Old Town Music Hall’s crown jewel, the Mighty Wurlitzer Theatre Pipe Organ.
Words By
JEFF VINCENT
Images by
Jessie Lee Cederblom
There’s a hidden gem in the South Bay, glowing
in plain sight. Those who know: have been. But
too often, even just a block away at El Segundo
Brewing Company on any given weekend, someone’s
sipping a Standard Crude with no idea that it’s waiting
just around the corner. Or maybe they’ve some foggy
notion that the place exists, but haven’t made a point
of actually going and aren’t really sure exactly what it’s
all about.
It’s a house of magic. A living relic, and breathing
museum. A cultural sanctuary, beating with the pulse
of yesteryear’s celluloid heroes and villains. It is… your
proverbial passport to a different time.
The first time I ever went to the Old Town Music
Hall, some 15 years ago, it was an October showing,
when the lobby is laden with monsters and filled with
frights, a few ghouls have reserved seating in the back
rows, and the stage is littered with a festive fall foliage
of skeletons, jack-o’-lanterns, spiderwebs, witches, and
the like. As a later arrival (predating assigned seating
along with online ticket sales), I was situated as close
to the screen as anyone in the audience can be. But
someone was about to sit closer…
Stirling Yearian manning the controls.
A wizened elder came rolling down the aisle on a
Rascal or Lark scooter, and up a little ramp to an ornate
bench upon the stage, where he slid over to take hisplace upon the throne before what appeared to be the
controls of a Martian spaceship. As the curtains drew
open, they didn’t unveil a screen; but a literal labyrinth
of pipes and percussive instruments towering up to the
ceiling, all aglow in bright, multicolored blacklight
paint. A breathy atmosphere radiated into the room, as
the wizard of the keys began to play.
Transfixed and utterly mindblown, my front row
view revealed an elegant master of ceremonies who
seemed to tinker and toil with the ease of at least twenty
fingers and five legs over four keyboards, 260 switches
and tabs, an array of controls, and even a foot-operated
floor board of wooden piano keys. I’d officially been
initiated to Old Town, and what a night out at the
movies was like a century ago, when a live human
provided the sound for silent film. And to think,
that once upon a time this maniacal machination of
mankind was somehow more convenient and expedient
than just inventing film with sound.
Old Town’s snack bar keeps it affordable.
THE SOUND OF SILENCE
In an age when 30 minutes of overstimulating
previews constitutes a coveted movie-going experience
not to be missed all on its own, it might be difficult to
imagine a time when newfangled still photos ushered
in the quiet dawn of motion pictures. When films first
appeared in the late 1800s, decades before most
homes in the United States would even have electricity,
they were without sound. In the early 1900s, theatre
organs replaced expensive live pit orchestras to
provide musical and aural accompaniment for movies.
Traditional church organs were initially relied upon;
but by 1910, English engineer Robert Hope-Jones
and the Cincinnati-born, New York-based Rudolph
Wurlitzer Company (founded by German immigrant
Franz Rudolph Wurlitzer) collaborated to create what
they called the Unit Orchestra, allowing a sole organist
to become a one man orchestra. Old Town Music Hall
is home to such an artifact.
The crown jewel of the Old Town Music Hall is a
Mighty Wurlitzer Theatre Pipe Organ, built in 1925.
Not only is it a stunning marvel to behold visually, but
it places all the sounds of a full orchestra, including
percussion, at the fingertips and foot stomps of its
operator, along with cinematic sound effects such as
sirens, train whistles, thunderclaps, and horse hooves,
not to mention some of those more exotic leanings
like xylophones, marimbas, or chimes. This gorgeous
monster boasts more than a staggering 2,600 pieces,
with the largest pipes standing at a menacing 16 feet
tall, while the smallest are just the size of a pencil. And
the whole dang thing is entirely acoustic—powered by
wind generated from a 10-horsepower electric blower,
with a low voltage system operating electromagnets that
open valves to admit air into all the pipes. Maniacal.
And to make it an even rarer breed, talkie films (moving
pictures with sound/dialogue) were introduced by
1927!
I’ve been in the belly of the beast, literally—I was
taken on a tour of its inner-workings. And it’s like
being inside an excited dragon who’s furiously huffing
and puffing about a hobbit trying to steal his gold.
