The Importance of Being Ernest Read online

  Another local performer, Jerry Morse, was a student teacher at Jim’s high school. Morse played flamenco music at some of the same venues where Jim performed. Jim later used some advice Morse offered about Jim’s acting ambitions: “You are an actor, and now you have to figure out how to get paid for it.”

  Just as Jim didn’t represent the typical student, he rarely dressed like one either. Many of his clothes reflected the rebellious spirit of the 1960s. One of his favorite accessories was a sleeveless blue-jean jacket. He constantly wore black, along with Beatle boots. Black was an easy color for him to pick out since he was colorblind. He went from white socks as a young child to black socks as a teenager. His sisters often helped him out, especially if he was dressing for a special occasion.

  In addition to Jim’s clothing, his long hair and pierced ear gave him a unique look. His father and Mary Warner Ford of Children’s Theatre were not fans of either one. When it came to his hair, it wasn’t so much the length that bothered Ford as it was the fact that it appeared Jim never touched a comb. As barbering was one of James Sr.’s many skills, he often threatened to give Jim a buzz cut if he didn’t keep his hair trimmed. Jim’s sister Jake bailed him out many times by helping to style his hair in a way that kept it from flowing past his neck.

  Apart from the theater, Jim was not much into the high school social scene of clubs and organizations. He could see what he later called “the juvenility of it.” Of course, Jim was not always the poster child for maturity. One role almost any well-known comedian can put on his or her resume is class clown. It was no different with Jim. “If a teacher sets you up,” he said once remembering high school, “you got to punch it.” Once, Jim even posed as a student teacher at another school. No telling what the topic of discussion was that day.

  Along with cutting up in class, Jim often skipped school with friends, frequenting nearby coffeehouses. He kept his buddies entertained by imitating movie stars and quoting poetry from Dylan Thomas in a Welsh accent. Because of his affinity for Dylan Thomas and the music of Bob Dylan, some of his friends referred to him as “Dylan.”

  One of the few extracurricular activities Jim was involved with outside of acting was a part-time job. He and some buddies worked at a discount department store called Mr. Wiggs. Jake remembers Jim pointing out three swing sets to her that he had assembled for display outside the store. They were full-sized with horses, swings and slides. Jake was impressed. Still, no matter what kind of potential Jim might have shown in other abilities, it was obvious what his passion was.

  Acting was consuming Jim in so many ways, and it soon became a refuge as he began to encounter what would become a lifelong battle with depression. He started experiencing what he referred to as “the stares” – or dark moods – that sometimes lasted for weeks. He found that the more he immersed himself in his craft, the less inclined he was to becoming despondent. Ford had seen signs of his mental struggles at Children’s Theatre when he could be way up or way down. During one week of rehearsals Jim told her that even though he had not been sleeping he still wasn’t tired.

  During this time, Jim’s mother’s psychological issues also became much more severe. When Jim was younger and the family lived in the close confines of the Bluegrass Park housing project, Louise seemed to benefit from a more social atmosphere. Her condition slowly worsened after the family moved to two different homes in the suburbs. In the mid-1960s her condition became so serious that she was admitted to a mental hospital more than once and eventually given electroshock therapy. With all that his mother was going through and two of his sisters now having moved out, Jim didn’t have the same support system at home that he had known when he was younger. In high school, Thelma Beeler and the theater were becoming more important than ever to his emotional survival.

  But as far as acting was concerned, Jim was not only surviving but excelling, receiving awards and accolades that made up for the ones that would never come from athletics or academics. At one awards ceremony, Beeler accompanied him downtown to one of the fanciest hotels in Lexington, where Jim received an award from The Pilot Club - a civic service organization for executive and professional women. Jim’s sisters had thrown together an outfit for him at the last minute as he had given them little notice. He wore a pale-gold linen sport coat, dark-brown dress pants, a cream-colored shirt and a gold tie borrowed from his father’s tie rack. Jake even shined his shoes. After the event, Beeler made a point of calling the house to thank his sisters for helping Jim look so good. She told them how proud she was of him. A photograph from the event shows a picture of the two: Beeler in a lovely dress and Jim in his gold jacket holding a large silver bowl.

