Wilma Lives On In Memories
The wrecking ball can demolish the Wilma Theater’s flocked walls and smoke-filled lounge, but it can’t touch the legend of Mr. Frame.
“We were scared of him,” Michele Heuer says. Her eyes are as round as they must have been 30 years ago when she and her sister, Teri Burch, sank deep in the Coeur d’Alene movie theater’s seats to avoid Mr. Frame’s prowling flashlight. “He was an imposing figure.”
“He was mean,” Teri adds with the conviction of a 10-year-old.
The sisters treasure their tales of the Wilma’s fierce manager as much as their memories of soft, stale popcorn and the staccato of jawbreakers rolling under the seats.
“I always hoped someone would save” the theater, Michele says. “It’s another chink out of our past.”
The Wilma offered Michele and Teri refuge nearly every Saturday afternoon in the ‘60s while their parents played bridge.
Sometimes, the ticket line stretched around the block, but the girls knew the wait was almost over when they reached the movie posters on the theater’s front corner.
Inside, they enviously watched the usher unhook the thick velvet rope across the stairs to the loge. Only moviegoers - usually teenagers - with more expensive tickets sat upstairs. Michele and Teri plotted how to sneak in but always chickened out.
Everything about the theater was magical to them - the heavy red curtain that slowly parted as the movie began, the lounge with armchairs and a free-standing ashtray.
“I always thought it was so elegant,” Teri says.
Occasionally, the projectionist flashed messages across the screen for someone in the audience. Teri always hoped one would be for her: “Teri Summers, you have a phone call.” It never happened.
When she worked at the Wilma a few years later, she flashed messages for her friends.
But the Wilma’s most memorable - and apparently haunting - feature was Mr. Frame.
“The Hitchcock of Coeur d’Alene,” a friend of Michele’s and Teri’s says with a shudder. “Just the thought of him still keeps me from putting my feet up on the seat in front of me at the movies.”
He caught the neckers and the sneaks, the noisemakers and the gum-throwers. He threw kids out for breaking the rules. He was part Marshal Dillon and part Attila the Hun.
“He took no nonsense,” Teri says. “We were scared.”
And now they’re sad.
The Wilma closed 10 years ago. Its marquee disappeared. Its new owners plastered over the exterior until the theater disappeared inside a tan box.
But Michele and Teri say they never lost hope that the Wilma would live again until snow crashed through its roof last month. They wince that anyone would suggest replacing it with a condominium.
“I have so many memories of that theater,” Teri says, her eyes suddenly growing large. “Did I tell you about when Mr. Frame …?”
Spiffy biffy
The Panhandle Health District should find no fault with the outhouse its environmental health director, Ken Lustig, built in the Boundary County woods.
He installed pipes to vent cold air and odors outside, plus indoor artwork, two windows - including one of stained glass that Ken created himself - a glass door and lace curtains.
There’s no heat inside the tongue-and-groove one-seater, but Ken says candles create a pleasing ambience. Anyone want to make reservations?
Making tracks
I have new cross-country skis that are begging to stray beyond Farragut State Park and the local golf course. If the snow holds out, I’ll try Fourth of July Pass next. But where are some other great cross-country ski trails in the Panhandle (that won’t kill me)?
Map out some winter fun for Cynthia Taggart, “Close to Home,” 608 Northwest Blvd., Suite 200, Coeur d’Alene, ID 83814; or send a fax to 765-7149, call 765-7128 or send e-mail to cynthiat@ spokesman.com.
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