It was Bill Field on that fantastical-feeling fall night
of my initiation, taming the beast while manning
the console of the Mighty Wurlitzer, as he had every
weekend since 1968 when he and Bill Coffman injected
new marrow into the sturdy bones of this early 1920s
edifice.
Every year, Old Town usually shows a couple 3-D sci-fi flicks from the 1950s.
(Photo courtesy of Old Town Music Hall)
NEW RELIC IN AN OLD TOWN
Peering through some of the smokey haze of the
building’s history, it sounds like an early wood frame
theatre existed around 1912, survived a fire in 1919,
and was condemned in 1920. Then, the El Segundo
Theatre or State Theatre opened in 1921 (it’s hard to say
which was first, as it bounced back and forth between
names over the years). At any rate, it was erected to host
live entertainment for the employees of the Standard
Oil Refinery and was soon fitted for motion picture
viewing, functioning as such into the mid-1930s until
it went dark for a few years; eventually reopening as
the El Segundo Theatre in 1944, returning to the State
Theatre in 1951, abandoned in the early ‘50s. In the
1960s, two musicians, Bill Field and Bill Coffman
Old Town’s founders, “the Two Bills.” Bill Coffman (seated), Bill Field (standing). (Photo
probably from the 1970s, courtesy of Old Town Music Hall)
(the “Two Bills”), acquired the Mighty Wurlitzer organ
pipes from the Fox West Coast Theatre in Long Beach,
and the console to operate them from the Paramount
Theatre in downtown Los Angeles. And in 1968, they
established the Old Town Music Hall that we know
and love today.
Under the impassioned leadership of the Two Bills,
Old Town became a volunteer-run vibrant house of
classic film (with a principled focus on showing only
pictures released between about 1921-1956), as well as
ragtime, jazz, and pipe organ concerts. The format was:
a performance on the Mighty Wurlitzer (just to show
off what this puppy could do), which culminated in
an old fashioned audience singalong and was followed
by a cartoon or featurette; then, an intermission, and,
lastly, the main show of the feature film itself. If the
feature was a silent film accompanied by a live human
playing the Mighty Wurlitzer throughout, then the
featurette would typically be a talkie like an Abbot
and Costello short. In reverse, if the main feature was
a talkie picture, then the featurette would usually be a
silent accompanied by the Wurlitzer, something like a
Laurel & Hardy short.
Old Town Music Hall in the 1940s, when it was the El Segundo Theatre.
(Photo courtesy of Old Town Music Hall)
It was definitely a much fuller night out to the
movies, just like it used to be in the olden days, when
folks probably dressed up in suits and dresses for the
occasion. To this day, it’s still the same format at Old
Town, singalong and all. And it’s not uncommon
that screenings will be presented/introduced by
some member of the local film or entertainment
intelligentsia—whether a film historian, author,
standup comedian, filmmaker, museum board member,
etc.
One of the only things that’s changed since 1968
occurred in just the last few years, which was the
decision to expand the breadth of their film selection;
while keeping it classic. They loosened their stance just
A maniacal machination of mankind indeed.
enough to allow iconic flicks from the ‘60s, ‘70s, ’80s,
and even up into the 2000s to grace their screen.
So, naturally, we took my best friend’s 10-year-
old boy to see “Halloween” (1978) for his first time
last October! Covering his eyes at the (in)appropriate
moments, of course. Though, he was pretty entertained
by seeing Mike Meyers appear up on the stage and
walk amongst the audience, just standing and staring
at people.
A few other examples of what might appear in
modern Old Town’s repertoire throughout the calendar
year include “Psycho” (1960), “The Good, the Bad
and the Ugly” (1966), “Grease” (1978), “Xanadu”
(1980), “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” (1988),
“National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” (1989),
“L.A. Confidential” (1997), “Shaun Of The Dead”
(2004), and “Wall-E” (2008). Though, to be sure, the
predominant regular day to day weekend is still chalk
full of ultra classics and deep cuts from the 1920s-50s.
About the only other change at Old Town after all
these years is who you see behind the hundred million
keys of the Mighty Wurlitzer. By now, the founders
have left us. Bill Coffman in 2001, Bill Field in 2020.
