Bronx and the Loew’s Valencia in Queens (both belonging to the Lowe’s “Wonder Five” of flagship cinemas in the New York area). Don’t get me wrong – the cathedral at Notre Dame is great, and you should make it a point to drop in if you’re ever hop the Seine to the Île de la Cité, but I’m more of a cinema guy than a church guy, so there you have it.

I mention the Tampa Theater because I’ve been thinking lately about how going to the movies isn’t quite the same as it once was… and a lot of it has to do with the fact that movie houses aren’t the same. Cathedral churches and old time cinemas have a lot in common. They’re lush, richly-appointed places, inviting shelters meant to dazzle, to astonish and, paradoxically, to excite and humble at the same time. And they do their job, or at least they used to. I don’t remember the first time I walked into my own local movie house, The Danielson Cinema, but I have a wonderful sense memory of my afternoons there. The Danielson Cinema began life around the turn of the 20th century as The Danielson Playhouse and was rechristened The Orpheum in the 1920s, during the silent era. The name was changed to The Danielson Cinema in the 1950s and that moniker hung above the marquee until the place burned down in 1978.

The Danielson Cinema (pictured above, at some point in the 1950s) was not a grand cathedral but a modest 686-seat movie house like so many others in America. It was boxy and serviceable, with just enough flourish in its design to make a trip there seem, at least to my 10 year-old sensibility, a special, awe-inspiring experience. The cinema reminded me of my church, Putnam Congregational, in that you were immediately impressed by a hushed quality to the air as you stepped from the lobby/concession stand into the theater proper. As in church, the cinema left you with your own thoughts as you took your seat and prepared to open your heart. The red velvet curtains, the gilt mouldings and the dim, warm light eminating from the wall sconces combined to give you a sense of shopworn elegance. If you touched the carved cherubs, they were sticky; if you brushed the velvet seatbacks, they were stiff. The paint was peeling, the drapes were patched or just left torn, and the floorboards below the seats… you didn’t want to know what you were stepping on… but the homily wasn’t lost on me.

I lost my religion when I was very young, a propos of nothing that comes to mind, and in the seeming absense of a higher calling art picked up the spiritual slack. The chapter and verse set might bristle at the notion that movies are as good as Bible teachings but cinema moved me, touched and informed me in a way that Sunday school never could. Movies (and later plays, poems, novels, painting, sculpture, dance, music) taught me about bravery, about honesty, about charity and tolerance. They showed me that I lived in a world with other people, that my words counted, that my actions had impact and that with this understanding came the obligation to be honest and fair and forthright. Of course, the real test of all this was in the real world but I was grateful for the education I got in the dark, my eyes tilted up toward the screen. I’m glad that I learned these lessons when young, in an atmosphere that encouraged contemplation and quiet, in a world with fewer rivals for your attention. Edward Hopper’s painting New York Movie, really captures the sense of wonder I used to get from walking into The Danielson Cinema (even though our ushers looked nothing like the leggy dame pictured above. Actually, we didn’t have ushers.) I wonder if kids feel the same way about their cookie cutter multiplexes, which for the most part lack any oppulence or finery and look like executive screening rooms. Are souls still forged in the cinema? Do young hearts still open like blossoms at the flicker of 24 frames per second? Are men still made at the movies?

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10 Responses In the movie houses of the holy

Posted By 42nd Street Memories : August 15, 2008 8:25 am

Like many, I fondly recall my neighborhood theater of my youth (1950s). What added to the excitement of movie-going was getting away from our small screen black & white TV set (7 channels, so lack of remote contol was a moot point – I sat right in front on the floor anyway). Also, living in a one bedroom flat, I could appreciate the chandeliers, marble staircase to the balcony, plush carpeting (where’s the linoleum?)and AIR COOLED BY REFRIGERATION. Our A/C was opening the window (bus fumes and all) or sitting on the fire escape. Our theater, the RKO on 23rd Street in NYC was formerly the Grand Opera House at the turn of the 20th century. So it was a palace, a thing of beauty. Also, the theaters mentality was different back then. They wanted patrons in and they wanted to keep them in as long as they could. So for the kids, that meant a lot of Saturday triple feature matinees with cartoons. In at 10am, out at 4pm. Lunch was a hot dog “cooked” under a light bulb with a soda dispensed from a machine into a paper cup. (If you were paying attention, you would straighten out the cup in order to salvage some of the drink). The matron, former SS, would patrol the Kiddie Section with a flashlight and a snarl. So, it was an experience. A social gathering, not just a movie. The kids today will create their own nostalgia for the gigaplex and tell their grandchildren about having to leave the house to see a movie. Jerry K

