John Kelly … and the special celebration cake
John Kelly addresses guests
Max Angus
REMARKS BY THE HONOURABLE PETER UNDERWOOD AC, GOVERNOR OF TASMANIA AT THE UNVEILING OF A PLAQUE TO COMMEMORATE THE CENTENARY OF THE OPENING OF THE STATE CINEMA, WEDNESDAY, 2ND OCTOBER 2013.
Good evening everybody and what a splendid occasion this is – the centenary of the opening of the State Cinema, then called the North Hobart Picture Palace, believed to be the first Tasmanian building constructed especially for the showing of moving pictures. The doors of what was then a wonder of modern times were opened on this day, 2nd October, precisely 100 years ago.
In 1907, Alf Chenhall and his family and his brother-in-law, Ed Morris and his family moved from Melbourne to Hobart to live – as, of course, right-minded people do. Alf was a carpenter by trade and probably the principal driver behind the idea that he and his brother-in-law should build an opulent Picture Palace on this very site where there then stood an old garage. It was an exciting idea, for in those days moving pictures were shown in places like town halls and the very idea of special, purpose built Picture Palace was an exciting prospect.
The actual picture hall was around the same dimensions as the main hall in the Hobart Town Hall. Built of double brick, it was very solid and built to last. Plush, deep blue velvet seats with rounded wooden armrests sat on a wooden floor that sloped down towards the screen that occupied the whole of the back wall. Maximum capacity was in the order of 500 people. This was in the days before ‘talkies’ and music was required, so Chenhall and Morris hired a local band of about 30 musicians, conducted by a Mr James Long, to play while the moving pictures were shown. On the big day 100 years ago, admission to the front of house was one shilling and sixpence, the middle was one shilling, and the rear seats cost sixpence. Not so cheap when you consider that in 1913 a workman’s wage was around 23 shillings a week. The star picture shown on that Opening Night 100 years ago was called The Two Orphans, a drama set in Paris.
Much has happened over the last century and time does not allow the telling of the full story, but I commend to you an excellent publication, “A Century of Cinema – The Life and Times of the State Cinema” by Bill Clyde – it is a fascinating read.
Of course, it wasn’t all plain sailing for the opulent North Hobart Picture Palace. A short eight years after the grand opening, the building was sold and used as a billiard saloon, gymnasium and boxing arena. But in 1935 the building reopened as a cinema called the Liberty Theatre. It changed hands again in 1948, three years after the end of World War II, and commenced operating under its now much loved and respected banner, “The State Theatre.”
However, in common with cinemas world-wide, eventually the advent of television put the State under great financial pressure and its demise was only avoided by the Film Radio and Television Board of the Australian Council acquiring the Cinema for the purpose of screening Australian and internationally acclaimed films. And so the State became what might be called an Art House cinema, and started to build a reputation which has been maintained to this day, for showing films that are not screened in the larger, mainstream chain cinemas like Hoyts.
In those days, the State was very much the cherished baby of Adrian Jacobson. He had inherited the management of this child from his father, and Adrian was anxious to see that the State did not become just a small copy of the mainstream cinemas. However, in the pursuit of its ideals, the State was not really profitable and in the 1980s financial constraints on the Australian Film Institute led to the decision that it had to be sold. However, the Board had obviously underestimated the good will that the State Cinema had earned by that time, as there was a roar from a crowd of some 4,000 people who gathered in shocking weather, to protest against the closure and sale. The Board backed down and the State Cinema was saved.
But the trouble is that nothing stays the same, especially in the entertainment industry, and the competition was always pressing; television was in colour, video stores had opened; electronic games were becoming popular, the Internet was growing and so on. By the end of the millennium, the AFI determined again that in the light of reduced funding from the Government, the State had to be sold notwithstanding a recent refurbishment of seating, sound, curtains and the like, made possible by the recent successes of films like Shine and Amelie.
