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all the early houses I lived in have been replaced by newer, bigger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.