From phantoms to "Star Trek" marathons to cleaning out ashtrays — there are endless stories about the venerable NorShor Theatre in downtown Duluth.
As the NorShor prepares to reopen, the News Tribune gathered memories from readers about various eras of the theater. Here are those stories, in the words of the people who shared them:
Jim Greenfield
I just remember how beautiful that place was compared to the other movie theaters in town. It was pretty high-class for a young guy back in the '40s and '50s. ... While seniors at Duluth Central High School (Class of '52), my buddy and I would occasionally decide we deserved an afternoon off to watch a matinee at the NorShor. We would skip school and take the short walk to the Original Coney Island, where we'd order eight coney dogs with everything, to go. (Cost: 25 cents each!)
We'd sneak the coneys into the NorShor and head for the balcony, where we'd wolf down our dogs, then ball up the smelly wrappers and toss them to the other side of the mostly-empty balcony. We'd chew a couple of sticks of gum to mask the smell and watch the movie. Soon an usher would appear, trying to locate the source of the raw onions and coney sauce that were stinking up the theater! We never got caught. ...
On Nov. 20, 1959, I attended a movie as a member of the 179th Fighter Interceptor Squadron (now the 148th Fighter Wing). Our commander "bought out the house" that night so the entire squadron could watch a movie and have our Christmas party at the NorShor with no one else in the theater."
Margi Preus
An early memory of the Norshor is watching "Babette's Feast" while wrapped up in blankets and sleeping bags. It was so cold in the theater you could barely see the images of the frigid Danish countryside through the fog of your breath.
Colder by the Lake's 10th anniversary show was a Comedy Bake Off with Dudley Riggs on the big stage in the big theater. Although there wasn't actually any scoring system, I'm pretty sure we won. That's all anybody needs to remember.
Colder by the Lake also produced "Phantom of the Norshor" to enthusiastic crowds in the new (at that time) upstairs theater. During rehearsals, we discovered there was a real phantom living in the basement, in addition to the theatrical one played by Bill Bastian (who was only pretending to live in the basement). ... Among other notable moments was Bruce Ojard clothing (via slide projector) the large nude ladies pictured on the wall of the theater.
I remember a succession of attempts at making that place work. I was on the board of at least one of those attempts. ... There were attempts at movies, theater, music, a bar — yep, strip club, too ... It was each successor's dream to make that place work! So much love has been poured into that building over the years, it's gotta have some beautiful vibes. Also, don't forget — a phantom in the basement.
Don Ness
First memories, I went to see "The Black Stallion" when I was about 6 years old when it was a movie theater. I remember being in awe of the surroundings...
My next memory is my dad did a variety show back in the mid-'80s, and that was the first (time) that they had closed off the balcony and created its own little theater. Then, most of my memories were in the late '90s and early '00s, when Rick Boo was operating the NorShor. When I was in my early to mid-20s, and I just graduated from UMD, and I wasn't really sure if I was going to remain in Duluth and whether or not I had a place in my hometown after graduating from college, it was the NorShor at the time that I found a sense of community, where I fell back in love with the city.
It was a very tight-knit music community, the talent was just outstanding and everybody was so supportive of one another. There was a lot of creativity, Homegrown Music Festival came out of that time, and some acts that were just getting started that are now touring the nation. ... There was about that five-, six-year period where things were kind of alive and shortly after that it fell apart and became a strip club. The space really went into decline, so it's exciting to now see the new chapter being and to see some of the talent back on stage.
Crystal Pelkey
One of my favorite memories at the NorShor was the 2003 Geek Prom ... dubbed Geek Prom II: The Geekquel. In the late 1990s, Alan Sparhawk of the Duluth band Low wrote a song that would become a geek anthem. The lyrics consisted of just two lines: "Fear is gone. We'll be philosophers."
"We'll Be Philosophers," was chosen as the love theme for the spotlight dance at Geek Prom, despite being one of the most undanceable songs ever recorded. (Fun fact: two years later, in 2005, I was crowned the Geek Prom Queen).
Another favorite memory was a concert in 2005 by Trampled By Turtles, a fundraiser for a nonprofit that I organized. It was before they hit the big time on a national level, and it was an intimate, electrifying and wonderful evening of music.