But their vision remains intact. The theatre looks the
same as it did in 1968, aside from some upgraded seats,
which are aesthetically true to form, yet much more
comfortable to fit your posterior form. Ultimately, the
heartbeat of the Two Bills maintains a thriving rhythm
under the stewardship of its incredible volunteers.
ENTER THE PALACE OF PASSION,
BUT BEWARE THE RED VEST!
One such devotee is current President and CEO
James Moll, whose mother and stepfather had actually
met at Old Town.
“Although I’ve been involved with the theatre in one
way or another since I was 11 years old, spending much
of my teen years playing ragtime piano on stage before
movies, my official board member position didn’t begin
until after the passing of Bill Field in 2020,” James
says. “In fact, when I was at USC Film School (after I
was accepted because of an introduction the Two Bills
made for me to meet the head of the film school) the
Two Bills allowed me to shoot one of my student films
in the W.C. Field’s Cafe restaurant next door—which
was a wonderful buffet restaurant that operated as part
of the theatre in the 1980s.”
The neon sign from that cafe, named after Old Town
founder Bill Field (birth name William Charles Field),
not the actor/comedian W.C. Fields, now hangs in
the snack bar at Old Town; unassuming and modest,
like James himself, who waited tables at the restaurant
during high school, long before he’d go on to become
an award-winning documentary filmmaker with an
Oscar, two Emmys, and a Grammy under his belt. He
is also the Founding Executive Director of the USC
Shoah Foundation, which he established for Steven
Spielberg, that records, preserves, and shares audio-
visual testimonies of Holocaust survivors.
Of the Two Bills, I never got to meet Bill Coffman.
But Bill Field was always available for conversation,
always sitting out front before and after shows, or
lingering upon the organ bench, exuding the kindest
approachability while chatting it up with his guests, his
admirers, his friends of the arts. And if Field set the
tone for the warmth that his theatre would represent,
there couldn’t have been a more appropriate successor
than James.
A tender piece of James’s spirit is occupied by Old
Town, and the theatre itself is a piece of his family. The
gentle joy and care with which he treats his guests, as
he bounces around, donning his red usher’s vest, is only
matched by his obvious love and reverence for the very
building and all the memories it holds. If a magic lives
there, he’s our Albus Dumbledore.
Old Town’s enchanting personality has a tendency to
captivate and ultimately capture many of its volunteers.
Like lovesick moths to a flame, they’re drawn to the
theatre from a compulsive place of passion, only to be
gleefully devoured. They don’t need to be there, their
lives don’t depend on it; but they can’t help themselves,
and wouldn’t have it any other way. The current
Executive Director and occasional organist was one
such captive. You’ll see Stirling Yearian in a black bowtie and his
official red usher’s vest while greeting guests out front
the theatre. He’s a gentle soul, whose soft, yet piercing
bespectacled eyes betray a glint of mischief above
his white moustache. And I daresay he missed his
calling as a comedian, since he’s a retired maintenance
mechanic and operations engineer of a chemical plant.
He and his wife Vicki, who hustles the snack bar (with
her wonderful homemade healthy popcorn waiting
alongside sparkly and Smart Water, as well as more
traditional movie going goodies and candies), drive
160 miles roundtrip to volunteer every weekend at Old
Town. But it didn’t start that way.
I’ve known Stirling’s face at Old Town for a long
time, but began to wonder if it was always as one of the
crew. It seemed to me in my mind that it was only in
the last 5 years or so that he and Vicki began appearing
out front in their red vests; yet, in a manner that seemed
as if they’d always been there, or like maybe I missed
something, the film skipped a frame, time melded
together like Milk Duds upon my brain. Well, it turns
out that Stirling first discovered the theatre well over a
decade ago, around the same time as myself.
“I saw a little flyer, and it mentioned something
about a small theatre in El Segundo that had a pipe
organ in it,” he recalls. “And I thought, ‘Well, maybe
I’ll go check that place out.’ It’s a long drive all the way
out here, and I guess I kind of had that feeling that I
see in people’s faces the first time they walk into the
theatre. I just walked into this place and fell in love
with it. Sat in the very front row so I could watch Bill
Field play the Wurlitzer, and just sat there, just amazed
at the magic that was coming out of that instrument.”