  Jim was also making Lafayette High School proud in other ways. At the state drama festival, he won the Best High School Actor in the State award two years in a row. The second year he won the honor, Jim enjoyed surprising his mother with his trophy after first fooling her that he had come up short.

  (Author’s note: During research for this book, I discovered that Jim repeated his senior year at Lafayette. My family and I had previously thought the reason so many people told us through the years they went to high school with Jim was because Lafayette was so large back then. But learning Jim spent four years there, not three, explains why he was so well known among his classmates. The graduating classes of 1967 and 1968 both like to claim him as theirs.)

  In Jim’s second year as a senior, he kept in touch with an actor-friend from Lafayette: Clay Watkins had graduated two years earlier and had begun a journey toward an acting career. When Jim had received honorable mention his junior year at the State Drama Festival, it was Watkins who had won the top honor. Watkins did not go to college after graduating from high school in 1966. He chose instead to work in the Barnum and Bailey circus for a short stint before returning to Lexington and enrolling for a short time as a drama major at UK. He was eventually accepted into the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York City.

  In the fall of 1967, Watkins was back in Lexington attending UK and hanging out with Jim. The two spent hours talking about their dreams. Watkins remembers how they would break into The Carriage House late at night, turn on the furnace, and pass the time talking about their future acting plans. When the two weren’t discussing acting, they were cruising around town in Watkins’ gold convertible Corvette. Watkins took Jim to parties at the home of a college friend named Joe Liles. Liles was pre-law and not involved in acting. Liles had also joined the ROTC and had attended basic training in Fort Benning, Ga. He had grown up in Muhlenberg County, Ky. Located in the far western part of the state, it is a major coal-producing region. Liles’ father was an independent coal-mine operator.

  One of the first times they all hung out was when they grabbed a bite at a burger joint. Liles remembers, “It turned out that after he ordered, Jim had no money to pay for his food, and Clay didn’t have enough to cover him. I paid for Jim’s food. He never really said anything, just quietly hung out and listened.” Despite the unspectacular introduction, Liles and Jim became friends. Liles made a good impression on Jim’s father, and he was invited to join the Varney Parkers on a few jobs. Over time, Jim came to value Liles’ opinion. In some ways, Liles eventually became the older brother Jim never had. This enabled Liles to get through to Jim in ways others could not.

  CHAPTER EIGHT: LEAVING LEXINGTON

  Despite Jim’s success in acting, his father was unconvinced he could make a living at it. He told Jim that no one would be coming to Lexington looking for an actor to star on Broadway or in a Hollywood movie. Liles remembers Big Jim exclaiming, “Bo will go to Hollywood when Hollywood comes to Turfland Mall.” (Jim’s parents began referring to Jim as Bo when he entered his teenage years; Turfland Mall was one of Jim’s haunts.)

  Jim knew his father had a point. Yet he also knew Big Jim was not fully aware of his growing commitment to making acting his career. When Jim’s parents showed hesitancy about his plans to forego college and move away to pursue acting, he cleve
rly used many of his father’s same words to justify leaving Lexington. Oldest sister Jo Gail admitted years later to the Lexington Herald-Leader that she and her sisters tried to warn Jim about show business. “You should prepare yourself for reality,” Jo Gail said, “because it’s a million-to-one shot that you’ll ever make a living.”

  As Jim’s final year at Lafayette came to an end, Watkins, still studying drama at UK, learned of a big audition at the Southern Theatre Conference in Atlanta for many of the repertory theaters in the region. Jim was immediately interested and soon tried to convince his parents of the potential of the new opportunity. Jim explained to them how actors worked their way up through stock companies to get to Broadway. He told them it would be like a summer vacation, and he would be fed and paid. He said that he was hoping to get into the Barter Theatre in Virginia but would probably accept whatever he was offered. He knew of Barter’s excellent reputation from people like Mary Warner Ford, who had been there years before working alongside talented actors such as Ned Beatty.

