Capitol Theater

By Jay Rath. Reprinted from Isthmus by permission of the author.

When I was little, Madison buses were NASA silver-and-white and had big Pepsi bottlecaps on their fronts, like noses. They seemed to smile. One autumn Saturday I paid my 15 cents and took the Fair Oaks bus east on University Avenue, under the arches of glowing elm leaves, past the naked lady on the front of Vilas Hall, up State Street, to see my cousin Michael. He worked at the Capitol Theater, and was going to give me my very own tour of the 1928 movie palace. We walked past the yellowing statues and fountain in the lobby, through the still and cavernous auditorium to tour the backstage labyrinth and the dressing room with the bullet in its door -- a missed shot from a jealous vaudevillian's wife. Capitol Theater? There was no doubt in my mind that I was indeed in the capitol of the city, the state, the universe. The stuff that dreams are made of was made here. Buses no longer travel east on University Avenue. They don't smile at me, and pop bottles don't have metal caps; gone with the elms. But the Capitol Theater remains. In 1980, it was transformed into the Oscar Mayer Theater of the Madison Civic Center. Now we're going to lose that, too. The city is in the midst of transforming the Civic Center into an arts district with the help of Jerome Frautschi's $100 million gift and the input of his private Overture Foundation. When the arts-district plans were unveiled last summer, we learned that the Madison Children's Museum would take over the Oscar Mayer space, a museum inside the shell of a theater, retaining no one knows how much. After the plans are reviewed by the Landmarks Commission, the Civic Center Commission, the Community Development Authority, the Planning Commission, the Board of Estimates and the Common Council, ground will probably be broken for the arts district late next year. The selection of the arts district's architectural firm, Cesar Pelli and Associates, was announced Sept. 15. Karen Dummer, executive director of the Children's Museum, says it is too early for her to guess what form the new museum will take. She can't even say how many floors it will have. But patrons of the Civic Center's new season will find a note in their programs by Bob D'Angelo, director of the Civic Center and chair of the planning subcommittee of the Overture Foundation. The note promises that the Oscar Mayer Theatre's conversion to a museum will be accomplished "leaving most of the architectural features intact." That means leaving only the underside of the balcony and the ceiling -- maybe. "The ceiling is 90 percent of the architecture," D'Angelo responds when challenged. "Just look around. I mean, isn't it?" Well ... no. "If the architect can save it," he adds. "He might want a skylight." A worst-case scenario was suggested by Overture Foundation board member Terry Haller, who told WISC-TV, "We're starting with a clean slate. Anything is possible from here." The frustrating thing is, the destruction of all or part of the former Capitol Theater wasn't publicly debated. It wasn't even anticipated. At a press conference on June 29, the decision to abandon the Capitol Theater somehow seemed to have already been made -- by the Overture Foundation. Are we willing to let such a lovely and historic space be taken from us this easily?

Other cities have restored their vaudeville and movie palaces and made them into new showplaces. Chicago has 15 serving as movie theaters or performing arts centers. Five of the restored Chicago theaters were designed by the same firm that designed the Capitol Theater. What would Madison lose if we decide to forfeit our own cultural palace? The noted American actor Hal Holbrook, who has appeared many times in the Oscar Mayer, says, "It strikes me to the heart to hear that yet another wonderful theater is scheduled for elimination. The Oscar Mayer Theatre is an excellent house to play, a true theater." Another fan is Garrison Keillor, who has visited several times with public radio's "A Prairie Home Companion." "The people of Madison will always regret the destruction of this fabulous theater," he says. "Years from now, they will look at pictures of it and wonder how men could have been so short- sighted. The city ought to take a moment and think about this before you swing the hammer." Keillor's producer, Christine Tschida, adds, "I think it's horrible. I can't believe it." Benjamin Jaffe, manager of New Orleans' Preservation Hall Jazz Band, says, "The theater is truly memorable. It is a true American classic. I look forward to walking out on stage and admiring the uniqueness of the theater. Once a building like this is gone, it can never be replaced." Thomas DuBuque, vice president of the Theater Historical Society of America and manager of Milwaukee's historic Pabst Theater, says the former Capitol Theatre is unique. "I am not thrilled with the possibility of gutting it," DuBuque says. He's also concerned about the theater's restored Grand Barton organ. "There are not a whole lot of Bartons left, especially in their original installation," he notes. "It may never be heard properly again." And Katherine Rankin, the city's preservation planner, says, "In my opinion, the Capitol Theater ranks as one of the finest interiors we have left in Madison; that, along with the interior of the Orpheum and the [State] Capitol." But the Landmarks Commission can only protect the exteriors of city- recognized landmarks, and the tower of the former Capitol Theater -- all that remains of its exterior -- is not a landmark.

