The landmark Ritz Theater in downtown opened to great fanfare, fell into ruin and disrepair, then was reborn. Today it is a bright light of culture and entertainment in this isolated west Texas small town.
From the Ritz Theatre website: (
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"History of the Ritz
A glorious debut, a tragic fall from grace and an epic climb back to the top – the Ritz Theatre has done it all, and no less dramatically than the pantheon of stars it has showcased over the years.
The story of the Ritz Theatre begins in the brave world of the 1920s when Judge R.H. Templeton retained the services of architect/builder Matthew E. Seay to build a picture palace worthy of Wellington’s growing sophistication. Seay was an itinerant builder of sorts who moved from town to town designing and building commercial buildings. His Wellington creation cost a staggering $125,000, and was designed to send a message about the town it was created to serve.
The theater was finished in the fall of 1928, complete with a $35,000 Vitaphone and Movietone sound system – the cutting edge technology for the exhibition of “talking” movies. This was just one year after Al Jolson made movie history with “The Jazz Singer,” the first all-talking feature movie. The Ritz was as up-to-date as any theater in the nation. A grand opening was held in April, 1929.
One of the first spectacles at the Ritz came not from Hollywood, however. In October 1928, the Collingsworth County Democratic Convention was held at the new Ritz. Senator-elect Judge C.C. Small presided. Collingsworth democrats, like most Southern democrats, were struggling with the national party’s nomination of New York Gov. Al Smith for president.
The buzz among the crowd was that some might even vote for Republican Herbert Hoover in the general election. Things got stormy at the Ritz that day. Then Mrs. Lutie Templeton, the wife of the theater’s owner, resolutely stepped into the fray, defended Gov. Smith, and shamed the largely male audience into standing their ground as Democrats. In spite of Mrs. Templeton’s brave stand for Smith, Hoover won the November election, only to lose face when the Depression strangled the country a few years later.
The Ritz outlasted the Depression, the Dust Bowl, World War II and even the early days of television. But by the late 1970s, the building had grown shabby and out of date. In an attempt to update the theater, one owner tried to twin the auditorium so it could show two movies at once.
During construction, movies were shown in the balcony on a makeshift screen the local kids called “the trampoline.” The theater finally closed in the early 1980s so the project could be completed, but the doors never reopened. The Ritz was left for the pigeons.
Local preservationists became alarmed in the 1990s as the building’s condition deteriorated. Several attempts were made to acquire the building, but it wasn’t until 2001 that a group led by retired teacher Gay McAlister, made progress. The new effort was launched as a mission of Historic Wellington, Inc., a newly formed nonprofit dedicated to historic preservation.
Through the leadership of City Manager Jon Sessions, the group acquired the theater and enlisted retired architect Frank Jones to oversee demolition of the ruined interior and draw up initial plans for a full restoration. Several truckloads of debris, including years of pigeon droppings, were removed from the building.
By 2004, Historic Wellington had enlisted the support of the Zephyr Foundation and other donors to rebuild the roof. Also that year, the historic neon blade sign was restored and relit during the first Ritz Block Party at the August ex-students reunion, followed later by the restored marquee.
Val and Pat White of the Zephyr Foundation brought in noted preservation architect Killis Almond of San Antonio in 2005 to finish the project. His design took in the neighboring building that once housed Castleberry Motors and later Lewis Grocery, converting the space to a concession area and dressing rooms. The interior of the 1928 auditorium was enhanced with mission-style detailing.
After two more years of construction and several generous gifts from the Zephyr Foundation, the building was ready, and so was Wellington. In short order, a new group called Wellington Ritz Theatre, Inc. was formed to operate the facility as a first-run movie house and live stage. A Grand re-opening ushered in the new era on Saturday, Oct. 13, 2007 with a live performance of “Sweet Dreams, Peggy Sue” presented by the Amarillo Little Theatre.
Today the theater is known across the region, and increasingly across the state, as one of the best live venues anywhere. In Wellington, it’s just known as the place to see and be seen, fulfilling its original mission to entertain the citizens of Wellington.
Why it matters
The Ritz Theatre matters because it is a physical manifestation of the soul of our community. Wellington, Texas is a small farming and ranching town. Our land and our families define our culture, while our public buildings have been somewhat a secondary attribute. Over the years, however, our town began to shrink in size. Our way of life began to fade, and our families began to fragment as relatives moved farther and farther away. Men and women who defined the pioneer spirit of our town grew old, and some of the stalwarts have passed away. Some of these changes are inevitable, but some are not. We can’t stop aging and dying. But we’ve learned that we can resurrect the buildings that played a part in defining what it means to live in Wellington, Texas.
When we took the ruins of the Ritz Theatre and transformed them into a place of joy at the heart of our community, we turned back the hands of time. We struck a blow against decay and decline, and we learned that we can still shape our destiny, regardless of what happens in the world around us. The Ritz also matters to Wellington, Texas and the surrounding communities because it provides a portal for viewing the outside world and enriching our daily experiences. The nearest metropolitan area is Amarillo, Texas – 100 miles distant. And Amarillo is several hundred miles distant from what we would consider a large city. Isolation is often a blessing when it means you can still see the stars at night and still have a lengthy conversation on a misdialed phone call. But isolation also can cut us off from cultural enrichment.
Since its reopening, the Ritz has played host to chamber orchestras, ballet troupes, big bands, folk singers and opera. As one local cowboy once remarked, “I’ve gotten more culture in one year than I’ve had in my whole life.” Every time the neon signs are turned on at the Ritz, and every time young people swarm the entrance just before the show starts, our world grows a little smaller and our heart beats a little harder. And when the heart of small town America beats strongly, our nation’s future is assured. For this reason, the Ritz Theatre matters, a lot."