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March 16, 2020

Photo Essay: Kirk Douglas Theatre, the Former Screenland Cinema Saved By Spartacus

When actor and philanthropist Kirk Douglas died at the age of 103 in February 2020, he left behind a legacy that includes not only Spartacus and his actor son, Michael Douglas...


all photos circa 2016 except where noted

...but also the preservation and continued use of the former Culver Theatre in Downtown Culver City, California



It was rechristened the Kirk Douglas Theatre after his and his (second) wife Anne's $2.5 million donation—coupled with a grant from the Culver City Redevelopment Agency—gave the former cinema new life as a legit playhouse.



Culver City's own Steven Ehrlich was the architect for the 2002 renovation into the Kirk Douglas Theatre, which opened in 2004 at a total cost of $11 million.



But it was originally built in 1947 for the Fox West Coast movie theatre chain, headed by Charles Skouras—known for the "Skouras Style" that took over the decor of many cinemas at the time.



Back then, Fox produced many of the decorative elements found in its Skouras-influenced theatres at its own assembly plant—not the least of which being a free-standing box office that evokes something of a neo-baroque jukebox.



The floral motif in the (rehabbed) terrazzo sidewalk at the entrance is one of the remaining signature decorative elements associated with Charles and his brother George.



The inside, however, is another story.



Based on how it looks now, it's hard to know how post-war audiences experienced the moviegoing experience when it was the Culver Theatre. 



You can't see much—if any—of the work originally done by architect Albert R. Walker (of Walker and Eisen) and designer Carl G. Moeller.



But it probably lost the character way before this latest rehabilitation—likely in the 1970s, when it was spit into three screens (a.k.a. triplexed). It officially closed in 1989; a few years later, its damaged auditorium was gutted for asbestos removal in the wake of the 1994 Northridge earthquake.



Though the original seating capacity was over 1,000, the house now holds 317 seats, arranged stadium-style.


circa 2008 (Photo: Luis Penados via FlickrCC BY 2.0)

But hey, it's outlasted the Culver City Theatre (1915, demolished 1923) and the Meralta Theatre (1924, demolished 1983). And that's really something for the city nicknamed "The Heart of Screenland."

Plus, the Center Theatre Group offers some pretty cool and cutting-edge programming at the Kirk Douglas. 

Though Douglas himself was heralded for his iconic movie roles, he said that his first love was the stage—and he wanted the opportunity to help support new and upcoming playwrights. 

So, its adaptive reuse seems fitting, especially since Douglas got to grace the stage of his namesake theatre in 2009 for the autobiographical one-man show, Before I Forget

For more history on the Culver Theatre, visit the page dedicated to it at the Los Angeles Theatres website

Related Posts:
A Birthday Visit to the Heart of Screenland
Standing in the Shadows of Towers In Hollywood (Or, What Will Happen to the Fonda Theatre?)

July 11, 2018

Photo Essay: Farewell to The Breakers Hotel As We Know It

In typical fashion, when I heard The Sky Room at the top of the former Breakers Hotel was closing—perhaps for two years, perhaps forever—I hightailed it down to Long Beach to check it out before it was too late.



The former hotel had already been more or less inaccessible to the public since it had converted into senior housing in 1990.



But as 2015, even the seniors had been kicked out—and upon my visit in April this year, the letters spelling "RETIREMENT COMMUNITY"had been stripped off the front entryway.



At first, it seemed like a good thing. Developers had signed up to return this oceanfront landmark to its original purpose.



So, I set out to document the "before," thinking I'd post a photo essay sometime in 2020 once it was completed and I could include some "after" shots.



But I don't think anybody was prepared for the gutting of the interior that would ensue—or the estate sale of historical artifacts to include everything from antique hair dryer chairs to original bannisters.



So, in light of the physical history we're losing this week—with bits and pieces going to individual collectors and profiteers rather than remaining in situ or being transferred to an archive or publicly accessible cultural institution—here's some of what I glimpsed that day.



The Sky Room had a dedicated entrance down a driveway on the west wing of the building, a means of entry that circumvented the front door...



