LIVINGSTON, TX — On the corner of East Polk Street, a faded marquee and shuttered box office are all that remain of what was once the heart of downtown Livingston. The Fain Theater, once glowing with neon lights and the laughter of packed audiences, now stands silent — but not forgotten.
For decades, the Fain wasn’t just a movie theater. It was a gathering place, a memory maker, a fixture in the lives of locals who still remember the smell of popcorn and the thrill of Saturday matinees.
A Theater Is Born
The Fain Theater’s story begins in 1911 with a small venue on Washington Avenue, originally named the Unique Picture Show, then the Happy Hour Theatre. In 1914, Clem F. Fain Jr. purchased the theater and made it his mission to bring the magic of movies to Polk County. By 1929, it officially took on the name that would endure: the Fain Theatre.
In those early years, movie tickets might cost a nickel — or a dozen eggs. During the Great Depression, families without cash could barter with chickens or produce to see a show. It was more than business — it was community.
A Grand Reopening in 1948
In August 1948, the Fain opened a new, modern location at 113 East Polk Street. Designed by renowned architect Jack Corgan, the building featured a 700-seat auditorium and sleek Streamline Moderne styling, complete with a bold green vertical marquee and art deco accents.
An evening shot capturing the theater’s neon lights illuminating East Polk Street.
The Fain Theater illuminated at night. Its glowing marquee became a local beacon. Source: Cinema Treasures
Inside, it was a place of magic — showing everything from Old Yeller to Shane, Gone with the Wind to Sing, Country Sing, the latter playing on the night of a fire at the original Washington Street building. That fire would close the first theater for good, but the newer Polk Street location kept the legacy alive for generations.
A Town’s Favorite Escape
For many Livingston residents, the Fain is forever linked to childhood. Whether watching a Roy Rogers Western or a Disney double-feature, the theater represented a rite of passage.
The original box office — now empty, but once bustling with Saturday crowds. Source: Flickr / Patrick Feller
Teenagers met for dates there. Families attended holiday specials. Veterans recall discounted shows after returning from war. For decades, the Fain reflected the rhythm of a town growing up around it.
The Men Behind the Marquee
Clem Fain Jr. was the visionary behind it all, but his son, Frank Fain, would become the face of the theater for much of the 20th century. Frank wasn’t just a manager — he was the showman, personally promoting new releases, greeting moviegoers, and ensuring the theater remained relevant in a rapidly changing world.
The Fain family didn’t just run a business; they cultivated an experience. They made the movies feel like home.
The Curtain Falls
By the early 2000s, times were changing. Streaming services and multiplexes began to pull audiences away. The Fain hung on until around 2015, but ultimately, the doors closed for good. A final screening. A final showtime. And then silence.
Today, the building stands mostly untouched. Locals still peek through its glass doors and remember where they sat. They speak fondly of first kisses in the back row, or the thrill of running inside with a ticket clutched in hand.
Echoes That Linger
There have been whispers of restoration. Community members occasionally ask, “Could the Fain come back?” But even if the marquee never lights up again, the theater’s spirit endures.
In photos. In memories. In the way people still call that stretch of Polk Street “the place where the Fain was.”
The Fain Theater wasn’t just a place to watch movies. It was where Livingston came to life.
