The Regent Theatre, 1920–49 — A Peterborough Movie-Going History

A parade marches by the Regent Theatre on Sunday afternoon, June 8, 1941. It was part of a mammoth Victory Loan Rally held in Riverside Park that day. The film showing at the Regent (but not on Sunday) was The Long Voyage Home (released December 1940), with John Wayne and Thomas Mitchell. Folk singer/songwriter Phil Ochs was apparently so moved by this movie that he composed his song “Pleasures of the Harbor” after seeing it. This image is a frame from “Military Parade in Peterborough,” part of the Milner Collection of Home Movies, Trent Valley Archives (TVA).

“Many patrons remark on the surprising coolness of our house these warm days. It was built with that end in mind.” Regent ad, Examiner, June 14, 1920.

The southeast corner of George and Hunter before the Regent took up its home. The old site of the Morning Times — with its “Printing & Bookbinding” sign — was just along the street, to the left. It appears as though there is a cover of some sort… — The southeast corner of George and Hunter before the Regent took up its home. The old site of the Morning Times — with its “Printing & Bookbinding” sign — was just along the street, to the left. It appears as though there is a cover of some sort over the laneway between the Bank of Toronto and the Times building. Peterborough Museum and Archives (PMA), 2000-012-014519-2.

Very soon after the closing of the Strand, moviegoers could find the recently promised new and up-to-date movie house – to be known as the Regent Theatre – just around the corner at 139 Hunter Street West.

The site, formerly occupied by the old Morning Times and owned by the Schneider Estate, was on the south side of Hunter just east of George.

Examiner, June 4, 1920, p.13. — *Examiner*, June 4, 1920, p.13.

Theatre ownership would be in the hands of a joint concern, the Schneider-Rishor Ltd. Although the Schneider brothers, George and Frank, tended to be cited as the Regent’s owners – George was usually listed either as the proprietor or secretary-treasurer – they had at some point joined forces with Charles Rishor, who had a wholesale grocery business and later became a broker of mining stock.

Rishor had known the brothers for decades and was a close friend. Rishor and George Schneider lived at the same address, 168 London Street, for almost twenty years; Frank Schneider lived next door at 170 London. In the 1940s Rishor’s son, Noel, who also lived at 168 London, became a jeweller at the Schneider Brothers store and later, in the 1940s, the manager of its successor, Schneider-Alexander Ltd., “jewellers, opticians, engravers,” still at the same George Street address of 367 George after all those years.

The Regent well into its years, in 1947, and looking rather the worse for wear, though it had certainly seen its better days. This is from a series of insurance photos taken by the Parks Studio for the Ontario government. Archives of Ontario (AO), R… — The Regent well into its years, in 1947, and looking rather the worse for wear, though it had certainly seen its better days. This is from a series of insurance photos taken by the Parks Studio for the Ontario government. The double feature of *Mr. Ace* (released August 1946) and *When a Girl’s Beautiful* (September 1947) opened at the Regent on Monday, March 10, 1947, which would appear to be when this photo was snapped (Foto Nights were on Monday evening). (*Mr. Ace* made a return visit to the Regent in March 1949.) Archives of Ontario (AO), RG56-11-0-205-7.

The building that now housed a new theatre had a shoe store in its west side, at no.141; the east side, once the site of the “Old Times” printing company and its daily newspaper, had been vacant for the past couple of years. To transform the building the brothers brought in the team of architects from Toronto – Bond and Smith – who had designed the Barrie’s furriers building (now a Boutique hotel) on George south of Charlotte. The shoe store remained in place; the upper portion of the building would have four apartments constructed out of what was once the Bodega Hotel.

The theatre was to be modelled “exactly on the lines” of the Colonial Theatre in Toronto, with a wide balcony and seats sloping towards the stage.