...but also gave a taste of the majesty of this 1926 luxury resort that had somehow managed to survive the Great Depression and the 1933 Long Beach earthquake.



In 1938, Conrad Hilton rescued it out of bankruptcy—marking the start of the hotel's "glory years"—and opened the Sky Room, a celebrity magnet if there ever was one.



And it remained a popular gathering spot throughout Hilton's tenure, despite having been used for some harbor defense during World War II.



Despite Walker & Eisen's "ultra-Spanish" design of the rest of the hotel and a bried stint as a Polynesian paradise, the Sky Room returned to an Art Deco/Gatsby sort of flair upon the 1986-7 renovation—a style it continued to retain 80 years after its original opening.



But its recent closure should come as no surprise to anyone who knows a bit of the topsy-turvy history of The Breakers—which has been converted back and forth between a hotel and retirement home more than once over the years.



Yet somehow, some intriguing architectural details seem to have remained throughout the property changing hands time and again.



That is, until now.



At least the waterfront view will be in tact, at least for the time being. But the planters on the patio are for sale.



Maybe the vintage mail chutes are, too.



After dining in the Sky Room and getting an eyeful at the top of Breakers, I decided to head down—first to the individual accommodations, which really had nothing left in them, and next to what had become the seniors' dining area.



There were still hints of its former elegance...



...and peekaboo moments of long-gone luster...



...but mostly, all that remained was a cafeteria.



Down on the ground level was a different matter—though the so-called Crystal Room was largely vacant, it had held onto its piano...



...a piece or two of non-original furniture...



...some chandeliers that appear to be of an older vintage than the crystal ones added in the 1980s...



...and the restored plaster ceiling.



It feels like a shame because this is the hotel whose illuminated "B" helped a lost Charles Lindbergh land his plane in Long Beach in 1928—and where Elizabeth Taylor spent her wedding night with her first husband, "Nicky" Hilton (Conrad Sr.'s son), in 1950.

But for its brief stints of popularity, it always seems to have been under-appreciated.

Will erasing traces of the octagenarian's history change that?

I guess we'll find out in a couple of years. 

Related Posts:
Breathing New Life Into the Eyesores of Downtown LA

January 12, 2021

Photo Essay: The Treasures of City Terrace Park, from Medieval to Mid-Century Modern

There's so much in LA that's been lost—that I'll never get to see in person.

circa 1905? (Photo: William Henry Jackson, Denver Public Library)

September 03, 2015

Photo Essay: The Iconic Hotel Normandie

My latest article for the LA Tourism Board's website DiscoverLosAngeles.com is a profile of the iconic Hotel Normandie...



...which I'd been curious about but hadn't had the chance to explore on my own.



This gave me the perfect excuse to pay a visit to the 1926 building designed by Walker & Eisen (also known for The Fine Arts Building and The Oviatt Building).



Actually, I had been there once before, to try a famous Cassell's burger.



But I hadn't yet had the chance to go upstairs...



...peer down the stairwell...



...or climb up to the roof...



...for a good look at that iconic neon sign, original to the building and faithfully restored.



Of course, my daytime trip precluded me from imbibing at its cocktail hotspot, The Normandie Club...



...but I did get to walk through its secret door...



...and into the Walker Inn, its requisite speakeasy, where photos of anything but minute details are verboten. I'll be back soon, in the evening.



In the meantime, you can read my official Hotel Normandie profile on DiscoverLosAngeles.com, which includes only one of the above photos, but lots more information.

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April 21, 2018

Breathing New Life Into the Eyesores of Downtown LA (Updated for 2022)

[Last updated 12/11/22 10:19 PM PT—The NoMad Hotel closed in 2021 during the COVID-19 pandemic, and the Hotel Per La opened in its place in 2022. For photos inside the redesigned hotel, click here.]

They say that the "greenest" building is one that's already been built.



Because no matter how high of a LEED standard a new structure adheres to, the environmental impact of building it from scratch is far greater than reusing an extant one that might be less energy efficient.



Besides, when it comes to interior design—at least in LA—everything old is new again.