Enter John Kelly. Born in Tasmania, John had just acquired the building next door that used to be Soundy’s and, knowing nothing about films or running a cinema, John bought the State from the AFI just 11 years ago. The deal was that he would be anonymous, Adrian Jacobson would continue to run the cinema and it would continue to show the same non-mainstream films that it had always shown. Indeed, it was even contemplated that the Jacobson dynasty would continue after Adrian retired, with his daughter taking over the management. John Kelly had one, what you might think totally reasonable condition: – the cinema had to make a profit.
John Kelly joined the Independent Cinema Association and it wasn’t long before he began to have ideas for change that clashed with the conservative management style of Adrian Jacobson. But low returns demanded change, and the difference of views between John Kelly and Adrian Jacobson led to their business relationship breaking down and Adrian’s resignation in 2003.
I know and respect Adrian and his commitment to the State Cinema, but I think that Bill Clyde is right when he describes Adrian Jacobson at the start of chapter nine (he calls it ‘Reel’ nine) of his book as (quote) “the traditional cinema manager”, and writes that “Adrian Jacobson’s vision for the State Cinema was that it would continue on the same as it had always been; or in his words ‘a working museum’”. John’s view was that to survive the cinema had to make a profit and without modernisation, there would never be a profit.
So began a period of change that will be talked about at the bicentenary celebrations of the State Cinema. John Kelly had to get the balance right. He had to introduce new technology and computerisation. He had to modernise and make the foyer more efficient. At the same time, he had to preserve the heritage qualities and atmosphere of the building. He had to increase the number of theatres and show several films simultaneously, but at the same time he had to avoid showing what might be called mainstream films (except in special cases) At the same time as doing this, he had to up-grade the existing equipment and sound system and improve the seating. John Kelly also needed to provide facilities to make the place more attractive and so he developed the foyer to make it a welcoming social venue, and later developed the superb restaurant with extensions at the back of the building. All the while, the number of cinemas, built both above and below the original theatre, were being increased, the latest – clearly la pièce de résistance – on the top of the building – outside. And finally, last year I think it was, acclaimed author, Richard Flanagan officially opened the State Cinema Bookstore next door.
It is to John Kelly’s tremendous credit that his innovative ideas have created a warm and attractive cultural venue in an inner Hobart suburb to which people are attracted. The State Cinema provides a comfortable and inclusive ambience, not available elsewhere in the State, where people can see first rate films, many of which would not otherwise be shown in Tasmania; films that seriously engage the intellect and the emotions. The State Cinema is also a place to socialise. You can be confident that you will meet your friends when you go there. It is a friendly place where a Governor can feel comfortable in his old woolly cardigan. It is a place where you can enjoy a meal, or just buy one of those huge glasses of Tasmanian wine and sink into a comfortable chair and enjoy a good movie.
My wife and I love it. Our son, who worked here when he was at University, loves it. I am sure that you all love it. But for John Kelly’s innovation, money and energy we would not have the State Cinema that can properly be described as a major contributor to the cultural life of Hobart. I am privileged to have been asked to take part in this centenary celebration of the State Cinema, and now call upon its longest serving current staff member, Rowena Ebsworth, to join me up here and help me unveil a plaque to record this important milestone in the journey of the North Hobart Picture Palace.
• Max Angus, acclaimed artist and campaigner over many years for Tasmania’s wild areas, most notably, Lake Pedder, then told guests his recollections of living just over the fence from the State; detailing a funny story of building a special crane to crank up his wood supply to he and his wife’s rented flat. Max, who incredibly is aged 99, but looks 79!, also told of his slightly disabled mother-in-law loving her visits to the State, all those years ago …
• John Kelly: Perhaps it is the cinema that owns us …
Thank you Steven and thank you everyone for sharing in this celebration tonight.
I sincerely thank His Excellency the Governor and also Max Angus for their contribution.
