Celluloid Memories

by Sandra Kitt

  Donna and Kay had now moved on to what kind of food they wanted. Savannah waited patiently, taking the opportunity to look more closely at the people around her. Only recently had she been curious to know what kind of people lived in L.A. Where had they all come from? Since she’d yet to meet anyone who had actually been born here. And why were so many of them hell-bent on making it? On the other hand, the lyrics to a Frank Sinatra song, “New York, New York,” popped into her head with the famous line about “if I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere…” Savannah smiled to herself. That could hold true for the City of Angels. “Hi.”

  Savannah turned around at the greeting. She found herself face-to-face with Domino, the fabric artist.

  “Oh, hi,” Savannah replied. “I thought I saw you before. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Thanks. Did you just leave the screening?”

  “Yes. I came with two girlfriends. One of them is in PR and got us into the film. How’d you like it?”

  “It’s a great story. I’m a little disappointed in my performance.”

  Savannah frowned. “You were in the film? Where? How did I miss you?”

  Domino chuckled. “It wasn’t hard. I was wearing a brunette wig. I was the girlfriend of the main protagonist at the very beginning. He left me for a singer.”

  Savannah’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re kidding. Was that you? I couldn’t tell.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you probably weren’t looking to see me, either,” Domino said. “It was a small part, but I want people to know it was me.”

  “I feel badly that I didn’t recognize you, but you did a good job in the part. I felt so sorry when your boyfriend took off with the other woman. I liked that you got mad at him and not her.” Savannah said.

  “Thanks for saying so. Actually, that part led to an audition for something else the director is doing, so I’m pleased.”

  “We decided on a little place over in West Hollywood near the UCLA campus,” Donna said, as she and Kay joined Savannah. She noticed the other woman and stared at her for a moment. “You look familiar.”

  Savannah beckoned Domino closer. “This is Dominique…”

  “Hamilton,” Dominique supplied.

  “You’re an actress. Now, where have I seen you before?” Kay said more to herself, narrowing her gaze on the young actress.

  “How about in the last hundred and ten minutes,” Donna suggested. “Did you play the part of the girlfriend at the beginning?”

  Domino smiled calmly. “That’s me.”

  “Well, I give you credit for being so nice to the jerk. Man, I would have kicked his ass if he’d done that to me,” Donna said with female indignation.

  “I suggested something like that to the director, but he said her character wouldn’t do that. He was right. She had to remain likeable.”

  “Listen, we’re going for some dinner. Would you like to join us?” Kay asked Domino.

  “I was just going to suggest that,” Savannah said.

  Domino hesitated. “You’re having a girlfriends’ night out. I don’t want to mess up your plans.”

  “We’d love to have you,” Donna added. “Besides, I want to know some of the inside dirt on getting work. I’m a dancer….”

  Savannah let Kay and Donna bombard Dominique with questions about the trade. But there was a lot of laughing, and a lot of harmless gossip. She mostly listened, liking Dominique more and more for her open friendliness and for the balanced life she’d managed to achieve while she waited to be discovered. Savannah was impressed when Dominique stated she had no burning desire to become a big-name movie star. She just wanted to act, to work as long as she could. Savannah could see at least one problem the actress might be encountering. There didn’t seem to be anything superficial or calculating about her. The lovely young thing with McCoy Sutton came to mind. Savannah had the feeling that Cherise was more like the industry standard. She was a little disappointed that McCoy seemed to go for that type.

  It also made her wonder about Rae Marie Hilton. Who was she and what was her connection to her father? Especially since Rae Marie was white.

  They were waiting for after-dinner coffee and cappuccino to be served when Donna suddenly planted her elbows on the table and leaned across to regard Dominique closely.

  “I bet you never get asked to play the black female roles.”

  Kay looked dumbfounded at Donna’s comment. But for Savannah, suddenly a lot of things she’d witnessed about Dominique’s gestures and body language, her use of certain phrases, made sense. She looked at Dominique more closely. There was nothing to make the average person believe she was anything but white. But there were the slightly full lips. Were they real or was it collagen? Her hair texture appeared curly, but might also have been slightly relaxed to make it more manageable. There was nothing in Dominique’s expression that would have said otherwise.

  “No, I don’t. Even when I prove I can talk the talk.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Kay asked.

  “It’s not really about how you sound. It’s about how you look,” Donna said knowledgeably.

  Savannah nodded. “I wondered myself. Are you biracial?”

  “I’m African-American.” Dominique said, not hesitating for a second. “Most people don’t notice, or don’t ask. I don’t volunteer that I’m black, but I don’t deny it.”

  Savannah wondered what Dominique thought as she, Kay and Donna stared openly at her, fascinated by this little phenomenon of nature, genes and history.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s rude to stare, but I just can’t get over it. I’ve never seen anyone like you, but I knew you had to be black,” Donna said.

  “How?” Kay asked. “I can’t tell.”

  Donna shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just one of those things I felt. I kind of connected to the way you talked, and maybe how comfortable you seemed with us right from the start.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I felt,” Kay nodded. “You just seem to fit right in.”

