cinelog.org

The area of Orange, running beside Interstate 5, has long been known for a string of popular cinemas. From the Orange Drive-In, to the Cinedome Theatres, and to the present day AMC Block 30, this short stretch of real estate has been home to movie going hotspots for seventy years. Yet, amid these period titans, there once stood a theatre that never quite achieved the same popularity, despite offering one of the best presentations in the county.

 

The City Center Theatres were opened by ABC, on April 7, 1972, as a satellite addition to the, then high end and extremely popular, City Shopping Center. Featuring two 700+ seat auditoriums, the facility was designed in a somewhat similar fashion to ABC’s much lauded Century City cinema complex; forgoing aesthetic charm in favor of offering the best in presentation quality. The theatre’s cold box exterior and bland earth tone decor providing little hint that this place was truly designed for a “big” movie experience. Continually keeping pace with the day’s technology, the theatre’s equipment was regularly upgraded and even included a run with the fleeting Sensurround sound system. Even after changing operators, to Plitt, the City Center continued a focus on presentation; perhaps, finding it’s greatest notoriety with an extended run of “Star Wars” in 1977 (a generation of county cinephiles still rave about the experience).

 

Perhaps, owing to it’s isolated location on the perimeter of the shopping center, this grand movie experience always struggled against stiff competition from the near bye Century Cinedomes and a lesser cinema United Artists ran within the City Shopping Center. By the 80’s, the theatre changed hands once again, being taken on by the Cinedomes’ operator, and was tragically divided in to a four screen venue. Losing the theatre’s single notable attribute, the subdivided version of the City Center quickly followed the overall mall’s decline.

 

By the 90’s, the City Center had become a move over discount location for Century, showing films that had already run their course at the Cinedomes. Adding to the theatre’s woes, the shopping center had taken a dramatic turn for the worse and became a hangout for a less desirable element. Following a fatal shooting in the theatre’s lobby, the end came relatively swiftly and the venue was closed for good. After the property was purchased in the mid 90’s, by the Mills Corporation, the entire center was torn down and redeveloped as the Block of Orange lifestyle center in 1998. Today, the former site of the theatre is nothing more than another row of spaces in the complex’s parking lot.

 

While long forgotten, the City Center Theatres and their former namesake shopping plaza have manifested themselves in an oddly cyclical bit of history, as the present day theatre and complex now struggle with the same shifting fortunes that once doomed their predicessors.  

It took almost three years, but the 2008 Krikorian Buena Park Metroplex 18 robbery looks to have finally been solved. In February, Fernando Ruiz, age 38, was arrested on charges of impersonating an officer, second degree robbery, and false imprisonment by violence or deceit. Mr. Ruiz was apprehended after his DNA was matched through a sample that was submitted for an unrelated case. If convicted, Ruiz faces up to twenty years and four months in prison for the crimes.

On this week, back in 1997, Orange County bid farewell to it’s final formal drive-in, with the closure of Westminister’s Hi-Way 39.

 

Epitomizing drive-in culture, with near year round fair weather and an auto based social dynamic, the county was once home to twelve highly popular outdoor cinemas. Sadly, mirroring the genre’s decline elsewhere, all of Orange County’s ozoners eventually succumbed to the convenience of multiplexes and lucrative land deals; the “last stand” ending on March 31, 1997.

 

Below, is a listing of the long gone county drive-ins that helped to create countless memories of warm summer nights, family outings, and backseat adventure, for nearly fifty six years.   

 

Today’s photo comes from the long out of print “Grauman’s Chinese Theatre Hollywood” feature journal the late Terry Helgesen produced with The Console back in 1969. I’m currently working on transferring the full journal in to a PDF file for your enjoyment, but I felt this particular photo, depicting the Chinese Theatre’s original seating fixtures, was worth hi lighting.

 

While today’s seats provide plush high backs, unobstructed views, and cup holder convenience, one can’t help but note what was lost in this modernization to creature comforts. The intricacy of design and attention to detail, on something as utilitarian as seating, speaking volumes about how much has changed in the movie going experience.    

