BAY THEATRE’S SECRET STASH
While restoring cinema, owner finds liquor bottles behind cracked plaster
The fifth year into his “six-month project,” Paul Dunlap discovered that the vintage Bay Theatre harbors spirits from the past — although not the ghostly kind.
High up in the walls, construction workers found secrets left behind by their counterparts 75 years before them: A dozen whiskey and brandy bottles slyly concealed behind plaster.
“Unfortunately, they’re empty,” Dunlop said. “I guess the boss might’ve seen them if they’d been tossed in the trash.”
Dunlap bought the theater in 2016 for $2.2 million, after it had languished for several years. He since has spent another $1.2 million bringing the Seal Beach landmark up to modern-day building standards — while preserving its midcentury style.
The Fullerton developer specializes in renovating elderly structures, including his hometown’s elegant Villa Del Sol — opened in 1922 as the California Hotel.
Six of the liquor bottles spotted so far sit on display in Dunlap’s office. Another few still rest on beams, yet to be retrieved.
“I guess this place was built by a bunch of drunks,” maintenance supervisor Ben Ahli noted with a smile. “It’s an interesting walk back in history.”
Dunlap researched the labels on Wikipedia. The booze was manufac
tured by Schenley Distillers, a New York liquor company founded in the 1920s and sold in 1968.
Reading aloud from one bottle’s label, Schenley Reserve, Dunlap shared: “It was the only liquor available to submarine officers at Midway in World War II, where it was held in low regard and known as ‘Schenley’s Black Death.’ ”
Now Dunlap can chuckle about his naive first impression that he’d get the Bay up and running within months.
“I thought I’d be in-andout,” he said. “But then I hired a theater architect who talked me into changing the configuration of the lobby. and I had to make everything ADA compliant (for people with disabilities).”
It may strike the inexperienced eye as overly optimistic, but Dunlap promises the Bay finally will reopen for business by the end of this year.
As of now, its interior looks like a gray concrete cave — with walls awaiting paint and floors in want of carpet. As Dunlap leads a tour, using his cellphone flashlight, the sense that a daunting task is still ahead is compounded by the temporary lack of electricity.
But that’s the interior. Outside, the Bay is springing back to life. Another step in its gradual facelift got underway, when tile workers transformed the facade from beige to mint.
Constructed in the mid-1940s, the Bay Theatre for years was part of the Fox West Coast chain. A private investor bought it in 1975, painting over some of its colorful decor in then-trendy earth tones.
Dunlap was delighted to find sea-green tile underneath the brown plaster that coated the lobby water fountain. Ever the perfectionist, he located a company that could match that tile for the building’s exterior.
And thus has been the slow and meticulous progress of the Bay Theatre — restoring everything from fern-shaped sconces to the bright neon marquee.
Initially, Dunlap planned to recondition the theater’s metal seats — a bit narrow by today’s standards. But many didn’t pop back up automatically, as per fire codes, and fixing that problem proved unfeasible.
Dunlap also viewed photos at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences
library to replicate the original floral carpet.
He even wants to rehab some reels of old movies — “Steamboat Bill,” “Colette,” “Metropolis” — for future entertainment.
But the Bay will no longer be just a movie theater — a function that already was ebbing three decades ago, when it began struggling to attract customers from beyond Old Town Main Street.
Dunlap has converted what were once straight rows of seating into a curved amphitheater.
Not only will it feature a screen, but it will also have a modular stage for live music and plays.
Along the way, as though
fresh from a time capsule, little mementos serve as reminders of a living, breathing yesteryear.
A cluttered upstairs room stores a medicine cabinet neatly filled with old balms and bandages. Sturdy metal containers that once protected flammable reels of film sit in stacks.
Ancient projectors are around here somewhere.
And then, of course, there’s those liquor bottles.
“People always stop by to tell me their memories about the Bay Theatre,” Dunlap said. “It means a great deal to them. They thank me for caring so much about a place they love.”