Fond memories in and out of the Balboa Theater
The historical landmarks of Newport Beach -- at least my personal
historical landmarks -- are mostly destroyed.
The old Corona del Mar bathhouse where I worked for several
summers is long gone. The great surf at the Balboa Pier disappeared
with the addition of tons of sand from the big dredging of the bay.
The piers themselves have been rebuilt and revamped to the point that
they might as well be new additions. As I pointed out the other day,
all the early houses I lived in have been replaced by newer, bigger
models.
So it’s nice to know that there is an effort being made to restore
another fond recollection of my past, the Balboa Theater.
According to some of the literature I’ve seen, at one time, the
Balboa was a vaudeville venue. That must have been before my time
(which with my advanced years means we’re talking pre-history)
because I only remember it as a movie house.
Before World War II, the Balboa was a segregated theater -- whites
downstairs, all others upstairs. Since there was one Japanese
resident and no African-Americans or Latinos living here at the time,
for a minority, it was like having your own private theater.
That changed after the war, and the balcony was where my wife and
I always sat. We went every week, as soon as the bill changed. While
I don’t remember a lot of the movies we saw, for some reason, I
remember very clearly the mints we ate.
We tried taking our daughter a few times as an infant, figuring
she would sleep through the film, but that never worked. One of us
was always rushing outside to walk up and down the sidewalk, baby in
arms. Once she was quiet, we’d rush back in and find out, in hurried
whispers, what had transpired during our absence.
I thought all that was behind us when she got a little older, but
there we were, in the middle of “The Yearling” when the bear came
along. Hysterical shrieks from my daughter, and another mad rush out
to the sidewalk. I understand something happened to the deer at the
end, but exactly what, I never found out.
When the second child came, we opted for the drive-in. We had a
station wagon at the time, put a couple of sleeping bags in the back
for the kids, and off we went. It reminds me of the first time Katie
and I went to a drive-in. We pulled into our space and noted the
speaker sitting on its pole on my side. The movie started.
“Roll down your window. I can’t hear,” Katie said.
I rolled it down. It was still hard to hear.
Finally, Katie was sitting on my lap and we both had our heads
leaning as far out the window as we could, trying to hear the
soundtrack. As far as we were concerned, it might as well have been a
silent movie. Finally, some more experienced drive-in attendee took
pity on us and showed us how to hook the speaker on the car window.
Voila -- talkies!
After we moved to Corona del Mar, we tended to go to the Port, but
I have fond memories of the Balboa Theater experience. I really hope
that this group that is trying to restore the theater will be
successful.
* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.
His column runs Tuesdays.
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