1. Glory days: a New Jersey movie palace finds new life deep within an Indianapolis home
- Author
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Gaughn, Michael
- Subjects
Collectors and collecting -- Buildings and facilities -- Beliefs, opinions and attitudes ,Audio-video systems -- Maintenance and repair -- Installation ,Recreation rooms -- Design and construction ,Antiques -- Maintenance and repair -- Installation ,Electronics ,Home and garden ,Music ,Technology installation instructions ,Maintenance and repair ,Design and construction ,Beliefs, opinions and attitudes ,Buildings and facilities ,Installation - Abstract
I knew going into this was that I'd be dealing with a guy who was nuts about restoring stuff. What I ended up with was a glimpse of probably the most unusual home theater that has ever graced these pages. Driving up to a recent-vintage brick home in an upscale Indianapolis development on a particularly gloomy January afternoon, I wasn't sure I had the right address--until I saw a pristine Victrola on display in a bay window to the side of the front door. That good-as-new phonograph--and, I would soon find out, a lot of other stuff--was the product of the passion and skills of the homeowner, Eric von Grimmenstein Ill. A man as unassuming as his name is imposing, Eric is part hobbyist, part conjurer, with a knack for laying hands on just about any damaged and discarded contraption and bringing it back to life. His house is sprinkled with the fruits of his restorative labors--including 5-foot-high music boxes made of beautifully finished hardwoods, fed by amazing-sounding metal discs the size of lumber-mill saws. But while it was hard not to be intrigued and charmed by the music boxes--and the phonographs and the hand-cranked movie cameras and the jukeboxes, and all of the other intricate mechanical devices from bygone days--they were all really just a warm-up to the main act: a did-it-himself movie palace that tested the limits of Eric's considerable skills. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] 'I knew I wanted to do a 1920s-theme dedicated home theater,' Eric says, 'so I spent the last 20 years hitting antiques shops and eBay, looking for architectural items. The problem is that things like that are usually way out of scale--the light fixtures are too big and so on--so you have to be careful what you're looking for.' While he had some luck finding isolated items, Eric was having a hard time gathering matching sets that would make his space look like a movie theater and not some kind of curio shop. 'Finding sets of doors or light fixtures or poster holders is very tough,' he says. 'But the owner of Architectural Artifacts in Chicago told me that a friend of his who owns Urban Artifacts in Philadelphia had a tremendous amount of items from the Mayfair Theatre of Asbury Park, New Jersey.' [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Built in 1926, the Mayfair was the opulent, exotica-filled flagship of the Walter Reade theater chain. But, like almost everything else in the once-thriving resort town of Asbury Park, the theater had fallen into disrepair by the 1960s; it was torn down in 1974. Fortunately for Eric, though, Urban Artifacts had enough elements from the Mayfair to give his theater the consistent look he wanted. The problem was getting everything from Philadelphia back to Indianapolis. 'It's a long drive,' Eric says, 'so I didn't want to make a second trip. I had a Suburban, but I don't know how I got six heavy 7-foot metal doors, two iron poster holders, two large ceiling lights, five small ceiling lights, and four sconces in there. They were thousands of pounds, and I couldn't begin to close the back doors, so I tied them shut and drove back to Indianapolis.' [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] While Eric was thrilled to have secured so many pieces from the Mayfair, they were in terrible shape. 'They were very rusty, like they'd been stored outside,' he says. 'Metal had to be replaced or refabricated, I had to bead-blast the rust off, the pits had to be filled with Bondo, and so on. You just don't realize how much time goes into restoration to do it right--especially when you're dealing with metal. Either you cut it out and replace it, or you've got to fill in the pitted areas. It just takes a lot of filling and sanding and prepping.' But reviving the near-dead is what Eric lives for, of course. 'It's like a frame-off restoration of a car: You go all the way down,' he says. 