to workmen in this city for a long time,” ac- cording to The Eastern Argus, Portland’s morning newspaper from 1863 to 1921. “Yesterday afternoon the staging was re- moved, and hundreds of people stood and admired the new building and wondered at the marvelous change from the old, un- sightly affair of a few weeks ago,” reported the Evening Express on opening night, Ju- ly 3, 1907. A nd what a change. Above a 12-foot arched doorway, a 20-foot electric banner blazed DREAMLAND in red, white, and blue amid 300 twinkling stars that beckoned patriotic patrons into a penny arcade whose walls and ceilings glowed with red, green, and gold trim, all bathed in the light of frosted white globes, “the effect of which is very tasty,” noted the Express. “Up to a few minutes before 6 o’clock the place was in the hands of various kinds of workmen, including painters and car- penters and joiners,” observed the Argus, “but aside from the delightful freshness of everything, and barriers here and there to keep people from pressing against wet paint, it would never have been known the place was so pushed to be ready…the visi- tor will be greatly surprised as he enters, as one would hardly imagine the place to be so large.” Under an arched steel ceiling, some 243 “folding revolving chairs, a feature new to this city” faced a huge white wall “on which are thrown the pictures” and a cur- tained space for the live musicians, who on opening night were to include Prof. Hein- rich Puzzi of New York on the piano and from Boston “Miss Anna Dolan to take care of the traps and drums.” Vocals were to be provided by the baritone Mr. J. W. Myers, one of the most famous voices in America, thanks to the new-fangled Edison gramophone records. Far back above the arcade (focal length was a new idea, and a big picture required a big distance) in a fireproof projection room stood two new “moving picture machines, the very latest type, which practically do away with the flicker so confusing to the eye…with double shutoffs, to insure perfect safety.” Which was prudent of the planners, as early nitrate film was notoriously unsta- ble–embarrassing explosions had marred Boston screenings. Dreamland endured a few opening- night jitters–drummer Anna Dolan got stuck in Boston, the projectors stuttered, and the ceiling fans refused to pull–but baritone Myers soothed all with “Two Lit- tle Sailor Boys” and sing-along slides; and Little Sadie McDonough, Portland’s child wonder vocalist, put in a surprise appear- ance, wowing the crowd with her rendition of “My Irish Rosie.” Outside, the crush of the waiting crowds slowed the Congress Street trolley cars, but Greely kept things flowing smoothly with- in. “All-day and all-night crowds made their way through the pretty entrance,” noted the Express. “It is by far and away Landmarks 68 p o r t l a n d monthly magazine meaghan maurice Dreamland’s name suggests its grand yet hazy reputation, in much the same way that foggy details of a dream slip away after waking up. The building that first introduced Mainers to the movies now houses the extravagantly gluttonous NOSH Kitchen Bar, serving up bacon-dust- ed fries and a burger sandwiched between slabs of deep-fried mac & cheese. The years and renovations have wiped away the design, structures, and ephemera that harken back to 551 Congress’s original purpose. The interior of the space is modern and clean, with little to sug- gest its starry past. Landlord Tom Moulton was unaware of his property’s legend. “None of the architecture is original besides the ceiling, which has been painted over,” Moulton says. “I know it was a theater but, I don’t know much about it at all,” his son, co-owner Tobey Moulton, adds. What about NOSH’s staff, the people who spend every day getting to know this century- old space? It seems that traces of history still go bump in the night. “I knew it was once a theater,” says server Elizabeth Mancini. ‘I was terrified when I first closed up alone. I heard so many noises.” “A co-worker claims to have seen a ghost…a lady walked through the wall,” confides bar- tender Faith Currier. “And after hours, I once saw a cork board that was hooked firmly into the wall fly off of its own accord. It creeped me out.” Perhaps Dreamland will continue to linger here, gone but refusing to be entirely forgotten. – By Ryanne Desjardins Hidden History