Mr. Connell Goes to Aberdeen:
An Exhibitor Takes Down the (Local) Government

Preview

One aspect of the early film business was that it attracted people from all walks of life, many of whom had already embarked on prior careers. Such is the case, perhaps, with any new and growing industry – it pulls in those who are willing to go all-in on the opportunity. There are numerous examples, of course, from the ranks of movie actors, writers and directors. Some, like Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton, were stage performers who transitioned into the movies; cowboy star William S. Hart, formerly a dramatic actor, didn’t even make his first film until he was 50 years old. Others took less direct routes into pictures – at one time Louis B. Mayer was in the scrap metal business, Carl Laemmle was a bookkeeper, and the Warner brothers ran a variety of small businesses in Youngstown, Ohio. The situation was no different amongst the exhibitor class. Amongst Washington’s more prominent managers, James Clemmer got his start as a property manager, while his brother Howard was a dentist. The Danz brothers were in the clothing business. George Reizner, a key exhibitor in Raymond and South Bend, was originally a butcher, while over in Okanogan Hub Carlton ran a harness shop and Clarence Scates was a journalist.

Such was the case across the U.S., where some of the picture industry’s earliest figures were men (and a handful of women) who left established careers for the chance of becoming an actor, an exhibitor or an exchange salesman. It was the opportunity to get in on the ground floor of a thriving business, and to achieve something that, perhaps, couldn’t be found in their former occupations.

Raymond Enoch Connell fell right into this model. As a young man Connell held a variety of positions around southwest Washington, but always seemed to be casting around for something better. He didn’t settle on the movies right away, and was actually a latecomer to the game, but sold an established business for the mere opportunity to get started as an exhibitor. He didn’t quite rise to the level of Louis B. Mayer, but he was nonetheless a significant player in Hoquiam, where he cornered, albeit briefly, the moving picture market. It was only when he tried his luck in nearby Aberdeen, and later Everett, that he found an upper limit to his newfound success, with timing and circumstances that didn’t go in his favor.

Mr. Connell Goes to Aberdeen: An Exhibitor Takes Down the (Local) Government

Reel 1: Pipes, Pictures and Politicos

Mr. Connell Goes to Aberdeen: An Exhibitor Takes Down the (Local) Government

Reel 2: Box Office via Ballot Box

Mr. Connell Goes to Aberdeen: An Exhibitor Takes Down the (Local) Government

Reel 3: Finally, Though Temporarily, Open for Business

Mr. Connell Goes to Aberdeen: An Exhibitor Takes Down the (Local) Government

Reel 4: Under Pressure

How much Anna’s health played into Ray Connell’s decision to sell out isn’t known, but it was certainly a factor. The move left him flush with cash again, but as a grieving widower with three young daughters to raise, he wasn’t in a hurry to launch his next venture. For almost a year, in fact, Ray Connell spent time regaining focus and, in the summer of 1926, took the girls on an extended trip abroad.

As before, when he returned to the Northwest Ray Connell was ready to get back to business. In August that year he announced his purchase of the Hoyt Hotel in Everett, a 25-room hostelry at 1506½ Hewitt Avenue.[1] This was an entirely new direction, and one that would occupy the remainder of his professional life – in time he would run the Hoyt Hotel in Everett, the New York Hotel in Hoquiam, and played a role in constructing Hoquiam’s Terminal Hotel on Simpson Avenue. But the Hoyt appears to have been his first foray into the hospitality business, and together with his daughters, Ray Connell left Grays Harbor and moved the family to Everett, taking up residence at the Hoyt while renting out the house on Grant Street in Hoquiam. Connell’s sister, Mrs. C.L. Lavin, accompanied the family to Everett and helped get the girls settled.

Presumably the hotel business offered a less hectic lifestyle, but Ray Connell wasn’t done with motion pictures, at least not yet. While getting established at the Hoyt Hotel, he leased a property on Wetmore Avenue, about a quarter mile away, and turned the space into the Liberty Theatre, a small movie house seating about 500. In this case, Ray Connell was going back to his roots. Instead of building a venue from the ground up, as he had just done with the Connell Theatre in Aberdeen, the Liberty was closer to his earlier motion picture work. Here he took an existing commercial space and gave it a $10,000 facelift – ironically, turning it into the kind of moving picture house that Aberdeen’s theatre ordinance sought to discourage.[2]

