(From the Janesville Messenger, 12-27-2015)
In a book or play,
the denouement is described as the
final outcome of the story, generally occurring after the climax of
the plot.
That definition can be
applied to the recent demolition of the old Jeffris Theater in
downtown Janesville. Its fate was sealed nearly a decade earlier when
much of it was taken down, leaving the facade and not much else. But
the march toward its ultimate demise began 32 years ago with a
devastating fire. That was followed by carving the building into
multiple screens, and eventually abandonment, years of decay and
destruction.
By the time of my
childhood, the Jeffris was already a faded rose, no longer the
“luxurious” showcase described in its 1924 grand opening
advertising. I recall shabby, threadbare carpet in the lobby and wear
and tear throughout the building. But I also remember the stairs
leading to the balcony providing a clue to the theater's former
grandeur.
The Jeffris was cavernous,
with 1,500 seats. Unlike today's screen-on-the-wall cinemas, the
Jeffris had a stage and curtains, a reminder of its history of live
entertainment. Rather than being an ignored part of its past, the
curtains were still drawn and closed at the beginning and end of
movies.
As a lover of good motion
pictures and ornate old theaters, it was painful to have a front-row
seat for the beginning of the end of the Jeffris on March 27, 1983.
For me, that Sunday morning
started out much like any other over the previous year and a half. A
journalism major at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater, I was
working a part-time job at WCLO/WJVL Radio writing and delivering the
weekend newscasts. While other college students were sleeping off
their Saturday night misadventures, I was making 5 a.m. visits to the
law enforcement agencies, checking the blotters for any items worthy
enough to write up for the morning newscasts.
Weekends were often slow
for local news, which was just fine for a kid trying to learn his
craft. But the Janesville Police Department had a scoop for me: the
Jeffris was on fire. I remember not being overly impressed with that
information at first, maybe because I was still in the process of
waking up. One glance down Milwaukee Street, however, shook the
cobwebs from my brain; I had a big story to cover.
As a raw rookie and the
only one on duty, handling this developing story while doing the
newscasts on both stations kept me hopping. Eventually, the narrative
took a tragic turn when a body, asphyxiated by the smoke, was found
in the adjoining Monterey Hotel.
It was a rarity on a Sunday
morning when the telephone in the newsroom rang. But it started
ringing off the hook. WTMJ from Milwaukee called, asking me to
provide audio for them. Gulp. I still broke into a sweat when the “On
Air” light came on in the WCLO studio in little old Janesville. Now
I was recording a news story for a Milwaukee station? It took me two
takes, and the second was less than perfect, but I wasn't going to
make the poor big city producer sit through another one. The
Associated Press picked up the story, too, sending it over the
teletype to radio stations statewide with my name on it.
The Jeffris fire was my
first big on-the-job test. I passed, but any satisfaction I felt was
always tempered by the realization that if a downtown landmark
doesn't burn and a hotel resident doesn't die, it's just another
Sunday that I filled out a time card.
With the Jeffris' final
exit, all of the local movie screens that existed when I was young
have now vanished. It joins the Myers, the Hi-Way 26 Outdoor and the
Mid-City Outdoor as cinematic ghosts.
But the loss of the others
isn't as meaningful to me as the Jeffris. As downtown redevelopment
begins to take hold in Janesville, I think of that 1983 fire and
wonder “what if.”
1 comment:
What if... (Nice stuff Mr Lyke)
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