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The city's first air-conditioned building, the Florida Theatre, was an architectural jewel that hosted Elvis, Sally Rand, vaudeville and films.
By SCOTT TAYLOR HARTZELL
© St. Petersburg Times, published June 19, 2002
ST. PETERSBURG -- When the wrecking ball came in 1968, the Florida Theatre fought back.
"It was so solid the wrecker lost many attempts to remove it, because (the theater) was so well built and in such fine condition," a city report reads.
Progress had declared war on the Florida, the city's first air-conditioned building and once the state's largest theater. The Florida had befriended patrons for 41 years, offering vaudeville, films and concerts.
In 1926, Ashford Greeley saw the Florida come alive at First Avenue S and Fifth Street. "I watched every brick go up," said the stage manager, who served the theater until its end.
Greeley loved the art that graced the $1-million structure. He traveled the sweeping staircases that led to five balconies. He treasured the Occidental architecture and ornate ceilings.
There were grand mirrors that reflected the majesty, enhanced by nearly 2,000 light bulbs. Oil paintings of Spanish galleons and ominous nobleman decorated the walls. Tapestry and armor accented the scene.
"The most ornate theater south of Atlanta" had "gilt rococo chairs, red velvet-covered benches and lamps of wrought iron," journalist Betty Jean Miller wrote in 1992.
On Sept. 10, 1926, a line formed nearly five hours before the Florida's 7:45 p.m. grand opening. By show time, a capacity crowd of 2,500 filled the theater. Boys profited by standing in line for impatient men. It was the largest crowd to witness a local theatrical performance.
Patrons shivered in the air conditioning as the St. Petersburg Orange Band played. After the national anthem, Sen. William Hodges dedicated the cinema. Mayor R.S. Pearce accepted.
Dancers frolicked to organ music before the feature film, Tin Gods. "A comedy closed the program, and the crowd left the theater feeling that it had had a part in a notable event," the press wrote.
A screen 20 feet wide and 11 feet high brought Hollywood home. A movable orchestra pit and a three-story pipe organ were active during plays.
"Sitting in the theater, awash in blue lights, was like being in a Spanish castle," said John Schuh, 54. "It was a dark cave with the smell of popcorn permeating the air."
Said John Ormsby, 54: "It looked like an old opera theater."
During the Depression, when tickets were about 30 cents, Bank Nights ruled. A winning number was pulled from a huge barrel on Friday nights. The biggest pot ever was $1,050, before reformers and better economic times ended the tradition about 1938.
Atop the Florida's roof, guests danced to the beat of Rex MacDonald's Silver Kings at the Pigeon Roost, but elevators and rain ultimately defused the romantic garden atmosphere.
"You couldn't get people to ride an elevator in those days," the Independent wrote.
Through the years, stars such as Elvis Presley and George Jessel shined on stage. Dancer Sally Rand opened many eyes, especially when a boy used a BB gun to try to pop bubbles that covered the exotic star.
The Florida presented its last live production in 1957, South Pacific. Ten years later, on a screen double its original size, Clint Eastwood's For a Few Dollars More was the final film.
"A tombstone flashed upon the screen," journalist Dick Bothwell wrote. "RIP Florida. 1926-1967."
On Oct. 1, 1967, First National Bank purchased the Florida for $225,000. About 135 of the cinema's effects were sold at a sweltering auction attended by 400 people. "(Auctioneer P. Frank) Stuart started his rhythmic chant: $5. Do I hear $5?" the Times wrote. "With each sale, a bit of the city's history fell away."
During the Florida's destruction in 1968, two workers were nearly killed when an 80-foot crane crashed to the ground. "Downtown St. Petersburg has been the scene of a symbolic battle -- the Florida Theatre vs. the great metal fist of the Cuyohaga Wrecking Co.," the Times wrote.
Ted White bemoaned the devastation in Marquee magazine: "The loss of the Florida was a terrible waste. The Florida had great potential to become a true center for civic functions. Had there been adequate community action and even a minimum sense of basic responsibility, it would be standing today."
-- Scott Taylor Hartzell can be reached at hartzel@msn.com.