'And when you take something apart, it's nasty, it's greasy, it's dirty. You keep going down, down, down until you have it all in pieces, and then you start moving forward. You sandblast the first piece, you prime it, you paint it--and then you're finally starting to work with clean pieces.' [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Even after Eric had restored the elements from the Mayfair and other vintage movie houses to their former glory, he was still a long way from having someplace to put them. And just because you've assembled a great collection of antiques doesn't mean you know how to integrate them into a theater--as far too many well-meant but kitschy man caves show. Fortunately, Eric had the good sense to approach home theater designer extraordinaire (and S&V contributor)Theo Kalomirakis. Eric first met Theo during the 1999 CEDIA Expo in Indianapolis, at the home of Scott Jones, whose Theo-designed theater had just won CEDIA's 'Best Home Theater Electronic System Design Over $150,000' and 'Best Home Theater Architecture Design' awards. 'I went up and introduced myself, showed him some pictures of the theater I had thoughts of having him do, and he was very interested. I had no timeline, though--the house hadn't even been built yet--so he probably thought he'd never hear from me again. But I got back in touch with him in early 2006, and he flew out and saw the project and all the architectural items.' [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] The Mayfair was a challenge for Theo because, as Eric points out, 'it's much easier to design a theater from scratch than to try to design one around existing items. But Theo liked that I was looking for the most economical way to create the maximum look. He hates it when someone just wants to have a bigger, better theater than his neighbors--when they have an open checkbook but very little involvement with the project.' It didn't hurt that Eric and Theo share a love for movie palaces--or that Eric's desire to incorporate salvaged goods reminded Theo of his own first theaters. The other crucial collaborator was John Claeys, whom Eric affectionately calls The Artist. 'Ironically, John lives on the third floor of the Fountain Square Theater in Fountain Square, Indiana,' Eric says. 'In exchange for rent, he was working on restoring the theater. I found him one day painting a poster holder, got to know him, and told him I wanted to have him involved with painting my theater.' Eric needed somebody whose ability with paint and brush matched his own with the tools of the restoration trade. 'John's taste in colors, mixing, marbleizing, and faux finishing is incredible. All the architectural items were restored by me up to being primed, and then I turned them over to The Artist for the final painting and antiquing.' Eric modestly claims that the new Mayfair 'wouldn't have been possible without Theo and John Claeys. They made this theater.' Eric initially envisioned a layout where you would walk straight from the concession area into the lobby and then into the theater. But Theo came up with a much more involved, and involving, floor plan in the form of a giant U. 'Which is deceiving,' Eric says. 'It makes the space seem much bigger than it is because you're moving from room to room.' From the first floor of the house, a set of limestone steps descends to the box office, which uses a fiber-optic ceiling, limestone walls, a large poster holder, and an antique-style marquee to create the illusion of being outside. 'I had a hard time finding a ticket booth that was the right size and scale,' Eric says, 'so I ended up buying some bankteller fronts that I thought would, after some slicing and dicing, make a pretty neat booth.' The doors to either side of the booth are from Architectural Artifacts. 'Unfortunately, we had to chop 18 inches off [from their height] to get them in scale to fit that area.' Eric wanted to have a mannequin in the ticket booth, but his wife, Susan, was dead-set against it. 'She has a phobia about clowns and mannequins, so she told me, 'If you put a mannequin in there, I get a German shepherd.' I'm not ready for another dog yet.' [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] From the box office, you enter the concession area, which features a display case with candy, an antique cash register, and a 1940s Manley popcorn machine--all of it restored by Eric. The popcorn machine isn't from the same era as the rest of the theater's fixtures, but Eric found ways to integrate it into the overall scheme. 'It's Art Deco,' he says, 'but the pendant lights over the display case and the cash register both have a bright nickel finish, which ties in with the chrome elements in the machine, pulling it into the color scheme. Only a purist would know that it's out of scale or out of date.' The concession area also features a massive wall fixture with two large poster holders to either side of a mirror, four large horsehair-plaster ceiling coffers from a Chicago mansion, antique exit signs, and an intriguing ship's-wheel ticket grinder. 