Way Out West:
A Brief Look at Seattle's Theatrical History

Way Out West: A Brief Look at Seattle’s Theatrical History

Act I: Something From Nothing

Way Out West: A Brief Look at Seattle’s Theatrical History

Act II: Boxed In

Way Out West: A Brief Look at Seattle’s Theatrical History

Act III: The Lure of the Open Road

Way Out West: A Brief Look at Seattle’s Theatrical History

Act IV: Reel 3: The Homestand

Way Out West: A Brief Look at Seattle’s Theatrical History

Act V: Variety is the Spice of Life

An outgrowth of Eastern variety shows, vaudeville had the most significant impact on Seattle and its theatrical reputation in the early 20th century. Variety entertainment slowly outgrew its origins in local saloons and box-houses, eventually proving attractive, in a slightly different form, not only to men but also to women and children. “Up to five years ago there were only three theaters in Seattle north of Yesler way,” the Post-Intelligencer observed in 1907. “About that time the craze for 10-cent vaudeville swept over the country and did not skip Seattle. Half a dozen stores were vacated for the 10-cent houses, which were followed by the Orpheum, the Star, later Pantages’ theater, and more lately a number of others. The Coliseum was reconstructed from a skating rink into a ‘ten-twenty-thirty’ house last summer by Sullivan & Considine.”[1]

Vaudeville, of course, showcased a series of live acts, or a “bill,” each act being independent of the others and varied in terms of style and content. A dramatic playlet, for example, may have headlined a show that also featured a knockabout comedian, a juggler, a contortionist, trained bears, a knife-throwing exhibition and a high-wire act. Diversity was the key attribute of vaudeville; as Anthony Slide has noted, crowds returned to their favorite theatres week after week because “[a]n audience could sit through fifteen minutes of a second-rate comedy routine, secure in the knowledge that the next act would probably be a good one.”[2]

As was the case with legitimate drama, circuit houses were a critical factor to gaining a foothold in the emerging vaudeville business, both from the standpoint of performers and managers. Because vaudeville acts existed as individual units, for example, they had to coordinate their own travel, ship their gear, and pay for their lodging and meals, all of which came out of their pocket. Guaranteed playing time on a circuit of houses was therefore an essential element to a vaudevillian’s survival, particularly in the West, where the jump between cities could be considerable. The situation was equally important to managers, however, who gained bargaining power in their ability to sign acts to contracts lasting several weeks or months as they traveled between circuit houses. “Vaudeville [was] one of the most expensive forms of theatrical entertainment ever offered to the general public,” noted Eugene Clinton Elliott. “The players of seven separate acts, each, so to speak, a star, and the musicians, stagehands, electricians, and management personnel necessary for the presentation of such acts, [were] an aggregate commanding an astounding weekly expense. In order to support such a crew one essential [was] an assured audience, best obtained by moving from city to city throughout the country along a regularly assigned route.”[3]

As the business developed, in fact, circuits became such a vital element of western vaudeville that they multiplied much faster than their eastern counterparts – the exact opposite of legitimate theatre, where circuits were largely organized and controlled by the eastern syndicates. This is exactly where Seattle showmen such as Alexander Pantages and John Considine made their mark. “All in all, the most important contribution of the Northwest to the national theatrical business was the origin and development of popular priced vaudeville circuits,” Bernard Berelson and Howard Grant have argued. “The stock companies and road shows spread East to West; vaudeville, from West to East.”[4]

Notable among the Northwest vaudeville magnates was Alexander Pantages.[5] An immigrant from Greece, Pantages was a latecomer to the city’s theatrical scene, not even arriving until 1902 after having worked as a waiter, barkeep, and theatre manager in Dawson, Alaska. His first theatrical enterprise in Seattle was the Crystal Theater on Second Avenue, an immediate hit with the public. Pantages had a particular gift for measuring the taste of his audiences, and the popularity of his house was such that in 1904 he built a much larger venue, which he named after himself. Located at the northeast corner of Second Avenue and Seneca, Seattle’s Pantages Theatre was the first of many venues throughout America that would eventually bear his name. (Later, in 1914, Pantages built a modernized Pantages Theatre at the northeast corner of Third and University.)

