Lloyd Nolan(1902-1985)
- Actor
- Soundtrack
It would no doubt be a real shock to most people to discover that the
rich baritone Bronx-like accent of great veteran character actor Lloyd
Nolan was a product of the San Francisco streets--not the urban jungle
of New York City. Nolan was born in the City by the Bay, and his
father, James Nolan, was a successful shoe manufacturer of hard-working
Irish stock. Lloyd caught the acting bug while at Santa Clara College
(at the time, a junior college). He gained as much theatre experience
as he could, attaining his AA in the process. Though he continued on to
Stanford, he was still focused on acting and soon flunked out of that
school, preferring to focus his attention on acting opportunities
rather than studies. Forsaking his father and the family shoe business,
Nolan went to sea on a freighter, which soon burned, and then headed
south to Hollywood.
He continued to hone his acting skills by first taking up residence at
the Pasadena Playhouse (1927). With his father's passing he was able to
sustain himself on a small inheritance. Continuing at PP and elsewhere
in stock for two years, he headed east to Broadway, where he landed a
role in a musical revue, "Cape Cod Follies", in late 1929. He continued
with two other similar roles through 1932 before breaking out with an
acclaimed performance as less-than-wholesome small-town dentist Biff
Grimes in the original hit play "One Sunday Afternoon" (1933). He would
stay on for two more plays until mid-1934, when he headed back to
Hollywood with heightened expectations of success in the movies. His
voice and that rock-solid but somehow sympathetic face made Nolan
someone with whom audiences could immediately identify, and ahead were
over 150 screen appearances. Nolan didn't waste any time; he signed
with Paramount and had five roles in 1935, getting the lead role in two
and working with up-and-coming James Cagney
and George Raft. In the next five years
Nolan settled into his niche as a solid and versatile player in
whatever he did. His genre was more "B", and he could play good guys
and heavies with equal skill. The production values on some B-level
efforts were every bit as good as those of "A" pictures. Everybody
starting out did at least a few "B" pictures, and Nolan was doing
quality work, even in pictures that are little-known--if known at
all--today, pictures like
King of Gamblers (1937) with
Claire Trevor and
King of Alcatraz (1938). He was
a mainstay at Paramount until 1940, competing with Warner Brothers in
that studio's popular gangster films. Unlike better known Cagney and
Humphrey Bogart across town, Nolan's bad
and not-so-bad guys often had more depth, and again it was that face
along with his verve and that distinctive voice that helped to bring it
out.
The 1940s saw Nolan moving around within the studio system. He was
taking on more familiar roles, such as private detective, government
agent or police detective--tough and hard-boiled but sympathetic and
understanding at the same time--and World War II action heroes. He
landed the role of "Mike Shayne" in the private-eye series from 20th
Century-Fox--seven of them between 1940 and 1942. Nolan showed a
surprising flair for comedy in this series, with a continuing stream of
wisecracks along with the fisticuffs. The Shayne series was well
received by both critics and audiences, but Nolan is best known during
that period as one of the familiar faces of World War II action films.
The first is, at least to this observer, the best, but probably least
known--Manila Calling (1942). It
was a part of Hollywood's concerted effort to boost civilian morale
during the war, with the subject being the Japanese invasion of the
Philippines, its conquest and liberation, as center stage in the War in
the Pacific. Most films dealt with both retreat and return later in the
war years; this 1942 film was perhaps the first to deal with the
beginning and hope for the future. Nolan is his usual reliable,
get-things-done professional here, an ace communications technician
trying to keep the radio airways open amid the onslaught of Japanese
invaders. Of all the flag-waving messages given in so many WWII films,
none is as stirring as Nolan's, who by the way gets the girl,
Carole Landis. It's she who stays behind
with him while the rest of the radio team escapes with bombs falling.
Microphone in hand and in his best hard-boiled monotone, Nolan spits
out: "Manila calling, Manila calling - and I ain't no Jap!"
Significantly, Nolan appeared in several other films dealing with the
struggle in the Pacific, turning in a particularly strong performance
in Bataan (1943).
By 1950 Nolan was ready for television (nearly half of his career roles
would tally on that side of the ledger). In addition to his series
work, television in the 1950s also played a lot of Nolan's action films
from the 1930s and 1940s, earning him a whole new generation of
fans--kids who would sit for hours in front of the TV, watching not
only current shows but "old" movies. Nolan appeared in many different
genres on television, and he could be seen in everything from
distinguished dramatic productions to variety and game shows, in
addition to having his own series, including
Martin Kane (1949)
and Special Agent 7 (1958).
