Celluloid Heroine
written by: Rich Watson
Alain raised his glass, leading the crowd in his toast. The reception for the special film screening at the Thurber College theater commenced in earnest. The guests drank and chatted.
His smile faded. If only Pat were here.
He had been dean of the midwestern college for only four years, but he knew the Nolans, some of the school’s benefactors, well. Garry Nolan, a Thurber native, was a former Cy Young Award-winning pitcher. His late wife, Patricia Nolan, was a TC alumna (Class of ‘77).
Locals knew her for many things, foremost among them being her love of movies. When Garry played his final years as a Cincinnati Red, he and Pat moved to nearby Thurber. She was a regular at the Buckeye Theater. She also founded the Thurber Vintage Film Festival, supported local filmmakers, especially TC graduates, and pushed for the renovation and expansion of its theater, now renamed Patricia Nolan Hall in her memory.
The auditorium opened, and Alain took his seat, two rows behind Garry, his children, and his sisters-in-law.
Pat’s presence filled the building. She was right; the art deco look for the renovated interior made the place classier. It adorned the hexagonal carpeting, velvet embossed wallpaper, and metallic accents around the light fixtures. If only he could touch her wool caftan, which hung outside the women’s bathroom, framed and under glass.
Could she see all this?
Tonight’s screening featured one of her favorite actresses. Vicki Carter was a star from the twenties and thirties. Her first talkie, the 1933 musical comedy GET AWAY CLEAN, was her biggest hit, about a gangster’s moll who falls in love with the G-man pursuing her boyfriend. She sang, danced, and wowed audiences with her pratfalls. Lucille Ball had cited her as an influence. Pat adored Carter, though she thought the actress was better in the silent era.
Even after audiences rediscovered Carter in the eighties, historians rarely grouped her with peers such as Jean Harlow, Myrna Loy, or Carole Lombard. Alain had vowed to see a Carter film, preferably with Pat, but work always kept him from it.
If he could, he’d kick himself.
Her sister, Maureen, the new director of the TVFF, took the stage. In her introduction, she discussed Pat, the TVFF, Carter, and the movie. Alain knew little about vintage movies, as Pat had called them (she thought “classic” was overused), but for her, he sought out the work of a few stars she appreciated, like Mary Pickford and Randolph Scott.
Hopefully, Carter was in their league.
Maureen finished. The house lights dimmed, and the curtains withdrew. GET AWAY CLEAN began.
Eighty-seven minutes later, it ended. The audience cheered. Alain looked around at the smiles and laughter.
That was it?
***
“…so she took the stage and sang with everyone else. Don’t think she regretted it, either.” Garry pointed at Alain’s empty glass. “Y’want another?”
“Sure.”
In the lobby, a half hour later, Alain hobnobbed with TC faculty and TVFF members, but he couldn’t avoid Garry for long. He shared some anecdotes about Pat before returning to the drinks table for more soda.
Alain stared out the front doors at the campus. Pat said when she was an undergrad here, she’d eat lunch on the knoll outside, near the pond. The seventies were a great time for new movies, but even then she preferred the black-and-whites on The Late Show: Cagney shooting gangsters, Stewart on a ranch, Garland singing. Alain knew the images because everyone knew them.
But they were more than just images to Pat.
“Sorry. Was talkin’ to a fan.” Garry handed Alain a fresh ginger ale. “That story ‘bout Sparky Anderson and the umpire in Chicago never gets old—”
“Garry, I… I didn’t like the movie.”
The older man raised his eyebrows.
“Well, it wasn’t Carter’s best, or so Patty thought. It was available on short notice.”
“But to admit that, tonight of all nights, when we just renamed this theater for her…”
“Oh. I see.” Garry sipped his Sprite. “You’ve never cared for the old stuff, did ya?”
Alain looked away.
“I can sit through a vintage film.”
“Not what I asked, Al.”
Alain squirmed.
“Do I prefer Spielberg over something from the thirties? Yes. Pat was a treasure, but I never understood the appeal in movies where the dialogue goes a hundred miles an hour and there’s always a happy ending.”
Garry waved to someone behind Alain.
“I was like you before I met Patty and her sisters. If you think you’re dishonorin’ her memory by saying that, think again, bud. One: She and her sisters grew up with vintage movies thanks to their dad. He instilled that love for movies in all four of ‘em. It’ll take a helluva lot more than you got to shake that love.”
Alain blinked. Pat did mention her father in relation to movies a few times. He forgot how deep the connection ran.
“Two: She also knew Vicki Carter was more of an acquired taste. She wasn’t a great beauty like Lombard. More slapstick-y than most comediennes from that time. But she was funny, and she could sing. For Patty, that was more than enough.
“And three: Give yourself some credit. Unlike your predecessor, you supported her ideas: increasin’ the budget for TC’s film department; showin’ movies outdoors in the summer, on campus; startin’ an afterschool filmmakin’ program for high schoolers.” He grinned. “So what if y’don’t love vintage films the way she did?”
Alain blushed. Garry would never know the real reason Alain did those things: he loved Pat.
He always did.
“Thanks for the reminder.”
Garry slapped Alain’s arm.
“C’mon. I promised Maureen I’d drive her home. Let’s see if she’s ready.”
Garry strolled across the lobby towards Maureen. Alain followed him.
He’d have to check TCM for when the next Vicki Carter film would air.
- Celluloid Heroine - July 18, 2025
