The Stanley. The Fox. The Earle. The Erlanger. The Mastbaum.
The roll of Philadelphia's vanished movie palaces goes on
and on, like the credits of a blockbuster film. Soon, two more historic names
could join the list of the fallen: the Boyd and the Royal.
Preservationists have struggled for more than a decade to
save these two great movie houses, among the last survivors of Hollywood's
golden age in Philadelphia. They've come close several times to finding uses
for the historically landmarked buildings, but time is running out. In separate
cases, the owners are pressing the city for permission to demolish the
auditoriums, the very heart and soul of the theaters.
Live Nation, which bought Chestnut Street's Boyd Theater in
2006, is on the verge of making a deal that would allow a Florida chain to gut
the majestic Art Deco interior and install high-end screening rooms. South
Street's Royal Theater, once an important hub of black culture, would get a
similar filleting by Kenny Gamble's Universal Cos., which has sat on the
building for a dozen years without so much as fixing the broken sidewalk. He
wants to use the site for an apartment house.
Right about now you're probably wondering, "Doesn't
city landmark status protect these theaters from demolition?"
Theoretically, yes. But in a city that increasingly hitches
its future to developers' promises, a historic designation has become just
another fungible commodity, to be traded in when the right time comes along.
Both owners have decided to ask the city Historical
Commission to void the theaters' historic status on the grounds that
redeveloping them in their current form is a "financial hardship." If
the commission buys their argument, they would demolish everything behind the
main facades. The maneuver, known as a facadectomy, turns three-dimensional
buildings into cardboard cutouts. The first hearing for the Boyd is Dec. 17.
We've seen the financial-hardship tactic used a lot lately,
and with increasing success. The owners of the Church of the Assumption, on
Spring Garden Street, won a demolition permit in 2010 by claiming there was no
feasible way to reuse the building where Katharine Drexel, a Roman Catholic
saint, was baptized. Last year, the University of Pennsylvania dealt with a
problematic mansion at 40th and Pine Streets by successfully making the same
argument. Those demolitions are on hold while the courts review the decisions.
You might think that a historically certified building would
have to be practically falling down to qualify for hardship, but that's rarely
the case. Both the Boyd and the Royal are structurally sound and retain much of
their original detail. They are simply old buildings that are challenging and
expensive to reuse. Their owners have given up trying.
The temptation to grant financial hardship will be great.
Both theaters look like wrecks. The Royal has been closed since 1970, the Boyd
since 2002.
In the last few years, Chestnut and South Streets have
rebounded with new shops and renovated buildings. So, we will certainly be told
that the theaters, covered in rotting plywood, stand out like tumors amid that
urban vitality. No doubt the owners will claim that facadectomies are actually
a way of preserving history.
Despite all the city's economic woes, it's important for the
commission to remember one essential fact: Once the theaters are gone, their
architecture and memories are lost forever.
The Boyd is easily the more spectacular of the two, and the
more salvageable. Designed in 1928 by the great theater designers Hoffmann
& Henon, it was given the full Art Deco treatment, and is the only true Art
Deco movie palace that conservative Philadelphia ever built. "When you
think about all the luxurious interiors in the city - City Hall, 30th Street
Station - none of them have this decadence," said the Preservation
Alliance's Ben Leech. "It's something rare."
The narrow Chestnut Street facade, which is all most people
know, only hints at the lavishness inside. Hoffman & Henon plastered the
walls of the 2,350-seat auditorium in blazing colors and Jazz Age forms. Waves
of sculpted plaster surround the screen. The mirrored lobby is as grand as a
banquet hall and features a mural celebrating the history of women's
achievement, quite an unusual subject for 1928.
Architecturally, the Royal can't compare, though its history
resonates deeply. Designated historic in 1978, it was Philadelphia's first
black-owned theater when it opened in 1920, and hosted performers like Bessie
Smith and Fats Waller. Some interior decoration may still remain, although
Gamble's company has done almost no maintenance since acquiring the building in
2000.
The owners of the Florida movie chain, iPic, have been
lobbying hard to convince various interest groups that their screening-room
concept is a worthy replacement for the Boyd's stunning interiors. They've
brought the humble multiplex upmarket by creating an environment resembling a home
theater, with leather recliners and table service.
It's an appealing enough way to see a movie, assuming you
have $24 to spend on a ticket, but why does it have to be located where the
Boyd now stands? When I put that question to iPic CEO Hamid Hashemi, he replied
that his company can't afford any other site. Clear Channel is willing to dump
the Boyd for $4.5 million, about half of what it paid seven years ago.
In the history of theater rescue stories, seven years is
nothing. The cities that have restored their great movie places - and dozens
have - devoted decades to the effort. New York is just putting the finishing
touches on the Loew's King Theatre in downtown Brooklyn. It had been closed
since 1978, but will soon have a new life as a performing arts center. The
transformation would never have happened without the help of the borough
president, who persuaded the city and state to kick in seed money. The Boyd and
the Royal also need government champions and public funds to succeed.
Mayor Nutter was a big supporter of giving the Boyd historic
status in 2008. That was just five years ago, but there is an increasing
presumption in Philadelphia that the designation comes with a clock. If you
can't develop a historic building in a few years, the thinking goes, it's time
to tear it down. But a preserved building is supposed to be preserved forever.
Source: Philly.com
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