'They would shred your ticket in it so you couldn't reuse it,' Eric explains. From the concession area, you turn right to enter the lobby, an elaborate eight-sided space incorporating most of the elements recovered from the Mayfair. 'It has two iron three-sheet poster holders on the main side walls, four very ornate sconces, and a single large ceiling fixture--all from the Mayfair,' says Eric. 'The four cigarette urns came from the Murat Theatre in Indianapolis.' As beautiful as they are, the light fixtures caused a bit of a controversy--especially the chandelier. 'The Mayfair had a Spanish Moorish theme, so it had pretty wild-looking fixtures,' Eric says. 'When Theo first saw them, he thought they were hideous because they had multicolored, round glass jewels in them. He said it looked like a carnival. But I replaced all the glass jewels with amber-colored ones, which toned the fixtures way down.' As you walk through the lobby, it's natural to assume that the large double doors at the end (also from the Mayfair) lead into the theater. But they instead lead into (of all places) the restroom. 'I wanted an older-looking style,' Eric says, 'and to me that means a pedestal sink and lots of Carrera marble.' The most unusual thing in the room is the pair of two-way mirrors above the sink and the toilet, which have 19-inch Sharp LCD TVs behind them so guests don't have to miss any of the movie. Eric had to be careful to integrate the restored elements so that his Mayfair would feel like a 1920s movie theater and not like a museum. 'The sad thing is that I wasn't able to use some items,' he says, 'including a Powers carbon-arc movie projector and a restored oak-cabinet movie camera.' By this point, you've navigated the giant U and are about to enter the theater proper. But that gratification is deferred a moment longer by a small gallery space located to the immediate right of the lobby. The gallery, which is made up of a series of steps running along the left side of the theater (as you face the screen), was the product of necessity. The theater began as a 20 x 30-foot space, but by the time the stage was added, its dimensions had become closer to 20 x 20--which, as Eric points out, 'isn't good acoustically.' So Theo suggested adding the gallery, which not only changed the theater back into a sonically friendlier rectangle but also gives people a way to discreetly get to and from their seats during a movie. 'That's something I never would have thought of,' Eric says. Something he did think of was adding mirrors to the front of the equipment room at the end of the gallery. 'The door was a distraction,' he says. 'Putting mirrors on and above it creates the illusion of doubling the length of the gallery. So, by solving that problem, we actually enhanced the look of the area.' Turning to the right when you first enter the gallery takes you into the bar area in the back of the theater. 'It's the most useful area in there,' Eric says, 'because you're sitting up on bar stools, and you can have food and drink and not have to worry about spills, but yet you still have a great view of the screen.' The main theater area is filled with two rows of six large seats from Fortress Seating. 'I went with a very traditional style in order to have the 1920s look,' Eric says. 'There are seats that are more comfortable, but it was more important to have the right look instead of going with some of the real plush leathery seats that are out there.' All the anticipation created by the progression from box office to concession area to lobby would build to a tremendous letdown if the theater itself wasn't stunning. But the lush yet cozy burgundy-and-gold room delivers, successfully evoking the great movie palaces within a fairly modest space. For all its flash, the color scheme is actually toned down a bit from Eric's original plan. 'I assumed it would be filled with bright 24-karat-looking gold,' he says. 'But Theo was like, 'No, no, no. You don't want it looking like it's dripping in gold. You want it subdued.' So everything has been antiqued to create the impression of an old-time theater in perfect condition.' Theo had a big impact on all of the color choices. 'For the seats and the carpet, we went with solid burgundy,' Eric says. 'And that's another Theo trademark I wouldn't have thought of. He says to go plain with your carpet and theater seats, and to put all the colors into the walls, the ceiling, and the proscenium area, because elaborate patterns in the carpet and seats pull your eyes away from what you should be looking at, which is the walls and ceiling.' Getting the look of the Mayfair's many rooms right meant that Eric, Theo, and John Claeys had to be in perfect sync. 'Theo has seen wonderful theaters ruined by how people have painted them,' Eric says. 