According to historian David Dilgard, the Liberty wasn’t a very bold attempt at breaking into the Everett film market. In Aberdeen, Connell came into a town dominated by a single firm, Dolan and Ripley, built a theatre and got himself bought out, for a tidy profit, in less than a year. In Everett, the playbook appears to have been similar. Connell was giving a face-lift to an existing commercial space, creating a new venue in a town where all but one theatre was operated by Charles Swanson and the Star Amusement Company. The Liberty was a decidedly modest undertaking, and Connell may have been attempting to get the venue up and running for as little as possible in the hopes of getting bought out.[3]

But if Ray Connell thought the Liberty Theatre would be an easy way to make a quick buck, it turned out to be anything but quick – or easy. It was a fast turnaround (the Liberty opened just seven weeks after he arrived in Everett), but he ran into problems from the get-go. Despite spending $10,000 to outfit the venue, for example, the Everett Fire Chief revoked Connell’s operating license after his initial inspection, finding the Liberty in violation of the city’s fire code.[4] This was an unexpected turn, and cost the exhibitor additional time and money to get the house up to snuff. By the time the Liberty opened costs ballooned to $15,000 – a 50% increase over the initial budget, and almost all of it resulting from changes Connell had to make so the Liberty Theatre would pass code. Delayed openings, however, were old hat for Ray Connell, and eventually the venue was approved and debuted on October 27, 1926. The initial program featured the Betty Compson picture The Belle of Broadway, complete with orchestral accompaniment. Connell’s exhibition approach in Everett was similar to the one he used in Aberdeen – modest first run pictures, three bill changes per week, with small-time vaudeville augmenting shows. “Professor Elster” headed the tiny Liberty orchestra, and the initial program, at least, featured the Compson feature along with musical selections, a short comedy, newsreel and a Mutt and Jeff cartoon.[5] The Belle of Broadway was followed a few days later by the Tom Mix western No Man’s Gold.

The public debut of Everett’s Liberty Theatre wasn’t anywhere near as triumphant as the Connell Theatre had been earlier. Nor was Ray Connell’s tenure as an exhibitor in Everett, which was not only short but fraught with troubles. In this case, he couldn’t recreate the magic.

The trouble started when Everett’s Fire Chief revoked the Liberty’s operating license before the doors swung open, driving up the exhibitor’s costs. Then, barely three months into operation, Ray Connell got caught doing something he shouldn’t have done. On January 20, 1927, a small projection room fire occurred at the Liberty during one of its matinee performances. It was contained quickly, so there was minimal damage, and no one was injured. But when fire and police officials arrived to investigate the incident, they discovered that the projectionist on duty, Fred Harrington, wasn’t a licensed operator.[6] That posed two problems for Ray Connell: first, running shows without a licensed operator violated the Everett City Code, marking the second time he had run afoul of local regulations in a matter of weeks. Second, Connell hired an unlicensed, nonunion operator in Everett, of all places, a staunchly-union town with a long history of labor activism. The discovery put both Fred Harrington and Ray Connell in trouble; Harrington was arrested, while Connell was forced to go before the Everett City Council to show cause on why he (knowingly) violated city code.

This was the beginning of the end for Ray Connell in Everett. He mended fences with city officials, repaired and reopened the Liberty, but IATSE Local 180, representing the city’s projectionists, was less forgiving. The Liberty Theatre was subjected to repeated picketing after the Harrington incident, which eventually forced Ray Connell into court to try and stop the “harassment.”[7] It was to no avail. With a protracted labor fight on his hands, Connell eventually put his tail between his legs and sold the Liberty to Charles Swanson and the Star Amusement Company, despite being in a weak negotiating position. It was a coup for Star Amusement, which also picked up the city’s only other independent theatre, the Rose, at roughly the same time, locking up the Everett exhibition space for themselves. Both the Liberty and Rose were closed in May 1927. The Rose, originally opened in 1910, was extensively remodeled and reopened in December as the Fox Granada Theatre.

The Liberty would also rise again. With Ray Connell out of the picture, Everett’s Liberty Theatre was temporarily shuttered by Star Amusement and later became part of their sale to Fox, which was amassing theatre holdings much like Warner Brothers and other studios were doing at the time. Operating as Everett Fox Theaters, Inc., the Liberty became part of a large-scale reorganization of the city’s downtown movie houses, spurred in part by the move toward sound film. The Fox organization was already on the verge of opening the new Fox Theatre in Everett (which would debut on May 20, 1927) and decided to remodel the Liberty as well as the existing Everett Theatre, which was closed briefly so Vitaphone and Movietone sound equipment could be installed. The site of the former Liberty would eventually become home to the Fox Balboa, but that wouldn’t debut until May 1929.[8]

The sale of the Liberty Theatre in Everett knocked Ray Connell out of the movie business for good. It seems to have also knocked him out of Everett – soon the Connell family packed up their belongings and retreated to 225 Grant Street in Hoquiam, the longtime family home. It’s not clear how long Ray Connell retained ownership of the Hoyt Hotel, but this may also have been a casualty of his time in Everett.

