National Pastime Theater

One night I left and locked the place up. Turned off the lights and went out for a while. I was the only one with the key," says Bryan. "I came back much later and let myself in, went into the theater and all the stage lights were on. Funny, I thought. Who did that?

"Then another night we were doing construction, moving the rows of seats around, and each row took four men to move it. It got to be dinnertime and so we all went out, leaving one row of seats in the middle of the room that we'd move back later. We had a nice dinner, with a bottle of wine or two, and came back about 2 a.m. The center of the room was clear. The row of seats had been moved back to their original spot. That was the ghosts--they needed a little room to dance in.

The building was built in 1929 as the Buena Park Hotel, and the ballroom attracted what must have been a working-class crowd looking for a little elegance on a Saturday night. At some point it became a speakeasy, and what a perfect location-- protected on the street side by small storefront shops on Broadway and, hidden behind them within the hotel, myriad ways to elude the cops.

National Pastime Theater has been at its speakeasy location for two years.

"We are not a bunch of young punks, we are in this place for a reason," says Bryan. "We have had a very anti-Establishment theme here and I think it fits the history of the place. This is the perfect place to produce the plays that we do.

"There is nothing like it in the city--a very desirable location. The acoustics are great, the energy of the room fantastic. Every other theater group that rents the space wants to come back, no matter what." There is a paint-chipped old elegance to the room Bryan and his company converted to a theater. It hints of a history when most who danced there are now probably long gone. It suggests the era of illegal booze and big cigars and babes with Betty Boop curls wearing clinging, swinging sheaths cut on the bias.

On New Year's Eve, the theater throws a benefit party--gangster style, with a man working the peep hole before he lets you in. And live music and dancing and a balloon drop at midnight. Just like the old days. But nobody has to leave by the basement exit door because the police are on to you. It's all legit now.

"The Adding Machine," a play written in 1923 by Elmer Rice, played until late December in the old ballroom. The 60-seat theater was sold out. There was a lot of energy on stage and in the audience the plays they put on?

Or is there still dancing? Rooting and tooting and carrying on? Maybe. But that's long after the play is over, the makeup removed, the stage lights gone dark and the doors locked up for the night. Then, when there is no audience, it's a whole other show.