"A Temple of Happiness"

The Civic Center, and especially the Oscar Mayer Theatre, was a source of immense pride when it opened just 19 years ago. At the Civic Center's dedication in 1980, Joan Mondale, wife of Vice President Walter Mondale, said, "All of us in the Midwest have been hearing about the Madison Civic Center for many years." More than 6,000 attended the three days of festivities, including Gov. Lee Dreyfuss, former Mayor Paul Soglin and Mayor Joel Skornicka. More than 6,000 also attended the festivities when the Capitol Theater first opened on Jan. 21, 1928. Police had to cordon off State Street, and even after the first show had started, people were lined double around the corner of Henry Street. Gov. Fred Zimmerman announced from the stage, "Surely this wonderful theater rivals in beauty our great State Capitol, for which it was named. It may even come to rival it as a place of entertainment." The first show included renditions of "The Star Spangled Banner" and "On, Wisconsin," dance and comedians, speeches by dignitaries and a silent film. Those who didn't attend opening night could listen to the Wisconsin State Journal's live broadcast of the event over WHA radio. Local investors had begun construction of the Capitol Theater in 1926, then sold the theater to the Midwesco Theaters chain. The design was one of the last created by the prestigious Chicago theater architects C.W. and George Rapp; C.W. died shortly after the plans were completed. George went on to become the consulting architect for Radio City Music Hall. The Capitol was a "temple of happiness" in the Moorish style, with tile and marble imported from Spain, painted stencil work, molded plaster coves, recessed lighting and a 14-rank organ. The lobby was a flower garden with six murals. On the curved ceiling of the auditorium, gigantic figures of knights and "ladies of honor" were painted. There were five floors of dressing rooms and a special dressing room for animal acts. Backstage was a rehearsal hall and even a miniature theater, used by the musicians to preview silent films and set music cues. And in special men's and women's lounges, according to a State Journal headline, "All May Smoke." The theater's original capacity was 2,100. The seats were backed with two kinds of tapestry and covered with leather, and the Capital Times noted, "Ample room is provided between the rows so that patrons are not obliged to rise to allow others to pass by." That's not true today, of course; subsequent owners added seats and narrowed the width of the aisles. Even with seats later removed to provide wheelchair access, today's Oscar Mayer seats 2,200. Capping it all was the "surprise jewel tower," which when illuminated by "several thousands of lamps [could] be seen for several miles," according to the State Journal. One year into the Great Depression, the staggering final cost of the Capitol Theater was $1 million. And to pay for it: matinee admission was 25 cents for adults, 10 cents for children. Before his international fame, legendary jazz trumpetist Bunny Berigan played in the Capitol's own orchestra, the Playboys, which accompanied the theater's own dance team, the Rockets. In the auditorium, 16 ushers in uniforms and pillbox hats catered to patrons' needs. In 1956, the theater started through a revolving door of ownership when it was sold to the Marcus Theater Co. for an undisclosed sum. In 1958 Marcus sold it to the Stanley Warner Corp. for between $750 thousand and $1 million. During a $250,000 renovation the next year, the seats were replaced and the lobby was remodeled. But TV had become the reigning entertainment form. The Capitol began a long, slow slide that halted in the 1970s.

