The Biograph Archives

Biograph 40

2012-02-02T11:48:00.002-05:00

For more information go here.

To see the Facebook event page go here.

Coming Soon: The Biograph's 40th

2011-12-23T22:16:00.001-05:00

On its 40th anniversary, the Biograph Theatre, or perhaps something akin to its reanimated spirit, will serve up a pair of highly acclaimed films as a double feature.

In other words, the James River Film Society will present “Breathless” (1960) — a 50th anniversary restoration 35mm print, no less — and “Lonely Are the Brave” (1962) at the VCU Grace Street Theater on Saturday, February 11, 2012.

“Breathless” (1960): B&W. Directed by Jean-Luc Godard. Cast: Jean-Paul Belmondo, Jean Seberg. Note: An opportunistic thief on the run becomes irresistible to a pretty American journalism student in Paris. Uh, oh, the guy is dangerous. How long can it last?

“Lonely Are the Brave” (1962): B&W. Directed by David Miller. Cast: Kirk Douglas, Gena Rowlands, Walter Matthau. Note: To help his friend, a free-spirited cowboy flings himself recklessly at the hobbling effects of modernity … then tries desperately to escape.

"Breathless," based on a story by François Truffaut, did much to set the French New Wave in motion. "Lonely Are the Brave," with its screenplay by blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo, was an apt American reaction to the artsy European films of that time.

For the JRFS, this special event will kick off a three (or more) part series titled The Golden Age of Repertory Cinema. It will also serve as a fundraiser for the volunteer run nonprofit and an opportunity to officially launch its campaign to establish a small storefront cinema in downtown Richmond.

Soon more information on the event will be available, including the scoop on the post-screening party, plenty of background on the Biograph (1972-87) and the essential how-to-buy-advance-tickets details. Please note: Only 225 seats will be occupied once the light hits the screen. So, mark your calendars and when the advance tickets become available, be smart -- don’t wait.

The JRFS's Biograph 40th Anniversary Facebook event page is here.

40th

2011-12-14T23:18:00.000-05:00

The 40th anniversary of the party that opened the Biograph Theatre in 1972 is coming up.

Wow!

The planning for a fitting celebration is in the works. Mark your calendar -- Saturday, February 11, 2012.

The details of the event are coming soon.

Stories: Discover the Fan

2011-01-15T11:40:00.000-05:00

Thirty-eight years ago an ad hoc group of 21 merchants in the VCU area cooperated for a one-time-only promotion that went over quite well -- Discover the Fan. Alas, none of the participating businesses are still there and open for business.

Click on Rebus' nose to enlarge the art.

On April 14, 1973 the weather was absolutely spectacular. For that Saturday afternoon the 800 and 900 blocks of West Grace Street, and environs, were packed with an unprecedented amount of foot traffic. There was live music. Hundreds of helium-filled balloons and free prizes donated by the merchants were given away. The street was not closed and the vehicular traffic was slowed to a crawl all day.

Motorists traveling toward the West End were shown something rather unexpected, given the neighborhood's bohemian image. (Grace Street was a busy one-way street heading west in those days.) There were thousands of ordinary-looking people milling about having a good time. Many of them seemed like tourists. Kids with balloons were everywhere. Suddenly that strip known for its hippies and beer halls looked safe as milk.

The handbill above was done by yours truly. With its list of participating businesses it provides a snapshot of the area in what was probably the zenith of the hippie age. Some of the characters who ran those businesses were rather interesting people.

At the time I had been the manager of the Biograph Theatre for a little over a year and the promotion itself was my project. Many people helped put it together, but it couldn't have happened without the help of Dave DeWitt and Chuck Wrenn.

Below is a piece about this event, written by the late Shelley Rolfe:

Shelley Rolfe’s
By the Way
Richmond Times-Dispatch (April, 16, 1973)

It was breakfast time and the high command for Discover the Fan Day had, with proper regard for the inner man, moved its final planning meeting from the Biograph Theater to Lum’s Restaurant. Breakfast tastes ran a gamut. Eggs with beer. Eggs with orange juice. H-hour -- the operations plan had set it for noon -- was less than three hours away. Neither beer nor orange juice was being gulped nervously.

Terry Rea, manager of the Biograph and the extravaganza’s impresario, was reciting a last-minute, mental things-to-do list. There was the vigilante committee, which would gather up the beer and soft drink cans and bottles that invariably infest the fronts of the shops in the 800 and 900 blocks of W. Grace St., focus area of the discovery.

The city police had promised a dragnet to sweep away the winos who also invariably litter the neighborhood. The day had bloomed crisp and sunny, the first dry Saturday since Groundhog Day. “I knew it wouldn’t rain,” Rea said with the brash confidence of the young. “Lots of young businessmen around here,” a beer drinker at another table said. The free enterprise system lives.

REA WAS assigning duties for the committee that would rope off two Virginia Commonwealth University parking lots that would serve as the setting for a fashion show and band concert. The committee to blow up balloons, with the aid of a cylinder of helium [sic]. One thousand balloons in a shrieking variety of colors. “If we only get 500 kids... two to a customer,” Rea said cheerfully.

“I need more people,” said the balloon task force leader.

Twenty-one businesses were involved in the project. Each of them had contributed prizes, and gift certificates had been put into plastic Easter eggs. An egg hunt would be part of the day, and Rea had a message for the committee that would be tucking the eggs away: “Don’t put them in obvious places, but don’t put them were people can get hurt looking for them.”

“We talked about doing this last summer but we never got it together,” Rea said. There had been fresh talk in late February, early March, and it had become airborne. The 21 businesses had anted up $1,500 for advertising, which was handled by Dave DeWitt, proprietor of a new just-out-of-the-Fan, small, idea-oriented agency.

“Demographically, we were aiming for people between 25 and 34,” Rea said. There had been newspaper advertising and spots on youth-oriented radio stations. “We had a surplus late in the week...” Rea said. The decision was made to have a Saturday morning splurge on radio station WRVA. “Hey,” said a late arrival, “I heard Alden Aaroe talking about it.”

“We wanted people to see what we have here,” Rea said. “People who probably close their windows and lock their doors when they drive on Grace Street and want to get through here a quickly as possible.”

Well, yes, there must be those who look upon the 800 and 900 blocks as symbolic of the counterculture, as territory alien to their visions of West End and suburban existence. Last November the precinct serving the 800 and 900 blocks went for George McGovern, by two votes. Not a landslide, but, perhaps, a trend.

NOON WAS approaching. Rea and DeWitt set out on an inspection tour. Parking lot ropes were being put into place. Rock music blared from exotically named shops. The balloon committee was still short on manpower. An agent trotted out of a shop to report, “They’ve got 200 customers ...” And how many would they normally have at this hour of a Saturday” “They wouldn’t be open,” Rea said.

Grace Street was becoming clogged with cars It would become more clogged. Don’t know how many drivers got out of their cars, but, for a while they were a captive audience making at least vicarious discovery.

Also much pedestrian and bicycle on the sidewalks. Merchants talked of espying strangers, of all ages. A white-haired woman held a prize egg in one hand, a balloon in the other. A middle-aged man had rakishly attached a balloon to the bill of his cap.

The fashion show went on to the accompaniment of semijazz music and popping balloons, most of them held by children. Fashions were subdued. A dress evocative of the 1840s. Long skirts. Loudest applause went to a man who paraded across the stage wearing a loud red backpack. Everybody’s urge to escape?

ON GRACE STREET a sword swallower and human pin cushion was on exhibition. No names please. “My mother ...” he said. He wished to be identified only as a member of “Bunkie Brothers Medicine Show.”

Discounted merchandise on sale included 20-yesr-old British Army greatcoats and a book fetchingly titled “Sensuous Massage.” Sales resistance remained firm.

On Harrison Street a sidewalk artist was creating. A wino, who had somehow escaped the dragnet, lurched across the sidewalk art muttering. “Free balloons ...” In a shop a man said, “I want the skimpiest halter you have ... for my wife.”

On an alley paralleling Grace Street, a man holding a hand camera and early on a VCU class assignment was directing actors. One stationed in a huge trash bin. “Waiting for Godot” revisited? The second, carrying a an umbrella in one hand, popcorn in another, approached the bin. A hand darted out for popcorn. “I ran out of film!” screamed the director.

Everything was being done again. The actor in the bin emerged, seized the umbrella and ran. “Chase him,” from the direct. Actor No. 2 did a Keystone Kop-style double take, jumped and ran. A small crowd that had gathered applauded.

LATE IN the day. Traffic still was at a saturation level. Early settlers said the territory hadn’t seen such suggestion since the movie, “Deep Throat.” Rea spoke of objectives smashingly achieved. Euphoric talk from him on another day of discovery in September. City Hall would be petitioned to block off Grace Street.

Films: Polanski and Chinatown

2009-10-17T19:30:00.005-04:00

"Chinatown" (1974) is my all-time favorite feature length movie. Its Richmond premiere was at the Biograph on June 28, 1974. Now with its director Roman Polanski in the news, it's only natural that his masterpiece be reconsidered.

Peter Shilling Jr. has written an excellent and timely piece about "Chinatown," as viewed through a 35-years-later prism.

Some want [Polanski] in the electric chair. Others want him in the director's chair, back home in Hollywood.

But I'll tell you this: it's all there in Chinatown. This is the great movie about Los Angeles, the greatest reflection of that city and the closest in mood to the novels of L.A.'s great writer, Raymond Chandler. Chinatown is about the menace that burns bright in the Southern California sunshine, about the undertow that pulls bathing beauties to their deaths, and makes every man, woman, and child who soaks up the sun complicit in every crime committed within its borders. It's the city that people ran to in order to escape atrocities--like Auschwitz--only to discover that sometimes Hell is a sunny place with palm trees lining the streets like a firing squad. If you want to go deep into the Polanski's life, watch Chinatown.

Click here to read the rest of the article.

And, once the award-winning director of other respected films such as "Knife in the Water," "Repulsion," "Rosemary's Baby," "Tess," and "The Pianist," gets hauled back to Los Angeles, it's going to be a media circus to rival O.J.'s trial.

Won't that be fun for the cable news networks?

No, I don't know anything about international law or extradition agreements between Switzerland and America. But one can easily get the sense that Polanski is eventually going to have to face the music in LA for what he did over 30 years ago.

Moreover, it's hard to believe that the end product of this whole process will be anything close to satisfying. No matter what a new judge in LA decides, it's unlikely it will seem much like justice that settles the matter for good, and serves society's interests.

Gladstone's "Justice delayed is justice denied" sticks to this baby like glue.

The culture has changed quite a bit since 1977. "Pretty Baby" and even "Manhattan" wouldn't get made today. Polanski's victim, 45-year-old Samantha Geimer, seems to want no part of punishing him at this point. Some money has apparently changed hands between Geimer and Polanski.

Yet, there's no way a moral society can countenance the sexual abuse of a 13-year-old girl.

Polanski must wish he'd have stayed in France. Now he's trying to finish his current film project from inside the walls of a Swiss jail.

Biograph on Facebook

2009-07-17T19:59:00.000-04:00

The Biograph Theatre's ghost has a Facebook group page. The group is called Swordfish. Click here to see the page.

softball

2008-08-20T22:03:00.022-04:00

1994 was the last season for the Fan District Softball League. That year a longtime Biograph player, Billy Snead, defected to play for Chiocca's, his favorite watering hole.

Snead's old Biograph teammates struck back by announcing they would walk Fan League Hall-of-Famer Billy Snead every time he came to bat in games in which the two teams faced one another. They called their payback strategy F.B.S.

Three games were scheduled and in all three Snead was indeed given a free pass to first base with each at-bat. Chiocca's won all three games, with Billy scoring the winning run all three times. In the finale, he even made the final putout at home plate as Chiocca's catcher.

It made me glad I'd left the team ten years earlier, also to play for another team. And, it was the most failed strategy I've ever seen in sports. The blow-back made Billy look like a hero. That Biograph team's chief conspirators know who they are.

Consequently, I created the piece above, a laminated card with Billy's head mounted on Babe Ruth's body, and I gave them away to the guys who most needed to see them (click on the art to see an enlargement). Later the same concept inspired a F.B.S. T-shirt; I'm told Jack Nicholson has one of them. But that's another story, for another day.

Billy has Leukemia.

Good luck, Billy.

Update: Actually, this episode inspired two T-shirts that I designed for the Biograph softball team. Ernie Brooks sent me this photo from the 2006 Derby Day party, which shows Billy in the second one. We all look forward to the caption being proven to be appropriate once again. (Click on the pictures to enlarge them.)

The shot below is one of mine. It's from 1981.

With three of his old Biograph teammates I visited Billy today (Sat., Aug. 23) at MCV. He was quite himself and we all had a good time. To visit Billy's web site click here.

Update: As of Sept. 26, Billy is in remission. I had a beer with him that Friday in Chiocca's. Happily, his wife and daughters were there, along with several of the regulars. It was a roomful of smiles -- a scene I'm glad I was there to see, firsthand.

Update II: After a rough winter, Billy's condition has improved with the warm weather coming in. On Apr. 22 Billy was in Chiocca's and looking much his old self. He will be at the Derby Day reunion on May 2. Call Larry for details (804) 233-2295.