I acknowledge the previous peoples of North Hobart;
• The indigenous owners and inhabitants of this land;
• The original builders and owners of the North Hobart Picture Palace, Alf Chenhall and Ed Morris;
• The subsequent owners who made and lost their fortunes and who lived their dreams in particular Ross Holyman who owned the State from 1948 -1974;
• To Gough Whitlam and Phillip Adams who during the cultural revolution of the Whitlam era purchased the cinema and saved it from the same fate of all other local theatres during cinema’s darkest hours;
• To the many managers and projectionists who maintained the flickering projector lamps including the Jacobsons, Paul Coulter and Andy Trenouth;
• To the ticket sellers, the ushers, the cleaners and all those providers of services and produce;
• And to the generations of patrons who have supported the North Hobart Picture Palace, The Liberty, and The State Theatre.
Much of what needs to be said about the history and place of the cinema in our community has already been so eloquently said and what hasn’t been said can be read in Bill Clyde and Gillian Ward’s beautiful book which is being released this Sunday afternoon.
So, I am told tonight, that all I have to do is stand up here and say a few thank-yous, adhere to my customer service mantra of “the less you say the better” and not embarrass myself in front of such esteemed company.
To that end, there are many people that I should thank and to avoid forgetting anyone I have, in the typical State Cinema style of adopting technology, prepared a digital thank you.
I particularly would like to make a few, very special thank-yous. To the incredibly dedicated staff, which is primarily made up of a team of young talented women whose intelligence and work ethic have been the foundation stone for the cinema’s success. I thank Melinda, Nic, Beatrice, Melanie, Erin, Meagan, Emma and all the other staff.
To Rod Walker for his valuable input with the incredibly complex digital implementation over the past eight years.
To Felicity and the late Jonathan Dawson whose contribution to this cinema and the local film culture cannot be underestimated.
To those who have endured me during the past eleven years. My family, Dean Paul and Jacqui, and last, but by no means least a sincere thankyou to my mother Frances and Janet Dale – both who should be nominated for a Nobel Peace prize.
For me, having lived in a 1500 metre radius of this cinema all of my life, the State has always been embedded in my consciousness. As a young boy my brothers and I would attend holiday screenings. Primary school visits were also a big deal and a few years later, as a nonchalant long haired matriculation student, it was compulsory to attend educational screenings such as King Lear. Upon reflection I would have been the antithesis of today’s preferred patron.
When I purchased the cinema I could have never possibly imagined the journey I was embarking on and perhaps if I had taken the time to perform a slightly more detailed due diligence and taken the advice of some of those around me, my decision may well have been different.
But then again I have never heard of an independent cinema owner who is a conservative thinking, university educated, rational thinker.
Speaking of which, what could have possibly been going through our local cinema pioneers heads when they pegged out their North Hobart Picture Palace – a sturdy, two storey, double brick, iron roofed, building with a street frontage of 50 feet and a depth of 190 feet.
This was a time that is often referred to as Australia’s “Glorious Days “. The nation was young and full of energy. It was a time of tremendous optimism, when Australians took pride in their distinctive culture, high standard of living and sporting prowess.
In the year 1913 Australians saw their new nation as progressive and free to make its own future in the world.
People embraced the modern world of planes, trains, automobiles and cinema.
Tango dancing had arrived in Australia and with it came a sense of excitement, sensuality and a surge of a cosmopolitan culture. There was an increasing prominence of international cable-based news services which contributed to recasting journalism around the excitement of the headline and the breaking story.
And so it was, that Morris and Chenhall were probably swept up in the euphoria of the era – what could possibly go wrong?
North Hobart was emerging with its own identity. It had its own concert band, cricket and football clubs, numerous drinking houses, a new post office, Soundy’s Department Store, churches and an electric tramline from the city. The Mercury newspaper, on this day one hundred years ago, ran articles recording such events as yachting, bowling, billiards, golf and football.
And there – in an obscure part of the classifieds, a small public notice, almost like a birth notice, announced to the good people of Hobart Town
The opening of the new North Hobart Picture Palace with a special large program of moving pictures. A full and competent orchestra, and a hall that is well ventilated and absolutely fireproof.
And so the story began.