“It kind of drew me in, and we would come to shows
maybe about once a month, just because it was such a
long drive. Well, plus I was working back then too…
And then when I retired, I started coming more often
and told my wife well I’d really like to volunteer here.
We would kind of hang out and help clean up and all
that, and before we knew it, they stuck red vests on
us and put us to work, and [we’ve] been enjoying our
weekends here ever since.”
So there you have it, for years on end we were fellow
faces in the crowd; then, all of a sudden, one day he’s
greeting me on the way in before taking his place
behind the Mighty Wurlitzer. The red vest got ‘em. As
it’s gotten others…
“We had a new volunteer just started last weekend,”
says Stirling. “Jen was a regular customer, we’d always
see her all the time in the audience, and I kind of
joked around with her… I said, ‘You come here often
enough, we’re going to put a red vest on you and put
you to work’—that’s how they trapped my wife and I
to come here to volunteer too. She’s having a blast here,
so much fun.”
A STIRLING PERFORMANCE
Still, I can’t get over that 160-mile roundtrip drive to
volunteer every weekend.
“I think it helps to be a little bit crazy,” says Stirling.
But what kind of crazy does he mean? In addition
to his duties as Executive Director, which he assures
me includes sweeping floors, unplugging toilets, and
polishing chrome in the bathrooms so that everything
looks perfect for the guests, he also fills in on the Mighty
Wurlitzer when Official House Organist Randy Woltz
takes time off.
“I’m a theatre organ enthusiast,” says Stirling, who’s
also a long-time member of the American Theatre Organ
Society. “I love the Wurlitzer here, and it’s certainly
worth the drive for me… And more importantly, it’s
more worth the drive to me to see so many happy
people when we come to the theatre… everybody’s
just smiling and so happy to be here… then hearing all
the comments, especially [from] first-timers that have
never been here before… It’s fun to watch people walk
into the theatre the very first time, the look on their
face when they go around the corner from the lobby
into the house and see the giant chandeliers and the
paintings; it’s like they’re instantly transported back in
time, to a happy place.”
Stirling enjoys the films at Old Town, of course; but
his true passion is the Wurlitzer.
“If the Wurlitzer wasn’t here… I’d probably be either
taking up bowling or drinking for the weekends,” he
says. In case you hadn’t caught on to his wry wit and
humor just yet.
During years of admiring Bill Filed’s craft behind the
keys, a third eye for Stirling would’ve come in handy
for the films themselves, since his God-given peepers
were usually glued to Bill’s hands and feet, studiously
absorbing what he was doing.
“A lot of what I play here is just self-taught, or from
sitting in the front row watching Bill Field play. Before
we had assigned seating, my wife and I would get here—
we tried to be the first ones at the ticket booth, because
I’d always ask my wife, ‘I want to sit in A9,’ because
that’s the best view of Bill playing the Wurlitzer. So I’d
always sit in the very front row.”
He would often chat it up with Bill in the lobby
before showtime. Eventually, Bill began inviting him
and his wife out to dinner after the shows, treating
them like part of the family, which is how Stirling came
to better get to know the other volunteers.
“And it’s kind of funny, because—well, one of
the other volunteers knew that I sort of knew how
to play the organ,” Stirling said. “So after one of the
movies, my wife and I were hanging around, and so
the other volunteer asked if I wanted to try playing the
Wurlitzer… So I tinkered around a little bit with it,
and Bill was up in the office up here, and he’s yelling,
‘Turn it off!’ Well, the organ uses a lot of electricity
with the blowers. Bill said, ‘Turn it off! Turn it off!’ And
then the other volunteer said, ‘Well, Stirling’s playing.’
‘Oh, no, that’s okay. Let him play, let him play.’”
“It’s very intimidating. Sitting at that thing, you’re
like at the controls of a 747, there’s so many buttons
and switches on it. There’s a big keyboard we play with
our feet, and then four manuals [standalone keyboards]
we play with our four hands, and then 200 and some
odd different colored switches up there that turn on
different sets of pipes.”
Fondly, i told stirling that I’ve seen him play.