The entrance was on the east side of the building’s front. Once inside the patrons bought their tickets at a small booth off to the right before making their way down a lengthy lobby corridor to find their seats. The theatre itself was positioned at the rear of the building, across its full width, with seating on both a ground floor and a small balcony. It was said to be a “small and compact” place with “somewhat of a plain appearance.” A report on the opening noted:

“The interior is lofty, spacious and admirably ventilated, and the view of the screen is clear and unobstructed, no matter where one sits, upstairs or down.

*Examiner*, June 10, 1920, p.9. At the new Regent, you seemingly couldn’t go wrong with a program packed with stars: Theda Bara, Hoot Gibson, and Harold Lloyd.

“The walls and ceiling are in white rough finish, and illumination is furnished by the indirect lighting method, reflected from handsome hammered capper domes. . . . At no time is the theatre in absolute darkness, for while the pictures are showing a dim light is maintained, sufficient to allow one’s vision to take in any part of the house. The air is cooled by ten electric fans, and two fire escapes are conveniently situated upstairs, while down stairs four exits are available in case of need.”

Along with its white screen on a green background, comfortable seats (500 downstairs and about 70 in the gallery), and its wider than usual aisles, the Regent had, as its “outstanding feature,” the spacious lobby and entrance — which implies that this element had been missing in the local theatres until then. The design, including the long corridor to the auditorium itself, was said to be “in keeping with the construction of all modern up-to-the-hour theatres.”

The lobby as it appeared in 1947, looking towards the front doors. The ticket-selling booth is by the doors, to the left. Unfortunately the “gilded branchless tree” and fountain appear to have departed by that time. After minor renovations in 1923, a writer noted, “Dainty is the word that best describes the lobby and the little homelike theatre itself.” Peterborough’s Gerry Armstrong remembers both sides of the hallway being lined with posters. AO, RG56-11-0-205-6.

In 1923 steps were taken to make the theatre not quite so “plain” as it was described at its opening. The lobby was “papered anew in the panel tapestry effect,” with blue squares complete with “purple birds and flowers framed deeply in clear grey.” Some of the panels had “long pointed baskets” affixed to them, “gilt-covered, holding bright orange artificial blooms.” Off in one corner of the lobby was “an odd creation” – a “gilded, branchless tree . . . bearing milkweed pods that have been painted in dull blues, and flanked by an electric light, shaded with an orange pagoda lamp fringed with beads.”

In the centre of this small lobby, not far from the ticket booth, was a fountain with a “miniature spray and triple bowl in which float tiny swans and little green frogs, based in a moss basket with training vines about its sides.” Other “lobby adornments” included “tall palms and ferns” strategically placed in wicker baskets and “several comfortable wicker chairs.”

All in all, it appears to have been a somewhat garish, but certainly welcoming, spot. Once moviegoers made their way inside the theatre proper, they found more decorative white lattice work here and there, including at the top and sides of the screen – and “rose-shaded lamps . . . placed at regular intervals along the walls.” The “whole balcony” was similarly “energized.”

If the relatively small spaces of this theatre seem to have been over-decorated, that was in keeping with the lavish “movie palace” conventions of the time, which attempted to entice theatregoers by offering something a good deal better than they would ever find at home – a place with “an inspiring and beautiful interior,” as the innovator Samuel L. Rothafel (“Roxy”) described it in 1925, “one which, on being entered, immediately fills patrons with interest and expectation.”

*****

The Regent Theatre opened “to a large business” on Thursday, June 3, 1920 – only two days after the Strand closed – with first-night tickets at 25 cents, promising that its “popular prices will obtain now and always.” Its policy: “The best is none too good.”

Examiner, June 14, 1920, p.9. Patrons “remark on the surprising coolness” of the theatre on warm days; and ladies tired of shopping find the matinees a “pleasant recreation.”

The emphasis at first, and for some time after, appeared to be on Fox films. The feature presentation opening day at “Peterborough’s Newest Show House” was a comedy-drama, Cowardice Court (U.S., Fox Film Corp., released almost a year earlier, on June 15, 1919), starring Peggy Hyland.