The growth of Pantages’s vaudeville holdings was remarkable. In 1906, two years after opening the original Pantages Theatre, the showman erected the Lois Theatre a short distance away, named in honor of his wife. There he housed various stock theatre companies along with the occasional vaudeville bill. He even had the foresight to swoop into San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake and fire, buying six small houses on the cheap (the chain’s flagship theatre had been destroyed). By 1909, seven years after arriving in Seattle, he could offer stage acts a run of 26 consecutive weeks in his circuit houses. Two years later, thanks to agreements forged with other regional circuits throughout the United States and Canada, this had increased to almost 60 weeks.[6]

Alexander Pantages thrived in a rather cutthroat business. Managers were known to blacklist troublesome performers, break up larger acts so they could rehire the portion they liked, or terminate the contracts of performers while they were on the road, in the middle of nowhere, forcing them to sign a new contract at a fraction of their original salary. Sometimes the tables were turned on the managers, however. According to one story, Seattleite John Considine (a significant competitor in the field of popularly priced vaudeville) briefly made a habit of stealing acts from the Pantages circuit by offering salaries he knew Alexander Pantages could not or would not match. This tactic worked in the short term, until Pantages responded by sending his men to the train station to locate each performer’s gear when they arrived in town. If a performer announced their intention to jump to a rival circuit, Pantages countered by threatening to destroy their costumes and props – for many vaudeville acts, the key to their livelihood.[7]

Pantages’ astonishing success came not because he knew how to play hardball, but because he was simply a better businessman and a better showman than many of his competitors. If someone else was planning to offer a notable high-wire or animal act, for example, Pantages might locate a similar one and play it a city or two ahead of his rival, taking the wind out of the competitor’s prize discovery. Pantages also booked talented but lesser-known artists, saving costs while rivals were sometimes all-too-willing to empty their pocketbooks on name acts.

In the early 1920s Alexander Pantages moved his business offices from Seattle to Los Angeles, but the Northwest was nonetheless the birthplace of the famous Pantages vaudeville circuit, which grew to cover most of the United States and parts of Canada. Toward the end of the decade Pantages began selling his venues to RKO and Warner Bros., but he remained a prominent show-business figure right up to his death in 1936.

By Eric L. Flom – January 2026


Notes:
[1] “Theaters Mark Seattle History,” Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 29 December 1907, Page 5. “Ten-twenty-thirty” is vaudeville slang for the ticket prices charged by the house – ten cents for general admission, up to 30 cents for a box seat. Ten-twenty-thirty theatres were also known as “popularly- priced” vaudeville houses.
          The Coliseum, the first permanent home for Orpheum vaudeville in Seattle (and formerly known as the Dreamland Skating Rink), should not be confused with the Coliseum Theatre built at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Pike in 1916, which was devoted exclusively to motion pictures. As a vaudeville theatre, the Coliseum at the corner of Third Avenue and James was said to have been the largest venue west of Chicago, seating upwards of 1,800 people.
[2] Anthony Slide, The Encyclopedia of Vaudeville (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1994), Page xv.
[3] Eugene Clinton Elliott, A History of Variety-Vaudeville in Seattle: From the Beginning to 1914 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1944), Page 45.
[4] Bernard Berelson and Howard F. Grant, “The Pioneer Theater in Washington,” The Pacific Northwest Quarterly, XXVIII (April 1937), Pages 118–119.
[5] See Daniel Statt, “Alexander Pantages (1876–1936),” HistoryLink (https://www.historylink.org/File/2999), accessed 17 February 2025.
[6] Elliott, Page 60.
[7] Ibid., Page 59.

Way Out West: A Brief Look at Seattle’s Theatrical History

Act VI: The Curtain Falls

Seattle was never a creative center for the American stage, but through the business endeavors of men such as John Cort, John Considine and Alexander Pantages, it held a prominent place in national theatrical affairs during the early 20th century. In the process, it gained the reputation of being an excellent show town, a fact that the Post-Intelligencer trumpeted in 1907.

Fifteen years ago Seattle had but one real theater, Cordray’s. Fourteen years ago it had but two, Cordray’s and the Seattle. Seven years ago it had three, with the addition of the Grand. Now it has more than fifteen, including ten-cent [vaudeville] houses, all playing to a profitable business. Fourteen years ago the theaters of the city combined to seat but 2,200 people. In 1907, on Sundays or holidays, Seattle’s playhouses frequently played to 30,000 to 40,000 people, including the matinee and evening performances….[A]s [William M.] Russell [manager of the Third Avenue Theatre] observes, “Seattle is the manager’s Mecca of the West. A week stand in Seattle assures any company’s railroad fare back to the Missouri river.”[1]

But regardless of theatre’s popularity with local audiences, Seattle was not immune to industry trends, and as the booming conditions that fed the American stage began to wane in the teens, the city began to see less and less in the way of professional stage talent.

