It's been called a jewel in the landscape, with a luminous marquee that draws crowds into its intricately tiled lobby. And it's celebrating its 80th year next month.
We're referring, of course, to the landmark Tampa Theatre.
Maybe you've been one of the artists, office professionals, retirees and other pleasure-seeking folks who might have bumped into one another before and after the theater's limited-release films, Sunday movie classics series and performances by eclectic acts. Or perhaps you've never stepped foot inside to gaze at its wondrous details.
We hope these photos and the historical background will inspire a visit -- and perhaps a vow to become a supporter of this unique venue.
THE PROPS: One of those unique and interesting details of the theater, a replica of a Christopher Columbus statue by Lorado Taft can be found by the lower left corner of the stage. After the 1950s, a private cinema company purchased the theater and it fell into disrepair. Statues like the one above got vandalized; colors were also painted over with beige for uniformity. The theater's charm withstood the neglect, so much so that in 1977 Tampa Mayor Bill Poe galvanized support for the city to assume its long-term land leases to keep it alive. Since then the theater has undergone major renovations and sound system upgrades. "This has been a community gathering place," theater spokeswoman Tara Schroeder said. "It's not just a theater in a city. It's a gathering place for a city, and people really feel a sense of stewardship, of ownership of the theater. This is Tampa's theater."
THE ACTION: Tara Rodriguez and Rolando Perez of the Spanish Lyric Theatre Co. sneak off for a romantic rendezvous on the balcony. Unmarried women back in the 1920s and '30s often weren't allowed to go on dates, so they went to the theater in groups and split off into pairs in the balcony. Fast-forward to today, and Tampa Theatre still serves as a hub of social interaction. Artists, students, office professionals, retirees and other pleasure seekers bump into one another before and after limited-release films, Sunday movie classics series and concerts by artists like Wilco and Elvis Costello.
THE SCENE: Tampa Theatre employee Mitchell Martin and local photographer Kym O'Donnell re-enact hijinks of a bygone era. In real life, ushers were quite a bit more in control of the theater. The handsome young men - handpicked and vetoed by legendary box office attendant Blondelle Gladney (1926-71) - circulated patrons through the theater, using phones to communicate with one another the same way theme park employees do today. Unlike at Disney World, Tampa Theatre patrons enjoyed genteel treatment. Ushers politely escorted people to and from their seats. "The ushers were kings of the aisle, cops on the beat and monitors of our morals," said Alex B. Hull, a customer around the time of World War II. Nowadays, people move about on their own. They'll arrive early to listen to the organist, buy a beer or cappuccino at the concession stand or make a beeline to the balcony. Some choose to sit in the front section to get the full impact of the ornate town square balconies surrounding the screen. Just about everyone gazes up at theater's famous night sky projection, which features 99 stars and a contraption moving imaginary clouds to and fro.
THE SCORE: Head organist Bob Baker and other volunteers from the Central Florida Theatre Organ Society maintain and perform on the theater's Mighty Wurlitzer, which emerges onto the stage from a mechanized scissor lift. Baker performs in his stocking feet and has played for a skating rink, women's prison and mental institution. He and the other Tampa Theatre organists peform for approximately 20 minutes before showtimes on the massive instrument that boasts 14 rows of pipes, totaling more than 1,000. They range in diameter from pencil thin to 16 feet. Sounds on the organ include sirens and whistles, effects used for silent movies that the theater still screens today.
THE BACK STORY: The building once known simply as "the Tampa" opened in 1926, when the Maas brothers, owners of the department store chain, and Paramount Studios joined forces to erect a movie palace. At the time, movie palaces meant your city had arrived, so the industry's most eminent cinema architect, John Eberson, was commissioned to do the job. Eberson, a winter resident of Marco Island, felt affection for his Florida home and used inspirations of the state's foliage and Spanish heritage for the theater's decor, among other elements.
Want to know more? Visit tamptheatre.org for show times, memories and info about how you can help in restoration projects.