Update III: Billy enjoyed a good summer and is doing fine.

stories

2008-07-17T12:16:00.007-04:00

The photo above documents one of Larry Rohr's rides through the auditorium during a midnight screening of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." Larry only performed his feat on special occasions, such a anniversaries, etc. This time it was for the night that "Rocky" broke the local record for consecutive weeks that a movie played at the same theater.

The record (I think it was 88 weeks) had been held by "The Sound of Music" at the Willow Lawn in the '60s.

So, at the Biograph we had a little fun by having a ceremony in which we literally broke the "Sound of Music" soundtrack album, the record, as seen below. Bravely, John Porter held the vinyl, as the tuxedoed manager of the repertory cinema wielded the hammer.

Larry's rides always took place during the scene where Meatloaf crashes out of a frozen vault on his motorcycle. "Rocky" went on to play for exactly five years before its run ended. Click on the photos to enlarge them.

-- Photographs by Ernie Brooks

Mondo Softball

2008-07-09T14:26:00.001-04:00

The video above to below is a promo for a show about softball that ran locally on cable television in 1990. Mondo Softball was hosted by Mutt deVille, the sportswriter for SLANT, a Fan District-based magazine (1985-94).

The 30-second spot spot features brief glimpses of several Fan District Softball Leaguers in the day. They include: Paul Joyce, Boogie Bailey. Dennis Johnson, Jack Richardson (the headfirst slide), and others. There’s even a quick look at Leo Koury, the umpire for the Fan League who left town in a hurry.

films

2008-06-23T23:29:00.009-04:00

"Matinee Madcap": Shot in 16mm in and around the Biograph Theatre in 1974, it is a chase-scene-driven, Black & White comedy.

"Biograph 10": News coverage of the Biograph's 1oth anniversary party. "My Dinner with Andre" premiered and Chris Gibbs, who catered the meal featured in the movie, served the same meal to the premiere's audience.

softball

2008-05-08T22:29:00.004-04:00

Derby Day softball reunion on May 3, 2008.

softball

2008-03-27T12:00:00.002-04:00

This year the Derby Day party (the 29th annual reunion) for the Biograph softball team and friends will incorporate into its format a Fan District Softball League reunion, which enlarges the gathering. Which means players and fans associated with any of the league’s teams over the years will be welcome, with a few exceptions (you know who you are).

The event will take place on Saturday May 3rd at the usual place. Contact the event chief Larry Rohr, (804) 233-2295, for more info.

The Fan District Softball League (1975-94) established a Hall of Fame in 1986. The first class was elected by the 12-team league’s designated franchise representatives prior to the annual All-Star game/picnic. To be eligible then one had to have retired. Ten names were selected.

The same rule held true in 1987, but by 1988 a few of those who had been inducted into the Hall had unretired. So, in 1988 it was opened up to anyone who seemed deserving and those already in the Hall got to vote, as well.

For 1989 no one was voted in. In 1990, ‘91 and ‘92 additional names were added. In all, 41 players and two umpires were tapped. The list leans heavily toward those who made significant contributions to the league’s lore in the early years of play.

Those in the FDSL HoF are: Ricardo Adams, Herbie Atkinson, Howard Awad, Boogie Bailey, Yogi Bair, Jay Barrows, Otto Brauer, Ernie Brooks, Hank Brown, Bobby Cassell, Jack Colan, Willie Collins, Dickie deTreville, Jack deTreville, Henry Ford (depicted on the right), Danny Gammon, Donald Greshham, James Jackson, Dennis Johnson (depicted top left as the batter), Mike Kittle, Leo Koury, Jim Letizia, Junie Loving, Tony Martin, Kenny Meyer, Cliff Mowells, Buddy Noble, Randy Noble, Henry Pollard, Artie Probst, Terry Rea, John Richardson, Jerry Robinson, Larry Rohr (depicted above as the pitcher), Billy Snead, Jim Story, Hook Shepherd, Pudy Stallard, Durwood Usry, Jumpy White, Barry Winn, Chuck Wrenn.

Art by F.T. Rea, the illustrations are from the old Sports Fan (1977-81).

Reunions

2007-10-20T14:15:00.000-04:00

This shot of Katey and her father was taken by Ernie Brooks at the 20th anniversary reunion party at Twisters on W. Grace St. (the old location of the Back Door) Feb. 9, 1992.

softball

2007-05-05T21:48:00.000-04:00

This year’s Biograph softball reunion, the 28th annual on Derby Day, took place on a damp and almost chilly afternoon. Most of the time it was misting, rather than actually raining. But with the help of some tents and tarps the group had a place to lay out a headquarters with food tables, etc.No softball game was played and I heard no one say they missed it. It’s not the first time the game has been blown off. It surely won’t be the last.

The old Fan District Softball League’s official Hall of Fame plaque, with the 43 names of those who were inducted into the hall engraved on brass plates, reappeared mysteriously. It had been missing for some time, said to have been stolen by unknown agents, perhaps even some sort of fanatics. It looks a little more beat up than the last time I saw it, but perhaps it has more character now.In the past the piece itself has hung in various bars, including the Cary St. Cafe, Soble’s and Poe’s Pub. Hopefully it will find a new and appropriate home soon.New faces at this year’s get-together included John “Big Daddy” Richardson, Howard Awad and Jack deTreville. Well, maybe it’s a stretch to call those guys’ faces “new.” Let’s just say it was nice to see the concept of expanding the party to include players and friends who were associated with other Fan League teams is picking up steam.The party went much as it usually does, ending with the Kentucky Derby being watched on little battery-powered televisions. Unlike some years, no one got hurt today. Not playing the game has its upside.

Photos: SLANT

softball

2007-05-03T22:37:00.000-04:00

Ernie Brooks has been busy scanning some of his pictures of Derby Day reunion parties. Here are three, all taken in the Track on Cary Street after the softball game. In the early days we used to go there to watch the race. The first (above) shows Ernie, Jay (who had just won the pool) and Branch in 1980 (which was the first Biograph softball reunion). I think that is Saz in the tie. The second shot, also from 1980, shows Terry (me), Jack and Stu and maybe Larry? in the print shirt. What was so funny? Who knows?The third shot of the group was taken in 1985.

softball

2007-03-31T01:09:00.000-04:00

1977's Fan District Softball League commissioners Terry Rea and Chuck Wrenn at the postseason awards picnic at Tony Martin's farm.

Chuck gave me a print of this photo, which I had not seen before, on a recent visit to his home. We had a good time looking at a bunch of slides from 1977 he had just found in a box. Chuck even had some shots of Leo Koury umpiring (click here for more on Koury).

Please allow this 30-year-old image to remind those who need reminding that the Derby Day softball reunion party will happen again this year (on May 5th) at the ballfield behind Thompson School (same as last year) on Forest Hill Avenue from noon until 6 p.m., as per usual. This year marks the 28th time this party has been held on the same afternoon as the Kentucky Derby.
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According to Larry Rohr, this year more emphasis is being put on having Fan Leaguers from other teams -- such as J.W.Rayle, the Back Door, DeTreville, the Bamboo Cafe, etc. -- to come to the party, which will make it more than just a Biograph Theatre softball reunion.

The hope is to build it up to make it an annual get-together for the league's colorful 20 years (1975-94) of players, fans/friends, and for folks who worked/hung out at the theater, itself. To some extent that has been happening in recent years, already.

Larry also says to bring food, drink and a lawn chair. For more info call him at (804) 233-2295.

films

2007-03-25T18:00:00.000-04:00

For the Biograph’s 10th anniversary (Feb. 11, 1982) we booked “My Dinner with Andre,” which had been shot in 16mm by director Louis Malle in Richmond’s Jefferson Hotel. It was the film's Virginia premiere.

The art-house picture depicted a conversation over dinner by two old friends, who discussed their opposing philosophies and their conclusions about life. The food used in the scenes in the movie was provided by local chef/caterer Chris Gibbs. He showed up on the set at the hotel, which was closed and undergoing a major renovation, every morning with a fresh batch of Cornish hens and wild rice to be made to look half-eaten and set before the actors. Several locals appeared in small parts and as extras.

For the film’s premiere party at the Biograph, which also served as a $25-a-head fundraiser for VCU's Anderson Gallery, Gibbs served up the same meal as was displayed and consumed in the movie. It went over like Gangbusters.

Photo by Larry Rohr

films: "Matinee Madcap"

2007-03-18T12:34:00.001-04:00

These three stills are from a 16mm film, Matinee Madcap, which was shot during the same month as the Devil Prank, February of 1974. Film professor Trent Nicholas, then one of the theater’s ushers and later an assistant manager, shared the directing credit with yours truly. The rest of the staff and many friends of the Biograph appeared as players.
The plot, calling for a good deal of slapstick chase-scene footage, set the action in the movie theater, itself. A collage of contemporary music was added by Dave DeWitt in post-production.
Later, when our humble homage to the silent comedies of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, etc. played in a DeeCee film festival, it received a semi-favorable review from none other than Tom Shales of the Washington Post. This nine-minute, black and white comedy was surely the most-screened short subject in the Biograph's 15-year history.

Update: Click here to see it at YouTube.

stories

2006-08-03T01:31:00.000-04:00

Without our steady patrons the Biograph would not have happened for long. Amazingly, it lasted 15 years in a town without pity, movie-wise.

In truth, it wouldn't have lasted at all without a loyal cadre of regulars, who were in the place all the time. No such regular was more appreciated for her support than Donna Parker, the blonde in the Christmas card to the right.

For people who go to movies frequently, theaters can be temples, or hideouts, or merely diversions. As businesses, in most situations they rarely seem stable for long. There's always the next crisis. For a repertory cinema the edge was keener.

The Biograph's regulars felt our mood swings, the ups and downs. They knew it was always just hanging by a thread. Then, one day, it wasn't.

staff: Kimberly Pickle

2006-07-29T03:15:00.000-04:00

In 1978 Kimberly Pickle (now Tucker), with her bright smile, was hired during an especially busy summer. Occasionally, due to behind-the-scene business -- feuds between distributors and exhibitors -- the Biograph would get to play first run pictures with considerable commercial potential, so the staff had to expand to deal with the large crowds.

Ordinarily, the independent Biograph was shut out of the running for such product. However, in 1974 the Biograph benefited thusly from a spat between the dominant local theater chain, Neighborhood Theatres, and Paramount. Chinatown and The Conversation, among other titles, opened there as a result.

In 1978 it was United Artists and Neighborhood who were fighting. So, among others, the Biograph got the chance to premiere a Pink Panther picture (I forget which one) and a Burt Reynolds football flick, Semi Tough. As a bonus Kim served from time to time as a part-time cashier through 1982.

(Photo Credit: F. T. Rea)

softball origins

2006-07-28T23:36:00.001-04:00

On Saturday, May 6, 2006 another Kentucky Derby Day softball reunion was held. Anyone who ever played on the now defunct team was welcome, plus their families, friends, etc.

Chiefly, the annual get-togethers were set in motion by the initiative of the original Swordfish team’s third baseman, Ernie Brooks, who had left Richmond to resume his graduate studies at Virginia Tech. Brooks corralled enough former players (Swordfish), who had also left the team, to challenge what was then the current Biograph team (then called the Naturals).

Serendipitously, that first reunion/old timers game was played on the first Saturday of May, earlier in the afternoon in which the 1980 Kentucky Derby would be run. (We went to The Track to watch the horse race.) Thus, a tradition was set and it’s been Derby Day ever since. At this time the Biograph Theatre’s softball team was one of the cars, maybe the clown car, attached to the runaway train known as the Fan District Softball League (1975-94).

At this year's reunion a few innings of softball were played in splendid weather without anyone hobbling off the field, or worse -- being carried off. A fine picnic spread was laid out and consumed. Cold beer flowed as the same stories were stretched, again. The horse race was watched on a little battery-powered TV.

Several of the guys at this year’s gathering were teammates of mine in 1976, when I was the manager of the Biograph, a repertory cinema that was located at 814 West Grace Street. It was the first summer of Biograph softball. We called ourselves the Swordfish, after a joke in a Marx Brothers movie. That year we played a schedule that was not set; we challenged other teams, which played in organized leagues (mostly Fan League teams), to play us for a keg of beer.

The Biograph Swordfish won 15 games (that were scheduled and umpired) of the 17 we played that initial season. In spite of having few experienced softball players on a roster, which included two French guys (friends of one of the cinema’s cashiers) -- they had never seen a softball, or baseball -- we probably won half of them by coming from behind in late innings.

Typically, our opponents saw themselves as more experienced and athletically superior, which only made it more fun when they bumbled their way into handing us the victory.

It was uncanny. Every time, those supposedly better teams seemed to be willing to overplay their hands. Now, having played and observed a lot of organized softball, I know that first Swordfish squad was absolutely charmed. Moreover, it was the loosest and luckiest team I’ve ever been associated with, bar none.

The Swordfish's two losses were: the championship game of one of the two tournaments we entered, and the other was played inside the walls of the old state penitentiary.

Located at Belvidere and Spring Streets, the fortress prison loomed over the rocky falls of the James River for nearly 200 years (it was demolished in the early-1990s). As it happened the guy in charge of recreation at the pen frequented J. W. Rayle, a popular bar of the era, located at Pine and Cary. In that bar, during a conversation, he asked me if the Biograph team -- I played outfield and served as the coach -- would consider taking on the prison’s team on a Saturday afternoon.

