The first building from the circle of blight could count as two. The Adams Theater and the attached Fine Arts Building are two uniquely dilapidated structures located in the Grand Circus Park neighborhood. This area of the city is the old historic theater district of downtown. Other notorious buildings in this neighborhood include the Broderick and David Whitney Buildings, the Michigan, the Capital and of course the United Artist Theater. Originally built as an auditorium for live shows, the Adams Theater opened in 1917 and seated 1,770 patrons. This stunningly large theater had a double mezzanine allowing for three levels of seating, as well as a fully equipped stage that allowed for performance of complicated mechanical stage tricks.

Despite its technically advanced stage rigging, the theater was converted into a silent movie house after only being open for a couple years. This evolution of the theater industry continued into the 1950s in Detroit. The Adams was always upgraded to have the latest in cinematic visuals and sound technology. However, the heyday for Detroit theaters was over by the 1960s and this once prestigious movie house was now showing porno movies.

 

The proximity of the two theaters was unique. The tall and prominent Fine Arts office building with its prime Parkside real estate served as the entryway to the smaller Adams Theater that was actually located in back across the alley. A separate door along Adams Street allowed people visiting the Adams Theater to cross under or over the alley to get to the auditorium(s) of the Adams Theater for their movie. A catwalk leading to the Adams was built to accommodate the patrons going to the mezzanine level of the theater.

By accessing a hole already made in the back alley we found ourselves in the rear of the auditorium. The whole theater was pitch black due to the customary lack of windows in theaters. However, the elements were not totally kept out. Under piles of wet debris and asbestos the still-intact seats of the theater could be seen. Row after row of blue seats with rust spots defiantly stuck out of the dark abyss.
 
The epic scale of the once grand theater was diminished a mid-eighties renovation that cut the theater in three sections. Despite the elements and awful renovation attempts there were still hints of the ornate details that originally accented much of the building. After closing for a brief time in the 1980s, the theater was renovated to maximize the auditoriums seating of up to 1,700 people. By turning the stage and lower level into the main theater and the upper two mezzanines into two separate side-by-side theaters, the owner could show three times as many films and triple his profit potential. Much of the beautiful theater today has either been destroyed by water or fire, or both

Holes big enough to fall through dotted much of the old wooden stage. The once technically advanced theatrical arena was now a rotten mess. A two-story fall into some particularly rank Detroit water underneath was not how I wanted this story to end so I moved on. Backstage around the corner was a set of stairs that led to a series of storage and dressing rooms. The debris in these rooms consisted of rusty folding chairs and old marquee lettering now sitting amongst the filth.
 
The life of the Adams Theater was characterized by a constant struggle to stay ahead of the competition in the cutthroat Detroit theater business. By evolving and refocusing on technology, the theater was able to stay in business almost a decade longer than most other theaters in the area. However, the final chapter in the Adams Theater history followed a series of shootings. In October 1988, a 20-year-old man was shot to death during a screening of Run DMC’s feature movie “Tougher Than Leather.” The theater shut down for two weeks before reopening. Tragically, then again in November of that year, two teenagers were shot after a 16-year old boy went on a shooting rampage inside the crowded auditorium. The theater closed after this double blow and never reopened. The owners left behind everything: from the seats to the screens, projectors, soda fountains, and even the antique popcorn machines. Old 50-cent ticket stubs still littered the floor all over. Seeing those stubs showed how long the theater was really closed as now movie tickets range from $7.00 to an eye popping $15.00.

 

 After exploring the basement and the main entrance to the theater, it seemed like we were not going to be able to access to the Fine Arts building because the buildings are not interconnected to each other in the lobby. They actually have completely separate front entrances on Adams Street that are tightly boarded up. After some searching around we found a set of stairs that led down to the roof of the bridge that spans the alleyway. The alley below was deserted, so we decided to make a quick dash across to an open window. A small second floor courtyard separated the rear of the Fine Arts with some skylights above the lobby. Having been built in 1905, it had no elevator. Considering Detroit was the first city to use modern elevator technology meant this building was very old indeed. With only one set of stairs, it had clearly been built before fire and safety codes were put into place.

We ascended to the lower levels that we had missed and explored the surreal lobby area. Paved with bricks in some parts, the floor was more like the road surface of Michigan Avenue. After looking around, a suspiciously Parisian cityscape could be seen amongst the heaps of debris. Complete with a café setting and Eiffel tower, the lobby seemed strangely familiar. It later came to me that something similar exists in the basement of the Detroit Historical Museum making this even more eerie. It too had been transformed, but into a mid 19th century street corner of old Detroit, not Paris. Also on the ground floor was a ballroom, but given some of the décor it looked to have been converted into a nightclub at some point.

After leaving the lobby we made our way back up the stairs with the intention of looking through the offices. We soon realized this would not be possible because of the collapsed roof above us. Floor after floor dropped off sharply as a hole in the middle of each floor made an unintended atrium. Each deadly cliff led straight to the lobby below where a massive pile of debris had accumulated over the years. Like the stage area in the Adams Theater, we did not want to tempt fate. It was also clear that this building was never going to be saved – I was sure it was going to fall soon, one way or the other.
We carefully made it up to the roof. Gaps in the building and the stairs made it disastrous to attempt crossing -- so we grabbed some boards and made a bridge. We proceeded making our way over some more flimsy steps before reaching the roof. There were at least a dozen large holes on the roof itself, forcing us to keep near one edge. It was very refreshing to make it to outside air. Taking off the respirator was a treat in itself. The hazardous roof offered great views of Grand Circus Park and up close views of Kayles Building next door. We would have stayed until sunset, but the building was too perilous to attempt an exit in the dark. Even the front of the Fine Arts building was boarded up and the daylight coming through in the back was necessary to making a safe exit. It was time to make a careful descent back down to the ground floor of the theater.

We left that day and never returned to the Adams or the Fine Arts buildings. It wasn't a conscious decision but knowing that we made it in-and-out of the terribly dilapidated structure unscathed was most certainly part of the reason.

Last year, the building was demolished due to its obviously unsafe condition. Owner Mike Illich did all he could to save the facade of the structure for future preservation and rehabilitation. A new hockey stadium is expected to be built in this general area soon. For now, the massive facade of the Fine Arts building is supported with iron beams. The Adams Theater was completely leveled at the same time, forever condemning the history of this old building to a pile of rubble.