THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 14, 1996 TAG: 9607110531
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J3 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: GEORGE TUCKER<
LENGTH: 71 lines
The Colonial Theater on Tazewell Street in downtown Norfolk, the marquee of which once blazed with the names of the elite of the theatrical, musical and vaudeville world, has fallen on evil times.
Plywood boards plastered with peeling rock concert posters and chalked-up, latter-day angry political graffiti block its doorways to prevent vandals from entering the building to further accelerate its destruction. From a shattered upper window in its pigeon-begrimed facade, a dirty curtain flutters like the flag of a sinking ship. Even the marquee, with its massive cast iron lion-headed supports, has been stripped from the building.
To old timers like myself, this is deplorable. For the Colonial, the finest Tidewater Virginia theater in its heyday, is inextricably entwined in the memories of all Norfolk area theater and music lovers of a certain age.
An intimate and acoustically perfect house, the Colonial opened its doors for the first time as a legitimate theater in June 1907 with 32 consecutive performances of ``Pocahontas, the Virginia Nonpareil,'' a melodrama written by Norfolk poet and dramatist George F. Veitt to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the founding of Jamestown in 1607.
From then until World War I, when the better sort of moving pictures began to be shown there, the Colonial's management presented top rate varying theatrical, musical and vaudeville attractions. These ran the gamut from classical stars such as Sarah Bernhardt, Enrico Caruso, Fritz Kreisler and Jascha Heifetz to vaudeville acts featuring W.C. Fields, Al Jolson, Eddie Cantor, the Three Stooges and the inimitable Mae West, who regularly wowed audiences there with sexy songs long before she established her Diamond Lil image later on.
With the opening of the larger and more ornate Loew's State and Norva theaters on Granby Street in the 1920s, however, the fortunes of the Colonial took a downward turn. And before it finally closed its ticket kiosk in the early 1970s, it had been degraded to a vehicle for X-rated films.
Meanwhile, I had almost forgotten the thrills I had experienced as a youthful theatrical, musical and vaudeville fan from behind the Colonial's footlights until I recently discovered a copy of Mae West's autobiography ``Goodness Had Nothing To Do With It'' while looking for some light reading matter at Kirn Memorial Library. In it I came upon the following anecdote that took place in a Norfolk restaurant when Mae was a regular feature at the Colonial. Unfortunately, I never saw Mae perform there, but that is no reason to withhold the sprightly story.
At the time the incident took place, the singer who appeared with Miss West and was also her current lover was a man she discreetly designated as ``D.'' in her memoirs. Now for the anecdote.
``D. would hunt all over any town we played in to find the best food. There was a little restaurant in Norfolk we would go to after the theater. One afternoon after a matinee, dressed as we were at the theater, D. in a cutaway and me in a long black velvet dress, a small hat with a hunch of egrets and a big black fur coat with a belt around it, were seated at a table. Two men walked in, discussing the vaudeville show at the Colonial.
`` `How did you like the blonde?' asked one.
`` `Just a dressed up chippie, that West girl.'
``I heard them and I looked at D. `What are you going to do about it?' I asked D.
`` `What do you want me to do?' D. said, ready to do it.
`` `That's up to you,' I said.
``D. got up from the table and walked over to the men. `You have insulted my companion.' D. leaned over and led off with a clip right on the chin of the first offender. D. was very strong and he always hit first in a fight, and second and third if he could. The other diner picked up a dish of spaghetti and threw it at D. like a custard pie in a comedy. The spaghetti ran down the front of his dress shirt and hung over his hair like red seaweed.
``I began laughing. D. was no romantic sight. Chairs, dishes and even tables were being hurled about the room. The two men fled, leaving D. sprawled on the floor, tomato sauce on his face. I went over and put my arms around him.
``He said, `That is all I need. I have received my reward.' '' by CNB