36 years ago, I started attending a venue that has captivated my imagination and attention ever since. I've had a multitude of experiences here that were pivotal in shaping my interest in both classic cinema and art-deco architecture.
Today I stepped into the lobby for the first time as an employee, not a patron.
I first became aware of the Stanford Theatre—a 1925 vaudeville and movie house—while working at a small startup in downtown Palo Alto in 1990. It had fallen into disrepair and neglect from the 60s through the 80s, until the death of Fred Astaire prompted a two-week film festival held there, which soon led to its restoration and dedication to preserving the experience of classic movies shown in classic theatres.
I set foot in this nostalgic and poetic reflection on a bygone era within the first six months of its reopening. I have literally watched more movies in this one building during my lifetime than I have in all other theatres combined. I have discovered new and previously unknown films while experiencing others I’d seen before, yet never with such unparalleled intensity, immersing myself in festivals dedicated to Hitchcock, Welles, Chaplin, Westerns, Noir, and more. Their annual Christmas Eve showing of It's a Wonderful Life, a sellout event, is one I have attended more years than not. Anyone who knows me well knows how genuine my affection for this institution is, and how deep it goes. I love this theater and treasure the experiences I've had there over the past three and a half decades.
Last month, after two years of lobbying to join this wonderful foundation — even just as a volunteer — I finally received an invitation for an interview for a staff role. The offer was extended, and I gladly accepted. When friends asked what my responsibilities would be, I said, "Whatever they tell me to do." I’m serving sodas, emptying trash, popping popcorn, restocking candy, and loving every moment.
One of the greatest joys of going here has been watching the people coming in. They’re a class of patrons who are grateful, if not jubilant, about the presence of this facility and the opportunity to spend a couple of hours watching the projection of a classic movie within an historical building onto the screen before them. Now, I get to witness them from the other side, as part of a staff of like-minded cinephiles maintaining and preserving this experience for so many to enjoy.
I feel fortunate and blessed to have had this opportunity open up for me at this point in my life, when I can embrace the experience as a final chapter—no, as a final "reel”—in my career story arc.