As it turned out the first date he set up was cancelled, due to something about a small riot.

OK.

A couple of weeks later the Swordfish entered the Big House. To get into the prison yard we had to go through a process, which included a cursory search. As I recall, we had been told to bring nothing in our pockets. Thus, we had our softball equipment and that was it.

As we worked our way through the ancient passageways, sets of bars were unlocked and then locked behind us. Each of us got a stamp on our hands that could only be seen under a special light. Someone asked what would happen if the ink got wiped off, inadvertently, during the game. He was told that was not a good idea.

OK.

The game itself was like all softball games, in ways, and rather unusual in others. The fence in leftfield was the same high brick wall that ran along Belvidere Street. It was only about 225 to 240 feet from home plate. Yet, because of its height, maybe 30 feet, a lot of hard-hit balls caromed off of it. What would have been a routine fly ball on most fields was a home run there. It was a red brick version of Boston’s Green Monster.

The prison team, known as the Raiders, was quite good at launching softballs over that towering brick wall. They seemed to have an unlimited budget for softballs, too. Under the supervision of watchful guards hundreds of other prisoners, seated in stands, cheered for the home team to vanquish the visiting Swordfish.

During a conversation with a couple of my teammates behind the backstop, I referred to the home team as “the prisoners.” Our opponents’ coach stepped toward me. He, like his teammates, had on a typical softball uniform of that era -- it was a maroon and gray polyester affair, with “Raiders” printed across the chest and a number on the back.

In contrast, we just had identical blue hats with a “B” on them. About half of us wore one of two different Biograph T-shirts models.

“Call us the Raiders,” he advised, sternly, as he pointed to a mural on the prison wall that said “Home of the Raiders.”

I realized I’d made a faux pas, right away.

“While we are on the field, we’re not The Prisoners,” he said with conviction, “we’re the Raiders.”

“Raiders,” I said. “Right.”

“All our games are home games,” he deadpanned.

We all laughed, grateful the tension had been broken. He thanked us for being there, for agreeing to play them.

The Raiders won, in a high-scoring affair. Afterward, I was glad we’d met the Raiders. And, I was even more glad to leave that place.

Now, I’m so glad that prison is no longer there. Located in the middle of Richmond, it was a nightmare in so many ways.

It was all part of a sepia-toned softball season so long ago it seems like a dream now. The Biograph teams that followed never saw such raw success, again. Each year that passes, the original Swordfish that show up -- that can show up -- are more glad than ever to see one another on Derby Day.

stories

2006-07-15T20:43:00.000-04:00

The Handbill War: As the Biograph Theatre's manager, when I was busted in 1982 for posting a handbill that promoted a midnight show, it was a bust I deliberately provoked. I wanted to beat The City of Richmond in court. For an amusing account of an incident in that trial, which I won, click here.

By keeping ordinary things like handbills, cohabitation, gambling, and other "victimless" crimes illegal, it means just about anybody can be harassed by the long arm of the law. But it's the ones with the unfashionable attitudes that feel the boot first.

This pen and ink cartoon of mine above was created in 1983 and first published as a handbill posted on utility poles in the commercial sections of the Fan District. Later it ran in SLANT in 1986. The 'toon was part of a five-year campaign, led by yours truly, to fight off the city's anti-handbill laws. Laws that politicians and yard sale promoters routinely ignored, but bands and clubs were getting busted.

For a while the cops left hand-billers alone. Then the busts resumed in late-1984. In 1985, SLANT's first cause was to once again frame the battle with The City in a freedom-of-speech context, while insisting the pop scene depended on flyers being posted in such a way, on the people’s utility poles, to exist.

In 1986 an ad hoc group of Fan District artists and musicians formed to pepper The City with a propaganda campaign. In 1987 the local statutes governing handbill-posting in the public way were changed. Essentially, we won. Freedom of speech prevailed.

Cat People

2006-06-30T10:29:00.000-04:00

In its day RKO was known for its ability to produce well-crafted, sometimes artsy or offbeat features using a smaller budget than the other so-called major studios. Nonetheless, it was almost always in trouble, financially. RKO, founded in 1929, stopped making movies in 1953 and eventually sold its lot and production facilities to television’s Desilu Productions.
Twenty-four summers ago I booked a festival of 24 titles to play at the Biograph, all from RKO, which still operated then as a distributor of its original library.

The 12 double features in this festival were: “Top Hat” (1935) and “Damsel in Distress” (1936); “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” (1939) and “The Informer” (1935); “King Kong” (1933) and “Mighty Joe Young” (1949); “Suspicion” (1941) and “The Live By Night” (1948); “Sylvia Scarlett” (1936) and “Mister Blandings Builds His Dream House” (1948); “Murder My Sweet” (1945) and “Macao” (1952); “The Mexican Spitfire” (1939) and “Room Service” (1938); “Journey Into Fear” (1942) and “This Land Is Mine” (1943); “The Thing” (1951) and “Cat People” (1942); “The Boy With Green Hair” (1948) and “Woman on the Beach” (1947); “Citizen Kane” (1941) and “Fort Apache” (1948); “The Curse of the Cat People” (1944) and “The Body Snatcher” (1945).

One feature, “Cat People” -- which was later remade as a vehicle to present a young Nastassja Kinski’s lithe form in all its glory -- was a low-budget black-and-white thriller. Unlike the remake, the original was a lean and subtle production that left much to the viewer’s imagination. Still, any film of that genre can be disturbing to a sensitive viewer.

For some reason “Cat People” got under one such viewer’s skin. He was a solitary man who walked around the VCU neighborhood during the day. He stayed in some sort of subsidized group home at night. Night or day, he was always medicated to the hilt. At the theater we used to let him in free. Then, of course, he would complain about everything. We laughed about him, and imitated him, when he wasn’t there. But we treated him with respect when he was, always at matinees.

Anyway, the movie scared him. “Are there really any cat people?” he would ask, in his distinctive, almost cartoon way of speaking.

“No,” he would be assured. Then a few minutes later he would ask again, his hands would flex and twitch, his eyes would wander. Same answer. Then he’d take his free popcorn and go into the dark auditorium to watch the movie for a while.

Well, I saw him recently. He’s totally gray now, he must be at least in his mid-60s. He still walks around the neighborhood, with his strange gait. There are no movie theaters in the Fan District now. When I created the image above -- of a cat named Zeke in a coat and tie -- for a calendar in 1996, I thought of that same man, and smiled. I bet he still remembers that movie.

Yes, sometimes, there are cat people. But they aren’t all mean. Some of them just look at you, like they know something you don’t know.

stories

2006-05-31T02:05:00.000-04:00

“Chasing Dignity,” published today by STYLE Weekly, is the newest episode of a series of true stories to be called “Firsthand Stories.” This particular yarn is set in 1978. The ultimate Midnight Show of all-time, "The Rocky Horror Picture Show," was playing to a packed house when a street fight broke out on Grace Street:

“...It wasn’t long after that night I found myself poring over an essay by F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘Echoes of the Jazz Age.' ...During that rereading, it occurred to me the shattering glass door had been the sound of the hippie era ending for me. Yes, we baby boomers were about to see that our sweetest day in the sun, with its causes and rock ’n’ roll anthems, had been another dollop of time, a period with its look and sound, not unlike others. In some ways, the Roaring ’20s redux."

stories

2006-05-15T13:35:00.001-04:00

Here's a flashback to 1990 that includes some Biograph history, as well as softball nostalgia:

REA GIVES BIZARRE EDGE TO
BLAB'S 'MONDO SOFTBALL'
Publication: Richmond News Leader
Date: 07-05-1990
Byline: Paul Woody

Years ago when Terry Rea was manager of the now defunct Biograph Theatre, he organized a softball team for the Fan League. But this wasn't just any team. This team had two illegal French aliens.

"One spoke no English at all," Rea said. "Neither had ever seen a baseball game. But they went out to a yard sale, found some funky `50s uniforms and they were a laugh riot."

The Biograph team also had a life-size, cardboard figure of Mr. Natural, a comic-book character created by R. Crumb of Zap Comics. Rea and his teammates took Mr. Natural to every game. They would carry him onto the field and chant to him.

"Some thought it was funny," Rea said. "Some thought we were mocking them. Some thought we were mocking the game."

All Rea was trying to do was enjoy a little softball and make the team and the league, "a rolling comedy show," he said. "I'm not sure everybody on the team was 100 percent behind me on that."

Rea began playing softball in 1976, but now, at the age of 42, he's in semi-retirement.

"I try in the offseason to lower my expectations, but I'm losing my game faster than I can lower my expectations," Rea said. "That drives everyone out of the game except the most fanatic."

Rea, however, is hardly done with softball. In fact, he may be contributing more to the game than he ever did as a player. Rea, a freelance graphic artist by trade, is the originator, host and creative force behind "Mondo Softball," a weekly, one-hour talk and call-in show seen Tuesday nights at 9 o'clock on BLAB-TV (Continental Ch. 7, Storer Ch. 8).

Mondo is Italian for "world." Rea took it from the drive-in movies of his youth that were all the rage.

"There were a bunch of `Mondo' films," Rea said. "Then, you started to see it thrown in front of almost anything to give it a bizarre connotation. People just know it has some sort of bizarre edge to it.

"And, of course, I'm using that."

Rea isn't the host of "Mondo Softball."

The host is Mutt deVille, a man of mysterious origin who always wears a baseball cap, sunglasses and softball jersey. Mutt deVille is Rea's alter ego. Mutt deVille was created by Rea as a pen name for the sports writer in Slant, the twice-monthly newsletter of commentary that Rea publishes, writes and edits.

DeVille initially existed to give some diversity to the pages of Slant, "and to create the illusion there was a staff of writers," Rea said. But the more Rea wrote as deVille, the more he liked it.

"My name, and my approach to things, like anyone who stays in his hometown long enough, carries a certain amount of baggage with it," Rea said. "I could move more freely as Mutt deVille.

"When I decided to do a show and it was a sports show, it seemed like a good idea to use Mutt. That led to the idea that Mutt should become a character and the time I was on camera should be a performance. Mutt is a device to make me feel at ease on stage."

"Mondo Softball" is not like any other show you'll see on BLAB. It's a one-hour play, softball as kitsch. It's part news -- standings, results and tournament highlights provided by Paul Joyce, the `field' reporter and a veteran local player -- part conversation with a guest, questions from callers and wisecracks, subtle humor and outright gags whenever possible. It's clever, and it's as entertaining as a show on recreational softball can be.

Rea said he has borrowed from shows he's seen. From the "Tonight Show," Rea took the idea that Johnny Carson is at his best and funniest when things go wrong.

"Part of live TV is that there are a lot of glitches," Rea said. "I've tried to incorporate the production values of an old `50s sci-fi movie and try to go with whatever goes wrong."

Each week, there is a great uproar over the magic word. If a caller says the word, he or she receives a $20 gift certificate from a local restaurant. The magic word is straight out of "You Bet Your Life" with the late Groucho Marx. In that show, it was called the secret word.

"If you're going to steal, steal from the best," Rea said.

Part of the attraction of "Mondo Softball" is that you can never be sure what will happen next.

"I think some people watch shows on BLAB just to see if the set will fall over," Rea said.

Rea brings a unique element of surprise to the screen. He isn't afraid to take a chance or play a little joke. When he was manager of the Biograph, a repertory theatre located near Virginia Commonwealth University, Rea once offered free admission to "The Devil and Miss Jones."

The line for the show, which most believed to be a well-known X-rated movie, stretched around the 800 block of West Grace Street. But the X-rated movie was "The Devil in Miss Jones." "The Devil and Miss Jones" was a 1941 comedy.

"Most people thought it was funny," Rea said. "But you always have some who get mad about something like that."

"Mondo Softball" has something of the same problem. Hard-core softball players don't always appreciate Rea's attempts at humor.

"I've heard some don't like Mutt's approach," Rea said. "But that's the reason Paul is there. Overall, though, the reaction I get is that they (the hardcore players) like Mutt."

BLAB-TV likes Mutt so much that another show already is in the works. "Mondo Pops," covering everything from sports to who knows what will premier this fall. It should be an interesting experience. Who knows, maybe even Mr. Natural will make an appearance.

softball

2006-05-06T22:32:00.000-04:00

The 2006 Derby Day reunion party was well attended and it ran smoothly. Kudos to the weather committee. I'll write more about it later, to update this post. Here's a sample of how today's well spent afternoon looked through my lens.
The photograph below of this year's group on the slope overlooking the picnic and ballfield is from Ernie Brooks.

stories

2006-04-29T01:44:00.000-04:00

The first reunion party of any kind at the Biograph happened on the occasion of the theater's third anniversary. We showed a few films, drank some beer, and so forth. Here are a some shots from that afternoon's get-together in the theater on Feb. 11, 1975.

softball

2006-04-29T01:09:00.000-04:00

With the 27th annual Biograph softball reunion a week away (May 6th), from Ernie Brooks here are four softball-related group pictures:
The shot above was taken in my living room at 2321 Floyd Ave. after a postseason keg game with WGOE's team, the Gonads, in 1978. Yes, of course that's a jock strap on the head of the guy to the left of Jack. Can you tell who that is? Hint: He's a Lakers fan, at least he is when he needs to be.
The horse race fans above were in the then-new Track Restaurant on Cary St., watching the 1980 Kentucky Derby following the first Biograph reunion softball game, which was played at Thomas Jefferson H.S. A print of this same shot hung on the wall behind the bar in the Track for years afterward.
The black and white photo above is from the 1989 Derby Day party at Chandler Ballfield. Has anybody gotten in touch with Angie (in the middle) about this year's party?