Why build something new, just to make it look old? (See also: all of our  newly constructed "Art Deco" and "speakeasy"-style bars and nightclubs.)



And yet so many buildings stand vacant for so long (something that's particularly painful when you see so many homeless camped out outside of them, in a time when we're experiencing a major housing shortage).



The Giannini Building, for example, had become an eyesore at the corner of Olive and 7th Street in Downtown Los Angeles, standing vacant for nearly two decades.



Formerly the Bank of Italy headquarters (named after its founder, Amadeo Giannini), the palatial, 12-story high-rise was dedicated in 1923 and opened to much fanfare—thanks in no small part to the neoclassical design by Morgan, Walls & Clements. At the time, Bank of Italy was the largest bank in the West (and would become Bank of America in 1930).



Its founder pioneered the idea that banking was for regular folk and not just the rich. So, the bank pursued potential customers whose banking potential had been heretofore underestimated—namely, women and children—to fill its 12,000 safety deposit boxes.



The main vault door is one of the only significant features of the opulent bank building that remains.



Weighing 50 tons, it now protects a small lounge area...



...and the public restrooms.



Upstairs, the former offices had already been gutted, leaving little of historical value to be preserved when the Sydell Group took over the building (with some help from billionaire investor Ron Burkle) and renovated it into the NoMad Hotel Los Angeles.



The rooms have been outfitted with vintage-inspired furnishings and decor (as have the public areas like the lobby and the Mezzanine restaurant). [Ed: Not sure how the Hotel Per La's rooms differ from the NoMad.] However, unlike Giannini's original vision for it, this building is no longer for ordinary people with just a little bit of money to sock away. Rooms start at $280/night ($320/night if you want the nice bathtub) and go as high as $800/night for a corner suite.



The rooftop bar has just opened up to the public...



...though the pool is still reserved for guests of the hotel.



Besides the sweeping views of Downtown LA, the rooftop also offers a little bit of Italy in the form of Orcus, god of the underworld. The statue at the far end of the pool is a replica of one found in the  16th century "sacred grove," Sacro Bosco, in northern Italy.



Up there, you can also get a good look at the Italiante cornice...



...which, though original to the building, also underwent some recent restoration work (as did the terra-cotta panels on the building exterior, some of which had to be replaced).



The Sydell Group wasn't satisfied with reinvigorating just one historic DTLA building by converting it into a fancy hotel—it also set its sights on yet another infamous eyesore, the Commercial Exchange Building.



Built in 1924, it, too, had stood vacant and languishing for 20 or so years...



...despite having a rich history, a solid architectural pedigree, and one of the tallest neon blade signs in LA.



Designed by Walker & Eisen (known also for their work on the Taft Building in Hollywood, the Fine Arts Building, the Oviatt Building, and Hotel Normandie), the 13-story, Beaux Arts-style building actually retained a lot of its original character, despite its extended vacancy.



A lot of original decorative features had been boarded up over the years...



...and were revealed when restoration work (which frequently means excavation) began.



And those original decorative features at the storefront level—particularly a long-hidden medallion over a doorway—were retained as the Commercial Exchange Building transformed into the Freehand Hotel.



In fact, according to preservation guidelines, they had to be saved—and, unlike its neighbor a block away, the interior of the Commercial Exchange Building was largely intact.



That means you'll see original coffered ceilings and marble stairways...



...as well as more original tile, which has been seamlessly integrated with new design motifs.



Upstairs, the former offices—including one once occupied by Tarzan author Edgar Rice Burroughs—have been converted into either traditional hotel rooms or shared, bunk-style hostel rooms.



Unlike the NoMad, the Freehand does welcome a more cost-conscious customer—particularly international travelers.



And while the Freehand embraces the style of "Old Downtown," it also brings the experience of staying there into the 21st century—with a mural that was painted by the art collective Cyrcle and that's only visible from certain guest rooms.



Anyone, however, is welcome to dine or drink at one of the Freehand's many establishments, both in the lobby (at the Exchange Restaurant) and on the roof (at Broken Shaker).

As with the NoMad, the pool is for hotel/hostel guests only, but the view is for everybody.

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