“The lack of funds has really kept us back, because we’re not rich,” said D. Liendra Jeffries, the church’s octogenarian senior pastor. “We’re trying to negotiate a deal so we can do something with the building.”
“We might do a land lease that includes the air space,” said Pastor Jeffries, a dapper 69-year-old with a salt-and-pepper beard. “But we’re not going to sell.” In any scenario, he insisted, the church would continue its ministry at that location.
When the church purchased the property from Loew’s in 1975, the theater was a mess. “We were in love with that building, oh man, because we bought it with our hard-earned money,” said Liendra Jeffries, the senior pastor. The church paid $110,000 in cash, she said, because racially discriminatory redlining by banks made obtaining a loan impossible.
Cleaning the building was grueling. “Loew’s had guard dogs they let run free in here, and they defecated,” said Pastor Jeffries. “We had to wear boots and overalls and masks and use bleach to clean the whole sanctuary.”
The church reupholstered the seats, whitewashed the plum-colored tapestries in the recessed wall arches and — as the senior pastor said — “we hired a Greek painter who painted over all the naked ladies in the ceiling and turned them into angels.”
Today, the sky-blue-and-gold auditorium is in decent shape, although the ceiling has collapsed in an upstairs stairwell landing, another area has mold, and the building needs repointing. High above the auditorium, the projection booth serves as a breathtakingly untouched time capsule. A rusted cabinet for film reels remains in place, one door marked “Sat Nite.” A vintage spotlight points out a square hole in the wall. And a midcentury Norge icebox bears a message in Magic Marker: “This Refrigerator Is the Personal Property of Men in Booth.”
The building’s terra-cotta facade also remains mostly intact, at least for now. Susan Tunick, author of “Terra-Cotta Skyline,” a history of architectural terra-cotta in New York, said that few city theaters with such vivid polychromatic decoration survive. “It’s unusual for this period to have that much color and a hybrid architectural style,” she said. “It’s very quirky, so it would be very sad to lose such a richly colored terra-cotta building.”
But the structure is not a landmark and can be demolished as of right. Indeed, only one Brooklyn theater with multicolored terra-cotta facade ornament — the 1908 Peter Jay Sharp Building at BAM — enjoys landmark protection.
Even if the church does not raze the former cinema, the Art Deco faces may be stripped from its facade. “If we can change them into angels or replace them with figures that are spiritual, we might go that route,” said Pastor Jeffries. Art Deco is worth big bucks, he has been told, and movie industry people have offered to buy that row of terra-cotta visages. “Anytime we’re ready to get rid of it,” he said, “they’ve left their cards.”