Prices were low, at 11 and 16 cents in the afternoon; and in the evening 16 and 22 cents on its ground floor. The balcony seats were the most expensive, at 27 cents. Its manager, William Arthur Head, had recently, and temporarily, gone back to being a blacksmith after leaving his job running the Empire Theatre.

The Regent, like the other theatres of the time, was filled with the mood-making delights of live music. There were reports of it having both a piano and an organ at one point. To begin, it had pianist Vernon Willard. Later on it had Paul Gliddon presiding at the piano and Ted McCarthy playing the drums. By 1924 it featured Ken Blood’s eight-piece orchestra – or “Musical Artistes.” The theatre also had Ethel M. Walton as its pianist for a while, and in 1927 it called in the services of the popular Mose Yokom (“pianist of Chemong Park Orchestra”). Sometimes it advertised “the Regent Orchestra in snappy music.” In 1928 it featured the “Regent 7-Piece Orchestra.”

Examiner, Oct. 31, 1923, p.11. “Eight centuries brushed aside by camera lens.” — *Examiner*, Oct. 31, 1923, p.11. “Eight centuries brushed aside by camera lens.”

Over the years the theatre employed, among others, Ambrose Pooley as a caretaker/janitor; Irene Dyer, Lulu Jinks, and Osborne Johnson worked as cashiers; and Alfred W. Pooley and Ronald B. Mowry as ushers. Projectionists included Emile Baumer, Philip T. Gallagher, and Frank Grainger.

Perhaps Head was a better blacksmith than manager, because within a year or two he had returned to that trade, though not for long (it was a fading profession); in 1925–26 he was a doorman at the Capitol Theatre; and after that he held a number of different jobs over the years until his death around 1944–45.

Within a few years the Regent was advertising itself as the “cozy little theatre just around the corner” and showing the likes of Douglas Fairbanks in Robin Hood (1923), episodes of the Our Gang comedies, and the most famous dog of the decade, Rin Tin Tin – the character that supposedly helped the Warners studio to pay for its prestige features through the decade. From the great silent drama Sunrise (1927) to some of the “greatest romance thrill pictures ever shown,” it was the place to go. (See also “The 1920s: Entering the Corporate Age.”)

1925 Nov 24 p1 Regent banner hockey Dick Lush (2).JPG

As a community service — and draw — scores had been shouted out at theatres since at least 1912, when a banner ad announcing the appearance of the Belmont Minstrels at the Grand Opera House also stressed: “Hockey Returns Will Be Announced.”

Among the theatres the Regent was not alone in giving out hockey scores, but in this hockey town it was definitely the place to go for them.

In February 1926 Peterborough’s Austin Nixon wrote in a letter: “Oh boy, I was up at the Regent Thurs night with Monty of course to hear the results of the Parkdale vs Petes Hockey game.” A few months later he commented, “Looks as if Peterboro is going to win the Senior O H A. The final game is Tues night in London & the big feature of the week is trying to get in the Regent Tues. night.” In other words, with hockey scores being announced, the theatre was being packed to the doors. “At 6:30 Friday night,” Nixon wrote, “there was a line up right to George St. from the Regent & crowd broke the glass doors [illegible] when they opened the doors. They had four Cops there. Patsy O’Keefe & I were there at 6:25 & got a seat & we’re going up at 6 to-morrow night so we hope to get in.”

In 1931, when the report of the federal government’s White Commission investigation into motion picture distribution and exhibition came out, the Regent ownership was still attributed to the Schneider-Rishor Limited.

Examiner, March 4, 1922, p.5. The Paramount connection. — *Examiner*, March 4, 1922, p.5. The Paramount connection.

Yet although the theatre’s identification stealthily sailed under the “independent” banner of the Schneiders and Rishors, early on the owners fashioned an association with the Famous Players Corporation and Paramount. The theatre, for understandable reasons (it had to ensure itself of getting the best film bookings possible, for instance) was not quite as independent as it might have seemed.