  Out of the 370 actors who auditioned at the conference, six were chosen, Jim and Watkins among them. Jim chose Barter from the seven theaters who wanted him. Jim believed that he needed to drop out of school immediately to start his training. His decision was made a little easier since his sub-par grades made it difficult for him to graduate. Jim’s decision to leave school must have been bittersweet for Thelma Beeler. She had pushed him to succeed in the classroom, yet it was her commitment to his growth as an actor that had made the most impact.

  When the school newspaper interviewed him about his acceptance to Barter, Jim said, “An actor is born at heart, but his talent must be developed.” Although he had been showered with awards and honors in his high school career, he knew he had much more to learn.

  Jim’s mother was angry and disappointed with his decision to drop out. She and the rest of the family tried unsuccessfully to convince him to finish school. Surprisingly, though, Jim’s father didn’t share in his mother’s anger. He had made a similarly unpopular decision as a young man when he joined the Army, and he empathized with his son who was now attempting to chart his own course. But Jim’s father did make Jim promise to get his GED when he returned home.

  The Barter Theatre, located in Abingdon, Va., earned its name during the lean times of the Great Depression, when many people could not afford tickets. Founder Robert Porterfield made it possible for patrons to exchange food for admission. This arrangement, which has been referred to as “trading ham for Hamlet,” allowed the theater to stay afloat and eventually grow into one of the most respected acting institutions in the nation. Today it is still one of the last year-round professional resident repertory theaters in the country. When Jim arrived in the spring of 1968, Porterfield was still director.

  “The Company” was the roster of Equity actors who played the leading roles in Barter’s main stage productions. Jim and his fellow apprentices played small roles and did the bulk of the grunt work of set building, props, etc. Performances were held in The Playhouse, an old building that had been converted into a roughly 100-seat venue. Apprentices would also perform children’s theater there in the afternoon and sometimes in the morning. In addition, at night, Equity actors would also do experimental (read: adult-language) plays there. So there were essentially three companies in operation.

  Jim regularly sent letters home, such as this one, describing life at Barter:

  Dear Mom,

  I’m sorry I haven’t written more, but they keep me on so much LSD that I don’t know who I am in the afternoon. That’s a line from a play I’m in right now. It’s called “The Impossible Years.” I play an Olympic swimmer named Andy McClaine. It’s really a funny play. Alan King played the lead on Broadway.

  You asked if I’m dating. Yes I am. At night, my roommate and I have some of the girls in the company come to our room with their record player, and pretty soon the people around us hear the music and the whole company shows up for the party. The company threw me a surprise birthday party complete with presents.

  I’m sending you a schedule telling the plays I’m in and the dates they’re playing so you can see them if you wish. Give my love to Daddy and Jake. (And keep sending $.)

  Love,

  Bo

  Along with acting, Jim and his fellow classmates learned set design, lighting, makeup and costumes. On one occasion, Jim was sent to pick up lumber in a truck that the theater owned. As he glanced over at the glove compartment, he noticed that someone had scratched onto it, “Gregory Peck drove this truck.” Jim was already aware that the acclaimed actor had studied at Barter, and he was excited that the truck provided a link to greatness.

  Actor-writer Walter Williamson attended Barter with Jim. In addition to writing five nonfiction books and five works of fiction, Williamson has appeared in such movies the Adam Sandler comedies “Mr. Deeds” (2002) and “The Longest Yard” (2005). He also appeared in “The Omega Code” (1999) and did classical theater for over 30 years. Jim made an impression on Williamson from the start. Here is Williamson’s recollection of his time with him:

  “I do vividly remember that first night we all arrived in May or June. I was in the same suite with Jim but not in the same room. (There were) two rooms with two guys each, one bath in between. We were, of course, eying each other to see who the competition was. There was a big, old red Irish Setter named, I think, Riley, who had the run of the place. If your door was open he would wander in and drink out of your toilet and bark at you if it needed flushing. …

  “I had played Arthur in ‘Camelot’ at college a year or two before, and somehow either Jim or I had quoted the end of Act I while we were all unpacking. I had already heard Jim doing some of his funny voices earlier, and I was surprised that he knew that piece. He started doing a mock Richard Burton voice, and we ended up playing ‘Can you top this?’ with quotes from Shakespeare. What I hadn’t anticipated was that this guy with the goofy voices could also produce such beautiful vocal sounds and such sensitive interpretations of classical work.