Nonetheless, he continued in the hospitality business, this time in Hoquiam. Connell purchased the Hotel New York (at 8th and L Streets), though it’s possible he may have been connected with that business even before he left for Everett.[9] Later he became involved with (and may have had a hand in constructing) the Terminal Hotel at 818 Simpson, a few blocks away from the New York. But, like his brief sojourn along Puget Sound, the difficulty of operating multiple businesses appears to have led to trouble. Less than a year after returning to the Grays Harbor area, in February 1928, Connell took out a classified ad in the Seattle Daily Times looking for a buyer of one of his hotel properties (this appears to have been the New York), which he claimed was “[priced] at a bargain for quick sale…” He was looking for a $4,000 downpayment on a total price of $15,000, but was also willing to negotiate with prospective buyers for some sort of real estate trade. Then, later that fall, Connell also got back into politics, running as a write-in candidate for Hoquiam City Council, though he lost the race to Republican Charlie Cyr.[10]

It’s possible that Ray Connell’s classified ad was a sign that he was in some financial distress, though he may have simply had more on his plate than he could handle. If his finances were getting difficult to manage, they were about to get worse, given that the Depression was only 18 months away. With both Aberdeen and Hoquiam tethered to the lumber industry, both cities were highly vulnerable to industry downturns, regional or national economic trends. Right about the time Connell sold his namesake theatre to the Elbe Theatres Company, in 1925, business in local lumber mills was already starting to slow down, with pulp, paper and plywood plants beginning to take the place of the area’s original sawmills. Though the Grays Harbor region was trying to adapt, the Depression brought everything to a halt, with about 80% of local mills shuttered by 1932. One Depression-era study, in fact, identified Grays Harbor County as one of the hardest hit areas in all of Washington state, with only 50% of residents holding any type of work, even part-time.[11]

The Depression decimated any number of businesses in Grays Harbor County, and Ray Connell’s seems to have been among them. He no longer held the Hotel New York by 1928, and in the following year’s city directory (1928-1929), his listed profession was as a plumber – something he hadn’t done in well over a decade. It’s not clear whether this was a misprint or a sign that Connell had fallen back on whatever work he could get, but it’s curious that his former profession suddenly reappeared after so many years. But it was only that one time; in the 1930-1931 edition, Connell was listed as manager of the Terminal Hotel, though he seems to have given up any ownership stake and was simply running the property for someone else. Either way, this was quite a comedown for Hoquiam’s golden boy, who spent the previous decade moving from business triumph to business triumph, if one overlooks his time in Everett. He had started, then sold at least two businesses for considerable profit, took extended family vacations in California and Europe, then locked horns (and eventually defeated) city officials in Aberdeen. But now, with the onset of the Depression, he was a simple hotel manager, in a space he may have helped construct, who may have been taking plumbing jobs on the side to make ends meet. That probably made him more fortunate than others in Hoquiam, but it certainly wasn’t the position he expected to find himself in.

Nonetheless, this period wasn’t without bright spots. In 1929 he married a second time, to Florence Kelly, a schoolteacher from Pennsylvania. The pair settled into the house at 225 Grant Street and, in April 1930, welcomed a son, Ray Kelly Connell.

Even so, Ray Connell appears to have been haunted by his former successes. He had once been a regional movie mogul; now he was someone else’s employee. By no means was Connell alone in that story, particularly in Gray’s Harbor County. With a new wife and family to support he tried to persevere, though his diminished circumstances apparently weighed on him more than anyone knew. That may why on July 31, 1933, at the family home at 225 Grand Street, Ray Connell chose to end his life by inhaling gas. Florence and the children were away at the time, returning around 8 p.m., and found Connell unconscious on the kitchen floor; help was summoned but he was pronounced dead at the scene. Only 46 years old, the Grays Harbor Washingtonian reported on Connell’s suicide the following day, a somewhat surprising acknowledgement tempered by their claim that he had been suffering from an unnamed illness, which may very well have been depression. Connell left behind his second wife, their infant son and three daughters from his previous marriage, the youngest of whom was still in her teens. Florence Kelly Connell continued to live in Hoquiam following her husband’s death, working as a schoolteacher and raising the family.

Ray Connell was laid to rest four days later, on August 3rd, at the family plot in New London, roughly six miles north of Hoquiam, where Anna Connell had been buried eight years earlier.[12] It was a solemn end to an otherwise impressive life. Raymond Enoch Connell was a bookkeeper whose ambition spurred him to become the movie king of Hoquiam, after which he turned his sights on getting establishing in the nearby Aberdeen film market. Once he began in movie exhibition, his business rise (in local circles, at least) had been meteoric – but when he fell, he fell hard, or at least he fell hard in his own mind.