After having been away from Broadway for nearly 20 years, Nolan
returned in early 1954 in the original production of the hit play "The
Caine Mutiny Court Martial", in the pivotal role of the paranoid
Captain Queeg. He spent a year in this production, to great critical
acclaim. He repeated the role on television in a
Ford Star Jubilee (1955)
production in 1955. His TV roles kept him busy. It must have been fun
for him when, at nearly 60 years of age, he played notorious Chicago
gangster George Moran, aka "Bugs"
Moran--who in real life was much younger than Nolan was at the time--on
the popular
The Untouchables (1959), as
well as appearing in five continuing episodes of the extremely popular
77 Sunset Strip (1958)
series, and he appeared in other crime dramas playing, in one form or
another, the kinds of roles he played on the big screen in the 1930s
and 1940s.
In the 1970s, when cameo roles by older stars were becoming a popular
means of luring people back to the theaters, Nolan was happy to oblige
in box-office hits like
Ice Station Zebra (1968),
Airport (1970) and
Earthquake (1974). When the same
circumstances spread to episodic TV, Nolan was only too happy to be on
hand. Most older actors--even those with good reputations--have a
tendency to be a bit difficult, but Nolan was such a professional. His
joy at still being able to work at the craft he loved was profound,
almost childlike in enthusiasm. He never complained or claimed special
privilege.
That was the measure of the man--what had been and what would continue
to be. Unconventional in a natural sort of way was the norm for Lloyd
Nolan. Call it keeping to one's dignity. He kept no Hollywood secrets,
as was the fashion. He was very open about his autistic son. Into the
1980s and entering his 80s, Nolan still deftly handled a few final TV
and screen roles, though his noted memory for lines began to fade and
cue cards became necessary. He was inspired in his final film role as a
retired actor, husband of showy, boozy has-been
Maureen O'Sullivan and three
individualistic daughters in
Hannah and Her Sisters (1986).
It's a great role, and probably the most even and satisfying film
effort of director Woody Allen.
Nolan's last role was a
Murder, She Wrote (1984) TV
episode with old friend Angela Lansbury.
He still had not revealed his final secret--he was dying with lung
cancer--which by then revealed itself just the same. Ravaged as he was
by the disease, Lloyd Nolan--with the help of his friends and
well-wishers--successfully wrapped his 156th professional acting
performance before his passing. His was a life of quality, commitment,
character and integrity. Were things increasingly rare in
Hollywood. But, which described Lloyd Nolan, plain and simple.
rich baritone Bronx-like accent of great veteran character actor Lloyd
Nolan was a product of the San Francisco streets--not the urban jungle
of New York City. Nolan was born in the City by the Bay, and his
father, James Nolan, was a successful shoe manufacturer of hard-working
Irish stock. Lloyd caught the acting bug while at Santa Clara College
(at the time, a junior college). He gained as much theatre experience
as he could, attaining his AA in the process. Though he continued on to
Stanford, he was still focused on acting and soon flunked out of that
school, preferring to focus his attention on acting opportunities
rather than studies. Forsaking his father and the family shoe business,
Nolan went to sea on a freighter, which soon burned, and then headed
south to Hollywood.
He continued to hone his acting skills by first taking up residence at
the Pasadena Playhouse (1927). With his father's passing he was able to
sustain himself on a small inheritance. Continuing at PP and elsewhere
in stock for two years, he headed east to Broadway, where he landed a
role in a musical revue, "Cape Cod Follies", in late 1929. He continued
with two other similar roles through 1932 before breaking out with an
acclaimed performance as less-than-wholesome small-town dentist Biff
Grimes in the original hit play "One Sunday Afternoon" (1933). He would
stay on for two more plays until mid-1934, when he headed back to
Hollywood with heightened expectations of success in the movies. His
voice and that rock-solid but somehow sympathetic face made Nolan
someone with whom audiences could immediately identify, and ahead were
over 150 screen appearances. Nolan didn't waste any time; he signed
with Paramount and had five roles in 1935, getting the lead role in two
and working with up-and-coming James Cagney
and George Raft. In the next five years
Nolan settled into his niche as a solid and versatile player in
whatever he did. His genre was more "B", and he could play good guys
and heavies with equal skill. The production values on some B-level
efforts were every bit as good as those of "A" pictures. Everybody
starting out did at least a few "B" pictures, and Nolan was doing
quality work, even in pictures that are little-known--if known at
all--today, pictures like
King of Gamblers (1937) with
Claire Trevor and
King of Alcatraz (1938). He was
a mainstay at Paramount until 1940, competing with Warner Brothers in
that studio's popular gangster films. Unlike better known Cagney and
Humphrey Bogart across town, Nolan's bad
and not-so-bad guys often had more depth, and again it was that face
along with his verve and that distinctive voice that helped to bring it
out.