  “ ‘Dick Whittington (and His Cat)’ was a kid’s show, cast with just us apprentices. We played it in The Playhouse and toured it to half a dozen locations around the area. I was playing the sultan, and I think Jim was playing the captain of the ship Dick was traveling on. We took the show to Grundy, Va. Grundy was so narrow; you couldn’t turn a car around on the main street. You had to go outside of town, turn around and go back through. We set up in the school building to do the show for a summer school for kids who had failed first and second grade. When we were loading up after the performance, there was a kid wearing bib overalls and no shirt, towhead, barefoot, standing by watching us moving the set pieces out. Jim and I and a couple of others stopped to sign his program. He said, ‘Gorsh! I never seed a live fim-strip afore.’ We joked and giggled about that encounter on the way back to Abingdon. But I got the feeling Jim saw something deeper in that exchange, as I did, even as he did a perfect imitation of the little fellow.

  “My estimate of Jim then - and now - was that at his core he was an artist. He wore a costume of wild, foolish, goofy, antic jokes and simpleton stories. But that was, it seemed to me, just to hide and protect the tender purity of his real ambition buried deep inside. I got a glimpse of that being that first night. Then I watched over the course of the summer as he used his low humor to communicate with the world because, perhaps, he didn’t want to risk tainting that artistic core. His wit seemed to be an easy way to address the world. But it was fed by the heat of that guarded art inside.”

  Williamson also spoke of his memories of performing with Jim in a 1993 Los Angeles Times article: “I have never in my life seen anyone more exciting doing serious classical theater – the focus, the concentration, the diction, everything. Onstage he was one of the most exciting performers I’d ever seen.”

  By the fall of 1968, Jim felt the time was right to take a shot at Broadway. He had been keeping in touch with Watkins, who was living in New
York with his girlfriend while attending the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. Watkins let Jim stay at his apartment during his time there and recalls an inscription on Jim’s footlocker that read “Broadway or Bust.” Once Jim arrived, Watkins helped him find work doing technical and janitorial duties for Joseph Papp’s “Shakespeare in the Park” at the Delacorte Theatre in Central Park. Watkins was working there as well. Jim tried out for a few plays outside his day job but didn’t land any roles. He later referred to the auditioning experience as “mostly cattle calls and frustration.”

  Still, Jim had learned a great deal about stage acting from his time at Barter and in New York despite the fact he did not become an instant Broadway sensation. He returned to Lexington later that fall with a much better idea of what possibilities awaited him if he continued his current path as a stage actor. Jim wasted no time in keeping his acting skills sharp by returning to the Studio Players community theater and performing in several of their productions.

  Back home, Jim was able to catch up with friends and family, including his cousin Ed McChord. The two shared a similar sense of humor and had their fair share of adventures. Ed, like Jim’s father, was a prankster. One of Jim’s favorite spots was a big, eerie-looking Osage orange tree standing next to the Carriage House, where Jim was performing with the Studio Players. One night, Jim and Ed were hanging out by the tree smoking cigarettes when Jim started in on a spooky tale. Jim didn’t know that Ed had purchased a smoke bomb at a convenience store they had visited earlier. Ed quietly lit it and threw it into a hole in the tree … and then proceeded to act terrified when the tree began to smoke. When Jim saw the tree exhaling the thick white cloud as if releasing an evil spirit, he sprung away like a cat and took off running. It took Ed a couple of blocks to catch up.

  That winter, Ed helped Jim get a job as a lifeguard, of all things: It was ludicrous because Jim had still not learned to swim. The job was at the Continental Inn Motel’s indoor pool, where Ed was also lifeguarding. Now Jim could pay for his double dates with Ed. Unfortunately, one of them almost ended in tragedy.