The Theatre That Wouldn’t Die
Pueblo Deco, a cursed chandelier, and the stubborn glamour of the KiMo.
Desert Breeze · April 30, 2026 · 6 min read
The KiMo opened in 1927 as a movie palace that refused to look like every other movie palace. Pueblo Deco is what they named the mix: Native geometric painting, cow-skull sconces, thunderbird motifs, gold-leaf swagger. Oreste Bachechi wanted a theatre that could only exist here. He got one.
It almost vanished anyway. Television emptied the seats. A 1960s wrecking ball was for real. The city bought the building. A restoration put the murals back under house lights. Performers still swear by the ghost of a boy in the balcony. Whether you believe in Bobby is beside the point. A building that lasts that long collects stories the way velvet collects dust.
Sit in the dark before curtain and look up. The ceiling is a night sky somebody painted on purpose. Burque don’t have many rooms that insist on wonder. The KiMo is one. Preservation here is a contact sport — you win it one bond issue, one mural, one stubborn audience at a time.
