Hot Springs Audiotour: Van badhuizen naar verborgen historische parels

To spot the Bank OZK Arena, look for a massive, modern building with tall glass windows and a tan brick corner just to your left-the sign with “arena” in bold white letters is right out front above the entrance. Alright, get ready to step right up-because you’re standing before a giant of entertainment in Hot Springs! The Bank OZK Arena stretches out before you, its huge glass face gleaming under the Arkansas sky, like it’s waiting for the next big show to roar inside its walls. Imagine crowds of thousands buzzing with excitement, spilling through those doors, their laughter echoing as they grab tickets and head to their seats. This isn't just any old building-opened in 2003 with a swinging concert by Tony Bennett himself, it’s been a hotspot ever since. But this place has a bit of an identity crisis-it used to be called Summit Arena, courtesy of Summit Bank’s humble sponsorship, before it switched over to Bank OZK. Think of it as an arena with a great wardrobe change! Inside, you’d find 6,300 seats ready for roaring basketball fans, concert lovers swaying to the music, and maybe even a beauty queen, as the Miss Arkansas Pageant struts its stuff across the stage. It’s also seen some wild contests, hosting the Arkansas Activities Association’s High School Basketball Championships every year since 2012-can you hear the sneakers squeaking and the crowds cheering? Let’s not forget about the Great American Conference’s Women’s Volleyball Championship or the legendary bass fishing tournaments-yes, fishing champions have been crowned right here. But the arena isn’t alone-it’s part of the Hot Springs Convention Center, a massive complex where deals are made, art is displayed, and banquets fill the air with laughter and clinking glasses. So, as you stand here, picture a place that doesn’t just echo with music or sports, but with the dreams and celebrations of an entire community. Now, who’s ready for the next show?

You’re looking for a cozy, sturdy home with tan bricks and a rosy pink upper story-just ahead, you’ll spot its gently sloping roof and welcoming front porch nestled above a stone-bordered yard. Now, as you stand at the heart of the Pleasant Street Historic District, imagine the sounds and smells of a thriving neighborhood from a century ago-kids laughing, the sizzle of Sunday dinners, church bells chiming. This four-block stretch, just southeast of the bustling Bathhouse Row, was where Hot Springs’ African-American community built their lives, dreams, and celebrations. Back in the early 1900s, as jazz and blues drifted from open windows, neighbors greeted each other on their porches, sharing the latest news or a good joke (probably a better one than mine!). Among the many homes here, you might catch a whiff of mystery from the stately Visitor’s Chapel A.M.E. Church or the bold Woodmen of Union Building nearby-they’re the kinds of places where neighborhood secrets and big plans were exchanged in hushed tones. But the real star? John Lee Webb, a builder and philanthropist whose generosity helped shape the district. His own brick home stands just down the way, and even today, echoes of those warm gatherings linger. In 2003, the whole district earned a spot on the National Register of Historic Places-a badge of honor for a community that thrived with spirit, grit, and a bit of Hot Springs magic.

To spot the Woodmen of Union Building, look for a big, four-story red-brick building with fancy cream-colored stonework around its windows and a dramatic, arched entrance set just off Malvern Avenue-it’s hard to miss, especially with that big decorative entrance peeking out at you! Now, take a deep breath and step back in time with me. Picture yourself on Malvern Avenue in the early 1920s. There’s the sound of horse hooves and the clanging of trolleys in the distance, and you’re standing in front of a building that’s just about to make history. This was no ordinary address-this was the Woodmen of Union Building, a beacon for Hot Springs’ African-American community, dressed smartly in brick, ceramic block, and beautiful cream trim. In 1923, the Supreme Lodge of the Woodmen of Union poured its hopes, dreams, and savings into these very bricks. The building opened in a flurry of excitement-imagine hundreds of people, sharp in their best suits and hats, streaming in to dedicate this new landmark. And what a marvel it was! It had it all: a 100-bed hospital, a bath hotel with 75 rooms, a bustling bank with a genuine vault (which is still inside!), elegant marble wainscoting in the halls, and a grand 2,500-seat auditorium upstairs. If buildings could multitask, this one was the champion. The Woodmen of Union gave people a place to heal, rest, dance, and even print newspapers all under one roof. At night, the auditorium would shimmer with jazz and laughter-legends like Count Basie and Duke Ellington brought the house down, making the walls practically vibrate with music and applause. Fast forward to 1950-the building was snapped up by the National Baptist Association. The hotel and bathhouse became a safe haven for Black visitors during segregation, watched over by federal bathhouse inspectors making sure everything stayed top-notch. But then, slowly, the world changed. As public spaces finally opened up to everyone, the need for this special refuge faded, and by 1981, the grand old hotel had to close its doors, the echoes of footsteps and jazz fading into memory. Today, as you stand in front of this proud survivor, you’re looking at more than bricks and arches. You’re seeing the dreams of a community, the hum of a lively city, and a living piece of Hot Springs’ story. And if you ever feel a tap on your shoulder here… well, it’s probably just the spirit of a jazz musician hoping you brought your dancing shoes!

