The adventures and various works of a photographer, road tripper, former patron of the local arts, aspiring app developer, and late night coffee drinker and conversationalist.
The first fifty years or so of the twentieth century were the heyday of Dallas's "Theater Row." If you're not familiar with that term, it refers to the now long gone entertainment district that once comprised approximately four blocks of Elm Street, just to the west of pre-Central Expressway Deep Ellum. For several decades, this stretch of Elm between Akard and Harwood was lined with theaters showcasing the latest in modern entertainment. Before the ascent of Hollywood, a theatergoer might find a vaudeville show or Nickelodeon-style film to his or her liking. By mid-century, it might instead be a big budget Cinerama feature showing inside one of multiple big picture palaces. The brightness of the marquees and street lamps illuminating the night sky gave Theater Row the nickname of Dallas's "Great White Way."
Looking down Theater Row in 1942
Continue reading "A night at the Majestic, March 1913"
Corner of Elm Street and Hawkins in Dallas, Texas, courtesy DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University
Collecting vintage and antique photos is a pastime of mine, and I have an interest in local (mostly Dallas) history. Combining these two interests together into an exploration of early Dallas photography and photography studios thus came naturally to me. This series will cover the history of Dallas-based photography through the beginning of the 20th century, telling the story through both historically-minded blog posts and authentic historical images.
This is part of a continuing series of posts exploring locations of former DFW musical landmarks and the histories behind them.
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It’s 1994, and you’re in the mood for some local flavor. The DFW music scene has come into its own, and Deep Ellum is a hoppin’ place on the weekends. Local music has been taking off on the radio, and the composers and performers of said music are gaining real traction with the teen- and twentysomethings sets. Some bands are even getting signed to national labels and their music is beginning to be stocked in the big name, big box outlets. But on this particular day you’re looking for something a bit less mainstream and a bit more underground in ethos. You pile your things into the car and head out in the direction of the historic Exposition Park strip. It’s in one of those areas where people are supposedly afraid to go thanks to a reputation for being crime-ridden, but this particular carve-out is said to be safe. You pass by Forbidden Books and The Bar of Soap, negotiating the never-ending road construction, and arrive at a small retail store on Parry Avenue, sandwiched inside a row of businesses just across the street from the entrance to the fairgrounds.
A couple of weeks ago, whilst making my usual rounds at some area antique stores, I came upon a collection of interesting historical oddities. These were a decent-sized stack of old nineteenth-century letters, carefully unfolded and presented with their original envelopes inside sealed plastic Ziplock bags. The correspondence varied, consisting mostly of everyday life updates, but there were also business-related items and even some love letters included in the mix. Most were from senders inside the state of Texas, and a few were even addressed to recipients located right here in Dallas. I thumbed through the stack, looking at each item in turn, and ultimately decided I would buy one with a Wood Street address. Within the correspondence I saw references to what seemed to be the State Fair of Texas, and I was intrigued.