Huntington Beach’s Pierside Pavilion 6 is officially off the market. After sitting vacant, since 2008, the theatre was converted into 33,049 square feet of office and restaurant space this past December.  

 

Opened in May of 1991, the Pierside was operated by Mann (twice), Edwards, and The Movie Experience at varying times; none managing to make a successful go of it. Perhaps, a victim of too good a location, the theatre was never able to compete with the many draws of downtown Huntington Beach and the city’s famous coastline (literally, located across the street).

 

Seems like a likely candidate for a “forgotten cinema” post in the near future. But, for now, we can remember this pleasant little theatre through some pictures I took during a 2009 walk through.

There are some theatres which fail to leave a notable mark on history due to a lack of long term financial success and/or poor location. Others quickly fade from the collective memory as a result of the sub par offerings they once provided. Then, there stands the unavoidable veil of time, which grows ever more thick with each passing year. In the case of the Fountain Valley Family Four Cinema, we find a theatre which may have disappeared from record and memory as the result of all these factors.

 

At best, I’ve been able to determine this location ran as a cinema from roughly 1974 through the early 90’s (possibly a bit earlier and longer). Originally a twin plex, the complex was expanded to four auditoriums sometime in the 1980’s. Located down the street from both the, comparatively luxurious, Fountain Valley Twin and, higher profile, Fountain Valley Drive-In, the Family Twin/Four looks to have operated as a lower end value cinema throughout much of it’s run. A one time Edwards venue, the theatre likely operated under a different banner during it’s early years, and later fell under the management of Orange Coast Cinemas.

 

This apparent final operator being the only significant point of formal record, as Orange Coast Cinemas was created as a starting point and educational endeavor for James Edwards’ daughter; the original goal being to prepare her for work in the family business (or so a lone newspaper article inferred). She would eventually move in to an executive position with Edwards Theatres, so the intention appears to have been a success, but the same couldn’t be said of the cinema itself.

 

After closing in the 90’s, the theatre sat vacant for a number of years, before being leveled and replaced by a Wal-Mart. Today, little evidence remains that this venue ever existed and the Fountain Valley Family Four remains one of Orange County’s forgotten cinemas.

Corporate mascots have long been utilized as a marketing tool, to aid in creating a brand identity and accessible “face” for, otherwise, sterile business entities. While theatre operators have never managed to establish a mascot persona as recognizable as Ronald McDonald or the Geico Gecko, many have certainly attempted to place a colorful character at the helm of their corporate images; and, the 1990’s may have marked the theatre industry’s greatest push to initiate the use of mascots.

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Prior to the early 90’s, theatre chains often placed, seemingly anonymous, characters in print advertising, policy trailers, and official literature. From humanized food items, to buffoonish cartoon patrons/staff, to non industry specific figures (ex: Pacific Drive-In’s weird grinning clown), the value of mascot imagery was recognized from the onset, but seldom executed in a purposeful fashion. Character identities were either undefined or not widely promoted; figures varied greatly between media runs, never establishing a long term presence; or, in the case of those operators who licensed and/or “borrowed” well known imagery, lines of brand identity were blurred. However, this all began to change towards the end of the multiplex era.

The first defined and recognizable theatre mascot is surely up for debate (perhaps, the adult Pussycat Theatres’ “Pussycat Girl” of the 70’s?), but the “golden era” or cinema mascots was kicked off in the late 80’s, when Cinemark established “Front Row Joe”. A cartoon feline, who bares an unmistakable likeness and personality to Frito-Lay’s Chester Cheetah, Joe began appearing in the chain’s pre show policy trailers around 1988. Usually featured in musical or comedy theme pieces, he was joined by an expanding cast of characters, which included a female interest, in “Popcorn Penny”, and villains “Elton” and “Clyde” (who were generally utilized to vilify poor movie going etiquette). When not greeting movie goers or wishing them a happy holiday season, Joe tended to focus on movie going life lessons.