All four of the men pictured above at this mid-90s Derby Day reunion at Pine Camp were assistant managers at the theater during Terry Rea's stint as manager, 1972-83. Left-to-right they are: Bernie Hall, who was one of the two original ushers, was assistant manager from 1973-76; Trent Nicholas, who had also been an usher, followed Bernie from 1976-78; Chuck Wrenn was the first assistant manager from 1972-73 and served as a pinch-hitter a few times afterwards; Mike Jones followed Trent from 1978-83. Mike then served as manager from 1983-87.

still crazy after all...

2006-04-20T14:23:00.000-04:00

Looking good: In beautiful early-spring weather comely Judy Faircloth and dashing Larry Rohr, as they were, under their stylish hats, at Moument Avenue's 2006 Easter Parade.

Hopping onto the Wayback Machine, below is yet another shot of Larry, looking almost as happy and a little less gray. Also in the picture are Billy Snead, Whitey Berndt and a four-year-old Leo Rohr. By his expression, I'm not sure if Leo was happy to be there, or looking for the first possible ride home. It was shot at the Fan District Softball League's 1985 All-Star Game/Picnic.

Photos: SLANT

softball

2006-04-14T13:25:00.000-04:00

It's 22 days until the next Biograph softball reunion on May 6th. The photographs in this post offer five reasons for attending this year's party:

1. For the record.

The photo to the left, shot by Jack Colan in 1989 at Chandler shows Larry Rohr keeping track of matters. Yes, Larry is still keeping track of who shows up and who doesn't.

2. For the laughs.

The second shot, also by Jack in the same year, shows the unique pitching form of Dusty Thorn. Dusty may have gotten a bit grayer since then -- who hasn't? -- but he still has that chock-full-of-finesse pitching delivery and it's always good for a laugh to see him on the mound. Perhaps only Hank Brown, Thorn's longtime apprentice, has a daintier pitching form. Some of the guys look pretty weird running, too.

3. For the camaraderie.

The group picture below, by Dutch Perlstein in 1999 at Pine Camp, depicts the sort of classic Fan District Softball League camaraderie that can easily be found at every reunion gathering. From left to right they are: Chuck, Ernie, Saz, Martha, Terry, Stu and Jack. You'll think you're still at Chandler Ballfield, but probably glad you're not.
4. For the weather, as shown in the scene below, which was shot by then-Kim Pickle, in 1980 at a season-ending keg party for the Naturals. The gathering was at (and in the courtyard behind) the Franklin Street carriage house I inherited from Chuck Wrenn, in which I lived in that one summer.
5. For the good luck it brings when you get in the group photo, as the 1984 shot at Clark Springs below. The luck lasts for pieces of the year that follows (the photographer is unknown).

handbill

2006-03-18T22:39:00.000-05:00

The handbill above is one I did for a fundraiser in Sept. 1972. (R. Crumb's trucking man style was deliberately imitated in the McGovern caricature trying to appeal to hippies.) The other movie theater operators in town and lots of other know-it-alls told me I was crazy to take sides in politics by sponsoring a McGovern benefit. That was still in our first year of operation. Soon they learned the Biograph was going to be something different from business as usual in Richmond.

BuTTercuP

2006-02-22T11:19:00.000-05:00

A notice about an upcoming fundraiser for a worthy cause has come in from a locally-based band called BuTTercuP: In the photo above they are (left to right) Cassandra Cossitt, Octavia Carpin and David Stover. Both Cassandra and David were members of the theater's staff in the early-1980s.

The band's harbinger of spring reads:

We have the coolest gig ever! You are cordially invited to the first annual Tricycle Gardens Fundraiser on Saturday, March 11, 2006, to be held at "The Expansion Joint", 211 West Seventh St. (near Legend Brewery).

Tricycle Gardens is a non profit community garden located in Church Hill. Their goal is to help create a better Richmond through community gardening. They are also striving to create educational programs, such as seed starting workshops and working with youth in the community.

Tickets for the dinner portion of the evening (7 p.m. - 9 p.m.) with Buttercup for desert, are $40 each or $75 a couple. This includes a fabulous buffet dinner, wine and champagne, and a silent auction with great donations from local artists, restaurants, and local businesses. Buttercup will be raising the roof from 9 p.m. on. Once again we are honored to be joined by several extra-special guest artists!

"Music-only guests" may come at 9 p.m. Tickets are $15 and will be available at the door. For more info and to reserve your dinner please contact Lisa @ (804) 683-7968. Hope to see you there!

staff: Rebus

2006-02-22T10:15:00.000-05:00

Although Rebus was surprised to be called up from the cartoon reserves to serve in the Cartoon War, he's flattered that anyone remembered him. The panel above shows him reacting to the startling notice for him to return to active duty.

Rebus is best known for his role as the theater's official spokesdog. Drawn by yours truly he made his initial appearance on a midnight show handbill in our first year of operation (1972). His name Rebus came a few weeks later. It started as Uncle Rebus, then the Uncle was quickly dropped, when he reappeared in a single panel that I drew for my own amusement. It was titled: "Have a Good Time," which had become the Biograph's motto.

A month-or-so later, that single panel has grown into a nine-panel comic strip. It was subsequently published by VCU's student newspaper, The Commonwealth Times, which morphed into an all-comics tabloid called "Fan Free Funnies" for three issues in the spring of 1973.

What is a rebus?

It’s a word puzzle. The viewer sees a line drawing of an eye, then a plus sign, then the letter “c”, then another plus sign, then the letter “u.” Decoded that means “I see you.” Such little puzzles, usually somewhat more complicated, were common in publications aimed at children in the 1940s and '50s. The original Rebus comic strips all had little rebus puzzles in them, somewhere.

In the 1970s a circle of area artists was into drawing cartoons, making short animated films and even making large cartoon paintings. Inspired by “underground comix,” there was a scene, of sorts, in the Fan District then which revolved around cartooning. In some ways it was a precursor of the illustrated fiction wave that began to be noticed about ten years later. Anyway, in such a make-believe world, Rebus was a minor celebrity ‘toon, perhaps along the lines of local pitchman who appears on TV frequently selling sofas, promoting community events, etc.

Rebus continued to pop up on Biograph handbills and programs all during my tenure as the Biograph’s manager. He also was happy to help out with other projects, such as my 1980s Rock ‘n’ Roll promotions with Chuck Wrenn; we called our partnership Lit Fuse Productions.

Later, to make my then-girlfriend laugh -- she said Rebus was a chump -- I did a black humor series of small paintings called "Documenting the Death of Rebus." In each piece he was being killed off in a different way. Then she moved out.

Undaunted, Rebus made a rousing comeback in a series of 'toons published in SLANT (1985-94), doing some of his best work. As well, he has appeared on various posters, calendars and T-shirts. etc., I've produced over the years since.

Rebus rules!

stories: postmortem anniversaries

2006-02-11T22:14:00.000-05:00

A few Biograph Theatre anniversaries have been celebrated since it closed in December 1987. The ones I know about were parties I organized/hosted. In 1989 I had a part-time gig as a bartender at The Attic in Northside, so it went down there. This one happened by word-of-mouth. We showed some videos and looked at old photos.

In 1992, for the 20th, I booked two acts, lined up a room -- Twisters (it was the Back Door in the 1970s, now it's Nanci Raygun), promoted the event and even made up some T-shirts. We had the Useless Playboys as the headliner; Rebby Sharp did an opening set. I remember the late Carole Kass (perhaps the best friend the Biograph ever had) was there. The reunion aspect of it was nice.

For the 30th, in 2002, working with the Richmond Moving Image Coop, we showed several films and presented three bands at Poe's Pub. Colleen Curran at Richmond.com wrote a piece about the occasion. That party -- featuring Page Wilson with Reckless Abandon; Burnt Taters (now The Taters); Used Carlotta -- packed the house and raised a little money for RMIC. A good time was had by all, as far as I could tell.

What next?

stories

2006-02-10T22:00:00.000-05:00

The staff art show that hung during the Biograph's second anniversary party on Feb. 11, 1974 -- which featured the well-attended "The Devil and/in Miss Jones" prank -- included various works by several then-current employees and some former staff members, too. Most of those who worked there in the early days were artists of one stripe or another. This piece, by yours truly, was made to hang in the space of the lobby’s gallery that usually featured the artists' statements.

I also had a couple of pieces in the show. One of them sold and that was fun. Another piece was stolen. That was a bummer and a weird kind of violation.

Although most of the art shows that hung in the gallery displayed the work of local/VCU-connected artists, that was not always the case. In the first three or four years, when the walls of the lobby regularly featured shows that changed every couple of months, or so, occasionally art by then-renown artists, usually printmakers, was on display. Among them were Ernest Trova, Robert Indiana and sculptor George Segal.

From Ernest Trova's Falling Man series

In the summer of 1978, the same time as the Rocky Horror Picture Show began its five-year run at midnight, we had a show up that was memorable for an odd reason. It was a group of silkscreen prints and paintings by Barry Fitzgerald, who drove a cab and sometimes played keyboard in a popular local band, Single Bullet Theory.

Fitzgerald’s work had a pop art, reaction-to-advertising look. His droll sense of humor showed in a series of a half-dozen similar paintings. Each had a large line drawing in black against a background of a flat field of a single color. The renderings were done in the sparse style of a government pamphlet. Each had the same girl, Lois, coughing as she faced the viewer. Each had a caption written across the bottom of the colored panel which explained that Lois was choking on something. I think Barry was asking about $100 apiece for them.

Let’s say the first one was blue. It might have said, “Lois chokes on a gumdrop.” I think one of them did say that. The next one could have been yellow, it would have said something like, “Lois chokes on a pocket watch,” and so forth. The only other caption I remember had Lois choking on an Egg McMuffin; that one I’m sure of.

One day a man claiming to be a lawyer called me to say I had to take the Egg McMuffin piece down, pronto. He told me he was a local guy, who’d been talking that day with an attorney for the McDonalds fast food empire. He asserted that if I didn’t take it down McDonalds was going to lay some legal action on the artist, the Biograph and me.

For my part, I said something like, “What!”

The caller explained that it wasn’t a matter of Fitzgerald saying anything against McDonalds’s signature breakfast sandwich, which was fairly new then. No. The problem was that McDonalds wanted to protect the use of the words “Egg McMuffin.” They didn’t want it to become a generic term for a sandwich made by anyone using the same ingredients, etc.

Then I must have said something like, “What!”

Anyway, the threat finished with how I better do what the caller said, because all the law was on McDonalds’ side.

Well, I called a friend who is a lawyer to ask him what he thought. He said I ought to buy the painting. Then I told Fitzgerald what had happened. He loved it. We decided to leave it up.

So, what happened? Never heard from the wannabe McDonalds lawyer again. For a long time I've wished I had bought the painting.

articles

2006-02-10T21:39:00.000-05:00

There was a time when February 11 meant a party was brewing, maybe a few surprises, too, on West Grace Street. Tomorrow is the 34th anniversary of the opening of the Biograph. Accordingly, here's an excerpt of "Thanks Aimee," written for Richmond.com in 2000:

"...Times had changed and the theater could no longer pay its way. But in that little independent cinema's heyday, Feb. 11 meant something to those familiar with the nightlife in the VCU area. The Biograph's second anniversary was the party that established the occasion of the theater's birthday as a date to mark on the calendar. That was the year of The Devil Prank."

softball

2006-02-03T12:52:00.000-05:00

Here's the handbill for the 1984 Fan District Softball League's All-Star Game/Picnic. It was the first year we had amplified music.

From this year's event through 1988's, this annual mid-summer party consistently drew between 250 and 300 people to the Columbian Center, in the Westend a long way from the Fan. One year, the temperature was at a blistering 99 degrees all day and the thirsty group went through 21 kegs of beer in the afternoon.

The beer truck driver was amazed. Do the math.

Image by F.T. Rea

softball

2005-12-26T20:48:00.001-05:00

It's been a while since any new softball photos were put up, so to respond to the requests for more of such nostalgia, here's another batch from the days of the Fan District Softball League. Above is a random gathering of Back Door Bombers, and others -- such as Darryl Cohen (drinking the beer on the left):

In the above phograph, top row (left-to-right) they are: Karen Smith, Les Smith, Dennis Madigan, Trent Nicholas. Second row: Chuck Wrenn, Gussie Armeniox.

The Back Door's nearly-svelte owner John "Big Daddy" Richardson was perhaps more of a "Medium-Well-Done Daddy" in this era. The picture above, as well as the two above it were all shot at John Marshall HS by Danny Brisbane in 1977.

This 1983 team photo of the Biograph Naturals, a group of semi-wily veterans who finished the season at 18-15 and may have surprised themselves by having a winning record, was taken at Chandler Ballfield by David Stover.