Look up ahead for a tall building with vertical stripes of red, white, and black, and a retro white “Malco” sign glowing above a classic theater marquee that hugs Central Avenue-if you spot this splash of old Hollywood, you’ve found your destination! Alright, now close your eyes for just a second-okay, not if you’re still walking, safety first! Imagine stepping back in time to a bustling Central Avenue in the early 1900s. Hot Springs is booming, with travelers coming from all across America to take the waters and, of course, to be entertained. At the very address where you’re standing, a crowd once gathered for shows at the grand Opera House, and by 1910, the Princess Theatre popped up here for magical silent movies and vaudeville acts-imagine top hats, slapstick jokes, and a pianist plinking away in the corner. Now, picture this: it’s Christmas Eve, 1935. Just as the townsfolk are settling in for a holiday film, disaster strikes-the Princess Theatre is swallowed by a roaring blaze, leaving little behind but the old foundation and a stubborn brick entrance facing Broadway. Out of those ashes, a phoenix rose-quite literally! The resourceful Sidney Nutt Sr. wasn’t about to let Hot Springs’ favorite theater fade into smoke. He commissioned a rebuild, keeping clues of the original theater alive in its bones. Working with architects Brueggeman and Swaim, Nutt fashioned a new masterpiece filled with bold Art Deco flourishes-those vertical lines you see on the front, mixing drama and glamour! Things got jazzy and a little bit flashier in 1936, when theater magnate M.A. Lightman took the reins and it became the Malco Theatre (those letters-MALCO-stand for his name, a bit of Hollywood sparkle right here in Arkansas). The dazzling marquee you see was designed to beckon everyone inside. Step closer and you can almost hear the bustle as hundreds of folks shuffle in for a Saturday night show. Over the decades, the Malco has mirrored the twists and turns of American history. During segregation, two completely separate entrances divided the audience-white patrons entered from Central, while African Americans used the Broadway side and took seats in the balcony. That doorway on Broadway still stands, one of the last physical reminders in the nation of this era, serving now as a testament to the victories and progress of the civil rights movement. Hot Springs itself has always known how to roll with the punches. As movie technology leapt from silent films to “talkies,” the Malco evolved. In the Cold War, with its thick concrete walls, it even doubled as a bomb shelter-now that’s a place to ride out a spy movie! Through remakes, remodels, and even the rise of multiplexes, the Malco kept reinventing itself, first splitting its giant auditorium into twins, later getting cozy with single-screen magic once more. But here’s where a magician literally enters the story: Maxwell Blade, master illusionist and king of quirky jokes, turned the Malco into his very own Theatre of Magic and Comedy. Even former-President Bill Clinton went to movies here as a kid-imagine dodging Secret Service agents just to get a popcorn refill. Restoration was a labor of love. Billows of vintage art deco, twinkling lights, flashy tiles, and plush seats-all restored back to that glamorous 1940s sparkle. There’s even modern wizardry: digital effects and 3D illusions. The Malco’s grand reopening was like a curtain going up on its next act, seating hundreds for a night of awe and laughter. Let’s not forget: the Malco still glows on the map for the Hot Springs Documentary Film Institute, the oldest documentary film festival in North America. You’re standing, in fact, on a stage where all sorts of stories-real and imagined-unfold year after year. So, as you linger, take a moment to soak it all in. This Art Deco jewel has seen roaring fires, roaring crowds, and plenty of magic-both literal and cinematic. Who knows? You might even hear a distant echo of a magician’s ta-da or the swell of an old pipe organ. The Malco Theatre: it’s lived a thousand lives, and every one of them is worth a standing ovation.

To spot the Orange Street Presbyterian Church, look for a grand red-brick building ahead with four tall white columns out front, holding up a striking triangular roof decorated with a round window in the center. Take a moment to stand right here and imagine it’s the early 1900s-people bustle up these very steps, hats on heads and hope in their eyes, coming together in what was then Hot Springs’ brand-new Orange Street Presbyterian Church. This wasn’t their first church, oh no-fires had claimed numbers one and two, making this third building rise like a phoenix from the ashes, with a bit of debt and a lot of determination! When it opened in 1913, folks must have felt like Greek gods seeing those mighty Ionic columns and the temple-like entryway. For nearly fifty years, this was the heart of their community until 1961, when the congregation packed up and moved on, selling the place to the local Christian Scientists. But this old beauty didn't linger quietly. In 2013, the building was reborn again, this time by The Muses Project, and it began to echo with opera, dance, and laughter-a true hotspot for creativity. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, this landmark stands strong, proof that you can’t keep a good building down. So take a deep breath-and listen closely. Maybe you’ll catch an old hymn drifting by, or just a whisper of all those stories inside these brick walls.

Look for a grand, light-colored mansion with four tall white pillars out front and a big iron gate, nestled behind a tidy green lawn-if you see something that looks like an old Greek temple hiding in plain sight, you’ve found the William H. Martin House. You’re standing before a house that’s seen over a century of stories and was once, believe it or not, on the lonely edge of town-imagine standing here in 1904, when nothing but open land and maybe a few nosy squirrels surrounded you. William H. Martin wanted a home that would catch every eye and maybe even make the neighbors whisper. So he hired Frank W. Gibb, a wizard of architecture, who dreamed up this mighty two-story portico with Corinthian columns that look like they could hold up the sky. Step closer and you’ll see scrolled brackets under the roof, and a line of dentil molding, a little detail that’s both fancy and fun to say. When the wind picks up, just listen--it almost sounds like you’re hearing echoes from another era, laughter from parties held long ago or secrets shared on the porch. And here's a twist: this towering house is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places, proof that some dreams really do stand the test of time...and probably a few rowdy Arkansas storms, too!