  “I wasn’t trying to put something over on you…”

  “No, no. That’s not it,” Savannah spoke up. “But we all grew up hearing or reading about black men and women who are light enough to pass.”

  “But I’m not trying to pass for white,” Dominique clarified. “I’m always myself, and I don’t pretend to be anything else but black. But people never ask. It’s all about the color of my skin, hair and eyes. Most people don’t see anything else.”

  “Look, forget the cappuccino,” Kay said, signaling for the waiter. “I’m ordering another bottle of wine.”

  They all burst out laughing.

  “I’m sorry if I put you on the spot,” Donna said earnestly.

  “You didn’t, I promise. If I can’t handle what people think or believe about me, what they come to find out about me, then I’m in trouble and in the wrong business. Being an actress is all about becoming other people.”

  “But how do you get work?” Savannah asked.

  “It’s hard. I can play and pass for a lot of different ethnic types with makeup and wigs. But getting someone to believe I can play an African-American doesn’t fly. The audience wants to see someone who looks a lot like them. I don’t.

  “One of my friends in high school used to tell me I’m a fake…”

  There was an audible gasp around the table.

  “She used to say I didn’t have a clue what it was like being black, ’cause I wasn’t. “

  “Yeah, and I bet she got on your case because all the boys flocked around you like bees to honey.”

  “I bet not,” Savannah conjectured. “I bet they were afraid of you.”

  “Right,” Dominique nodded firmly. “If they were seen with me they might be accused by their homeboys of preferring white girls. I don’t think I should have to explain or defend who I am.”

  “I hear that,” Donna nodded.

  “So, how are you doing? Are you from L.A.?” Kay wanted to know.

  “I grad
uated Yale, but I was born in Texas. I’m okay. I work.”

  “Domino is also a wonderful fabric artist,” Savannah interjected, wanting to get away from the subject that seemed to be an interrogation of Dominique, even a friendly one.

  “Really?” Donna asked, surprise. “Like what?”

  “Like this shawl I brought with me,” Domino said, and pulled from her large tote bag one of her own creations.

  Savannah sat smiling, as Donna and Kay exclaimed over the fine woven cloth. Then she told them she had a shawl on layaway, and took out her checkbook to write a second payment to Domino.

  “You have my card. You can come by my studio anytime to make the final payment and pick it up,” Domino said to Savannah, then turned to Donna and Kay. “Sorry to be taking care of business during your dinner out.”

  “Well, I want to know how I can get one, too,” Kay said, examining the work on Domino’s shawl. “This is really nice.”

  “Me, too,” Donna joined in.

  The conversation turned to the recent crafts show. Kay was doubly sorry she’d missed the exhibit now that she and Donna had had a chance to see Domino’s work.

  “Thank you for inviting me to join you tonight. This was really great,” Domino said, as they finally walked out to the parking lot.

  “I’m sorry for getting in your business the way I did,” Donna said.

  “I didn’t take it that way.”

  “Now that we’ve met, I have to rent all the movies you’ve been in. Give me some titles,” Kay demanded.

  Dominique laughed as she recited several.

  Savannah was the last to say goodbye to Domino, while Donna and Kay got in Donna’s car and waited for her.

  “And you thought you were just going for dinner,” she smiled ruefully at Dominique.

  “It was all good. I have black friends here in the business, but it’s very competitive. I don’t expect anyone to have sympathy for what I have to go through. I’m going up to Vancouver day after tomorrow to shoot a small part.”

  “I’m glad,” Savannah said warmly.

  “But I’m not giving up my day job yet.” They laughed. “Good night,” Dominique waved, walking away to her car.

  “Good night,” Savannah called after her, before climbing into the backseat of Donna’s car.

  “Well! Surprise, surprise,” Kay said.

  “I like her,” said Donna, who had a very good bull-shit detector.

  “Me, too,” Savannah said. Then added reflectively. “This is the first time I’ve gotten a true sense of how hard it is to get your foot in the door without getting it slammed on. She reminds me of someone else who came out here to act.”

  “That twinkie-dink guy you work with? What’s his name? Taj?”

  Savannah chuckled. “No, not Taj. Anyway, I have no doubts he’s going to make it. I don’t know how talented he is, but he’s so determined. I’m thinking of someone else.”

  My father.

  Chapter 4

  Savannah untied the red string around the first bundle in the box found in her father’s closet. Little bits of dried and brittle paper flaked off from the edges of newspaper articles, layered in between letters, tear sheets and one composition notebook that looked as if it might be a journal. The dust spoke of the age of the materials and the need to be careful not to damage them further. She gently blew the dust away. Now, where to begin?

  Savannah decided against any attempt to put the papers in some sort of order. For all she knew, they were already in order, just one that wasn’t readily apparent. Right away a line in the top sheet caught her attention. It seemed to be a continuation of a review from some publication, the start of the piece either missing, or out of place in the two piles.

