Behind the Coleman Theatre’s gold-leaf trim, and one-ton crystal chandelier rests a scrappy, never-say-die ruffian.
In 1929, George Coleman built the $600,000, 1,600-seat cinematic palace as a gift to the town where he amassed his mining fortune. After hosting legends like Will Rogers, however, the theater fell into neglect and faced demolition.
Local volunteers rallied to save it, piecing together a miraculous revival. They recovered the long-lost chandelier from a horse stable and bought back the pipe organ from a Texas collector, using pocket change dropped into a lobby goldfish bowl.
Today, in the dead of night, some say a phantom organist plays the world’s only 1928 Wurlitzer pipe organ still in its original venue.
“Now the Coleman Theatre looks like it did on opening night,” says general manager Danny Dillon. “Even better, because we finished up the ballroom that had never been completed.”
The grand Miami theatre now prospers as a dynamic community hub and a prime stop on Route 66. It hosts events, tours, operas, orchestras, ballets, independent film festivals and classic movie screenings.
“We’re sort of like The Night at the Museum movies,” Dillon says. “If you come in and visit us during the day, you think we’re a museum. You come back at night, the whole place comes alive.”
Those restoration efforts and diversified programming are paying off. The theater recently generated nearly $78,000 in about a month.
About two and a half hours west, another defiant spirit lingers at the historic Poncan Theatre.
Local lore warns that only the brave dare to sit in seat KK3. Whoever occupies the ghost’s seat supposedly “will stumble walking down the stairs,” says creative director Eddie Dixon.
Disembodied footsteps or not … the hard-scrabble Poncan plays directly to the community’s heart.
“Since we reopened,” Dixon says, “we’ve been a place for the community to hold events. And we’re a little different … we have the full stage.”
Local children perform full productions on the same stage where leg-end says Western star Tom Mix once rode his horse.
Visitors can also gaze at the world’s largest collection of 1930s hand-painted movie posters. Additional draws include occasional blockbuster musicals, free summer movies, film festivals, musical acts and budget-friendly pricing.
The only thing scarier than theater ghosts? A streaming revolution threatening venues nationwide.
Picky moviegoers and in-home streaming convenience have permanently curtained about 5,000 theater screens since the pandemic.
“It’s not just us,” Dixon says of the industry-wide struggles.
Theatergoers plummeted from 39% in 2019 to just 17% last year, with an Associated Press poll showing 75% of Americans prefer streaming new releases at home.
Yet Oklahoma’s most spirited theaters appear primed to play a supporting role in entertainment well into the future.
“It doesn’t have to be done at home on your computer,” says Dillon. “You can still enjoy the in-person, face to face of an event.”
Ultimately, these independent theaters are thriving on what a cold, at-home screen lacks – the warmth of real community.
