“Scream queen” Kathleen Hughes Rubin thrived for nearly a century in Hollywood. Despite her image as a sexy screen siren of the 1950s, she enjoyed an enduring marriage to producer Stanley Rubin, and was the beloved mother of four children and a joy to all who knew her.
The death of Kathleen Hughes May 19 at age 96 concluded a nostalgic chapter of cinematic history for the baby boomer generation who grew up with her films. For me, her passing was also the loss of a cherished friend. Kathy’s movie career began during the late 1940s as the studio system entered its Cretaceous Period by subsequently deploying CinemaScope, Vista Vision, Cinerama and similar innovations in an attempt to lure audiences away from their television sets and back into movie theaters. Science fiction and film noir became melded with the short-lived phenomenon of 3D, with Kathy becoming prominent by her appearances in “It Came From Outer Space” and “The Glass Web.”
Drop-dead gorgeous with a figure to match, she remarked on those roles with characteristic humor: “I was very three-dimensional in those days.”
Humor characterized by an infectious laugh were Kathy’s trademarks. They were part of her effervescent delight of being a Hollywood actress that she never lost. She loved everything about “the biz,” even while enduring its often cruel ups and downs. She could candidly express her disappointment about finally playing opposite a leading man she had “drooled over” and discovering he was not a nice person, or coping with a well-known director whose boorish behavior constituted a virtual advertisement for the “me too” movement. This was during a time when vulgarity directed at women by powerful men was a taken-for-granted aspect of the picture business. Kathy was never bitter or even angry; she was straightforwardly honest while making it clear that she never put up with any nonsense.
Kathleen Hughes at a symposium honoring Marilyn Monroe at the Hollywood Museum in 2005.
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I met Kathy and her husband Stanley Rubin over twenty years ago when I first chatted with Stanley about his production of “The Narrow Margin” (1952) for my biography on tough guy actor Charles McGraw. They were a delightful couple who were always seen together around town at screenings and various events — we became friends. Despite a brief heyday as a debonair Hollywood bachelor (he dated Judy Garland and Gloria Grahame) before marrying Kathy in 1954, Stanley was a devoted family man and an old-school gentleman. In his nineties, he would always stand when a woman entered the room. Stanley and Kathy’s first date would be in a Fox screening room watching the answer print for Stanley’s production of “River of No Return” (1954), starring Marilyn Monroe and Robert Mitchum. His diplomatic skills as a producer were sorely tested as he became the mediator between an insecure Monroe and the picture’s mercurial director Otto Preminger. Stanley and Kathy got to know Marilyn quite well and years later would attend and speak at symposiums commemorating her 1962 passing
Their home above the Sunset Strip was decorated with visual montages of their respective careers. Kathy’s memorabilia held forth in various locations, most notably a bathroom festooned with lobby cards from her films. Family pictures were preeminent in the living room, which included a piano, the top of which was covered with framed photographs. One evening, I noticed a framed photo of actor Herbert Lom on the piano and asked Stanley how he knew the actor. He rolled his eyes, smiled and said, “Ask my wife about that.” I queried Kathy, who responded with characteristic enthusiasm, “I never met him, but I just adored Herbert Lom… He was sooo handsome, so I put his picture there!”
This reaction was typical of Kathy — her unbridled enthusiasm as a fan of actors and acting never changed from the time she was born as Elizabeth (Betty) von Gerkan in Los Angeles on Nov. 14, 1928. She often said that she became an actress to prove her uncle, screenwriter F. Hugh Herbert, wrong. “He said I was too tall for the movies (she was 5’9”) because all the leading men at that time were so short!”
Stanley and Kathy were a team. You didn’t just invite one to a screening of their respective films; it was always both of them, and it was heartwarming to observe how they supported each other. As her own career waned under the demands of raising four children and the vagaries of a changing Hollywood, Kathy ardently supported Stanley’s career as well as that of her friends. From Marilyn Monroe to Mamie Van Doren, Kathy was always there at every event that celebrated her friends and colleagues over the years. Having her as my guest at screenings of her films was always a joyous occasion. The audience warmed to her infectious zest and treasured her recollections whether it was recounting how she filibustered her way into a small but memorable role in “It Came From Outer Space,” delightedly horse-whipped Marla English in “Three Bad Sisters” or did a love scene with Edward G. Robinson in “The Glass Web” — confiding, “He was a fabulous kisser!”
Kathy’s most memorable image was the famous publicity shot photo from “It Came From Outer Space” with her screaming and throwing up her hands. Her face became immortalized on advertisements, greeting cards, bottles of hot sauce and all manner of gag gifts; it was even used as advertising décor on flags decorating a Manhattan record store — all without permission or compensation. Eventually it got out of hand. As Stanley noted, “When my wife’s image turned up on wrappers for condoms, I telephoned my attorney.”
As 2014 began, Stanley, who had seemed ageless, began failing in what would be his 97th year. When Kathy telephoned me several months later and told me that he had passed away peacefully in his sleep, I mentioned that I was deeply saddened, but not shocked. Kathy said, “I know. That’s why I invited you and Jemma over for dinner earlier. I wanted you to visit Stanley for a final time.”
We stayed in touch and I invited Kathy to be one of my guests at a classic sci-fi festival in Palm Springs a year later. When I screened “The Narrow Margin” for a noir festival at the Hollywood Legion Theater in 2021, I again invited Kathy, who was beginning to be diminished by age but still enthusiastic over being amongst grateful film fans who cheered her and appreciated one of her husband’s most revered movies.
I’ll always remember Kathy with great fondness. She was much more than “the better half” of a wonderful couple who complemented one another with love and support, raised an accomplished family and made everyone who knew them feel grateful for their friendship. Kathy was a special, joyful person. It was a privilege to know her. She will be sorely missed.
Noted film historian Alan K. Rode is the author of “Michael Curtiz, A Life in Film,” among other books. He is the director-treasurer of the Film Noir Foundation and the host and producer of the annual Arthur Lyons Film Noir Festival in Palm Springs.