The man behind the curtain watches, but doesn’t say anything. Probably the smartest one in the room.
In the corner of the foundry, this lunchroom was literally collapsing under one small leak in the roof. Tile by tile the water ate away the ceiling. Note the clock.
Pocket door and light switches in the upper control room, at the top of the spiral staircase.
A US Army Corps of Engineers tug, tied at the end of the pier before the American Victory was parked here.
It’s a straight view from the projection booth to the stage, but hell of a walk. At a fast pace, I think it would take 10 minutes to walk from this spot to the chair. Behind the curtains is a big white screen, so the theatre could be used for either stagework or moving pictures. The two projectors are set up for 3D movies right now–hence the little switch below the window–a Polaroid 3D synchronizer. Cool, huh?
Play on, Hunter. (Two keys worked on this thing.)
From the back of the house, looking at a lone chair on stage. From these seats it’s amazing to me that such a giant theater existed out of sight in the middle of downtown.
Seating in the former top balcony is now front row for a secondary stage above and behind the main house.
A common room with a big bay window that overlooked the main entrance of the hospital.