'So he, The Artist, my wife, and I got out a paint deck, started looking through the palette, and picked two color schemes. Then we went room by room and used a pencil to mark every wall and piece of trim. Theo labeled each color 1 through 5, with 1 being the darkest and 5 the lightest, beginning with the baseboard, which is usually darkest. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] 'I questioned Theo's colors in the beginning, but he said, 'Just trust me. I've been through this a million times.' And he was deadon with all his picks.' The installation work was deftly handled by Jim Swearingen of Indianapolis-based Counterpoint Design (counterpointav .com), who had worked with Theo on Scott Jones's award-winning home theater. And while the gear is seamlessly integrated, choosing and installing it presented its own set of challenges--especially the screen and the speakers. 'There was a big controversy over the screen,' Eric says. 'The problem is, going with a 2.35:1 model would have left a 9-foot-high area above the screen. You would end up with a 4- or 5-foot-tall screen that looks like a Band-Aid across the stage, with all this dead space above and below. I opted for a 16:9 screen that fills the proscenium and then masks horizontally to create 2.35.' The front left/right speakers were supposed to go into angled columns on either side of the screen, but there wasn't enough room there for models that could fill the theater with sound. So Eric and Jim decided to put the speakers behind the perforated 132-inch Stewart Filmscreen FireHawk screen. The problem was, there still wasn't enough room. 'The design only left 14 inches behind the screen,' Jim says. 'As it turned out, Klipsch had a speaker in its professional cinema line [the KPT-325] that was 12 inches deep and yet could give us the volume of sound we needed to fill the space.' (And it didn't hurt that the company calls Indianapolis home.) The four Klipsch KS-7800-THX and two KL-7800-THX surround speakers are placed in columns throughout the theater, while the four 12-inch Klipsch KW-120-THX subwoofers are located on either side of the screen. Positioning the subs created yet another, and more elaborate, problem. 'They were supposed to go underneath the screen,' Jim says, 'but as the design evolved, we had to lower the screen to be in the correct line of sight for the seating. So that meant we had to stack the subs in the corners, to the sides of the screen. But that meant there wasn't enough room for the curtains to gather at the sides. So Eric did some pretty intense research and wound up with an overhead curtain, which actually works quite well.' 'Fortunately, we had enough room above the proscenium for an Austrian-type curtain, which is a very early style, from Florida Rod and Drapery in Orlando,' Eric says. 'That worked out perfect. Plus, people like the effect of the rising curtain.' Eric's ingenuity extended well beyond his restoration skills. When he found out that the access door to the projector vault wasn't big enough for the Runco VX-22d projector, he came up with a solution that impressed even his installer. 'Eric devised a rope-and-pulley system, and a series of boards were moved into place,' Jim explains. 'It required four people, each carefully coordinated--two on a ladder, two on a rope--to get that projector up into place. It sounds like a terrible way to mount a projector, but it actually was well engineered and worked extremely well.' Having a movie palace in the basement would be more than enough for most of us, but the tireless Eric has filled his underground domain with all kinds of elaborate spaces, including a racquetball court, an antique billiards room, and an English pub with a mural of the Thames glimpsed through rippled-glass windows. As Eric and his wife show me around the labyrinthine basement, we go through the garage, where I spot an Amphicar--a car/boat hybrid from the mid-'60s. Of course, this was one of Eric's projects, too. 'I bought it when our kids were small, did a ground-up restoration, and we still use it,' he says. I said Eric was tireless, but we all have our limits, and creating an indoor theme park that would put the Disney Imagineers to shame would tax anyone's abilities. Eric says his next project will be a castle-themed family room. 'It will probably have limestone walls, coffered ceilings, stone floors, and a limestone fireplace with a mantel from floor to ceiling. Then I'm going to do the hallway connecting all those areas with cobbled streets and street lamps, to make it seem like you're outside.' [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] When I ask him when he's going to work on all that, he finally concedes that he's only human. 'I don't know. The theater wore me out.' Photos by Michael Weschler
- Published
- 2009