The black and white above was shot at the Fan District League's 1985 All-Star Game at the Columbian Center. On the left in shades without a beard is Artie Probst. His two thirsty buds to the right are the late Fitz Marston and the late Paul Soble. When one recalls the pedal-to-the-metal scene at any of Soble's legendary Christmas parties at the original Floyd Avenue location, Paul and his pal Fitz are missed all the more at this time of year.
And speaking of Soble, here's a shot of Paul enjoying himself on July 4th as only he could, from the same summer as above. (the last two are from SLANT's first year archives)

stories

2005-12-03T00:44:00.000-05:00

The Orthotonics (first and briefly known as the Orthotones) were a notable art-rock/jazz-fusion band based in the Fan District in the early-to-mid-1980s. Oddly, their recordings were probably more popular in Eastern Europe than here. Phil Trumbo, mentioned in the post below, was one of the originals and the group’s handbill artist for the first couple of years.
The Orthotonics were key players in Richmond’s then-peak of a certain culture that had the Fan’s music scene closely connected to the coolest of such scenes on the East Coast and beyond. In those days a band’s handbills/graphics were a big part of its image. That was just as true in New York as Richmond. Also in the original group were Pippin Barnett, Danny Finney, Rebby Sharp and Paul Watson. They were funny, they took chances and they could play. The Orthotonics practiced in the empty Biograph, after the place was cleaned up in the wee hours. It was convenient because half of them worked as the theater's janitors at the time. Today Trumbo lives on the Left Coast. Always a snappy dresser, he is shown above with his daughter Leela, 10, in October of 2005.
And, above is a shot of Phil talking with one of the original cashiers, Susan Eskey, at the Biograph's first reunion party on Feb. 11, 1975, the theater's third anniversary.

stories

2005-12-01T23:59:00.000-05:00

The Halloween photographs in this post were taken by Tom Campagnoli in 1980. They were sent in by Phil Trumbo who found this site by luck. I hadn't heard from Phil in nearly 20 years.

As it was in the day, the theater’s lobby doubled as a gallery space. Trumbo had the distinction of having his paintings on the walls of the Biograph more often than any other artist. Trumbo was the leader of a pack of VCU fine art students/grads who painted in a cartoon style. His handbills for the band in which he was an original member, the Orthotonics, remain collector’s items today.

Phil and his then-partner Steve Segal directed a short sci-fi film (40 minutes of cartoonish footage known as pixilation), “Futuropolis,” that premiered at the Biograph in 1984. As I recall, it took them five or six years to make it, one frame at a time. Two of the Biograph's cashiers played the same part, because the first one moved away after a couple of years of it.

Later Trumbo was an art director for Pee-wee’s Playhouse. Now he's art-directing video games out on the West Coast.

This site has also brought in emails from others who have moved away from the Fan District and haven't been heard from in a long time, including David Giles, who was an usher/projectionist (1979-82) and a fine cartoonist in his own right.

Hopefully, as the word spreads and others stumble across the Biograph Archives, we'll have more pictures to put up and more stories about where they are now. By the way, for readers who wonder what is happening in the old Biograph building today, it is still standing and has been converted into a cyber cafe called Hyperlink.

staff

2005-10-31T23:44:00.000-05:00

Every Halloween there was a costume party, usually a contest at the Biograph. In that time such elaborate merriment was much in fashion in the Fan District. Several of the popular bars held contests, too.

However, the first time the theater's staff was asked to put together costumes for a midnight monster show, maybe three or four months into the first year's (1972) operation, no one really did all that much. We held back. Then cashier Susan Kuney, on the right, showed up last with a great make-up job and wild get-up as a skeleton. It put the rest of us to shame and set a standard.

After that night the die was cast. With one provocation or another the Biograph regularly had parties/promotions that included costumes several times a year. And, the staff generally set a pretty good example.

(Photo Credit: F. T. Rea)

2005-10-31T22:01:00.000-05:00

Here's a shot in the lobby (left) depicting members of the Biograph's crackerjack staff at 814 West Grace Street hard at work at one of the usually planned, but sometimes spontaneous, costume promotions.

As the six are in-character, so to speak, let's play along and not identify them at this time. Rather, we'll see how long it takes readers to guess their names and leave comments accordingly. The photograph -- sorry, it's a little beat up -- was probably taken in early 1974. (The photographer is unknown.)

And, here's one more shot of the theater's willing staff (right) and a few somewhat jolly friends in the lobby before the candy counter from Halloween 1979. (Again, the photographer is unknown.) Who knows what nonsense might have been going on down in the two auditoriums?

films: art movies

2005-09-24T00:26:00.000-04:00

"El Topo," by director Alexandro Jodorowsky, was an art house moderate box office success in 1972/73. Jodorowsky mixed spaghetti westerns, hippie philosophy, aspects of exotic religion and fantasy into a witch's brew of quirky action and near-comedy, all on a shoestring budget. The plot was nowhere to be found. This handbill was created to promote its first run stint. Only a few years later, touring as a midnight show, the film came to be seen more as camp, or even a scam.

staff: Tom Campagnoli

2005-08-29T22:03:00.000-04:00

Tom Campagnoli (1975)
Photo credit: F. T. Rea

Of all that reported to work at the yellow cinderblock cinema, who had the key to the front door of the funhouse the longest? It was Tom Campagnoli, who came aboard as an usher in 1973. With shore leaves in Europe, and other ports of call, Campagnoli stayed on through more sea changes than anyone else and went down with the theater's ship in 1987.

Campagnoli had 13 Biograph years-plus and actually wore more hats than anyone else over the long haul -- he was an usher, a janitor, a projectionist, an occasional substitute cashier or sandwich-board-carrier, and lastly a manager. When Tom wasn't busy with all that he published comic books and fronted a band, too.

The original manager, Terry Rea, was the Biograph's skipper from late-1971 through mid-1983. Tom's partner at the end of the Biograph's run, Mike Jones (see post and link to article below), was there from 1976 through 1987, again with a little time off for European adventures. The only other employee close to those three was the original projectionist the late Howard Powers, who labored and caught cat naps in the booth about 10 years.

stories

2005-08-27T14:34:00.000-04:00

(Photo Credit: Tom Campagnoli)

Director John Waters’ Polyester opened for its first run in Richmond at the Biograph in November of 1981. Waters also had a new book, Shock Value, out at the time. So the offbeat Baltimore filmmaker/author made his way to the Fan District to sit for interviews by the media and to sign books for the public at a little wine and cheese party in the theater’s lobby before the first screening of Polyester, which featured a gimmick -- cards with 10 different smells on them to be scratched-and-sniffed at certain times during the playing of the movie -- called “Odorama.”

films: repertory festivals

2005-08-09T18:37:00.000-04:00

stories: A Flashback

2005-08-04T00:49:00.000-04:00

Working in show bidness can be tough duty. Ask anybody who knows. It’s not all laughs.

For instance, one evening a couple of traveling porn queens came by the theater. Naturally, they asked for the manager. So I was fetched from my santuary office to talk with Annie Sprinkle and another woman (the one in the photo) who claimed she was from Richmond (Hermitage High). Sometimes, the X-rated touring performers from the live shows at the Lee Art Theater in the next block of Grace stopped by, so I figured that was the deal. Like, maybe they were film buffs who wanted free passes?

They had a limo parked in front of the theater. Their driver was a dwarf. No joke. After what sounded to me like a lot of cocaine-driven nonsense about a glossy magazine spread, and how they'd been to other local landmarks, Annie asked me to pose in front of the theater with the other lady.

Those were simpler times. Why not?

As Annie told me to stand a little closer, what’s-her-name? -- I think it might have been Honey -- gave me a hug and flashed what I quickly suspected to be her left breast. My reaction was honest, spontaneous. The duo had what they wanted, so they giggled and piled back into the limo. My co-workers couldn't stop laughing, as they had seen the whole thing through the cinemascopic front windows.

Later the silly picture showed up in Partner, a forgettable low-rent rag . The feature displayed other shots of Honey in similar flash modes in front of various familiar local backdrops.

To change the subject, the very next year Grace Street was changed from a west-only one-way street to two-way. The change was probably toughest on the winos, but it wasn't easy on anybody. That neighborhood hasn't been the same since. And, good night Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are..."

stories

2005-07-13T01:12:00.000-04:00

As a VCU fine arts student in the early-80s Tana Dubbe became a familiar face around the Biograph. She was partial to the European first run pictures and Marx Bros. films. Tana played on a co-ed Biograph softball team (1981) and was an excellent Frisbee-golfer, a sport played regularly by several on the theater's staff.

After moving to Manhattan in the mid-'80s Dubbe eventually became a professional photographer, studying under the legendary Eddie Adams. Since then she has moved to the West Coast and earned some interesting movie credits in recent years.

(Photo Credit: F. T. Rea)

films

2005-07-13T01:01:00.000-04:00

For the staff a workhorse of a time-killer between shows, during lulls, was making top ten lists and comparing them. We listed our favorite films of all-time, or our top ten westerns, or film noirs, etc. Here's a current list of my favorite ten titles that were Richmond premeires (still in their first-run bookings) when they were screened at the theater during my tenure:

1. Chinatown (1974)
2. The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972)
3. The Conformist (1971)
4. The Conversation (1974)
5. Seven Beauties (1976)
6. Amarcord (1974)
7. Wiseblood (1979)
8. Bread and Chocolate (1978)
9. Napoleon (1927) This was the restored version which came out in 1981
10. My American Uncle (1981)

And, with no apologies, here's my list of the ten weirdest movies that I presented, with the actual date they opened at the Biograph in parenthesis:

1. Honeymoon Killers (10/22/82)
2. Eraserhead (2/16/79)
3. Fingers (2/8/80)
4. Eyes of Hell (3/16/73)
5. Heart of Glass (4/26/82)
6. El Topo (5/25/73)
7. Freaks (3/31/72)
8. Thundercrack! (11/26/76)
9. Greaser's Palace (5/5/73)
10. Pink Flamingos (7/18/73)

staff: Gussie Armenoix

2005-07-07T22:08:00.000-04:00

In the hallway with the huge collage made up of movie posters, etc., which ran from the lobby to Theatre No. 1 (the larger of the two auditoriums), longtime cashier Gussie Armenoix struck a fetching patriotic pose during one of the many costume party situations that played out inside the Biograph (circa 1976, photographer unknown).

The second picture of doll-faced Gussie standing behind the candy counter is from 1977, it was shot by Ernie Brooks. She worked at the theater, with time off to travel sometimes, from 1975 through about 1980.

It would be a genuine treat to hear from Gussie, to know she's OK. If you know how to reach her, please let her know.

films: repertory festivals

2005-07-07T11:45:00.000-04:00

One of the more popular themes for a program of double features was Literature on Film; movies that were adapted from existing works of literature. The first time we used that hook was in this 1977 festival which did quite well at the box office. (As with any of the art/photos on this page, click on the progarm itself to enlarge it.)

On the flip side of the program (not seen) the following twin bills were listed: Of Human Bondage and Lolita; Slaughterhouse 5 and Ulysses; Anna Kaenina and Dr. Zchivago; Little Women and David Copperfield; The Stranger and Steppenwolf; Stage Door and Alice Adams; Grapes of Wrath and Les Miserables.

softball

2005-07-07T01:29:00.000-04:00

Danny Brisbane captured this image of three young men in their element at the softball field behind John Marshall High School, where the 1977 Fan District Invitational Tournament was staged. Brisbane was on the J. W. Rayle roster, as was Chuck Wrenn, on the left. Biograph manager Terry Rea's teammate, Larry Rohr, is on the right.

In the 1976-78 seasons the Biograph softball team's nickname was the Swordfish. From 1979-83 the team was called the Naturals. (The story of the changing is for another time.) After that the softball team was taken over by new management and the nicknames it bestowed upon the franchise -- Peckers, X-Peckers, Phantoms, etc. -- came and went, blurring into the sunset.

2005-07-07T01:28:00.000-04:00

Another of Brisbane's photos at John Marshall in 1977 shows the late Jim Letizia, a popular DJ at WGOE-AM, smiling and enjoying a beer with a couple of the Back Door Bombers.

2005-07-07T01:27:00.001-04:00

Brisbane's camera also preserved this quiet scene depicting seven members of the shy and retiring Hababas softball team. Starting at the lower left and working clockwise, they are: Buzz Montsinger; Otto Brauer; Dave Chapman; Darryl Cohen; Cliff Mowells; the owner of Hababas, a legendary beer joint (1971-84) on West Grace Street, Howard Awad; Chuck Jeffries.

films

2005-07-06T00:50:00.000-04:00

This was a 1974 handbill for a planned all-nighter. In developing the institution the Midnite Show was for several years we had to learn on the fly what would work, or not. Which called for trial and error.

This movie marathon, all night event was promoted in the same manner we used for Midnite Shows -- a handbill campaign in the Fan District and tailor-made radio spots on WGOE-AM.

Well, as it turned out, five flicks was overkill and all night got old at 4 a.m. The turnout was lackluster. From that we learned midnight was cool, all night was too much. So we went back to Midnite Shows.

