Illustration by Lars Leetaru
The rehab of the Westwood Theater on Harrison Avenue sure makes me happy. But it’s rekindled a question I’ve had since I saw movies there as a youth: What’s up with the 10 stone squares on the outside wall next to the marquee? They’re all square, but different. Do they mean something? —STONED, BUT SQUARE
Dear Stoned:
The Doctor regrets to announce his discovery of the April 1940 issue of Motion Picture Herald, a magazine devoted to movie theater design. Several pages describe the newly-opened Westwood Theater, and its depth of excruciating detail is, in a word, disturbing. For instance, about the marquee: “Approximately 200 10-watt incandescents illuminate the soffit in a herringbone pattern, three lines of lamps radiating to each side from the central rib, which is a continuation of the line of incandescents that run down the nose of the marquee. Eight dome lights illuminate the porcelain soffit over the entrance doors, and there is fluorescent neon tubing in the stainless steel display cases.” Despite more than 20 similarly unbearable paragraphs of molecular-level descriptions, nothing is said about the 10 little squares.
Thankfully, the Westwood Historical Society has come to your rescue: The 10 stone squares were originally glass block windows that let natural light into the theater’s offices. They were replaced with dark stones in 1970 during a major rehab, which apparently meant, “Here comes the soft porn.”
I was a kid when Clifton residents saved the Esquire Theatre from becoming a Wendy’s in the 1980s. Back then my grandmother told me she remembered the theater fighting against becoming a garage in the 1920s. Was the Esquire almost the original Ludlow Garage? I bet you can verify this. —LAID LOW GARAGE
Dear Laid:
The Doctor’s status as a local historical sleuth abides. As they say in the movies, your grandmother’s memory is “based on a true story.” Much like the firestorm over a planned Wendy’s replacing the Esquire in 1984, something similar occurred in 1922. It was the Clifton Theatre then, which had closed due to “lack of patronage,” and the owners planned to convert it to a garage.
Cue the pitchforks! A hastily-formed Clifton Community Company successfully pressured the city’s Building Commissioner to stall issuing a permit. In Act II, they got City Council to pass an ordinance forbidding a “major garage” in any residential area without written consent from 75 percent of residents. In Act III, the group bought out the owners, saved the theater, and were oddly silent when an undeniably “major garage” sprouted on the next block of Ludlow Avenue just four years later. This was the Ludlow Garage, which later closed in the 1950s but eventually had its own second act as Cincinnati’s legendary rock music venue. Your grandmother probably complained about it.
It’s been almost a year since the marble facade of the Albee Theater was torn down from the Cincinnati Convention Center. I know its ultimate fate hasn’t been decided, but I’m curious about where it’s being stored in the meantime. Where do you put such a massive structure? —LAST PLACE YOU LOOK
Dear Last:
Welcome to the Doctor’s first all-theater column, and the second monthly piece in a row to use the word “facade.” And, please, it’s the Duke Energy Convention Center, thank you very much.
The majestic Albee Theater across from Fountain Square, like the Esquire Theatre mentioned above, also fought valiantly against the wrecking ball. But the Albee lost, crumbling in 1977 to make way for the Westin Hotel. Its grand arched facade, however, soldiered on. The divided parts first languished in various locations (including under the Brent Spence Bridge) as proposals for its eventual fate came and went. Finally, in 1986, the marble structure was re-assembled at the newly expanded Convention Center (pre-Duke).
The arch was again dismantled in September during the venue’s latest rehab (mid-Duke) and is now being stored yet again until a new sugar daddy vision for it comes forward. Where exactly is it? The Doctor has been assured, much as Indiana Jones was at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, that it safely rests in a location that is none of his ****ing business. Check under the Brent Spence.
Dr. Know is Jay Gilbert, radio personality and advertising prankster. Submit your questions about the city’s peculiarities here.
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