This cinema in its 100 years, has survived 2 World Wars, The Great Depression, the introduction of Radio and Television, the global financial crisis, the new mediums of video on demand, satellite tv and home entertainment systems.
In the past eleven years I personally have endured fire, flood, financial folly, falling foundations, fines, faulty film, and fist fights. And then there were the tough times!
The cinema screen is a mirror to our souls and to our minds.
It is a prism, where 24 frames of images every second, reflect off the screen and into our minds. It reflects to us the people we have been, it is a barometer of who we are at this moment in time and it can be the agent of social change.
Since 1913 under this very pressed tin ceiling, generations of Tasmanians have been entertained. If these walls could only speak, can you imagine the stories they could tell of the past 100 years!
The excitement and look on the faces of those people who saw a moving image for their very first time.
The last night out for the soldiers before they sailed off to the horrors of wars and would never return.
The first night out for a couple who would spend the rest of their lives together.
The tears, the laughter, the yells, the gasps, the wandering hands.
There are few other places on this island, if any, that have for so long, entertained and inspired, impassioned and influenced as many souls, than this small suburban cinema has.
Where else today in a world of non-stop communication and distraction can we escape into a completely darkened room for two hours, transported to a different time and place whilst being induced into a hypnotic and for many of us, an inebriated state of mind?
And where to for the future? What would have Chenhall and Morris said if they were asked the same question 100 years ago?
How could they have possibly imagined what lay ahead – the wars, the social changes, digital projection, an additional six screens, a bookstore and a cinema not only outdoors but perched up on the rooftop!
I stand here tonight, humbled and at the same time honoured, to be part of this moment in history, as the holder of the torch at this moment in time – as an accidental cinema owner who has been associated with 11% of its history.
I have witnessed the rebuilding, the renaissance, brought about by sheer hard work, risk taking and a debt level rivalling a small African nation.
We are all remembered as individuals by a defining event in our lives.
Tasmanians such as Richard Flanagan by his extraordinary stories, Max Angus as Tasmania’s most prolific and favourite artist Dame Enid Lyons for her incredible political career.
Patrons often speak to me about how they enjoy the cinema and what an icon it is. Almost on every occasion the conversation comes around to how many new cinemas have been built into the existing site. It is at this stage I know exactly where they are heading and their enthusiastic conversation, usually embellished by a large glass of red, leads to the cinemas that have emerged from seemingly nowhere.
The incredible story of how auditoriums were constructed involving the excavation and wheel barrowing out of some 500 tonnes of earth. The sweat, the toil, the darkness, the fetid air and it is at this point I see them staring at me as if I am a mole or some other burrowing subterranean creature.
My enduring legacy I fear will be – John Kelly – he dug a bloody big hole under the State Cinema. And as to how long my tenure will be – I really have no idea. I am however very aware that history tells me, that the owner guardians of this cinema before me, on every occasion, have never left on their own terms. In a strange, almost eerie way, it seems that the cinema has decided this for them.
Perhaps it is the cinema that owns us – not the reverse. I do believe there is a real spirit that buildings in our community, such as this possess.
It is a spirit that reflects us through its architecture, through the purpose it serves and to how it changes and evolves with us. Hopefully that evolution reflects the best in us.
Whatever the future does hold, may it be, that at 8pm on the 2nd of October in the year 2113, that a future generation of Tasmanians gather together under this very pressed tin ceiling, as a better community, in a better world, to celebrate the second century of this much loved Tasmanian icon.
Good night Thank you all and long live the State
• Full program of special events, here
• Des Hanlon, in Comments: Whilst John is correct about the range of problems he faced with the development of the State Cinema as tough as they may have been he failed to mention one or two others. To see him personally digging out the basement of the Soundy’s corner shop with the Elizabeth Street main water pipe leaking into the property, trying to get the HCC to accept it was their main that was the problem. With mud everywhere he may have had a vision but if he didn’t physically do the work it was never going to happen. It was essential for him to expand the earning potential of the property by creating more space.