Through the 1910s, road show tours (whether syndicate or independent productions) gradually became fewer each season, a decline attributable both to the enormous cost of mounting such tours and the growing popularity of motion picture entertainment. In Seattle, the trend was sharp and measurable. During the first decade of the 20th century road show companies appeared on a regular basis, yet in 1912 the new Metropolitan Theatre was dark a full 20 weeks, while the Seattle and the Moore Theatres were empty 15 and 12 weeks respectively.[2] According to research compiled by James William Ladd, between 50 and 75 touring productions played Seattle during 1910, while only six arrived during all of 1935.[3]

Stock theatre, too, was hard hit during the 1910s and 1920s, even with fewer road show attractions with which to compete. After the demise of the popular Third Avenue Theatre in 1907, Alexander Pantages’ Lois Theatre seemed to fill the void, running continuously until it was destroyed by fire in 1910. But the Lois fire marked an end to the popularity of stock in Seattle – or at least it never again held its former sway. Despite a handful of troupes operating after 1915, most efforts to revive stock theatre lasted only a handful of seasons. As America moved into the Jazz Age, the audience for stock was no longer there, siphoned away by changing times and competing forms of entertainment, including motion pictures, radio and sporting events.

Like roadshow and stock productions, vaudeville faced its own challenges during this period. Recognizing the public’s fascination with motion pictures, many Seattle vaudeville houses altered their formats after World War I, offering a feature film in addition to a bill of live entertainment. The move wasn’t just good showmanship, considering the popularity of movies, but also made economic sense. Vaudeville houses could still provide a full bill of entertainment but cut some of their overhead by employing fewer live acts and, consequently, fewer theatre personnel.

Through the 1920s, however, the emphasis in Seattle’s vaudeville houses gradually shifted. Early on motion pictures were a supplement to the live bill, but by the end of the 1920s, at the Pantages, the Palace Hip, and other venues, the films often held the spotlight. The stage portion of the bill was still the house’s selling point, but the live portions were gradually shortened to the point where some houses could sometimes accommodate a pair of first- or second-run films in addition to a truncated stage program.

The death of Seattle vaudeville wasn’t officially recorded until the doors shut on the Palomar (formerly the Pantages Theatre at Third and University), which continued to offer live acts and feature films into the early 1950s. Even so, by the time the Palomar closed vaudeville hadn’t been a popular draw in well over 20 years – the house was clearly a vestige of past times, drawing on a small and mostly nostalgic crowd of older Seattleites.

The decline may have been inevitable, but nevertheless the period from the 1890s through the 1930s saw some the era’s top stage talent (not to mention future film talent) passing through Seattle’s theatrical venues. Often these performers made a loop through the Northwest, either coming west from Minneapolis or north from San Francisco, hitting the major rail stops of Portland, Tacoma, Seattle, and Spokane along the way, and sometimes using the Puget Sound area as a jumping off point for trips to Vancouver and Victoria, British Columbia. Such an itinerant life on the road could be anything but comfortable. Long stints away from home, constant traveling, cheap hotels, and bad food were common experiences for struggling actors. With the grinding and often lonely conditions put upon the average touring performer, a move into the fledgling motion picture industry had obvious advantages. Among other things, most of the earliest films were shot in and around New York, where the countryside doubled for the Wild West, Europe, the Orient, or whatever the setting may have required. Rather than contend with the hardships of constant touring, motion picture work allowed actors to put down roots, earn a fair living and, if their dreams of Broadway were undiminished, remain in touch with the New York theatrical establishment.

Very few stars of the silent era were also proven successes on the stage. Only a handful of motion picture stars – John Barrymore or Charlie Chaplin, for instance – might have been able to enjoy long and distinguished careers strictly in the footlights. A few others, such as Douglas Fairbanks and cowboy star William S. Hart, made fair livings onstage prior to their introduction to the “flickers,” as they were often referred to by detractors. But there is little to suggest that the majority of silent cinema’s illustrious figures would have achieved anything more than fleeting success on the stage. Nothing, certainly, on the order of the acclaim and public adulation they eventually found on the movie screen.