Following close on the heels of Front Row Joe came General Cinema’s “Popcorn Bob” and AMC’s “Clip”. Bob, who’s presence was originally produced by George Lucas’ Lucasfilm, in 1993, was a broom handle nosed bag of popcorn; often joined in musical numbers by his “Candy Band” (which included “Pepsi Sue”). Clip, a creation of the Los Angeles based Metrolight Company, in 1994, an animated collection of film strips, which formed a stick figure like character, that surfed about and made squeaking noises. As with Cinemark’s Front Row Joe, Bob and Clip became mainstays of their respective chains’ policy trailers and literature. However, unlike Joe, they were also featured as facility decor. This was especially true of AMC’s Clip, who’s waving image was emblazoned across nearly any surface in need of decoration. Naturally, all three were personified via large foam rubber costumes, which were lent out for theatre openings and PR events (unfortunately, Clip’s costume replication resulted in a somewhat frightening and unnerving appearance).

Numerous other chains produced their own mascots during this period, with varying degrees of success, but the “big three”, of Joe, Bob, and Clip, remained the closest thing the industry ever had to the Michelin Tire Man. Each underwent significant upgrades in the new millennium, with Joe and Bob looking far more CGI as time passed. Clip proved to be the most constant of the bunch; while never achieving wide spread name recognition, “that film thing” has continued to be a cornerstone feature at AMC to the present day. Front Row Joe, while drifting out of use for a few years, reemerged recently; all be it in a less prevalent fashion. Sadly, Popcorn Bob completely disappeared from the scene after General Cinema Corporation was absorbed by AMC in 2002.

Today, aside from Clip, theatre operators appear to have abandoned their efforts to create memorable or identity defining corporate mascots. The highly customized policy trailers have been replaced by commercials and generic logos streaking across the screen. Friendly characters have given way to product placement and “alluring” concession combo deals. While lasting little more than a decade, the golden era of cinema mascots has passed.

If you have ever attended a movie in February, you’ve likely encountered Variety, the Children’s Charity. Prior to the mid 90’s, you may have seen a celebrity endorsed trailer for the charity, followed by a donation basket being passed through the audience. In more recent years, you’ve probably noted your theatre of choice selling gold, heart shaped, pins this time of year. For those who have ever wondered what this fundraising effort was all about, or why movie theatres were involved:

On Christmas Eve, 1928, an infant was discovered, abandoned, at the nursery of the Sheridan Square Theatre, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A note accompanying the child stated that the mother already had eight children and could not afford a ninth. The baby’s name was given as “Catherine” and the reason for choosing a theatre as, “I have always heard of the goodness of show business and I pray to God that you will look out for her.”

Fortunately, for Catherine, the theatre’s owner, John H. Harris, was one of eleven entertainment industry businessmen who had recently founded the Variety social club. He and his fellow Variety Club members decided that, since the infant had been entrusted to show business people, they should underwrite her financial care. Starting with that one abandoned child, who they named Catherine Variety Sheridan, the eleven businessmen began assisting other needy children; ultimately converting their local social club in to an industry wide charitable organization. In addition to long standing fund raising drives and telethons, the organization initiated the annual gold heart program in 1991; which has collected over $100 million for disabled and disadvantaged children to date.

As for Catherine; after becoming  somewhat of a period celebrity, she was adopted by a couple in Long Island, New York, and renamed Joan Riker (to afford her a more normal upbringing). She went on to become a nurse and start a family of her own, before returning to the spotlight in 1980, as an ambassador for the Variety Club charity. Ms. Riker passed away in 1994, but the organization founded around her continues to support children’s charities, hospitals, and camps throughout the United States and eight other countries.

As we enter February, movie theatres across the country will once again be selling gold heart pins to raise money for Variety, the Children’s Charity. If you happen to be catching a movie during this time, consider purchasing one of the $2 pins and help make a difference in the life of a child like Catherine.