Earlier — when it reopened on August 27, 1923, after being closed for the renovations almost all of the summer — the Regent was announced as being under new management, but it went unnamed. In 1925—26, when Glover, Hall, and Hayes, owners of the Grand Opera House, made a fixed arrangement with Famous Players and Paramount Peterborough, placing the theatre under the virtual control of that corporation, Schneider-Rishor Ltd. was part of the deal, protecting its own exhibition interests.

Examiner, April 27, 1945, p.5. Gordon Miller was a mainstay of the local movie theatre scene for decades. — *Examiner*, April 27, 1945, p.5. Gordon Miller was a mainstay of the local movie theatre scene for decades, but also had exhibition connections further abroad.

In the early 1930s the theatre remained officially under the management of George F. Schneider (as its secretary-treasurer; his brother Frank died in January 1931). Another constant in management was a man named Gordon Miller.

Miller had been helping to run things for years. He was a “local boy” – one of the last of a dying breed when it came to managing a city theatre. Born May 26, 1885, he grew up in Peterborough, entering the workforce around the age of sixteen and getting a job as a clerk at the Schneider Brothers’ jewellery store – a lucky break, perhaps, because he would be connected with that enterprise for the next fifty years, in more ways than one. He became a watchmaker, left town for a while, and later returned to Peterborough and the Schneider Brothers shop – which duly led to his involvement in their Regent Theatre by 1921.

By 1923 Miller was co-manager of the theatre with William A. Davern (also a watchmaker at the Schneiders’ shop). He continued looking after the business for the following two and a half decades. Even when Miller was cited as the manager of the Regent (in 1935, for instance), he maintained his position with the Schneiders’ business as well. Miller was highly active in the community — helping to raise funds, for instance, for both Depression relief in the 1930s and war causes in the early 1940s. He was a long-time member of the Kiwanis Club (serving a term as president). He continued as manager of the Regent until it was closed — by 1948 he was acknowledged as “proprietor” — and then moved over to the Paramount. But throughout this period he was also involved in an associated group of “independent” exhibitors outside the city.

Examiner, Sept. 24, 1928, p.9. Later in the 1920s the Regent’s ads became larger and a little more spectacular. Here the Regent Orchestra was not improvising but playing a musical score “as played in all the leading theatres.” — *Examiner*, Sept. 24, 1928, p.9. Later in the 1920s the Regent’s ads became larger and a little more spectacular. Here the Regent Orchestra was not improvising but playing a musical score “as played in all the leading theatres.”

In 1927 the theatre once again underwent thorough renovations. In the spring new seats had been installed for the entire ground floor. By September, according to the paper at least, the theatre had been “transformed into one of the more attractive playhouses in town” (by that time there were only three, including the Grand Opera House, which was on its last legs). Thomas C. Ephgrave, contractor, was in charge of the changes. The theatre’s caretaker/janitor, Ambrose Pooley, exhibited a practical and artistic bent, using his own stencils and design to change the house’s colour scheme. The walls and fixtures were now a “warm grey,” which the famous theatrical man Ambrose Small had apparently considered “the only tint for theatre interiors.” That colour, however, was “enlivened by the glowing tints of gold and wine color.” The all-important movie screen was outlined by a frame of black and gold, and above that appeared “floral scrolls in the same colors, with monogrammed centres.” The side exits were topped with “lighted rose-colored lattices . . . with rose-shaded lights against the wall.” The rear of the theatre auditorium had “deep wine-colored velvet curtains.”

Examiner, Nov. 8, 1930, p.13. The Regent receives a bronze “plaque of honor” from the U.S.-based Exhibitors Herald-World, credited at least partly to its “efficient house staff.” — *Examiner*, Nov. 8, 1930, p.13. The Regent receives a bronze “plaque of honor” from the U.S.-based Exhibitors Herald-World, credited at least partly to its “efficient house staff.”