Fall of the Capitol

I hadn't known it at the time, but when my cousin Michael Reuter brought me in for a private tour, I was seeing the theater in its death throes. From late 1973 to the summer of 1974, when Michael worked there booking films, the Capitol was sighing its last, despite an inventive mix of short subjects, classic movies, Beatles film fests and performers such as B.B. King and Jerry Garcia. "There were some magic moments," Michael Reuter says today, "but overall you had this feeling of doom every time you walked into the place." The theater officially closed July 3, 1974, though its final performance was on March 6, 1976, when a reenactment of its 1928 opening was staged by the New Original Hyperion Foxtrot Orchestra. My dad and I were in the audience. I smuggled a tape recorder in to record the event. In 1977, the city began to transform the Capitol Theater building and its storefronts into a Civic Center. The $250,000 contribution by the Oscar Mayer Foundation brought the honor of a namesake theater. Just after the Capitol Theater was closed for construction of the Civic Center, citizens were invited downtown to "adopt" theater fixtures and keep them safe during the renovation. Sconce lights, Spanish tiles, statuary -- all sorts of theatrical bric-a-brac were taken home and cleaned by families, to be returned for the grand opening. Some pieces that would not be saved were auctioned for a few dollars. My family got a decorative plaster cornice. I got, for free, the ancient red sign from the box office, listing the hours in raised pasteboard numerals. I felt bad about removing it from public view, but I was also happy that the Capitol was going to be saved. The restoration of the Capitol Theater was performed by Hardy Holzman Pfeiffer Associates, arguably the country's premiere theater-restoration firm. Ed Neiss, then director of the Civic Center, proudly announced, "In the restoration of the old Capitol Theater and shops along State Street, we are part of a nationwide movement." And John Oros, chair of the Civic Center Commission, added, "I think the idea of restoring and recycling an old building is an exciting one, and I am honored to be a part of this project." Their feelings are echoed by film critic Roger Ebert. "Old theaters are irreplaceable," he says. "They could never be duplicated at today's costs--but more importantly, their spirit could not be duplicated, because they remind us of a day when going to the show was a more glorious and escapist experience. I think a town's old theaters are the sanctuary of its dreams."

The Sound of Trouble

Critics within the Overture Foundation point to the theater's uncomfortable seats and bad acoustics as the primary reasons to abandon it. Indeed, Civic Center directors from Ralph Sandler to D'Angelo have been aware of the theater's acoustical problems, particularly the muffled sound under the balcony.

But the acoustic issue isn't as cut-and-dried as it's been presented. Hal Holbrook says, "We have not found the acoustics to be a problem when I have played the house, so to criticize them seems questionable." Nor does Michael Reuter, the theater's last film booker, agree with the negative assessment of the theater's acoustics. He believes the problem comes when outside sound technicians come in and overamplify performances. Buzz Kemper agrees, and he's someone who ought to know. For 16 years he's been the engineer for the Wisconsin Chamber Orchestra and the Madison Symphony, which performs in the Oscar Mayer. He also worked as a sound engineer for the Chicago Symphony and was for three years the primary engineer for the Milwaukee Symphony. "It's a hall that's fairly loud," Kemper says, "in that you can stand and speak on stage unamplified, in a theatrical voice, and be heard in the 60th row of the balcony." In fact, he says, the theater is far superior to the UW's premier concert space, Mills Hall. It all depends on the performance, according to Kemper. Different programs will have different results, especially road-show companies whose personnel may not take the time or have the expertise or equipment to do a good job. Still, Kemper says that the Oscar Mayer's sound can be uneven, and for the Madison Symphony he provides subtle amplification under the center of the balcony. "When all is said and done, it is a decent hall," he says. "I think no matter how good a hall is there are always going to be some complaints about sound, and the hall is an absolutely innocent player. The fault may be the personnel, or something else." In fact, Kemper says that the new multi-purpose hall that the Overture Foundation is building to replace the Oscar Mayer Theatre may have the same problem as the Oscar Mayer. His preference: build a true concert hall and leave the Oscar Mayer intact for pop concerts and musical road shows. Hal Holbrook agrees that multi-use halls can have their problems. "To those of us in the profession, it is pathetic to see the amount of money that is wasted on poor theater design and especially on acoustical engineering, which too often produces a hybrid building that cannot fully serve either music or the spoken word," he says. Thomas DuBuque, vice president of the Theater Historical Society of America and manager of Milwaukee's Pabst Theater, says, "When you build a theater that's also a concert hall, you compromise like hell." Wouldn't it be ironic if we destroyed the Oscar Mayer Theatre because of its problematic acoustics, only to have more problematic acoustics in our shiny new hall?

Every time I see a show in the Oscar Mayer Theatre, I look up to the boxes, to the burgundy curtains with the gold sashes, to the big double-tulip Tiffany-style chandeliers, all white and lilac with crystals underneath. I like the medallions with coats of arms on each side of the orchestra section. I like the giant 3-D scrollwork that frames the projection booth. During the show, I like to look again, and see the light reflecting pale shadows off the two inset borders of the proscenium, and the stage light casting fairylight into the all of the alcoves. And I like to see others looking at it, too, and know that we are all a bit in awe. I don't know what kind of replacement hall Cesar Pelli will design for the new arts district. It will be very fine, I am sure. But it's hard to imagine that what we gain can make up for what we will have lost.