It’s impossible to know what went through Ray Connell’s head in the summer of 1933, but in spite of a new family, and in spite of his three older daughters, whom he had raised alone for several years, he was still driven to suicide. There were thousands of others in the Grays Harbor area suffering, as he did, during the Great Depression. His “failures,” if you choose to call them that, weren’t necessarily his own doing, given the context of the regional and national economy, but they made him feel inferior. Ray Connell was an ambitious man who achieved the American dream. But he was also an ambitious man who wanted to keep moving forward, not backward. Perhaps getting into the hotel business in the late 1920s wasn’t a wise decision and set him back financially. The Depression, of course, made everyone’s situation worse. Ultimately the decision by Ray Connell to end his own life doesn’t make sense, but perhaps he wasn’t prepared to deal with the flip side of his early successes.

We’ll never know why Ray Connell chose to do what he did, nor will we ever know if he could have lifted himself out of those circumstances. He had overcome multiple challenges in the business world, but when his luck suddenly ran out, first in Everett and then in Hoquiam, it seems to have sapped his spirit. Sumner Smith, writing in Moving Picture World, portrayed Ray Connell as a hero – someone who stood up for what was right and triumphed when the odds were stacked against him. And yet, only a few years later, when the odds really were stacked against him, Ray Connell chose to let everything go. It’s an inexplicable decision. Suicides often make no sense to the survivors, but it’s especially hard to understand why a man who had done so well, at so many things, was driven to that option.

The story of Ray Connell is at once a story of success and a story of failure, centered around motion picture exhibition – which, in the silent era, could take as well as give.

By Eric L. Flom – June 2025


Notes:
[1] See “Connell Buys Everett Hotel,” Grays Harbor Daily Washingtonian, 1 September 1926, Page 8; and Polk’s Everett and Snohomish County City Directory, Volume XXIV, 1926-1927 (Seattle: R.L. Polk & Co., Inc. – 1926).
[2] See “Everett’s Newest Theater Will Open, Everett Daily Herald, 26 October 1926, Page 13; and “New Motion Picture Theater is Opened Wednesday Evening,” Everett Daily Herald, 28 October 1926, Page 11. Ray Connell’s choice of sites was interesting – this was where the Parlor Theatre operated from 1903 to 1907, after which it known briefly as the Scenic. Connell’s address for the Liberty was 2822 Wetmore, but it would eventually be succeeded by the Balboa Theatre, which had a street address of 2812 Wetmore.
[3] See David Dilgard, Mill Town Footlights (Everett, Wash.: Everett Public Library – 2001), Pages 93-94 and 101-104; and Eric L. Flom, “Liberty Theatre in Everett Opens on October 26, 1927, HistoryLink website (http://www.historylink.org/File/8812), accessed 1 January 2018.
[4] See “Plans for New Playhouse for Everett, Wash.,” Motion Picture News, 23 October 1926, Page 1610; “Washington,” Moving Picture World, 27 November 1926, Page 224; and “Seattle,” Motion Picture News, 25 February 1927, Page 685.
[5] See Liberty Theatre advertisement, Everett Daily Herald, 29 October 1926, Page 10.
[6] “Film Machine Operator Arrested After Fire,” Seattle Daily Times, 23 January 1927, Page 12.
[7] See “Asks Injunction Against Picketing of Theatre,” Seattle Daily Times, 1 May 1927, Page 14; “Northwest,” Moving Picture World, 4 June 1927, Page 356; and “Seattle,” Motion Picture News, 10 June 1927, Page 2302.
[8] “Fox Theater on Wetmore Avenue to Open May 20,” Everett Daily Herald, 28 April 1929, Page 14.
[9] According to the 1926-1927 city directory, Hoquiam’s New York Hotel was operated by Martha C. Corbett.
[10] See “75-Room hotel…” classified advertisement in the Seattle Daily Times, 3 February 1928, Page 34; and “Smith Easily Wins Hoquiam Mayoralty,” Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 3 December 1928, Page 23.
[11] University of Washington study cited in Aaron Goings, “Hoquiam – A Thumbnail History,” HistoryLink website (http://www.historylink.org/File/8652), accessed 4 March 2018.
[12] See “R.E. Connell Takes Own Life,” Grays Harbor Washingtonian, 1 August 1933, Page 1; and “Connell Rites Set for Today,” Grays Harbor Washingtonian, 3 August 1933, Page 5.