Watching silent films at the Sandy Stake Recreation Hall in 1911 with Lottie Burkinshaw at the piano, 6-year-old George Bradbury gaped as soundless ships pitched and rolled in turbulent seas and silent mountains gave way to deadly avalanches. Tingling with terror, he gripped the edges of his seat - the branch of a tree.
“Nickels were hard to come by,” Bradbury later confided. “But on the south side of the hall were windows and a row of trees. I'd climb up to the best limb and peer through a windowpane at the movie screen. Since there wasn't any sound, you didn't miss the dialogue. But you had to get there early because others would want your spot.”
Seats, sights and sounds soon reigned synonymous with motion picture success. In 1924, Ogden's bejeweled Peery's Egyptian Theatre modeled its “showplace of the west” with Zane Grey's “Wanderers of the Wasteland.” In 1929-downtown Salt Lake City, under an opulent sunburst-studded ceiling gleaned from a carpet pattern discovered, no less, in a French cathedral, the 2,260-seat Capitol Theatre reveled in the all-talkie, “On Trial.”
After an exuberant 49-year run, the Capitol Theatre was condemned. In 1984, the Egyptian too was forced to close. Both were rescued by their counties. What happens when public monies fail to save our frail grande dames?
In 1949, the Villa Theatre at 3092 S. Highland Drive opened with “The Prince of Foxes” projected onto a 26-foot by 20-foot screen historian Grant Smith cites as “one of the largest in the West.”
The vast 1,300-seat curved theater was luxurious in design. Leveled tiers of chairs ascended a steep rise ensuring unimpeded viewing. Velvet drapery cascaded over stage and screen. Technological prowess launched new wide-screen formats, CinemaScope, Cinemiracle and Cinerama.
The Villa was popcorn paradise, youthful freedom, a date's delight, a couple's night out, an elegant, ushered-in affair. In 1958, its 10-month run of “South Pacific” packed the house with more than a million moviegoers from three Western states.
After 53 years, despite past success and current nostalgia, sluggish ticket sales, disrepair, multiplexes and home theaters sent the immense single-stage neighborhood theater that everyone loved into atrophy.
As I see it, adaptive reuse is significant to history in its retelling.
“The Villa Theatre is a treasure in need of preservation,” said Dr. Hamid Adib, learning of its fate. In 2004, he bought the building to use both as a museum-quality emporium showcasing imported Persian, Oriental and European rugs and “a historic landmark for community memory.”
“Hamid saved history from demolition,” said project architect Nolen Mendenhall. Mindful of keepsakes and movie matter, extensive renovation commenced. Water-damaged areas were repaired; mechanical and electrical systems updated. Display galleries sheathed the tops of existing terraces and stair locations preserving the theater's imprint. Seismic re-engineering was “approached from the exterior of the building with structural upgrades tucked inside Greek cornices and columns.”
“We didn't tear it down,” Mendenhall said. “We gave it new threads.”
With projected costs over $1 million, it could have been cheaper to rebuild.
“But Dr. Adib would have lost the consciousness of the past along with the historic property,” said Barbara Thayer of the Association for the Retention of Cultural Heritage. “What he did instead was salvage a genuine gathering spot for the community that the theater represented with a dramatic platform for cultural property that embraces global history.”
Beyond the Villa's celebrated neon sign and into Adib's Rug Gallery, dramatic events unfold. Within this breathtaking 178,000-square-foot theatrical space, artful rugs proclaim adventures like movie posters do film, and casts of hundreds - new and antique intricately hand-woven and knotted rugs - captivate us like actors, gifted artisans of a venerable craft.
At center stage, the original one, a restored Villa awaits collective review.
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* EILEEN HALLET STONE is an oral historian who recently received Utah's National Council of Jewish Women's (NCJW) Arts in the Community Leadership Award.