More often than not it was the performer of limited stage achievement who found success in moving pictures. Ironically, the opposite was also true. Stage performers with established reputations, once they condescended to performing before the camera (most often when the price was right), often brought their theatrical acting styles with them – appropriate for the stage, but which didn’t transfer smoothly to the new medium. The heavy gesturing and exaggerated movements required to communicate to all corners of a legitimate theatre appeared excessive and overdone on the more intimate movie screen. It’s a lesson that many brilliant theatrical personalities failed to learn. Their movies, typified by Sarah Bernhardt’s Queen Elizabeth (1912) – a critical though not necessarily popular hit of the time – rarely display the qualities that made them popular figures. Sadly, however, these are often the only way for later generations to view their work at all.[4] The reputations of performers such as the Divine Sarah lay in the legend of their stage exploits, while their motion picture work most often remains a footnote to their distinguished careers.

During its infancy the film industry strove for greater cultural respectability (wherein lay higher profits), and there were concerted efforts to lure established stage talent to the screen – it was Adolph Zukor, Daniel Frohman, and Edwin S. Porter, founders of the Famous Players Film Company, who brought Bernhardt’s film (originally a French production) to America. The goal of Famous Players, at least, was to convey legitimacy on an entertainment form attempting to mature rapidly, an effort that didn’t always work. Early film audiences weren’t necessarily the same people who attended high-class theatre offerings, so the marquee value of many well-known stage actors may not have justified the expense of securing their services – the prestige often out-weighed the box office returns. (This was a lesson another early production company, Triangle, learned the hard way.) Additionally, many early films were comprised mostly of medium to long shots, with the distance between actor and camera encouraging broad gesturing to convey thought and emotion. This was particularly true for “old school” performers such as Sarah Bernhardt.[5]

Hundreds of lesser stage actors, however, found they could make ends meet with an occasional stint in the movies. Furthermore, many had earned their stripes performing stage melodramas, with plotlines and stylized acting more readily accessible to the sensibilities of early film audiences. Frequently “at liberty” (or, more bluntly, unemployed), these small-time actors could find extra work at the Edison or Biograph Studios, earning as much as five dollars a day. Later, after many production companies began relocating to the West Coast, troupers from San Francisco and Los Angeles enjoyed similar opportunities. The pay was decent and, more importantly, for someone still hoping for a career on the legitimate stage, the recognition was low – in the beginning, at least. Because nearly all motion picture companies prior to 1910 never advertised the names of their performers, few of their stage colleagues might learn of their descent into the lowly world of motion picture acting. Yet it was often these people – the supporting characters and extras of the legitimate stage – who found fame and fortune as the early motion picture industry developed, attaining stardom they almost certainly would never have achieved in theatre.

A look at the performers who passed through Seattle during the late 19th and early 20th centuries demonstrates this point. Although many silent stars managed to carve long (if only mediocre) careers as stage actors, their historical notoriety rests not on their appearances in the footlights but on their motion picture exploits. Unknowingly, many Seattle theatergoers spent years watching future Hollywood stars develop their craft on local stage bills.

By Eric L. Flom – January 2026


Notes:
[1] “Seattle is the Best Show Town in the Country,” Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 29 December 1907, Page 5.
[2] See Mary Katherine Rohrer, The History of Seattle Stock Companies: From Their Beginnings to 1934 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1945), Page 25; and Edward Leonard Nelson, The History of Road Shows in Seattle from Their Beginnings to 1914 (Master’s Thesis, University of Washington Drama School, 1947), Page 149.
[3] James William Ladd, A Survey of the Legitimate Theatre in Seattle Since 1856 (Master’s Thesis, State College of Washington, 1935), Page 50.
[4] Seen today, Queen Elizabeth doesn’t seem as theatrical in terms of acting as it does in the primitive way in which it was staged and filmed. Comprised of full-length shots, each scene is announced in advance by a title, followed by the performers who pantomime the action with no cutting or shot variation to enhance the dramatic situations. In this respect, the picture is very much like viewing a presentation from the front row of a theatre, albeit one in which you must imagine the dialogue.
          For her part, the 68-year-old Bernhardt, then suffering from a knee injury (her leg would be amputated in 1915), enacts most of the role while standing still or sitting. Her efforts to move about the “stage” on her own are quite labored and are usually done while being supported by one of the other players. Nevertheless, after Queen Elizabeth’s ludicrous death scene to end the film, the final shot is of Bernhardt herself making a curtain call, responding to the plaudits of a make-believe audience.
[5] Eileen Bowser, The Transformation of Cinema: 1907– 1915 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), Pages 91–93.