Hey, trial and error only pays off when you knew when to quit.

stories

2005-07-05T18:42:00.000-04:00

The late Jim Bradford frequented the Biograph. He was good enough to send two of his former VCU film society chairmen, both fine arts majors, to the Biograph with his strong endorsement. Bradford was an art professor and then served as faculty advisor to the most active film society on campus. Fortunately, for the Biograph, I hired both guys: Chuck Wrenn and Trent Nicholas. Both became assistant mangers. Both are known for their senses of humor.

Bradford could be funny, too. He went on to become one of the three original partners at the legendary Texas-Wisconsin Border Cafe (1982-99). Many a time standing around the Border’s old “power corner” I watched Bradford on his favorite bar stool -- who was a knowledgeable film buff, perhaps scholar -- sandbagging some blowhard who was talking about this director, or that film. Inevitably, he'd catch my eye and sure enough, there would be that outrageously mischievous look that was his trademark.

Bradford figured I knew the speaker was full of baloney, and he couldn’t resist having a silent collaborator. But he would never let on, so neither would I. It was fun to watch him encouraging the expert to go on proving his depth of knowledge, and, of course, making more of a fool of himself.

Artist/teacher/bar-owner Jim Bradford, who died in 1997, enjoyed a private laugh as much as anyone I’ve known.

(Illustration by F. T. Rea)

softball

2005-07-04T13:11:00.000-04:00

J. W. Rayle (1976)

The Fan District Softball League. Now there's a subject that ought to have its own blog, one day. J. W. Rayle (above). Hababas. The Back Door. The Bamboo Cafe. Joe's Inn. Buddy's. The Jade Elephant, and then there was a squad known as Arnold's Pinheads.

Like Rayle, the Biograph entered the organized softball world in 1976. Although the theater itself eventually closed in 1987, the softball team kept going. When the Fan League folded up in 1994, the Biograph softball team, such as it was, moved to another league and continued fielding a team through 2004. This year the run ended. But the Biograph's annual softball reunion game on Derby Day went on same as it ever was...

(Photo Credit: maybe Artie Probst using a delayed shutter)

2005-07-04T13:10:00.000-04:00

Artist/musician Rebby Sharp took a healthy cut at the ball on the diamond at Clarke Springs School. Maybe she hit it?

Sharp pitched for the Biograph women's softball team, a spunky group of art girls who dubbed themselves the Estrojets. Rebby also was a founding member of the art rock/jazz fusion band known as the Orthotonics, the Richmond band with the most original sound and the best handbills in that era.

As it turned out, the 'Jets' only opponent that summer was the Jade Elephant, a squad made up of waitresses, bartenders and a few female regulars at the bar. It was fun watching the underdog Biograph team win both games in 1981, which proved to be their only year of play.

A key performer for the Jade, Yvonne Wyer (pictured right), stood in the batter's box ready to hit a pitch from Rebby.

(Photos: Chuck Wrenn)

2005-07-04T13:01:00.000-04:00

The Biograph Swordfish, as pictured right, were no more than a month from their first practice session when they shocked one and all by coming in second place in the ten-team field of the 1976 Fan District League Invitational. That year we formed in May and played as an independent club, not yet in the Fan League.

In the second tournament in which we played, after the conclusion of the league's regular season, we won the championship, defeating J.W. Rayle. The event ended abruptly, when Stew Whitham hit a line drive home run in the bottom of the seventh inning.

Yes, our luck was in gear that summer. Although the records from that first season were lost, by best estimate the Swordfish played 17 games that had an umpire, several with kegs on beer on the line. We won 15 of them. With two French guys on the squad (kneeling in front), who had no idea what they were doing, the 'Fish had arrived on the softball scene like the circus come to town.
Here's a group of happy Biograph Naturals (left) at John Marshall in 1982. From left to right they are: Mike "Scooter" Jones, Mike "Cookie" Kittle, Terry Rea, Mike "Dutch" Perlstein and Wayne Settle. Rea and Perlstein are pointing to a display of Mr. Natural's supposed axioms for the team to follow that Perlstein created.

(The photographer was probably Tana Dubbe.)

stories: Banned for Life

2005-07-04T12:18:00.001-04:00

On Nov. 8, 1992, the revenge-driven crime spree ended as the man I remembered as Drake the Flake blew out his brains with a .32 caliber revolver. In the 11 hours before taking his own life Woody Drake had shot and killed six people, wounded a seventh and beaten a former landlady with a blackjack.

It had been over 20 years since I saw him last. It was in the lobby of the Biograph Theatre.

It should come as no surprise to most film buffs that sometimes there is a dark side to the business of doing business after dark. While some saw the Biograph (1972-87) as a beacon in the night, for others it was a place to hide out from a sad reality. Like any business, sometimes things just went wrong.

Customers could be difficult every now and then, especially at midnight shows. There were crazy street people who would sometimes cause trouble. Although nearly everyone who worked at the Biograph during my nearly 12-year stint as its manager was on the up-and-up, there were a couple of rotten apples. As I hired both of them, I have to take the blame there. But those are stories for another time.

There was a night someone fired high-powered ammo through one of the back exits into Theatre No. 1. Five bullets came through a back door's two quarter-inch steel plates to splinter seats. Amazingly, no one was hit. It happened just as the crowd was exiting the auditorium, about 11:30 p.m., and it seemed no one even caught on to what was happening.

Later the police were baffled, leaving us to speculate as to why it happened.

A rat died in the Coca-Cola drain once and clogged it up. Not knowing about the rat, and thinking I knew what to do, I poured a powerful drain clearing liquid -- we called it Tampax Dynamite -- into the problem. It wasn't long before a foul-smelling liquid started bubbling and backing up all over the lobby's carpet. A flooding mess ensued that ran everybody out of there on a Saturday night.

Anyway, in the first months of operation at 814 W. Grace St. there was the series of annoyances that led up to Woody Drake being literally thrown out of the Biograph and "banned for life." The photo above -- it was a publicity shot he used to apply for work as an actor -- ran in the Richmond Times-Dispatch on November 16, 1992. What follows are excerpts of a piece I wrote for SLANT a couple of weeks later:

...The November 16th edition of the Richmond Times-Dispatch carried Mark Holmberg's sad and sensational story of Woody Drake. As usual, Holmberg did a good job with a bizarre subject. In case you missed the news: Lynwood Drake, who grew up in Richmond, murdered six people in California on November 8. Then he turned the gun on himself. His tortured suicide note cited revenge as the motive.

An especially troubling aspect of Holmberg's account was that those Richmonders who remembered the 43 year old Drake weren't at all surprised at the startling news. Nor was I. My memory of the man goes back to the early days of the Biograph Theatre (1972). At the time I managed the West Grace Street cinema. So the unpleasant task of dealing with Drake fell to me.

Owing to his talent for nuisance, the staff dubbed him 'Drake the Flake.' Although he resembled many of the hippie-style hustlers of the times, it was his ineptness at putting over the scam that set him apart. Every time he darkened our door there was trouble. If he didn't try to beat us out of the price of admission or popcorn, there would be a problem in the auditorium. And without fail, his ruse would be transparent. Then, when confronted, he'd go into a fit of denial that implied a threat.

Eventually that led to the incident in Shafer Court (on VCU's campus) when he choked a female student, Susan Kuney, who worked at the Biograph.

That evening he showed up at the theater to see the movie, just like nothing had happened. Shoving his way past those in line, he demanded to be admitted next. An argument ensued that became the last straw. Drake the Flake was physically removed from the building, tossed onto Grace Street, and banned from the Biograph for life.

The next day, Drake made his final appearance at the Biograph. He ran in through the lobby's exit doors and issued a finger-pointing death threat to your narrator. Although I tried to act unruffled by the incident, it made me more than a little uncomfortable. In spite of the anger of his words, there was an emptiness in his eyes. In that moment he had pulled me into his world. It was scary and memorable.

Using a fine turn of phrase, Holmberg suggested that, "Whatever poisoned the heart of Woody Drake happened in Richmond..."

If you want more evidence of the origins of the poisoning, take the time to look him up in his high school yearbooks (Thomas Jefferson 1967/68). Pay particular attention to the odd expression in his eyes. Looking at Drake’s old yearbook photos reminded me of a line in the movie 'Silence of the Lambs.' In reference to the serial-killer who was being sought by the FBI throughout the film, Dr. Lechter (a psychiatrist turned murderer himself) tells an investigator that such a man is not born; he is created.

There is no doubt in my mind. Someone close to Lynwood Drake III, when he was a child, systematically destroyed his soul. So while we can avert our eyes from the painful truth, we basically know where the poison is administered to the Woody Drakes of the world.

Yes, we do. The assembly line for such monsters runs through their homes. Apparently he was always a problem to those around him. The story goes that Woody Drake liked to beat up women. After I threw him out of the Biograph and he disappeared, several people told us stories about various females he had hurt. No doubt, there was a reason why he hated women.

Shortly before Drake ended his wretched life, he woke up a 60-year-old woman by smacking her in the head with a blackjack. She scrambled to hide under her bed and lived to tell the story.

The news stories reported that Drake, who always had fancied himself as an actor, had made up a long list of people he intended to pay back. The man who had a childhood straight out of a horror movie wore theatrical grease paint on his face when he committed his murders. As the cops were closing in on him Drake punched his own ticket to hell.

-- 30 --

staff: Cathy Schultz

2005-07-04T00:14:00.000-04:00

Cathy Schultz was a cashier at the Biograph between 1974 and 1978. Schultz, a VCU-trained artist, had a sparkling sense of humor.

If we decided to kill a little time by putting a wallet stuffed with play money on the sidewalk in front of the theater tied to a long line of filament -- so we could watch through the front windows, to jerk the line at just the right time to make the chump jump -- Cathy often seemed the one who enjoyed it the most.

(Photo Credit: F. T. Rea)

films

2005-07-03T22:50:00.000-04:00

There was a time when the Biograph’s printed film programs, with scraps of art and comments about the upcoming double features, were stuck to refrigerators all over the Fan.

Usually about 5,000 of them were run off and we made damn sure they got around. Each edition covered a period of time, usually six to eight weeks. The paper was cheap and the ink was black.

In the early years most of the programs, the flats themselves, were put together by Alan Rubin in Georgetown. At that same time local manager Terry Rea was creating the handbills for Midnite Shows and theater's newspaper ads. From 1977, through his departure in 1983, Rea designed the repertory programs, as well.

Program 50 was a best-of-repertory festival that ran in 1979.

staff: David Levy

2005-07-03T19:11:00.000-04:00

Harvard-trained attorney David Levy was probably the most film-savvy of the original Georgetown owners. In the late-'60s he served as the first manager of "M" Street's Biograph, which lasted 29 years (1967-96). In 1974 Levy split with his partners to become a film distributor and to operate the Key Theatre on Wisconsin Avenue. That Levy's bold thinking about film and promotion -- not to mention politics -- was all over the early days of both Biographs is undeniable.

David Levy
(family photo)

Washington Post (September 17, 2004): "S. David Levy, 67, who helped found the Biograph Theatre and was co-owner of the Key Theatre, which kept alternative cinema alive in Washington for decades, died Sept. 15 at Washington Hospital Center. He had chronic leukemia for more than 20 years. A film fan since law school, Mr. Levy held several jobs in the legal profession early in his career but dashed them for a chance to start a movie house. With his four partners, including two lawyers, he founded the Biograph at 2819 M St. NW in what was once an auto salesroom."

Click here to read the obituary.

stories

2005-07-02T22:44:00.000-04:00

Alan Rubin, one of the theater's six original owners, all of whom lived in DeeCee, is shown in the lobby with Richmond Times-Dispatch movie critic/entertainment writer the late Carole Kass. They (pictured right) were part of the crowd at the theater's 1974 second anniversary celebration, which featured the "Devil in/and Miss Jones" prank.

Rubin was/is an artist, so he in particular got a kick out of the chance we were taking with such a stunt. It was quite a night, for more on that see the history below -- Biograph Times; Part One, for the story of the prank that had thousands of Richmonders in line on Grace St. to see a banned movie, but it didn't go as they expected.

That night most of the staff wore costumes to get in the spirit, or perhaps to hide their identities, in case they needed to make a fast get-away. The hoax/performance art went swimmingly. Then, afterwards, no one had gotten hurt and we posed willingly for a group gloating.

Yes, the rush from pulling that one off was mind-expanding. The problem was -- then what?

Photo Credit: Gary Fisher

staff: Mike Jones

2005-07-02T22:43:00.000-04:00

Click here to read the STYLE Weekly article about film professor (at VCU and Randolph-Macon) Mike Jones. Jones was hired in 1976 to be an usher at the Biograph. He later was promoted to assistant manager. After Terry Rea resigned Jones managed the cinema (with Tom Campagnoli) from July 1983 until it closed in December of 1987. Today Jones is the president of the Richmond Moving Image Coop.

stories

2005-07-02T19:25:00.000-04:00

This shot in the lobby from the spring of 1981 shows three happy waitresses from the nearby lounge, the Jade Elephant. Such company was always welcome.

The trio had probably dropped by the theater after work to help out with the traditional killing off of a keg of beer their restaurant's softball team, the Hens, had lost to their biggest rival, the Biograph Naturals. It was a tradition because the hapless Hens lost every game they played against the thirsty Naturals. Ouch!