The theatre, I guess, was making ready for the 1930s. Extra space had been added in the balcony, bringing the total number of seats to 595. Downstairs the ticket-selling wicket was moved “to an inconspicuous niche near the door.” The ladies rest room, “fitted up in the daintiest manner,” was “well worth a visit to discover what artistic taste may do with such a small interior.”

As the “talkies” arrived on the scene in 1929, the Regent was quick to follow the Capitol in making changes to bring in sound and ensure its survival in a new era.

In the 1930s a more distinct shift in ownership occurred. At some point Schneider and the Rishors sold the theatre to Oscar Hanson, general manager of Associated Theatres Ltd., comprising a large group of independent exhibitors in Ontario, with an offshoot, Allied Theatres of Ontario (an Ontario-only part of Associated). Hanson would later preside over a chain of theatres under the umbrella of the Hanson Theatre Corporation – with direct ties, as it turned out, to the Famous Players Canadian corporation. It appears that Miller played a large role in this transition. As early as 1932 Miller had joined the board of directors of Allied Theatres of Ontario and the Associated Theatres group. He was prominent enough to attend the second annual convention of Hanson Theatres Corp in 1939. Between 1932 and 1942, then, Miller and the Regent were tightly connected to the outside forces of Allied, Associated, Hanson, and Famous Players.

In summer 1937 the Regent was “modernized” – and when it reopened after the alterations it was said to have “virtually provided for a new theatre for Peterborough” – with a “delightful harmony of color” and air-cushioned seats. It now had beautiful wall and ceiling light fixtures, and deep red-coloured carpets of a cubist pattern, matching the seats. The lobby had a lighter cream design with a pastel shade of green. Outside was a new sidewalk canopy and entrance lights. There were new lenses in its projectors, and a completely renovated and refurnished ladies’ rest room.

“When the house is darkened, the main lights dissolve into a dark green, and the tubular wall fixtures are also subdued, affording sufficient illumination for necessary movement, but in no way interfering with the screen.”

It reopened to capacity crowds on the September holiday afternoon and evening.

The shift of ownership became particularly noticeable when the Regent introduced its Foto Nites in August 1939 – with Dick Main of Hanson Theatres acting as master of ceremonies. By around that point, too, Miller was seen attending a convention of the Hanson Theatres Corp. as the Regent manager.

Boxoffice, Dec. 26, 1939, p.126. Miller among the managers and excutives of the Hanson Theatres, sitting towards the right front with his hand on his cheek. Also in the photo are Dick Main (supervisor of theatres), who was at the Regent’s first foto… — *Boxoffice*, Dec. 26, 1939, p.126. Miller among the managers and excutives of the Hanson Theatres, sitting towards the right front with his hand on his cheek. Also in the photo are Dick Main (supervisor of theatres), who was at the Regent’s first foto-nite; and, of course, president Oscar R. Hanson. Gordon Beavis (standing, second from left) was once the assistant manager of the Capitol Theatre in Peterborough.

April 17, 1942, np, Motion Picture Daily. Miller of the Regent on the list of associated “across the border” of Paramount and Famous Players. — April 17, 1942, np, *Motion Picture Daily*. Miller of the Regent is on the list of associated “across the border” associates of Paramount and Famous Players.

Also notable: In March 1942 the Regent installed a new “silver sheet screen” – touted as “An amazing change,” with the screen being “the most up to date type available . . . the same kind as was just installed in the Imperial Theatre at Toronto, the largest theatre in all Canada.”

By 1944 the theatre was officially under the umbrella of Famous Players Canadian. In some fourteen months – up to May 1944 – FPC acquired houses everywhere from Vancouver to St. John’s, Nfld., including Peterborough. FPC now controlled two of the three theatres in the city. But in the midst of the Second World War the corporation clearly had other, and newer, theatres on its mind as well.

