Is Success in the Wings for Restored Landmark?

From the stage of the Orpheum Theater, you can see the full splendor of one of Los Angeles’ oldest movie palaces, restored at a cost of $3 million. The original 1926 ceiling gleams in copper and gold leaf. Towering pilasters and scalloped cornices create a feeling of height and grandeur above cascading wall boxes and 2,000 wine-colored seats.

You can stand where Judy Garland and Nat King Cole heard cheers during the waning years of vaudeville--and gaze up, just as they did, at the 12-foot chandeliers that fill the balcony with electric candlelight. Looking carefully, you can also see a flaw: The blue glasswork that rims each chandelier is darker in one than in the other--a fact that Steve Needleman finds fascinating.

“Back in the ‘40s,” he said, “high school students were running this place, because all the professional technicians were off at war.” Someone failed to properly brake the elevating mechanism, and one of the fixtures came crashing down.

“You can actually see a little bend in the railing up there where the chandelier hit,” he pointed out. “It’s one of the stories.”

Having invested his own money in the risky refurbishment--on Broadway, in downtown L.A.’s long-dormant old entertainment district--Needleman was willing to let a few imperfections slip by. He even seems delighted by the character they give the landmark, touches of yesteryear nearly concealed beneath the gloss of white marble, loud rugs and baroque statues.

He walked past a series of paneled doors, each impeccably finished, and stopped at the last door of the last aisle. This one alone was worn and discolored by decades of hands, and faintly scratched with names.

“The graffiti that’s etched into the wood, that’s almost a statement of what [the theater] was during the ‘50s and ‘60s,” the 48-year-old owner said. “Some I’ve taken out, but I’ve left a few of those in places. As silly as it may be, that’s part of what it is.”

Needleman’s restoration of the Orpheum, completed last year, is seen as a flicker of hope for what was once one of the great theater districts. In the 1930s, this stretch of Broadway was comparable with that other Broadway in New York.

“With an unprecedented 12 major theaters,” the Los Angeles Conservancy notes in one historical placard, “the famed ... [Los Angeles] district contained the highest concentration of movie palaces in the world.”

Those grande dames still exist between 2nd Street and Olympic Boulevard. The Million Dollar Theater, the Los Angeles Theater, the Globe, the Palace, the Roxie, the Tower and others form an impressive variety of facades in styles from beaux-arts to Art Deco.

No longer, though, is Broadway a destination point for wealthy travelers who once came west by train. Lower-income families, mainly Latino, flock to the street for discount shopping and fast food. The historic theaters are used for church services, bazaars, movie filming and weddings. A few are little more than humongous storage closets.

“The good news is: They haven’t been demolished for a parking lot or for a high-rise,” said Linda Dishman, executive director of the conservancy. “I’m actually thrilled they’re there--they’re intact.”

The conservancy has taken interest in Broadway almost since the nonprofit preservation group was founded 24 years ago. One of the earliest walking tours featured the theaters. A summer film series was begun 16 years ago to give people the chance to see a movie in places like the Orpheum, State and Los Angeles theaters. In 1997, the conservancy created a campaign known as the Broadway Initiative, aimed at transforming the district into something like Old Pasadena.

For all those efforts, Needleman has been the first theater owner to carry out a complete restoration. He took over the building from his late father, Jack, who bought it in 1964 and accumulated a number of properties throughout the garment district.

“Steve is very much the hero in this whole thing,” said Dishman, who presented him with the conservancy’s 2002 Preservation Award earlier this year. “He did a fabulous job.”

Needleman concedes that there are skeptics. “Everyone looks at me like I’m some kind of a nut,” he said, “because this is all privately done. There’s not a dime of public money.” And it’s a gamble. “I could sit here with an empty building,” he said. “[But] I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

It might be unrealistic to imagine that the theater will ever again show vaudeville acts or first-run movies--its two primary purposes when eminent architect G. Albert Lansburgh designed it to span those eras. At the time Needleman decided to remodel it, the Orpheum was showing movies with Spanish subtitles--and struggling. It was in such disrepair that he had to install all new seats, plumbing, wiring and seismic retrofitting.

When Needleman reopened the building last July--and the rooftop scaffold sign was lighted for the first time in 60 years--the theater was being touted for premieres, film and television production, concerts and private events. Portions of “Austin Powers in Goldmember” were shot there, as were episodes of “The West Wing” and “Ally McBeal.” Jackson Browne played to a full house in one of the first public uses of the restoration last fall.

Film premieres are tough to attract downtown, so the public may still find few chances to attend events at the Orpheum. But earlier this month 2,000 people turned out--including Hugh Hefner and an entourage of Playboy bunnies--for the final night of “Last Remaining Seats,” the conservancy’s six-part summer film series. The line reached all the way down the block. The Harold Lloyd silent film “Girl Shy” was shown with the accompaniment of the theater’s original white Wurlitzer.

Bob DeSpain, 75, drove up from Rancho Palos Verdes and sat in the balcony, not far from where the falling chandelier once landed. He smiled and said, “The last time I was in this theater was in 1948-49. There were street cars then.”

He harbored a regret, however. For years, Broadway was filled with the most magnificent movie palaces he could ever imagine--and he ignored them. He thought a theater was just a theater.

“Now I know better,” DeSpain said, waiting for the curtain to rise. “It kind of makes me mad. I wish the rest of them would open up.”

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To see video online, go to www.latimes.com/surroundings.