Posted By JoseM : August 15, 2008 8:49 am

Reminds me of my love of the Riviera theater in San Juan, a magical, wonderful art deco movie theater where I saw so many movies as a child. Unfortunately it was torn down before the city could declare it a historic place.

Posted By Vincent : August 15, 2008 12:08 pm

I remember the Loew’s Theater in Syracuse, a beautiful late 1920s palace where I saw a few films in the 1960s. There were a few other similar houses down South Saiina Street (Paramount, RKO Keith’s) which fell prey to urban renewal in 1967. The Loew’s is still around, now known as the Landmark Theater, and holds stage performances and concerts (though it sadly is a bit rundown). It will host the premiere of a biopic of Ernie Davis, the late Syracuse U. football star (and the first black to win the Heisman Trophy), who died of leukemia before he could play professionally. I believe the film is called “The Elmira Express” (Davis’ nickname)…and perhaps while Ernie attended SU, he caught a few films at the Loew’s.

Posted By john august smith : August 15, 2008 5:16 pm

I remember fondly the loews capitol theatre in downtown wash. d.c. first an organ recital, then a 5-7 act stage show and filally a first run film. a beautiful theatre, red velvet everywhere, even the drinking fountain was carved marble. I was a movie nut in those glorious youthful days, I would catch a matinee at the capitol, then walk 1/2 block to the loews palace and still get home for dinner. From my house there were 7 movie houses within easy walking distance. In 1942 tickets to these local houses cost 11 cents(1 cent war tax) and for saturday matinee you got a double feature, a serial,a cartoon, a newsreel and a free comic book! Those were the days!! now on TCM I am seeing some of the same movies I saw 50+ years ago. one that really made a lasting impression upon me was Spawn of the North with raft, lamour, barrymore and a talented seal. I would love to see it one more time before I get to movie heaven.

Posted By saraeg : August 16, 2008 2:02 am

i always think of the loews coliseum on 181st street in washington heights whenever i watch ben-hur. it was in this magnificent movie palace that i first watched this spectacular movie on the wide screen. i had never seen lights recessed in the floor next to the banks of chairs and there must have been 3 levels to accomodate the balcony. i roamed around as much as i could and loved looking down to the level below through a ‘hole’ in the ceiling-floor. what a wonderful memory!

Posted By RHS : August 16, 2008 11:47 am

I probably should have mentioned that the organist at The Tampa Theater is raised up to and lowered down from (hydraulically, presumably) from the stage. Awesome! More priests should do that. And you should be allowed to eat popcorn in church.

Posted By David B : August 16, 2008 12:10 pm

I haven’t been to Tampa Theatre in a while, but I have great memories of the past several years. There’s nothing like seeing Ben-Hur (1959), or Rosa Rio accompaning Douglas Fairbanks in The Mark of Zorro (1920), or Lon Chaney in The Phantom of the Opera (1925)…..

Posted By 42nd Street Memories : August 17, 2008 8:50 am

I usually make to the Tampa Theater for their summer classics fest. Last time for me was It Came From Outer Space in 3-D. Fun to see a packed house, with a lot of kids, watching old fashioned 3-D. Rosa Rio will be there for Wings in a couple of weeks.

Posted By RHS : August 17, 2008 10:27 am

Sounds like Rosa Rio might deserve a blog entry of her own!

Posted By larry 48 : September 7, 2008 11:34 pm

i think this is a great site aqnd i will check it out every day…

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