Once the last few pedestrians cleared, there was no street traffic, and aware of the position of the People Mover, we got up off the planter we had been sitting on and went right through the door. There’s always some type of rush when entering the unknown. Because you don’t know what is on the other side of that door, you just have to be prepared to deal with a hostile bum, a building owner, a worker, basically anything unexpected.

Scrappers have compromised most of the original electrical system, so a cheap lighting grid had been installed. Traveling through a hole knocked in the wall that once separated two ground floor retailers, we moved into a room that was once a nightclub known as the Currency Exchange. At a previous point in the building’s history there actually was a bank in this space, inspiring the name.

I was not there to see a run down after-hours, I was there to see the theatre. The office tower and retail space were just going to be an added bonus. I had an idea of what the theater would be like from photographs, so I had a pretty good idea of what I was in store for. The problem was finding a way into the theatre. There was no doorway because workers had installed a new cinder block wall to keep the theater partitioned off from the lobby. We decided a to do quick check of the second and third floors but nothing seemed to connect. Then we tried the basement.

The air downstairs was very low quality, likely toxic. A respirator is absolutely required to breath there. It was pitch black and filled with small rooms and narrow hallways. Some areas had chemicals spilled all over, other were filled with random junk and utilities for the building. In the end, there was no way to get up into the theater from below. It was a nasty experience I don’t recommend.

We quickly went back upstairs into the cleaner air to try to find another way in. The first couple of office floors on the way to the roof were mostly barren and empty. The inside temperature was about 15 degrees warmer than outside, and near 100% humidity from the rain. Almost all of the windows were sealed shut so it was like climbing in a sauna. The building had no fresh air with the exception of the occasional broken window.

Once we got around the 6th floor or so, I realized how to get into the auditorium. We had to back track down a couple of floors to get to the level where there was a ledge spanning the back of the roof of the theater. We popped out a window and walked across the ledge. It was a bit nerve racking with a drop-off on the right and large holes in the roof to our left. One at a time, we made our way across, and down the ladder. On the lower roof platform there was a doorway leading inside the theatre. I was shocked by how intricate the theatre was inside. By this time, the rain outside had diminished to mist; the acoustics inside reverberated from the echoes of water dripping through the partly exposed roof. The grand workmanship of the plaster ceiling glistened with sunlight piercing through. Every drop of water was slowly eating away at the façade, helping in the destruction. It was hard to imagine the inside filled with over 2,000 patrons spread over its balconies. Tall arched boxes surround the main floor, but sadly they have all been nearly destroyed by the elements and vandals.

All the seats were stripped and likely sold at auction when the movie theatre itself closed its doors in 1971. The Detroit Symphony Orchestra briefly recorded in the U.A. theatre until 1984, which is when the office tower closed forcing the D.S.O. out. Less than half of the plasterwork was currently still in tact. Some of the most detailed craftsmanship left hangs somehow preserved above the stage. All the pulleys and ropes are intact, but there was no sign of a projector screen.

The U.A. was the 17th United Artists theatre built in America, constructed in 1928, one of three designed by C. Howard Crane built in Spanish Gothic style. At one point its halls were home to statues of Native American women, but by this point in time, they have all been stolen. Making way to the upper balconies, the theater’s lobby is filled with mirrors outlined with decretive plaster moldings. They were styled to look like windows while their reflections make the room seem larger than it is. Two sets of stairs lead to smaller lobbies for each of the balconies. These smaller lobbies have ledges that overlook the main floor below. Still in place is a vintage soda vending machine. Painted bright orange, this relic sits here rusting. On one of the upper balconies of the theatre, workers have installed scaffolding. It appears they are trying to stabilize the structure to prevent further decay, but at this point it’s likely little can be done to save it.

Nothing could have been more refreshing than when we exited onto the roof. For the first time in hours we escaped the muggy insides and felt a cool breeze. The roof was fitted with a row of air conditioning equipment, added on at one point during renovations. Leftover from the theater was a large post that once supported a rotating marquee. There is a perfect 360-degree view of the city. All of downtown, New Center, Belle Isle and Delray are in view. The only other tall building nearby is the 42-story, recently vacated Book Tower. By the time we reached this point, most of the day had gone by, and it was time to go.

The U.A. is a must see for Urban Explorers in Detroit. Although it is notoriously hard to get into, it is well worth the effort. If you can imagine the Fisher theatre destroyed, this is what the U.A. would look like. It’s hard to imagine the theater can be saved. The office tower just needs new mechanical systems and it will be good for another hundred years. Recently the Kilpatrick administration was pushing to tear down 50 of the most dangerous commercial buildings in the city to help restore his image. Although the U.A. is not officially on the list, there is no way to know how many days it has left.