An Interpretation

The Empress Theatre
by Lawrence Herzog

Like many older Edmontonians, Ian Scott cherishes memories of going to the movies at glorious film houses. "I remember we would get a dollar from our father and go off to the Princess Theatre," he recalls. "That got us into the movie and got us a snack. It was the highlight of the week."

It was the beginning of a lifelong love affair. In 1953, at age 15, he parleyed his enchantment into his first regular job - as usher and doorman at the venerable Empress Theatre on Jasper Avenue. "All my friends were envious; they wanted me to get them in for free, but I never did, because I valued my job too much."

Television had just come to Edmonton - CFRN's Broadcast House beamed its signal from the western outskirts of the city - and the theatre business was answering the challenge.

"The Empress was a B-run movie house and we always had double bills," Ian recalls. "The big new stuff went to the Capitol. We then got it and it ran cheaper, so the place was usually packed at night."

Patrons paid 35 cents in the morning, 50 cents in the afternoon and 75 cents in the evening for double features.

Every Thursday night, Ian would change the content on the marquee - one movie board faced east and one faced west on Jasper Avenue. "There were light bulbs around the marquee and I can remember climbing up inside the darned thing to change them," he smiles. "It was no job for the claustrophobic or fickle."

Adjacent to the Selkirk Hotel at 10125 Jasper Avenue, the Empress occupied a prime chunk of downtown real estate. Built in 1912 as one of the first theatres in Edmonton, the old gal had shown moving pictures virtually every day since the beginning - including a famous run of the return of Edmonton soldiers from World War I.

"There was a certain class then that I think we've lost somehow," Ian offers. "The staff wore uniforms; because we were a Famous Players house, it was light blue. We really looked smart; Mr. Wiber demanded it."

Until the 1960's, no soft drinks were allowed in the auditoriums. Patrons who came late or during a feature were seated discreetly by ushers and could stay until the movie came round again to the same place.

"Some people stayed and watched two or three times, but we seldom said anything," Ian shrugs. "It was rare we had any problem, so what was the point?"

When fire swept through the Selkirk Hotel in December, 1961, the old gal suffered heavy smoke damage and her long run came crashing to an end. Demolition of the Selkirk and the Empress began later that winter and, by the summer of 1992, she was a memory - like the countless other moving pictures that had played on her screen.

Seats - more than 1200 of them - were sent to the Metropolitan Theatre in Winnipeg. Nobody seems certain what happened to the marquee or vertical E-M-P-R-E-S-S sign - a landmark on Jasper Avenue for six decades.

More than 40 years later, Ian still treasures two bricks he retrieved when his theatre was going down. "When the Empress vanished, a little part of me went with it," he shrugs. "We'll never get her back, but we shouldn't forget her, either."