NOLA Architecture with History
Distracted by opulent Garden District mansions and dressed fried shrimp po-boys, it was a few months before I realized New Orleans is a neglected city. When journeyed beyond self-delineated safety zones, I became spellbound by the crumbling buildings, graffiti tags, and trailing vines competing to conceal grand facades and curtain broken windows.
Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, a metropolis with virtually no space left unsung, I found the abandoned structures in New Orleans both gloomy and alluring. Who built them? Why have they been forsaken? Will they ever be revived? This is a personal exploration of the abandoned and neglected public structures in New Orleans. This is Tumbledown NOLA.
Casey and Brandon were the first people I met when I moved here over 20 years ago. Being a decade older didn't stop the young couple from welcoming me into their city. With their guidance, I sucked and pinched my way through my first crawfish boil, spent late nights couch-bound, burning endless blunts in the Hi-Ho's backroom and early mornings gulping greasy spoon breakfasts at the Trolley Stop Cafe.
While never brave enough to accompany them, Casey and Brandon regaled me with stories of the raves they attended at State Palace, a crumbling theater on Canal Street. Though I'd enjoyed numerous beach raves in the Bay Area, I was more than a little afraid in what was still, to me, an unknown city. But their stories, and the building itself, fascinated me.
Opened nearly a century ago in 1926 with its distinctive Spanish Colonial Revival-inspired façade, The Palace was one of many Loew's Theaters popping up across the country. The Devil's Circus, starring Norma Shearer, was the first film listed on the marquee on opening night, and Marcus Loew himself appeared on stage with silent film stars Buster Keaton and Lew Cody, among others, heralding the Canal Street venue.
The Palace was designed by prominent, Scottish-born architect Thomas W. Lamb, known for the plush "movie palaces" he created for Fox, Keith Albee (RKO), and the Loews theater chains. The cinema he designed for the corner of Canal and Basin streets boasted a seating capacity for 3,335 people and a 3/13 Robert Morton pipe organ. Unfortunately, the organ fell into disuse after the early '30s with the advent of "talkies" and was later destroyed in a flood.
In the mid-70s, the theater was expanded to become a triplex, partitioned to feature two screens on the main floor while the balcony offered the third. Less than a decade later, the theater was sold to Wilson P. Abraham, a developer who planned to raze The Palace and build condominiums in its place—a plan that never came to fruition.
Rene Brunet Jr., beloved local owner of the Prytania Theater (among others) with the cinema in his blood, leased The Palace from Abraham in the late 1980s. In an attempt to bring the cinema back to its former glory, Brunet removed the partitions and opened up the balcony, uncovered the marble walls in the lobby, returned the single large screen to the main floor, and renamed the building the State Palace Theater. Along with showing classic films and television shows, the space became a live music venue, featuring performances by A-listers such as Stone Temple Pilots, Phish, and Green Day.
In the mid-90s (arguably the building's most fascinating era), the State Palace became the premier venue for raves, gaining national notoriety for its epic, wildly-themed EDM concerts featuring DJs from across the country. The late night performances were organized by local event producer James D. Estopinal Jr., aka Disco Donnie, star of the 2004 documentary film Rise: The Story of Rave Outlaw Disco Donnie. State Palace raves in their heyday included performances by drum and bass phenom Danny the Wildchild, hip hop DJ Q-Bert, Baltimore-based Charles Feelgood, and California's Bassbin Twins.
My friend Casey Sander, an avid fan of electronica and the local rave scene, recalled a State Palace concert featuring Rabbit in the Moon, a group whose style drew from house, trance, and breakbeat, and who were one of the first to mix theatrical stage performances into their acts. "I remember [State Palace] would get so packed that the walls would sweat. We wore those big-ass JNCO pants, and they would have six inches of nasty raver funk on the bottom." She also emphasized a sense of inclusivity. "No one cared at all about sexual orientation or race. Everyone was there participating together."
During the late-night raves, State Palace was split into three separate "rooms of sound." The main floor housed featured acts, the upstairs "jungle room" (an EDM genre dubbed jungle bass), and a side space they called the "chill room."
"Sometimes you could go out on the roof," recalled Sander. "I watched the sun rise from that roof multiple times." She also recalled the artistic event posters—collectible prints similar to the psychedelic, '60s era flyers for shows at the Fillmore in San Francisco.
In 1998, a 17-year-old girl attending a State Palace rave suffered convulsions from drug complications, went into a coma, and died. Estopinal and State Palace Theater became part of a nationwide federal investigation into raves and the drug culture that surrounded them. Undercover agents were sold ecstasy and LSD by attendees during several performances, but when they raided the theater, there was no evidence of drugs, just cases of water bottles, pacifiers, and glowsticks.
After Hurricane Katrina, the State Palace's basement flooded, leading to its closure. It briefly reopened in 2006, hosting its final "Zoolu" event the day before Mardi Gras, before shutting down permanently in 2008 due to fire code violations. Efforts to revive the theater began in 2014 when developer Gregor Fox purchased it, envisioning a restoration akin to successes at the nearby Saenger and Joy theaters. However, the estimated $50 million renovation price tag proved insurmountable and conflicting visions among investors stalled progress.
Fox sold the property to LC Hospitality Group, which planned to transform it into a hotel with ground-floor retail space. However, external setbacks like the Hard Rock Hotel collapse in 2019, rising interest rates, and COVID-19 delays halted these ambitions. Key proposals were also denied by the city's Historic District Landmarks Commission, further complicating the project.
As of July 2023, the State Palace is back on the market for $7.2 million. Whether this historic landmark will find new life remains uncertain. All we can do is wait and see.