(Photo Credit: Larry Rohr)

staff: Jack Leigh

2005-07-02T18:57:00.001-04:00

Jack Leigh, who died in 2004, was part of the Biograph’s staff in late-1973/early-1974. He was earnest and quick-witted. Jack liked to play chess and talk about movies, and of course -- photography. In those days he was already a very good photographer. The quiet style he would use throughout his career was already evident. He authored six books of photographs, including Oystering, which featured a foreward by James Dickey.

Leigh introduced me to Half-Rubber, a three-man baseball-like game that he said orginated in his hometown, Savannah. It was played with a broom handle and half of a red rubber ball. At the time there were several vacant lots across from the theater, so one afternoon I crossed Grace Street with Jack and assistant manager Bernie Hall to try Half-Rubber.

The key to pitching was to throw the ball side-arm with the flat part down to make it curve and soar somewhat like a Frisbee. Hitting or catching it was quite another matter. The pitcher threw the half-ball in the general direction of the batter, who tried to hit it. If he missed, and he usually did, the catcher did his best to catch it, which wasn't easy either. When the catcher did catch it, if the batter had swung he was out. Then the pitcher moved to the catching position, and the catcher became the batter, and so forth.

But the best reason to play -- other than the laughs stemming from how foolish we looked -- was the kick that came from hitting it. When we connected with that little red devil it left the bat like a rocket.

The following is from Leigh's gallery’s web site:

In 1993 Leigh was commissioned to create a photograph for the book cover of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. The book became an international best seller and the photograph is Leigh's most famous and widely recognized image.

Click here to visit the gallery.

staff: Brett Lewis

2005-07-02T18:45:00.000-04:00

Biograph cashier Brett Lewis (circa 1981) on the 800 block of West Grace Street in a rather red Ford Falcon. She left for Manhattan in the early-'80s and I have no iea what has happened to her. Anybody know?

Because the Biograph Theatre was seen as a cool place to work by a certain set, lots of applications came in when there was an opening on the staff, which wasn’t all that often. Our motto was -- Have a Good Time. While many lifelong friendships were forged in the Biograph Theatre, hopefully, this blog will prove useful in reconnecting some people who worked at/hung out at Richmond’s Repertory Cinema who have scattered. Readers comments are welcome.

(Photo credit: F. T. Rea)

staff: Chuck Wrenn

2005-07-02T18:41:00.000-04:00

Chuck Wrenn was the original assistant manager at the Biograph in 1972. He is shown here in October 2004 with his oldest daughter, Eliza. Move over James Brown. The new hardest working man in show business has got to be Chuck Wrenn.

Click here to read a feature article in FiftyPlus about Wrenn that was penned by F. T. Rea

(Photo Credit: F. T. Rea)

stories

2005-07-02T15:55:00.000-04:00

The Biograph opened in 1972 with a party. In addition to the film fare it was known for its full tilt parties, usually after-hours. This handbill was for Lit Fuse Production’s third New Year's party, staged in the theater.

Lit Fuse was Chuck Wrenn and Terry Rea. For this one the glass windows in the lobby were wisely covered with brown paper to hide the goings on from people on the street. The bands, including Wrenn's band -- the Megatonz -- played in the large auditorium while various movies filled the screen all night in the small auditorium to bring in 1982.

Subsequently, on doctor's orders, this was the last of Lit Fuse's New Years Eve productions.

softball

2005-07-01T12:59:00.001-04:00

Shortstop Preston Creasey (left) and pitcher Larry Rohr were teammates in 1976 on the Biograph's first softball team, the Swordfish, which had two French softball players on its roster.

Rain or shine the party, softball game or not, has unfolded since 1980 without fail. The teammates are shown here relaxing in the shade at the Biograph's 26th annual Derby Day softball reunion, which was held on May 7, 2005 at Thompson Middle School in one of the more polite sections of Dogtown.

And, speaking of dogs, the eye-catching platter of gourmet hot dogs (shown to the right) did not last long on Derby Day. Who could resist?

As this presentation so vividly illustrates, the competition among the players and their respective squeezes to bring out top shelf food to one-up the other guy is every bit as keen as the competition on the softball field.

(Photo Credit: F. T. Rea)

2005-07-01T12:55:00.000-04:00

The annual Derby Day (always the first Saturday in May) softball reunion in 2000 ended just as the first one did 20 years before, drinking mint juleps mixed by Chris Lyles, as the Kentucky Derby played out on a little portable TV at The Track restaurant in Carytown.

2005-07-01T12:23:00.000-04:00

Biograph Naturals 1980

Not wanting to steal Mr. Natural from his creator, R. Crumb, we made sure to get written permission from the artist to use the character as the Biograph Natural's official mascot. The five-foot-tall foamcore Mr. Natural proved to be somewhat baffling, even galling, to some of the Biograph's opponents, so we made the most of it.

(Photo: Phil Trumbo)

staff

2005-07-01T11:58:00.000-04:00

As the 8th anniversay reunion party (1980) wound down old friends who had worked at the Biograph, or still did, and who were still awake, shared a light moment behind the candy counter in the lobby. From left-to-right they are Cassandra Cossitt, Trent Nicholas, Bernie Hall and Tom Campagnoli.

In the background is the door to the popcorn storage and lost-and-found departments. The ladder that we used to change the letters on the marquee was kept in there, too. It was customary at that time to post any articles we could find that put disco music in a bad light on the door. We called it the Anti-Disco Door and movie patrons enjoyed bringing us stuff for it.

Photo Credit: F. T. Rea

Update: A second photo of Cassandra from the same era, which was sent in by former Biograph usher/projectionist David Giles, is below.

Stories: The Devils & the Details

2005-06-30T23:55:00.004-04:00

Originally published by SLANTblog in 2004

My first good look at what was to become the Biograph Theatre was in July of 1971. Having gotten a tip from a friend that the DeeCee-based owners were considering the hiring of a local manager, I went to the construction site chasing the opportunity.

That day I met David Levy, one of six men who owned the repertory cinema operation that would be housed in the cinderblock building going up at 814 West Grace Street. Of the six, Levy would prove to have the deepest knowledge of film history, as well as the most hands-on knowledge of how to run a movie theater. At 33, Levy, a Harvard trained layer, was 10 years my senior.

A couple of months later I was offered what I saw as the best job in my neighborhood, the Fan District. Without hesitation I decided to quit my job at WRNL, a local radio station. The adventure that followed surely went beyond any expectations I might have had about becoming the manager of the Biograph Theatre.

On the evening of February 11, 1972, the venture was launched with a gem of a party. The feature presented that evening was a delightful French war-mocking comedy — “King of Hearts” (1966); Genevieve Bujold was dazzling opposite the droll Alan Bates.

In the lobby, with its cinemascopic view of Grace Street through a glass front, the dry champagne flowed steadily. A trendy art show was hanging on the lobby walls. Hundreds of trendy invited guests were there. The local press was all over what was an important event for that bohemian commercial strip, just a stone's throw from the Virginia Commonwealth University campus.

My stint at the Biograph lasted until the summer of 1983. It would be 37 years before the next new cinema would open in Richmond — Movieland, in February of 2009.

During the 1960s, college film societies thrived. Knowing film was cool; it could get you laid. By the 1970s, many of the kids who had grown up watching old movies on television had learned to worship important movie directors.

The fashion of the day elevated certain foreign movies, selected American classics, a few films from the underground scene, etc., to a level above most of their more accessible Hollywood counterparts. Mixed and matched in double features and packaged into little festivals, such was at the heart of a repertory cinema’s style. In that pre-cable TV age, much of the current-release domestic product was viewed by the film aficionado in-crowd as laughingly naive or hopelessly corrupt.

Although none of them had any experience in Show Biz a group of five men, who were all about Levy's age, opened Georgetown’s Biograph Theatre (1967-96) in 1967. They were smart guys who caught a wave. A few years later those same owners (plus one more guy) were looking to expand. In Richmond’s Fan District they thought they had spotted the perfect situation for a second repertory-style cinema in a neighborhood that was being touted then by local boosters as about-to-blossom-into-another-Georgetown.

Local players, filthy rich Morgan Massey and deal-maker Graham “Squirrel” Pembrooke, put up the building from scratch for the Georgetown group. Significantly, Pembroke managed to get a 20-year lease for $3,000-a-month rent guaranteed by a federal program for at-risk neighborhoods, in case the concept didn’t fly.

Thus, when the Biograph closed in 1987 the building’s owners were then able to collect the rent from Uncle Sam until 1992.

Knowing they could walk away easily, if the business fizzled, the new Biograph’s creators — chiefly Levy and Alan Rubin (a geologist turned artist) — inked the deal and borrowed money to buy used seats and projection booth equipment, which included ancient Peerless carbon arc lamps to back up a pair of rugged Simplex 35 mm projectors.

The Biograph’s programs, printed schedules with film notes, covered about six weeks each. Program No. 1 was heavy on documentaries, featuring the work of Emile de Antonio and D.A. Pennebaker, among others. Also on that program were several titles by popular European directors, including Michaelangelo Antonioni, Costa-Gavras, Federico Fellini, and Roman Polanski.

After the opening flurry, with long lines to every show, it was surprising and disappointing when the crowds shrank dramatically in the third and fourth months of operation.

As VCU students were a substantial portion of the theater’s initial crowd the slump was chalked off to exams and summer vacation. In that context the first summer of operation was opened to experimentation aimed at drawing customers from beyond the neighborhood.

The brightest light in our mix of celluloid offerings was a project I had been put in charge of developing — Friday and Saturday midnight shows. Their popularity was waxing.

By trial and error we learned it took an offbeat movie that lent itself to promotion; early successes were “Night of the Living Dead” (1968), “Yellow Submarine” (1968), “Mad Dogs and Englishmen” (1971), and an underground twin bill of “Chafed Elbows” (1967) and “Scorpio Rising” (1964).

With significant input from the theater’s promotion-savvy assistant manager, Chuck Wrenn, off-the-wall ad campaigns were designed in-house to set the tone for the somewhat anti-establishment movies that seemed to perform best at the box office. There were two essential elements to those promotions:

1. Wacky radio spots had to be created and run on WGOE, a popular AM station aimed directly at the hippie listening audience.

2. Distinctive handbills were posted on utility poles and bulletin boards, and in shop windows in high-traffic locations.

Dave DeWitt, now the widely read guru of hot food, produced the radio commercials, many of which were considered to be rather humorous in their day (if I do say so myself). In his studio, Dave and I frequently collaborated on the making of those spots over six packs of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

On Sept. 13 a George McGovern-for-president benefit was staged at the Biograph. Former Gov. Doug Wilder, then a state senator, spoke. We showed "Millhouse," a documentary that put President Richard Nixon in a bad light. Yes, I had been warned by some well-meaning people, supposedly in the know, that taking sides in politics was dead wrong for a show business entity in Richmond. Especially, taking the liberal side.

Happily, my bosses and I blew such advice off and the theater was used over the years lots of times to raise money and awareness for causes.

Also in September “Performance” (1970), an overwrought but well-crafted musical melodrama — starring Mick Jagger — packed the theater at midnight a couple of weekends in a row. Then a campy, docu-drama called “Reefer Madness” (1936) sold out four consecutive weekends.

To follow “Reefer Madness” what was then a little-known X-rated comedy, “Deep Throat” (1972), was booked as a midnight show. As the feature ran only an hour, master prankster Luis Buñuel’s surrealistic classic short film, “Un Chien Andalou” (1929), was added to the bill, just for grins.

Although it should be noted that like "Deep Throat," Buñuel’s first film was also called totally obscene in its day, this may have been the only time that particular pair ever shared a billing ... anywhere.

A couple of weeks after “Deep Throat” began playing in Richmond, it got busted in Manhattan. The national media became fascinated with the film. Its star, Linda Lovelace, appeared on network TV talk shows. Watching Johnny Carson tiptoe around the premise of her celebrated “talent” made for some giggly moments.

Eventually, to be sure of getting in to see the midnight show, patrons began showing up as much as an hour before show time. Standing in line on the sidewalk for the spicy midnight show turned into a party. There were nights the line resembled a tailgating scene at a pro football game. A determined band of Jesus Freaks frequently stood across the street issuing bullhorn-amplified warnings of hellfire to the jolly set waiting in the midnight show line that stretched west on Grace Street.

Playing for 17 consecutive weekends, at midnight only, “Deep Throat” grossed over $30,000. That was more dough than the entire production budget of what was America’s first skin-flick blockbuster.

The midnight show’s grosses conveniently made up for the disappointing performance of an eight-week package of venerable European classics, including ten titles by the celebrated Ingmar Bergman. The same package of art house workhorses played extremely well up in Georgetown, underlining what was becoming a painfully underestimated contrast in the two markets, just 100 miles apart. Washington was a great movie town, Richmond was not.

Even more telling, over the spring a series of imported first-run movies crashed and burned. The centerpiece of the festival was the premiere of the Buñuel masterpiece, “The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie” (1972). In what Levy and I then regarded as a coup, gambling it would win the award, we booked it in advance to open in Richmond two or three days after the 1973 Oscars were to be handed out. We guessed right, it took the Oscar for Best Foreign Film, but it flopped in Richmond, anyway.

Management was more than bummed out, we were shocked.