“And you came back? Good!” he immediately fired
back. “I figure if I can’t be good, at least be fun and be
loud. Add lots of extra xylophone and car horns and
sirens.”
PHANTOM OF THE MUSIC HALL
Another Old Town familiar is Official House
Organist Randy Woltz. As an Associate of the American
Guild of Organists, who’s a graduate of the Film
Scoring program at USC, with a Masters degree in
Organ Performance, Randy is also the mild-mannered,
witty-humored maestro who introduces October films
while sporting a Phantom or Dracula cape before
busting into some serious Wurlitzer.
Randy’s command of the stage wouldn’t come into
focus until after COVID, though he’d been performing
on it off and on for twenty years with various bands
and singers. On occasion, Bill Field would let him play
a couple tunes on the organ, but it wasn’t until after
Bill’s passing in 2020, and when the pandemic had
relaxed enough for everything to begin reopening—as
James was looking for organists—that Woltz became
our main man.
“I’m the one that’s expected to be there every
weekend unless there is a guest organist or live band,”
says Randy. With regard to the opening performances
on the Mighty Wurlitzer, he says, “I try to come up
with a different medley every weekend—sometimes
three different ones to match the various films. It could
be a violent gangster film, then a Disney cartoon, then,
on Sunday, a Western. Each medley is about five or six
minutes long. If we are showing a film that has music
in it, I will try to play some of that, which requires
research. I have to look through my library, or buy
music online, or transcribe something from a recording
if there is no printed music. It keeps me on my toes!”
Personally, I remember feeling that Randy was a
comfortable transition into a new era of Old Town,
and he seemed to quickly become mighty comfortable
on the Wurlitzer himself.
“It is so much fun! It was a bit alien to me at first
because I was classically trained on church-type
instruments. But now I have endless joy in creating
beautiful music with all the different sounds available
on a theatre organ. When I am playing a silent film, I
get into the emotion of the scene just as if I was in the
movie. If it is a love scene, or chase, or suspense, I try to
really pump that up so the audience is getting the
full impact of the movie like the films of today with full
orchestra scores. It’s interesting to think that 100 years
later theatre organists are still playing for silent films—
and many of these films are beautifully restored, so the
audience is seeing them in their full glory.”
REAL TIME TIME CAPSULE
I’m not the only one who continues to come back.
A young face I’ve seen there just about every time I’ve
ever been belongs to Krysta Olson, who discovered
Old Town somewhere in the early 2000s. And she fell
in love.
“Growing up, I was always kind of a shy and quiet
kid,” she says. “So discovering silent movies really blew
my mind. Suddenly, there was an entire world where
people told these amazing, emotional stories without
ever saying a word. Chaplin, Keaton, and Harry
Langdon were my favorites. And growing up, I totally
fell in love with 1920s fashion and furniture, it was
all so beautiful and elegant… The moment you step
inside the Old Town Music Hall, it’s like walking into
the ‘20s. You don’t just lose yourself in the movie, the
entire trip is part of the experience. Sometimes even
walking up the theater there would be someone playing
ragtime music on the piano.”
She captures it perfectly. The moment you walk into
Old Town, you step into a time capsule. A time capsule
that, instead of pulling anything out of, you put
yourself in, and experience its contents in real time—
the real time that they were frozen in, during the real
time that you’re living. Leaving the theatre can be a
harsh return to reality; though, you do leave lighter and
happier, giddy but relaxed, like your soul’s had a nice
massage.
Krysta’s first contribution to the time capsule was
actually during one of their live music concerts.
“Janet Klein & Her Parlor Boys. If you haven’t seen
them, I highly recommend it!” she says. “She sings dirty
songs from the ’20s and ‘30s—it’s all really suggestive…
Stuff like, ‘You can put your banana in my basket, boy.’
And somehow it feels way dirtier than a lot of current
stuff.”
“People from the theatre also talked about the
Wurlitzer organ, how they found it and installed it,
and it was just so amazing. After that I went back
for the movies, and I was hooked. When there are so
many distractions everywhere, and everything moves
so fast, taking the time to sit down and completely lose
yourself in a film is unlike anything else. The Old Town
Music Hall takes it another step further. Going is so
special… Sneaking off to go there has always felt almost
like a guilty pleasure, something I treat myself to. It’s
so nostalgic and beautiful, it makes me feel all tingly
and happy… like instant endorphins! I especially love
going in October for all the horror films. It’s honestly
hard not to fall in love.”