  …Miss Hilton, a young starlet of astonishing beauty, with her abundant Raphaelite hair and mesmerizing green eyes, is miscast in the role of the flirtatious neighbor’s daughter. Her demeanor is too nervous, too self-conscious. But I wouldn’t count her out as a rising star. She is talented, and sometimes affecting. I see great things in her future, given the right project and the right director who can coax genuine emotion from the young actress….

  Savannah settled back more comfortably in the poolside lounger, preparing to spend the next hour reading about a white actress who had obviously come in contact with her father and developed a relationship. The partial review was older than she was. Did that mean her father knew Rae Marie Hilton before he’d left the east coast for Hollywood, or had met her afterward?

  It was necessary for Savannah to shift her chair several times as the sun crossed the sky and the day slipped away. She ignored the telephone when it rang twice as she was reading. She distantly heard the front doorbell but made no attempt to find out who the caller was. She gave no thought to the chores she’d lined up for the day, and it never once occurred to her to put the documents aside, even for an hour or two. She was riveted by the unveiling portrait of a young Hollywood hopeful who was desperate for recognition from film power brokers, but who lived under some sort of cloud of uncertainty and fear.

  When her cell phone rang around four o’clock, Savannah reached for the unit, conveniently placed on the flagstone patio next to her chair. She quickly tried to finish a sentence in which it was reported that Rae Marie was suspected of having an affair with one of Warner Brothers’ hot young male properties, a blond former athlete with action-film aspirations.

  “Hello?” Savannah answered absently.

  “Where are you? I thought you were going to call me this morning.”

  Savannah’s concentration was abruptly broken. “Harris. I’m so sorry. I forgot all about calling.”

  “Thanks a lot,” her brother said dryly. “I hope you had a good reason.”

  “I don’t know about that. I was going through some of Daddy’s papers. I didn’t want to just throw them out.”

  “Sure, I understand. Find anything important?”

  Savannah gnawed the inside of her jaw. “So far, the usual stuff. Plus, there are a lot of things from his career. Maybe not so much important as interesting. How are you?”

  “Great. On my way to Germany.”

  “Really? What’s in Germany?”

  “I’m going over to work with the foreign service contingent to train them in new government procedures.”

  “Well, that sounds like fun,” she said.

  “It’s not, but it is Germany. It’ll be my first time there. Just wanted to check in with you to see how it was going before I go.”

  “Is Janet going with you?”

  “Not this time. I’m only going to be away two weeks, and the boys are close to the end of the school year. She wants to be around for last-minute tests and projects.

  “I thought I might fly out and see you when I get back. Maybe for a long weekend. Is that okay with you?”

  “That would be great.”

  “We can take care of whatever else needs to be done about Dad’s affairs and spend some time together. Must be a little hard living in the house now that he’s gone,” Harris observed.

  Savannah sighed and tilted her head back against the cushioned lounger. “Not as bad as I thought it would be. I love the house, Harris, but right now it still feels like I’m just a visitor. I’ve decided it’s time to put Daddy’s things away. Since I’m going to stay in L.A., I don’t want this house to look like a shrine. Have any thoughts about what I should do with everything?”

  “I’d like to have some of the photographs, especially those of him with Poitier, Sammy Davis, Jr., and I think there was one with Lena Horne. Oh, and can I have any scripts you find?”

  “Sure. What else?”

  “That’s all I can think of for the moment. But keep anything else that looks interesting until I come out.”

  “I will. Harris, I have to ask you something. Do you know if Daddy was involved with anyone else? I mean, romanticwise, after he and Mommy separated?”

  Harris laughed. “Are you kidding? The man was a good-looking dude.
I’m sure there were lots of women who wouldn’t necessarily kick him out of bed.”

  “Yeah, but, do you think there was anyone in particular?”

  “Probably more than one over the years, but he never talked about anyone special to me. Why all these questions about Dad’s love life?”

  “I’m just curious. I realize now how little I knew about his life out here.”

  Harris sighed. “To be honest, Vann, you never seemed all that interested. I don’t think you ever forgave him for going to L.A. to become an actor, and leaving us behind.”

  “I know. I lost a lot of time, didn’t I?” Savannah said quietly. “I wish I did know more. I wish now I hadn’t stayed angry for so long.”

  “It was hard for him, too. But he understood why you blamed him. He just didn’t know what to do about it.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “We talked about it. Whenever I came out to spend time with him it was about me and him, not him and his acting career. It really hurt him that for so many years you wouldn’t give him a chance to show how much he loved you. He felt guilty about not being there while we were growing up, but I never blamed him for that.”

  Savannah felt her throat starting to close. The feeling had come over her several times since her father had died. As if she was having a delayed reaction to the loss.

  “I get the feeling there was a lot more to the story I didn’t know about.”

  “Maybe Dad didn’t want us to. But when he knew he was dying he asked you to come out to L.A. and be with him. Not anyone else. And you went. That says something, don’t you think?”

  She swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. “I’m glad I came. I hope it’s not too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “I…don’t know exactly. That’s just how I feel.”

  “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

  “I do have another question. Did you ever hear Daddy talk about someone named Rae Marie Hilton? I think she was an actress he knew.”