Money had been put up in advance to secure a print, which was in demand because it was doing brisk business in most other cities. The failure of this particular booking and the festival that surrounded it forced a serious reassessment of what had been the original plan.

To stay alive Richmond’s Biograph needed to make adjustments.

After much fretting on the phone line between “M” Street and Grace Street the Faustian deal was struck — another film from the director of “Deep Throat,” Gerard Damiano, was booked. However, this time the film’s distributor imposed terms calling for “The Devil in Miss Jones” (1973) to play as a first-run picture at regular show times, rather than as a midnight-only attraction.

At this point no one could have anticipated what we were setting in motion by agreeing to expand the availability of “adult movies” beyond the midnight hour. For the first time, the promotional copy for an XXX-rated feature was included on a Biograph program and in newspaper ads.

Then an aggressive young TV newsman took Biograph Program No. 12 to Richmond's new Commonwealth’s Attorney, Aubrey Davis. (Sorry, don't remember his name.) The reporter asked Davis what his office was going to do about the Biograph’s brazen plan to run such a notorious film, especially in light of the then-freshly-minted Miller Decision on obscenity by the Supreme Court. (Miller basically allowed communities to set their own standard for obscenity.)

Eventually, the provocateur got what he wanted from the prosecutor — who had been on the job for just a month — a quote that would fly as an anti-smut sound bite. The other local broadcasters jumped on the bandwagon the next day. By the mid-summer evening “The Devil in Miss Jones” opened in Richmond it had already become a well-covered story.

Every show sold out and a wild ride had begun: Matinees were added the next day. On the third day all the matinees sold out, too. The fourth day the WRVA-AM traffic-copter hovered over the Biograph in drive time, giving live updates on the length of the line waiting to get into the theater. The airborne announcer helpfully reminded his listeners of the remaining show times for that night.

Well, that did it!

The following morning a local circuit court judge asked for a personal look at what was clearly the talk of the town. Management cooperated with his honor’s wishes and the print was schlepped down to Neighborhood Theaters’ private screening room, at 9th and Main Streets, for the convenience of the judge. We assumed he wanted to avoid being seen by curious reporters entering the wicked Biograph.

As Judge James M. Lumpkin admittedly hadn’t been out to see a movie in a theater since sometime in the 1950s, this particular comedy stag film rubbed him in the worst way. Literally red-faced after the screening, the outraged judge looked at Levy and me like we were from Mars, maybe Pluto.

Lumpkin promptly filed a complaint with the Commonwealth’s Attorney and set a date for issuing a Temporary Restraining Order, in an attempt to halt further showings as soon as possible.

The next day a press conference was staged in the theater’s lobby to make an announcement. Every news-gathering outfit in town bought the premise and sent a representative. They acted as if what was obviously a publicity stunt was actually 24-carat news, because it served their purpose to play along. After DeWitt — who was then representing the theater as its ad agent — laid out the ground rules and introduced me to the working press, I read a prepared statement for the cameras and microphones.

The gist of it was that based on demand — sellout crowds — the crusading Biograph planned to fight the TRO in court. Furthermore, the first-run engagement of “The Devil in Miss Jones” would be extended — it would be held over for a second week.

During the lively Q & A session that followed, when Dave scolded an eager scribe for going too far with a follow-up question, it was tough duty holding back the laughing fit that would surely have broken the spell we trying to cast over the reporters.

The TRO stuck, because Lumpkin still had all the say-so. “The Devil in Miss Jones” grossed about $40,000 in the momentous nine-day run the injunction halted.

Technically, the legal action was against the movie, itself, rather than anyone at the Biograph. Which obviously suited me just fine. The trial opened on Halloween Day. Judge Lumpkin, whose original complaint to the Commonwealth’s Attorney had set the process in motion, served as the trial judge, too.

Objections to that quizzical affront to justice fell on Lumpkin’s stone cold deaf ears.

On November 13, 1973, Lumpkin put all on notice: If you dare to exhibit this “filth” to the public, then stand by for certain criminal prosecution. So it was that “The Devil” was banned by a judge in Richmond, Virginia.The plot to answer the judge's decree was hatched in early January of 1974 in my office, next to the projection booth on the second story. Having finished the box-office paperwork, your truth-telling narrator was browsing through a stack of newly acquired 16mm film catalogs and probably enjoying a cold PBR longneck. As it was after-hours, the scent of recently-burned marijuana may have been in the air when a particular entry — “The Devil and Miss Jones” — jumped off the page.

It was instantly obvious that the title for that 1941 RKO light comedy had been the inspiration for the X-rated movie’s title — “The Devil in Miss Jones.”

It should be noted that the public had yet to be subjected to the endless puns and referential lowbrowisms the skin-flick industry would eventually use for titles. This was still in what might be called the seminal days of the adult picture business.

The plan called for using the upcoming second anniversary as camouflage. DeWitt and the theater’s resourceful assistant manager, Bernie Hall, were in on the early scheming. Then, in a deft stroke — suggested by Alan Rubin — a Disney nature short subject, “Beaver Valley” (1950), was added to the birthday program.

The stunt’s biggest problem was security. The whole scheme rested on the precarious notion that the one-word difference in the two titles, which spoke of the Devil's proximity to Miss Jones, wouldn’t be noticed. It was something like hiding in plain sight. The staff fully understood that the slightest whiff of a ruse would mean our undoing. Thus, absolutely no one outside our group could be told anything.

No one.

Subsequently, the theater announced in a press release on DeWitt’s letterhead that its second anniversary celebration would offer a free admission show. The titles, “The Devil and Miss Jones” and “Beaver Valley,” were listed with no accompanying film notes; free beer and birthday cake would be available as long as they lasted.

Somehow, a rumor began to circulate that the Biograph might be out-maneuvering the grasp of the court’s decree by not charging admission. The rumor found its way into legit print — the street gossip section of The Richmond Mercury. That was sweet.

The busier-than-ever staff fielded all inquires, in person or over the telephone, by politely reciting the official spiel, “We can only tell you the titles and the show times. Yes, the admission will be free. No further details are available.”

The evening before the event the phones were ringing off the hook. The anticipation was fun, reporters were snooping about. One, in particular, seemed to be clawing his way toward the key. In the lobby, as I manned my familiar post at the turnstile, he said to me, “It has to have something to do with the title.”

He was getting too close; to fend him off I had to take a chance. So I told the guy that what was going to happen the next day would be a far better news story than the story of spoiling it the day before ... if there really was a trick to it.

Gambling that it would work, I asked him to leave it alone and trust that once it all unfolded he wouldn't regret it. Fortunately, the newsman said OK and kept his word. His identity must remain a secret.

Up until the box office opened no one else outside our tight circle appeared to have an inkling of what was about to happen. Amazing as it may sound, the caper’s security was airtight. It was absolutely beautiful teamwork!

The line for the Biograph's special anniversary screening/party began forming before lunch. As the afternoon wore on, with thousands of people lining up, it was suggested to me more than once that we could eventually have a riot on our hands. What would happen if we lost control of the situation?

Nobody knew. That’s what made it so exhilarating!

The box-office for the 6:30 p.m. show opened at 6 p.m. By then the line stretched more than three-quarters of the way around the block. It took every bit of a half-hour to fill our 500-seat auditorium. No doubt, we turned away at least six or seven times that number.

The sense of anticipation in the air was electric as the house lights in the auditorium began to fade. Outside, on the sidewalk, hundreds of people stayed in line for the second show at 9 p.m.

As the prank unfolded in layers only about a third of the crowd stayed through both movies. Afterward, there were lots of folks who said it was the funniest thing that had ever happened in Richmond. Of course, a few hard-heads got peeved. But since admission had been free, as well as the beer and cake, well, there was only so much they could say.

The rush that came from living in the eye of that day’s storm was intense, to say the least. Gloating over the utter success of the gag, as the staff and assorted friends finished off the second keg, was as good as it gets in the prank business.

Meanwhile, thoroughly amused reporters were filing their stories on the hoax. The next day wire services and broadcast networks picked up the story. And, the Biograph Theatre returned to business as usual with an Andy Warhol double feature.

A few days later NPR’s All Things Considered went so far as to compare the Biograph’s prank to Orson Welles’ mammoth 1938 radio hoax. Which was fun to hear. Fortunately, I had the good sense to tell the interviewer that in comparison our stunt was "strictly small potatoes."

Later that same month the staff went back to work on “Matinee Madcap,” a 16mm film project in production. Trent Nicholas, then one of the theater’s ushers and later an assistant manager, shared the directing credit with me. The rest of the staff and several of the Biograph’s regulars appeared as players. The plot, calling for a good deal of slapstick chase-scene footage, conveniently set all the action in the movie theater.

Although post-prank life seemed to fall back into a familiar routine, big changes were on the horizon. With Watergate revelations in the air and the Vietnam War winding down, the interest in politics and social causes on American campuses began to evaporate. VCU was no different. In the spring of 1974 “streaking” replaced anti-war demonstrations as college students’ favorite expression of defiance.

Six months after the theater’s second anniversary splash, the same month that Richard Nixon resigned the presidency, the Biograph closed down for a month to be converted into a twin cinema. With construction workers toiling 24 hours a day that accomplishment remains a story of extremes, to itself. Some of them were gobbling up white crosses like they were Milk Duds.

Automating the change-overs from one 35mm projector to the other was essential to controlling costs. Among other things that meant Xenon lamps, high intensity bulbs that could be ignited by switches, had to replace our out-of-date, manually-operated carbon arc system.

On the day the exchange was made I got to see the same scene projected onto the screen with the two light sources. The light from the old system, which used two burning carbon rods, was whiter and gave the picture more depth and sparkle. The Xenon light was slightly yellow and had a flattening effect on the image.

Not long after that change David Levy split with his other partners. That left four of the original six Richmond Biograph owners still on board. Levy (who died in 2004) went on to distribute alternative films regionally, plus he bought and operated The Key on Wisconsin Ave. in Georgetown.

The manager’s job at the Biograph in Richmond became more complicated with two screens to fill. The whole repertory cinema mission was becoming more blurred with the passing of time. Following the accumulation of 1974's events, a year of many changes, much of what had appeared to be among life’s absolutes became steadily less clear for the dreamer who had started out believing he could change Richmond by screening great films.

As the edgy punk style began replacing the hippie culture that had ruled the Grace Street strip for the better part of a decade, none of us who were working at the Biograph Theatre had an inkling that the zenith of the repertory cinema era, nationally, was in the rear-view mirror.

In the spirit of a postscript, here's a personal note:

At the press conference in the Biograph’s lobby, I asked for the public to weigh in. Send me your opinions, I entreated my local news audience. I framed it with questions like: Are we right or wrong to fight the Temporary Restraining Order? Is this a freedom of speech issue, or not? Who should decide what movies you can see?

Eventually I got over 100 letters, cards, etc. Some were mailed to the theater, others dropped off. Most were supportive but not all. There were a few letters that were quite entertaining. So, I collected the best of them in an cardboard box (I don't remember what brand of candy came in the box), figuring they might be useful down the road.

Into the same box went clippings about the tumultuous run of “The Devil in Miss Jones” and the Biograph’s news-making days in court. Later on, several stories about the prank from various newspapers from out of town were tossed in.

Then, about a year after the hoopla, the prankster suddenly changed his mind. Caught up in a bad mood — caused in some part by a slipped disc that was dogging me at the time — I sat in my office festering over the idea that no matter how hard I ever worked to put over the greatest art films, most people in Richmond would simply ignore them.

After the twinning of the theater I couldn't watch the movies through a window in my office, anymore. That window was a much-missed advantage to the one-screen setup.

A year of prank-driven attaboys had suddenly added up -- I‘d had my fill of it. The annoying thought of being known mostly for my connection to a somewhat creepy, even pretentious, porno movie wasn't setting well with me.

At 26, perhaps I already suspected the Terry Rea of the future might develop an embarrassing tendency to wallow in nostalgia. Just like that, I decided to play a time trick on my future-self by deliberately throwing away those artifacts I’d surely want back … some day.

Perhaps the bitter need my precious Biograph had developed to show trashy movies, in order to be allowed to also show important movies, grossed me out a little extra on that particular winter’s afternoon. That monkey stayed on the theater's back for most of the years it was in operation.

Walking away from the dumpster and crossing the cobblestone alley behind the theater, I laughed at what I had just done; the moment is still vivid.

When I think back about what an effort it took just to keep the Biograph Theatre's doors open in those days, it seems like it was all a lot like an elaborate stunt … pranks for the memories.

– 30 –

articles

2005-06-30T12:22:00.000-04:00

In 2002, writing for Richmond.com Colleen Curran offered: "...Richmond's one and only repertory theater locked its doors for the last time back in 1987. It's never opened them again. No more midnight showings of 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' or 'Reefer Madness.' But this sucker's got spirit. On Sunday night, former staff members and fans of the Biograph are throwing a blowout birthday party for the 30-year-old theater, whether it's still taking tickets or not."

Click here to read the piece about the 30th anniversary party at Poe's Pub.

art

2005-06-30T12:00:00.001-04:00

"The Biograph" is a collage (5' x 4')
by F. T. Rea (1985)

Click on the image to enlarge it. Larry Rohr now owns this piece.