The 1940s saw Nolan moving around within the studio system. He was
taking on more familiar roles, such as private detective, government
agent or police detective--tough and hard-boiled but sympathetic and
understanding at the same time--and World War II action heroes. He
landed the role of "Mike Shayne" in the private-eye series from 20th
Century-Fox--seven of them between 1940 and 1942. Nolan showed a
surprising flair for comedy in this series, with a continuing stream of
wisecracks along with the fisticuffs. The Shayne series was well
received by both critics and audiences, but Nolan is best known during
that period as one of the familiar faces of World War II action films.
The first is, at least to this observer, the best, but probably least
known--Manila Calling (1942). It
was a part of Hollywood's concerted effort to boost civilian morale
during the war, with the subject being the Japanese invasion of the
Philippines, its conquest and liberation, as center stage in the War in
the Pacific. Most films dealt with both retreat and return later in the
war years; this 1942 film was perhaps the first to deal with the
beginning and hope for the future. Nolan is his usual reliable,
get-things-done professional here, an ace communications technician
trying to keep the radio airways open amid the onslaught of Japanese
invaders. Of all the flag-waving messages given in so many WWII films,
none is as stirring as Nolan's, who by the way gets the girl,
Carole Landis. It's she who stays behind
with him while the rest of the radio team escapes with bombs falling.
Microphone in hand and in his best hard-boiled monotone, Nolan spits
out: "Manila calling, Manila calling - and I ain't no Jap!"
Significantly, Nolan appeared in several other films dealing with the
struggle in the Pacific, turning in a particularly strong performance
in Bataan (1943).
By 1950 Nolan was ready for television (nearly half of his career roles
would tally on that side of the ledger). In addition to his series
work, television in the 1950s also played a lot of Nolan's action films
from the 1930s and 1940s, earning him a whole new generation of
fans--kids who would sit for hours in front of the TV, watching not
only current shows but "old" movies. Nolan appeared in many different
genres on television, and he could be seen in everything from
distinguished dramatic productions to variety and game shows, in
addition to having his own series, including
Martin Kane (1949)
and Special Agent 7 (1958).
After having been away from Broadway for nearly 20 years, Nolan
returned in early 1954 in the original production of the hit play "The
Caine Mutiny Court Martial", in the pivotal role of the paranoid
Captain Queeg. He spent a year in this production, to great critical
acclaim. He repeated the role on television in a
Ford Star Jubilee (1955)
production in 1955. His TV roles kept him busy. It must have been fun
for him when, at nearly 60 years of age, he played notorious Chicago
gangster George Moran, aka "Bugs"
Moran--who in real life was much younger than Nolan was at the time--on
the popular
The Untouchables (1959), as
well as appearing in five continuing episodes of the extremely popular
77 Sunset Strip (1958)
series, and he appeared in other crime dramas playing, in one form or
another, the kinds of roles he played on the big screen in the 1930s
and 1940s.
In the 1970s, when cameo roles by older stars were becoming a popular
means of luring people back to the theaters, Nolan was happy to oblige
in box-office hits like
Ice Station Zebra (1968),
Airport (1970) and
Earthquake (1974). When the same
circumstances spread to episodic TV, Nolan was only too happy to be on
hand. Most older actors--even those with good reputations--have a
tendency to be a bit difficult, but Nolan was such a professional. His
joy at still being able to work at the craft he loved was profound,
almost childlike in enthusiasm. He never complained or claimed special
privilege.
That was the measure of the man--what had been and what would continue
to be. Unconventional in a natural sort of way was the norm for Lloyd
Nolan. Call it keeping to one's dignity. He kept no Hollywood secrets,
as was the fashion. He was very open about his autistic son. Into the
1980s and entering his 80s, Nolan still deftly handled a few final TV
and screen roles, though his noted memory for lines began to fade and
cue cards became necessary. He was inspired in his final film role as a
retired actor, husband of showy, boozy has-been
Maureen O'Sullivan and three
individualistic daughters in
Hannah and Her Sisters (1986).
It's a great role, and probably the most even and satisfying film
effort of director Woody Allen.
Nolan's last role was a
Murder, She Wrote (1984) TV
episode with old friend Angela Lansbury.
He still had not revealed his final secret--he was dying with lung
cancer--which by then revealed itself just the same. Ravaged as he was
by the disease, Lloyd Nolan--with the help of his friends and
well-wishers--successfully wrapped his 156th professional acting
performance before his passing. His was a life of quality, commitment,
character and integrity. Were things increasingly rare in
Hollywood. But, which described Lloyd Nolan, plain and simple.