Elizabeth Wilson was recently inducted into the Theater Hall of Fame in New York.

I'd say it's about time. She's 85.

Do you know her? She has been in more movies than I can count, going way back, and obviously she has made theater a major part of her life.

The Academy Awards this year had me thinking about this. Where were the Elizabeth Wilsons?

We know them by face, not by name. And sometimes not even then, especially if they have played a variety of roles with different personas.

Where would movies and plays be without them? They're so consistently good.

I was watching "12 Angry Men" on television the other night and it occurred to me that all of those great actors have died. A few were stars, more or less, but not all. Can you name them without a cast list?

We would remember Henry Fonda and Lee J. Cobb, but not many others.

I think the same thing when I watch "Gone With the Wind" for the umpteenth time.

Yes, the late Hattie McDaniel was a name we soon put with a face when she won the supporting role Oscar, but not until then.

Does anyone remember Aunt Pittypat, who was played by an actress named Laura Hope Crews? Would you know her face?

This is age talking -- and thinking. After all, I first saw GWTW in 1939, and I was 10 years old. Time waits for no man -- or woman.

There should be an Oscar category for such men and women, not just the well-knowns cast in supporting roles who have probably, with age, moved on from onetime young leads to characters.

That's what I'm thinking, supporting supporting roles, if you will. Actors whose names are in casts frequently but who have no names to most moviegoers.

When I recently saw "Freedom Writers," a face looked familiar to me. I wasn't thinking of it as an award-winning portrayal, but it got me thinking about stalwart performers.

Pat Carroll has been around awhile. More people would know her name than, say, Elizabeth Wilson's, but that's mostly due to television exposure.

In my head, of course, I was thinking "that's Pat Carroll, but she must be dead by now."

Obviously she isn't.

The role is small but pivotal in this true story about a teacher who manages to teach supposedly "unteachable" students.

Miep Gies, the character Carroll portrays in "Freedom Writers," is a real person, a Holocaust survivor who hid a Jewish family from the Germans in World War II, and preserved the diary which would make a young girl, Anne Frank, a household name.

Miep Gies, too, is alive. She was born in 1909 and was 98 on Feb. 15.

When Carroll, nearing 80, first appears on screen as Gies, it is a dramatic moment.

She is framed in a doorway in a silhouette. She walks into the light slowly and puts her arm in the arm of one of the students who had requested the honor of escorting her if and when she came to the school as a speaker.

It is, perhaps, one of the most touching moments in the film. I thought it could be the real Miep Gies until I recognized the actress.

Carroll was destined never to be an ingenue or leading lady. She has been known primarily for her comedic talents with the likes of Carol Burnett and Red Skelton on television.

After seeing this movie I became curious about Pat Carroll's life since her television career began 45 years ago. She debuted in a stock production with Gloria Swanson in 1947.

Good grief. That's the year I graduated from high school. She must have been 19 or 20.

She would later appear with Red Buttons and Sid Caesar, among other TV comics. In the 1970s she was known as "the dowager queen" of talk and game shows and later she was lauded in her one-woman show, "Gertrude Stein, Gertrude Stein, Gertrude Stein."

What draws me to this actress is the fact few will know her name, and yet, in her bio, there are mentions of Emmy, Tony and Grammy nominations, Drama Desk and Helen Hayes awards.

You might know her voice, if not her face or name. She is the voice of the wicked squid witch, Ursula, in Disney's "The Little Mermaid."

She, like Miss Wilson, is never in the gossip columns or seen on red carpets. She, and so many like her, have just quietly gotten on with careers without the hoopla.

The love of performing, and doing it well, is enough for many who face audiences -- even without a name.