A number of people who went to the Regent as youngsters in the 1940s still recall their afternoons there and the unpleasant experience of mice and rats running across their feet. One man reflected on how it terrified his sisters sitting there in the dark. The movies might have been okay, and worth the price, but the theatre itself appears to have become more shabby and run down.

The Regent on Its Last Legs: In the Midst of Other Amusements

Examiner, May 25, 1949, p.7. For a brief time the city had six movie theatres (including the drive-in), a situation that was not long to last. — *Examiner*, May 25, 1949, p.7. For a brief time the city had six movie theatres (including the drive-in), a situation that was not long to last.

The Regent Theatre: Inside and Out

The Regent theatre’s auditorium, looking from the back to the small screen, with a piano (or organ?) on stage along with a microphone stand). Radiators line the walls on both sides. The photo is from the series of seven insurance pictures taken for … — The Regent theatre’s auditorium, looking from the back to the small screen, with a piano (or organ?) on stage along with a microphone stand). Radiators line the walls on both sides. The photo is from the series of seven insurance pictures taken for the Ontario government by the Parks Studio, Nov. 13, 1947. AO, RG56-11-0-205-5.

Film Daily Year Book, 1950, p.1176. In its 1950 entry the Famous Players Canadian Corp still lists the Regent as one of its Peterborough holdings, but that would be the end of the line. — *Film Daily Year Book*, 1950, p.1176. In its 1950 entry the Famous Players Canadian Corp still lists the Regent as one of its Peterborough holdings, but that would be the end of the line.

In December 1948 Famous Players opened its Paramount Theatre on George Street. The new Odeon had opened a year earlier. Famous Players now had both the Paramount and the Capitol; it did not need an old, and smaller, movie theatre. The Regent closed towards the end of May 1949.

When the Regent gave notice that it was closing, a joke circulated: “Guess what’s playing at the Regent: The Rats Are Taking Over.”

Its long-time owner/manager, Gordon Miller, moved over to the new Paramount. Its “Foto Nites” continued — passed over to its cousin, the Capitol.

The film industry was also changing. In 1948—49 U.S. government court action forced Paramount and other major Hollywood companies to divest themselves of their large chains of theatres. A studio like Paramount could no longer both make motion pictures and distribute them through its own theatres — as Leonard Maltin put it, they could no longer continue “taking money out of one pocket and putting it into another.” The studios had to reorganize their business. In the following years they also faced new competition from the push to the suburbs, the magnet of television, and the general mobility of populations that shifted focus away from downtowns everywhere.

Examiner, Jan. 15, 1954, p.13. — *Examiner*, Jan. 15, 1954, p.13.

By November 1950 even an Examiner editorial (perhaps written by Robertson Davies) was remarking on a “falling-off in movie attendance” over the past five years. (One suggestion for this decline was that movies tended to be too juvenile “in story and treatment” to appeal to adult minds, and Hollywood’s Production Code would not permit them to be anything else.)

In November 1953 the Schneider family sold the Regent Theatre building for $40,000 to James Keating, an Ashburnham hardware merchant. A few months later the large “Regent” sign out front was removed. Keating said he had no immediate plans for the building, but expected to do “some renovation.” Tenants in the bulk of the building thereafter would come and go – but it seems that vestiges of the theatre itself remained in place for a good long time.

Over the years occupants came and went within the building’s available spaces; a series of restaurants have taken over the bottom floor in the past twenty years. Decades later a construction contractor checking out a possible job went into the building to take a look around. He remembers being surprised to see evidence of the old theatre still in place.

Today, despite all the uses it has been put to, that space, in novelist Cormac McCarthy’s words, is only “like shades of figures erased upon a board.” Once “classed as the top serial house in the city,” once the site of “hundreds of loyal patrons” — with reel after reel of film, with its music and comedy and drama and the mighty tensions attached to the delivering of hockey scores — the mysterious ghost of a theatre lingers in the building, almost but not quite forgotten.