“It was the place you took your best girlfriend,” reminisced Fred Comeaux about the Essanee Theater, “because the other theaters charged you 15 cents to go to the movies, but they (Essanee) charged you 25 cents … 25 cents to go to the movies.”

The theater, built in 1937, is ensconced in a cozy side street between bars, eateries and gift shops in New Iberia’s vintage downtown at 126 Iberia St. After 15 years of ghostly dormancy, the Essanee is once again welcoming audiences.

It was founded by Julius Scharff and Elias Elias. They formed the signature by taking the phonetic sounds from the first letters of their respective last names, “S” and “E”: Essanee.

It was built to beam out the best films of the Depression era on its dual Super Simplex projectors. Comeaux, 82, recalled his early experiences at the then-500-seat theater.

“You saw great movies like ‘Desert Song,’ and you had the Bing Crosby and Bob Hope shows and all. The best movies came to the Essanee.

“They have letters from Bob Hope,” added Comeaux. “He was congratulating them on the opening, because it was such a grand building, a grand place.”

Donna Berard, president of the Iberia Performing Arts League (IPAL), which owns the Essanee, recalled “living” there as a child.

Having resided over IPAL for the past three years, Berard said, “I have two children, the Essanee is my third.”

One of the reasons the Essanee stood above other venues, warranting its higher admission price, was because it was among the first buildings in town to be “air-conditioned” — well, kind of. A pit leading to an underground tunneling system allowed air, cooled by ice, to be blown by fans through floor vents.

On the down side, architect Owen Southwell’s design also incorporated the then-requisite measures to accommodate segregation. Blacks and whites had separate entrances, ticket windows, restrooms and seating.

“That was sort of embarrassing,” lamented Comeaux, “because we had black people that were our neighbors. We got along very well.”

After several financially trying years, beset by competition from fresher entertainment options, the theater closed completely in 1985.

In early 2000, Freddie DeCourt purchased the Essanee, which was on the brink of being razed in favor of another parking lot. He originally planned to refurbish the venerable building and turn it into a children’s museum. He got as far as fortifying a few structural elements when IPAL came calling.

Comeaux, who has been a member of IPAL since its inception in 1998, said the troupe of theater enthusiasts was looking for a permanent abode in which to perform its plays. Up to that point, the troupe had called a warehouse behind Todd’s Car Wash its home. It rented the Evangeline Theater, just two blocks from the Essanee, for its performances.

However, because the space was rented on a night-to-night basis, IPAL was forced to take its sets and equipment to and from the theater every day. The work was oppressively labor-intensive for the mostly elderly batch.

DeCourt altruistically sold the Essanee to IPAL on Oct. 31, 2000 for only $125,000, after selling another nearby storefront for a larger sum than he anticipated.

Then began a year of callus-inducing restoration.

Despite DeCourt’s initial efforts, 15 years of neglect had left the Essanee in shambles. Windows were broken, allowing pigeons and other animals to nest . Vandals had slashed the screen. The boggy aisle carpet had to be stripped and cemented over. Bolted-down chairs, torn and mold-filled, were removed. Their metal couplings on the floor had to be filed down. Burst water pipes from an ancient sprinkler system leaked putrid, decade-old water.

Pressure washing of the inside walls revealed crusting stucco, and under that the faint traces of original murals depicting Disney and Warner Bros. characters. Tubs of muddy filth were removed in the process. The original stage was too small and rickety for IPAL’s purposes.

Comeaux remembered the origins of the current hardwood stage. “We built it strong enough to hold one elephant,” Comeaux said. “Then the fire marshal comes in and says, ‘No, it’s gotta hold two elephants.’ So we reinforced the whole thing.”

The fire marshal approved the building to hold 300 people after considering safety and insurance concerns. IPAL decided it should hold only 200.

“It’s better to have a full, small theater than to have a big theater half-empty, right?” rationalized Comeaux.

IPAL salvaged 200 chairs from the theater’s upper deck. Comeaux’s wife, Emi, knitted covers for the whole lot. Foam padding was added to the seats and the chairs were fastened in rows atop 2-by-12 pine planks.

Benevolent donations of carpeting and other goods and services paved the way for a theater reminiscent of its former glory.

The resurrected Essanee Theater reopened in October of 2001, nearly a year after IPAL bought it, and presented the ironically titled Fred Carmichael play “More Than Meets The Eye.” Today, it houses productions year-round.

Outside, a meager parking lot is fitted aside the theater’s wall: stage left. The original brick is a varied tan, like a copperhead’s skin. A vaudevillian insignia reads “ESSANEE” over the covered entryway.

Walk through the front door, which bears a state historical marker to extol its glass pane, and gold, palm-sized stars meet the eye just as the slight odor of sawdust and fresh paint hit the nose. Each star is engraved with the name of an IPAL contributor. They adorn the walls and doorways that lead into the lobby.

Centered in the lobby is a glass showcase displaying photographic memories, antique reels and even an original accounting book. Burgundy carpet blankets the floor and posters of past IPAL productions decorate the walls: “Oklahoma!”, “Fiddler on the Roof” and “My Fair Lady,” among others . In the quaint auditorium, 200 chairs rest on the slightly downward-sloping floor. They face a grand stage that can be illuminated by more than 60 individually controlled lights.

IPAL most recently delivered 12 sold-out performances of the broadway musical “Chicago.” IPAL board member Donald “Doc” Voorhies had a supporting role in the production and is an everyday presence in the theater’s activity.

One of his favorite stories to tell is of a ticket seller in 1941. She was manning her booth during a matinee, her counter personalized with a japanese trinket she had received as a gift, when word came of the atrocities at Pearl Harbor. Word has it, she abandoned her station, rushed to the street and hurled the trinket against the asphalt, shattering it.

“I went to the Essanee as a kid to see Saturday morning serials and afternoon movies,” said Voorhies. “Now I go to it at night to enjoy musicals, dramas and comedies with live actors. The Essanee has aged and matured along with me and many of my friends.”