Imagine rich, red velvet draperies and settees...gold and gilt...paintings and statues. That was the Capitan Theater - the place to be on Saturday mornings. It's where I fell in love with Elvis singing Viva Las Vegas and where the original Children of the Corn chased me into the lobby. I was too young to make out with a boyfriend in the cryroom in the back corner of the balcony, but old enough to know it was going on.
The Capitan couldn't compete with the new theaters popping up in town - it shut its doors before I hit junior high, but then opened briefly again in the 70's with this neon green paint. I watched "Frogs, Frogs, Frogs" from the balcony, but couldn't help noticing the threadbare seats and sticky floors. It closed again soon afterwards.
Rumors of re-invention have flown over the years - it was going to open as a disco...a dinner theater...but I don't think any of them panned out. Now it sits alone, looking much the same from the outside (definitely not the inside, though) as it does in my memory, but who knows for how long? So while I was back in Pasadena for Thanksgiving, Daddy and I drove over to take some pictures. I hope someday someone cares enough - and has enough money - to fix it up to its former glamorous glory...but I know it's more likely to be torn down. At least I'll have these photos...and my memories.
If I ever get rich, I'll give a lot to charity, but I'll just have to spend a little on El Capitan...if it's not too late.
I couldn't help taking this one of Daddy - I've always been able to count on him to go with me on my crazy whims - it's fun to share them with him. This time, I think it was mostly to make sure I wasn't arrested for taking pictures of my old chemical plant (I wasn't...those photos will come later...)