On Saturday, June 14, I learned that Ezzat Soliman—the owner and promoter of the legendary Showcase Theatre in Corona—had passed away.
His venue wasn’t just a place to see bands; it was a cornerstone of youth, rebellion, and discovery for countless kids like me growing up in the early and mid-’90s
The Showcase was an all-ages venue, and I spent a huge chunk of my teenage life there. I burned through roll after roll of film there, capturing and documenting the raw energy of bands like Blink (before the 182), The Vandals, AFI, Assorted Jellybeans, 7 Seconds, Litmus Green, Guttermouth, NOFX, Eva O, Switchblade Symphony, Cradle of Thorns, Neurosis, Johnny Indovina – so many more. Each night was a new story.
Hit It, Marky!
One moment I will never forget: In 2001, just after Joey Ramone passed from lymphoma, I interviewed Marky Ramone in his tour van behind the Showcase. That night, he played with his band, Marky Ramone and the Intruders. That piece ended up in Skratch magazine—though the type was so small, I always hated how hard it was to read. Still, the moment was huge! Punk history, parked right behind the venue so many called home .
The Showcase was legend. We’re still talking about it because it meant something. In the current issue of LA Weekly, (June `13-19, 2025), in a piece promoting my latest book Subject: PUNK which features more than a handful of photographs from the Showcase Theatre, I said:
“I used to ride in the back of my dad’s black 1984 El Camino to places like the Hong Kong Café and the Showcase Theatre. To these anarchy punk shows, and I always had my camera with me.”
Ezzat gave us kids a place to be. A platform for us to grow into who we were becoming. Yeah, he was running a business- but that business shaped a subculture in a city that didn’t give much else. I remember seeing punk kids giving him grief from time to time, but he always took it with a kind of grace. He was always there, hands-on, always present. That kind of club owner is not common.
I hope more stories about Ezzat and the Showcase Theatre surface. I know a documentary’s been in the works. There’ve been funding issues, but I really hope it gets made. This story needs to be told. I only captured a slice of it, but there’s people who know much more. I’ve been in touch with Logan, the filmmaker, for the past year about using some of my photos for it.
I saw wild shit at the Showcase. One night, a guy on stage poured blood all over himself while holding a pig’s head. People were moshing in it. It was disgusting—and the memory was unforgettable. The band however, I don’t remember their name.
Maury McDonald aka Muxie
I met Muxie around ’95 at the Showcase. He was going by “Wednesday” back then. One night, I asked if I could photograph him, and we ended up shooting a black-and-white series on my Nikon 35mm. Years later, he told me about playing keys for Killing Process (or maybe it was The Demonixs, he couldn’t remember), and sharing the stage with Christian Death.
He remembered Rozz Williams tearing “organs” out of a gash in his belly mid-set, with goths in the front row freaking out—especially the vegans. “They got what they deserved. Have a fuckin’ steak,” he laughed.
When I asked Muxie what stood out most from those days, he didn’t hesitate:
“That night, I saw the full spectrum of Gothdom reveling in SoCal. From rockabilly to surf punk, punk rock to thrash, goth, darkwave, industrial, classical, tribal… ethereal, trance, vampires—everyone was there at the Showcase on that one night. It was brilliant. Fucking brilliant.”
Muxie appears in two of my books: Still Life: The Photographs of Maggie St. Thomas and In Print: The Articles of Maggie St. Thomas (2018–2023).
Reading the Remembering Maury McDonald interview in the Jerk of All Trades RIP section (October 15, 2022) brought it all back.
Moments like those deserve to be remembered—because not all of us made it far enough to tell the stories ourselves.
Darren Lubrano remembered it like this,
“First and foremost, Ezzat was a really good dude. I was at the Showcase Theatre all the time in the mid-90’s.He’d let me in free as long as I helped sweep up after.
One night, I think it was ’96 or ’97, it was Metal Night. Dave Lombardo had just left Slayer and started a new band called Grip Inc. They were headlining, and System of a Down was opening for them. But the show was dead—maybe 12 people total in the whole place. I was outside hanging with Jarold, the security guard, when the manager for Grip Inc. stormed out, yelling at Ezzat about their guarantee and demanding to get paid. He was being super loud and disrespectful.
Now, I was used to seeing Ezzat always cool, always smiling. But when that guy went off on him, Ezzat snapped. He got right in his face and said, ‘Don’t you ever talk to me like that, motherfucker—I’ll fuck you up.’ Then he told him Grip Inc. would never play the club again.
The manager backed down real quick—he realized he messed with the wrong guy. No punches were thrown, but I remember thinking, “Damn, Ezzat’s no joke.” I don’t think most people ever saw that side of him. RIP Ezzat.
The Suicide Machines
When I heard about Ezzat’s passing, I reached out to Jason Navarro of the Detroit punk/ ska band The Suicide Machines, – another artist who played the Showcase, and had memories to share:
“We played with Assorted Jelly Beans, Automatic 7, Against All Authority, and The Joykiller. Ezzat was always very welcoming and down to Earth. I always looked forward to playing the Showcase. He was a hands-on owner. You don’t get that anymore with clubs.”
Ezzat had his way of bringing people together. He believed in us before we knew who we were. And because of him, we became more. He made a little theatre in Corona feel like the center of the universe.
They don’t make venues like they used to. And they sure don’t make people like Ezzat Soliman anymore.
Rest in power, Ezzat, and thank you—for all of it.
Article and Photos by Maggie St.Thomas (Feature Marquee photo courtesy Showcase Theatre Documentary)