JP Rennquist
My earliest memories of it are growing up and going downtown and going to movies there. This was in the '80s, and I just fell in love with the place. It went through a lot of different transformations ... In 2004, I started this business Speedy Wienie. ... I brought the wienie cart over there and I had this awesome night. ... Next thing you know, I was doing more and more events; within short order, they asked if I wanted to take over the concession operation ... I went from this wienie stand to trying to run this huge theater. ... There was multiple things going on in multiple spaces in the same day ... Link Wray, he's one of the founders of rock 'n' roll music ... he came and performed. It was one of his last shows ... and he was astounding.
When I was a concession manager, they literally had propane heaters in the auditorium. We'd stripped the carpet at that point. ... and you could still see your breath.
All these people would come out of the woodwork and do stuff. They'd have cool ideas and invest themselves and volunteer. Some guy came in and fixed seats in the theater ... so people could sit down and there was sometimes we needed every one of those seats.
Everybody in this town has memories in that theater of something they did there. It really belongs to all of us.
Brian Matuszak
I'd gone there a lot in the '80s to see movies. In that time, they hadn't walled up the upstairs balcony. I remember my friends and I sitting upstairs watching a "Star Trek" marathon all afternoon. ... When I was in college, a bunch went there to see "Wizard of Oz"; it was really cool to see the old movies show on the screen.
I was with Renegade (Comedy Theatre) and we were looking for a venue and I called Eric Ringsred directly cause I knew the NorShor was sitting (vacant) ... It wasn't in horrible shape, it hadn't been used for a long time ... The first show I did there was September 1995, "Road to Nirvana."
If any place was haunted in Duluth, it'd be the NorShor because it's so old and so many people have been in there. It was a little spooky, too, to be alone in there ... There wasn't anything I saw unexplained. More often than not, I creeped myself out ... It was always an eerie feeling ... to know that on your right there was a big empty, cavernous space and anything could come popping out.
Jean Sramek
The first movie I ever saw was at the NorShor ... was "My Fair Lady" starring Audrey Hepburn. It must have been a second-run matinee. ... I remember being really excited and standing up on one of the movie theater seats, thus continuing a long tradition of people doing horrible things to the NorShor seats.
In the '80s, I was often an observer of, a party to, or a willing participant in, exercises in poor decision-making related to concerts and other events at the NorShor. ... At some point I was a cocktail server there, which paid cash under the table, and sometimes didn't pay at all. A guy named Charlie still owes me $60, which is approximately a thousand dollars adjusting for inflation, so I fully plan to be one of those ghosts who allegedly haunt the building. ...
One of the coolest things that happened during this time was the movie "The Gods Must Be Crazy" broke some kind of national record for longest run. Somehow, even in poor economic times, Duluthians loved this movie so much they just kept seeing it. I think that says something about us as a community, although I'm not 100 percent sure what. ...
Our props and set pieces from "Phantom of the NorShor" were stored in the basement, where they no doubt grew a layer of mold thick enough to require the assistance of the cutter ship Sundew. I'm sure they've been thrown out, which is too bad, but hey, another reason to haunt the place someday.
Arthur Strum
Back in '62/'63 ... my main job was usher, but then, I also assisted in making the popcorn for the theater. I put up the marquee when new movies were coming. I took tickets (and) I got myself in a couple of scrapes. I would find people sneaking into the back door (and) other people would come in and pay their tickets and go in the side door and try to let somebody in for free. We would have to throw everybody out that was involved. ...
Employees would go up to the balcony to watch movies to be by themselves with their girlfriends or boyfriends. ... A couple of times we held beer parties in the basement. ...
We would go through several garbage bags full of popcorn during the big movies. ... 75 cents an hour and we felt like we were rich. Back in those days, 11, 12, 13 dollars was good money for young kids. ... We had to clean out all the ashtrays (in the lobby) and for people like me that didn't smoke, I hated that with a passion. ... I've only had three jobs in my whole life, the Norshor Theatre, 21 years four months in the Marine Corps, 22 years with PNC bank.
Dawn King
There were so many bizarre and fun times at the NorShor when I worked there around '04-'05. The Link Wray show had me abandoning my post at the popcorn stand several times to join the audience. I couldn't pass up the chance to see him play and to watch my musician friends get pulled into the performance.
Then there was the hobo film festival that ended with several dozen train hoppers and locals on the mezzanine dance floor, romping about to the fiddle-centric hobo-punk band Blinking Freddy and the Low Riders. I'm pretty sure I ended up sleeping on the stage in the upper theater that night.