The Ghost Of Nosferatu: A Love Story

 I met Jessica, my wife, on a crisp Saturday night in October, back when I was fifteen. This will seem like a roundabout way of telling that story, but it’s my story and I’ll tell it my way. I would have probably never met her if not for something that happened when I was 13.

On a cold Saturday afternoon in February, I decided that I was a classic movie fan and I was not a sports fan.

Let me explain:

As far back as anybody can remember, the men in the Skinner family have dedicated their Saturday afternoons to sports. My pop, Shaun and Eddie, my older brothers, and myself followed in that tradition. Saturdays, starting at 1 p.m., we’d head down to the basement and watch sports on the big floor model TV. Spring and summer were for Cincinnati Reds baseball. Fall was SEC football time. Winter was regarded as the most important, Kentucky Wildcats basketball season.

On the Saturday when that changed for me, Kentucky was scheduled to travel to Memorial Gym down in Nashville to play Vanderbilt.. Earlier in the year, The same two teams had played in Rupp Arena in Lexington. In that game, the Wildcats had won easily, 104-61. I was really not excited about a game that was probably going to be one sided.

My family had another TV in the living room upstairs. I had just watched World Pro Wrestling, which I honestly didn’t think of as a sport and was sitting on the couch. It was 1:00.

“Up next, “ the TV announcer’s voice said, “Classic Cinema with today’s feature, “Treasure Of The Sierra Madre”, starring Humphrey Bogart.”

Mom walked into the room, carrying a basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room.

“That’s a really good movie,” she commented, “but your dad and brothers are downstairs and it’s ballgame time.”

“Mom, Kentucky is gonna win by 50 points, “ I said. “ I think I’m just gonna watch this movie!”

“You’ll like it,” she said and then, she padded to the laundry room.

She was right. I loved every second of it. That began a love affair between me and classic films. After that, I skipped the basement ballgame watching and Classic Cinema became “must see TV” for me. Pop and my brothers couldn’t believe that I would abandon them this way.

“Them movies was made before me and your Mom was even born!” Pop would say. “What could you get out of watching that?”

“If you see one ballgame, you see’em all!” I’d reply. Shaun and Eddie would just shake their heads in disbelief.

Old movies became my passion. I checked out every book on the subject that they had in the library at one time or another. It was the librarian who told me about Friday nights at the Bijou Theater on Main Street.

Friday night was Classic night. They would show films from before 1960. I would take part of my allowance and be there every week.

I was especially fond of the old time horror films. The Universal horror flicks and the Val Lewton RKO flicks were especially favored. One week, I saw in the newspaper that the silent classic Nosferatu would be featured. I had seen stills in some of the books that I had read, but didn’t think I would ever get a chance to actually watch the film.

I was an excited boy that Friday night as I bought my ticket at the box office. It was a few weeks before Halloween and the temperature was colder than it had been recently. A chill in the air seemed appropriate for the evening’s entertainment.

As usual, the Friday evening crowd was sparse, mostly senior citizens seated near the screen. I took my usual seat, about halfway back.

After a chapter from a serial and a Betty Boop cartoon, the featured presentation began. It took a while for me to adjust to the lack of sound and having to read the subtitles, but Nosferatu was so well done that it really didn’t bother me much.

The movie was halfway over before I noticed him.

The man was seated two rows in front of me. He wore an overcoat and a scarf. I could see the back of his bald head and his ears were protruding, what Pop would call “cab door ears”. For some unknown reason, he looked over his shoulder at me for just a second or maybe two. In the darkness, at least to my eyes, he bore a startling resemblance to Count Orlock, the vampire I was seeing on the screen!

I was distracted by what I had just seen. Distracted to the point that I almost lost track of the plot of the movie. Who was this man? It had to be a coincidence that he resembled the character on the screen. It had to be, didn’t it?

By the time the film came to an end, I was obsessed by the man in front of me. When he left the theater, I followed him. Anyone who knows me could tell you that this was totally foreign to my personality. He walked onto Main Street and headed east. Even though he was headed in the opposite direction of my home, I followed behind him.

He turned left onto Boone Avenue and at the end of the street, turned right onto Ruland Street. Even though, he walked very slowly, I was keeping my distance. I had no idea what I would say or do if this person turned around and confronted me. As the man ahead of me approached Restwell Cemetery, he slowed down. At the entrance to the cemetery, he stopped, opened the gate, and walked in. I slowly approached the cemetery. I really didn’t want to go in there, but for some crazy reason, I was overwhelmed with curiosity about this man who vaguely resembled German actor Max Schreck in his vampire makeup. Against my better judgment, I walked into the cemetery. I looked around and my mystery man was nowhere in sight. There were a few streetlamps on the perimeter of the graveyard and they provided enough enough light for me to walk around and look for the suspected vampire. He was nowhere to be found. As the futility of my search became clear to me, I felt cold chills as I considered the implication of not being able to find him.

Yes, I was feeling cold chills. I had left my jacket at the theater! What a dumb thing to do!

I half walked and half jogged back to the movie house. When I arrived, there was a teenage girl sweeping up out front. There was something about her that attracted me. She wasn’t my usual type. I usually like cheerleaders. She was short and plump, curly brown hair, and big, brown eyes. When she saw me, she smiled and stopped sweeping. It was a sweet smile that made me feel warm in spite of the cold temperature.

“Hey,” she said in a sweet drawl, “ You forgot your jacket, didn’t ya?”

“Sure did!” I said.

“I can get it for ya,” she said. Her voice was soft and sweet.

She swept the debris from in front of the theater into a dust pan and carried the broom and dust pan into the box office. She emerged carrying my jacket and handed it me.

“ I’m Jessica Hanks, “ she said. “ I’m a year behind you at school. You hang out with my second cousin Len Baldridge.”

“Nice to meet you,” I replied. “I’m Dave Parnell.”

I held out my hand and we shook hands. Her hand was tiny, soft, and delicate. Some guys have a foot fetish, it’s a woman’s hands that I always liked.

“Something weird happened to me tonight,” I said. “Even weirder than the movie!”

“I’d like to hear about if you wanna talk, “ she said. “Cozy Corner is open and I could buy you a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

And we’ve been inseparable ever since. In fact, I just heard her say from down in the living room that the popcorn was ready. I still watch a classic movie every Friday evening. Now, we cuddle on the couch in our living room and the old movie is via an app on our Roku.

I’ll finish this up now. Jessica is waiting in the living room, barefoot in her pajamas, and eating popcorn. Maybe we can find Nosferatu on one of the many Roku apps that feature black and white movies. That isn’t a romantic evening to most people, but it works for my lady and me.