I myself am also a big fan of the theatre’s October
festivities. But they also tend to shuttle in some late
September sci-fi. Sitting by myself for “The Day The
Earth Stood Still” (1951) was just what the doctor
ordered a decade ago, but these days Old Town
tends to do a 3-D day for their pre-Spooktober sci-fi
screenings. Most people probably wouldn’t know that
the 1950s were the heyday for 3-D movies (with flicks
like “Creature From The Black Lagoon” in 1954), but
a couple years back, they showed “Robot Monster”
(1953), which was without a doubt one of the most fun
movie-going experiences I and a group of us have ever
had in our lives. And, of course, the Robot Monster
himself was waiting to greet us on the sidewalk and
take pictures after the show.
NO NOVELTIES IN OLD TOWN
If you consider the vastness of history contained
within the walls of Old Town… From WWI to Roaring
Twenties, flappers, prohibition, and a Great Depression.
WWII, Korea, Vietnam, nukes, 9-11, and a handful of
genocides. Civil Rights, assassinations, moon landings,
hippies! Television, VCRs, DVDs, colored TV! Cell
phones, video games, computers, TiVo, artificial
intelligence. Insurrection and autocracy. Too many
Middle Eastern, Eastern European, and African wars
and conflicts to count. It’s quite remarkable how little
has changed at the Music Hall. Some would even call it
special.
“What makes Old Town Music Hall so special is that
there’s really nothing quite like it,” says James Moll.
“It’s like time traveling, to step into a venue that looks
almost exactly today as it did when it first opened in
1968; and it takes you back even further to the earliest
days of cinema. And the programming format is the
same as when The Two Bills first opened… the idea of
starting every show with music on the Mighty Wurlitzer
and an old fashioned singalong—like it was done 100
years ago! And, of course, the Mighty Wurlitzer is in
the spotlight multiple times per month, accompanying
silent films, just like it was built to do. For anyone
interested in experiencing a silent film as they were
originally meant to be seen, there’s no experience more
rewarding than a visit to Old Town Music Hall.”
It’s no novelty at Old Town. The Mighty Wurlitzer
is no gimmicky bell and whistle (even with its bells
and whistles). This Music Hall is a preservation house,
run by passionate volunteers, archivists, curators, and
accomplished, credentialed professionals.
“There is no other place on Earth like Old Town
Music Hall!” says Randy Woltz. “Really, it is quite
unique. It survives on a wonderful family of volunteers
who are there every weekend, and sometimes during
the week, to make sure everything is working properly.
Also, the legacy of continuing the dream of its founders
Bill Field and Bill Coffman, who would be thrilled to
see their theatre playing to capacity audiences.”
We’re lucky that such a precious and rare gemstone
has survived in our own backyard. Only a few hundred
fully functioning theatre organs still exist today. And
Old Town Music Hall is one of the only theatres in the
United States that provides regularly-scheduled silent
films accompanied by live theatre pipe organ. Where
you can take the kids to see an oldie like “The Wizard
Of Oz” and introduce them to it in a whole new way.
Where you can take your mom to see her favorite
movie, “Wuthering Heights” (yes, my mom). Take
dad to see Bela Lugosi slay his iconic role as the first
ever Dracula. Take grandma to revisit the gangsters,
musicals, or silents of her childhood. Maybe slip out for
a solo expedition to experience the Mighty Wurlitzer in
its full flex with “Nosferatu” or “The Phantom Of The
Opera.”
“Old Town Music Hall gives people a chance to time
travel back in time, and to see what it was like to see
a movie 100 years ago,” says Stirling Yearian. “It’s such
an honor to be part of this place and carry on its legacy
into the future.”
Visit Old Town Music Hall online at
OldTownMusicHall.org to view their Film & Concert
Calendar and to purchase tickets for upcoming
shows, or drop by the theatre to grab either in person.
Stay up to date with current happenings on their
Instagram page, because even an old town’s got new
tricks.