To spot the Al Hirschfeld Theatre, just look for the wide, fortress-like red brick facade with its row of tall arches resting on sturdy stone columns and a sparkling marquee shouting out “Moulin Rouge!” in lights-it’s impossible to miss right here on 45th Street, just west of the buzzing heart of Broadway.
Alright, let’s step right up into the dazzling and dramatic world of the Al Hirschfeld Theatre! It almost looks like a palace plucked from another time, doesn’t it? That’s because when it opened in 1924-back when people were still learning the Charleston-its architect, G. Albert Lansburgh, went wild with Moorish and Byzantine flair. Imagine it: the “Roaring Twenties,” jazz floating through Manhattan, women in flapper dresses, the city alive with the promise of excitement. Now picture Martin Beck, a vaudeville impresario with a twinkle in his eye, deciding he’d outdo all the other big theater owners by building his own venue right here-without owing a cent to anyone. That’s right, when its lights first flickered on, this theater was the only one in New York City built without a mortgage. Oh, to be so bold!
The front of the building is a show all by itself. The eleven mighty arches at street level, the decorative mosaic of cast-stone columns-if they could talk, they’d spill secrets from nearly a century’s worth of drama, comedy, heartbreak, and applause. Even the stone at your feet knows how to soak up a standing ovation. The central arches welcome you into a tucked-back ticket lobby, and if you craned your neck up, you’d see two more stories of arched brick windows and a quirky, classic marquee jutting out over the sidewalk, all crowned by a neon sign that dazzles after dark.
Walk inside (imagine it!), and you’d step into a world even more glittering: marble, wrought iron, deep vaults, and-back in the day-a color scheme out of a jewelry box: red, blue, gold, orange. The walls were adorned as if the sultans of old and Broadway’s brightest stars had a decorating contest. Muralist Albert Herter loaded the lobbies and lounges with Byzantine patterns, groin-vaulted ceilings, and medieval-themed murals, making even a trip to the restroom feel like a royal procession. And above the auditorium: a multicolored dome floating over an octagonal canopy, its light shimmering on a sea of up to 1,404 rosy-red seats, all waiting for the curtain to rise.
The stories crammed into these walls could fill a dozen showbiz memoirs. Beck’s theatre opened with Madame Pompadour in 1924 and quickly became the place for brave new productions: comedies, tragedies, musicals-with theater legends strutting the boards before they became household names. There were years when the Theatre Guild took over, premiering plays by Eugene O’Neill (yes, that O’Neill!), while the Abbey Irish Players sailed over from Dublin to debut their classics. Imagine the tension backstage the night Katharine Hepburn performed “The Lake” here... or the thunderous applause for David Wayne in “Teahouse of the August Moon,” which ran for over 1,000 performances! The 1960s brought in “Bye Bye Birdie” and “Milk and Honey,” packing the house with snapping fingers and sweet melodies.
In the ‘70s the theater saw a few (bless their hearts) famously short runs, but all was forgiven when Dracula swooped in for nearly 1,000 eerie, applause-filled nights. The 1980s were a whirlwind of stars-Elizabeth Taylor, Cher, Angela Lansbury, Liza Minnelli-lighting up the stage, while out in the audience, the Landmark Preservation Commission was quietly taking notes. In 1987, they decided the Al Hirschfeld (then still the Martin Beck) was simply too beautiful to ever risk the wrecking ball-so both its inside and outside became NYC landmarks. Cue dramatic music!
The new millennium gave the place an even more magical twist. In 2003, the theater was renamed for legendary caricaturist Al Hirschfeld, the only Broadway house ever named for a visual artist. They even put up a brand-new marquee decked out with Hirschfeld’s swirly self-portrait-although the first version had such red neon “ink,” people joked it looked like Al was using his own blood. Yikes! It’s blue now, thankfully. Inside, the mezzanine lounge grew a collection of Hirschfeld’s joyful, squiggly Broadway drawings.
To this day, the Al Hirschfeld keeps packing audiences in for legendary productions-recently, it’s been all razzle-dazzle with “Moulin Rouge! The Musical,” and who knows? The next theater legend could be sitting right next to you, dreaming up a show. This palace of dreams has seen it all: roaring debuts, heart-tugging finales, and a century’s worth of theatrical magic-and if these arches could whisper, they’d tell you that the real show is just getting started.
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