I’m kind of ( haha, not kind of… I am) a lifelong Sesame Street fiend. A not so mini shrine to Mr. Snuffleupagus exists on my bookshelf, and I will wear that fact about myself with unyielding pride. But some of my most distinct childhood memories of the show actually have nothing to do with fur and googly-eyes. Many revolve around the influx of guest stars they’ve had grace that famous brownstone stoop over the years.
One cameo in particular still sticks with me. Widely considered to be the program’s first instance of a celebrity appearance, long before every A-lister on the block wanted to learn their way onto Sesame Street. This actor’s grainy insert resulted in such resonance that it’s since played on through decades’ worth of reruns. As an idea, it was tailored to be the opposite of groundbreaking. The mystery performer, with his shaved head and simplistic black shirt, would be asked to read off the alphabet to the camera (and to thousands of children watching at home).
But creative minds must’ve known that this wasn’t just any actor, with any regular sounding style to his words. (In this case, letters.)
And so, Mr. James Earl Jones recited the motherfucking hell out of that alphabet. With a timbre so rich it no doubt had those 60s era parents mouthing along into their morning coffee. Taking his time between each crisply enunciated A through Z, Jones kept an expression on his face that managed to appear both nurturing and intimidating. Strong and Worldly. Not a Big Bird visible, but still he cemented his place in the show’s legacy right then and there.
All thanks to his one-of-a-kind, totally (or rather, tonally) unique voice.
A voice that had been known to stutter with the intensity of a helmeted Sith Lord. That had once gone silent, years before it began to make a household name out of itself.
I couldn’t pick up on it when I was a slobbery four-year-old, but there would end up being a slew of similarities between me and James. That said, there are also vital differences. Some of which I think I really need to distinguish, in order to do his story justice.
Like I’ve said before, no two stutterers have the same journey.
That statement, which I know I use constantly, rings as true as ever when discussing Mr. Jones.
Additionally, the man has won multiple Tony awards. Whereas I’ve never personally known anyone who goes by that name.
Vital differences, like I said…
A Boy, A Move, And A Vow Of Silence.
From the get-go, James was very much a product of his environment. Raised by his maternal grandparents, a pair of farmers from Mississippi, he was taught to uphold a hardworking, yet restrained-from-anger attitude. Despite being black in the South during the segregated 1930s, James was raised to feel neither inferior nor superior to anyone around him, regardless of race. He still attributes most of his level-headedness to his grandfather, who always set an example of rationality, and prioritized the idea of being a strong listener. Their lifestyle was built upon the idea of providing entirely for themselves, all the while minimally complaining about the work having to be put in.
At just five years old, James’s grandparent’s decided move up North, to a more financially stable farm in Michigan.
Such a sudden departure from his original home put a traumatic strain on the young boy, who was unsure if he would ever step foot in Mississippi again.
The ripping away from his childhood roots is marked as the beginning of James Earl’s stutter.
His stuttering ended up getting so severe that James withdrew himself from speaking in its entirety. Soon after arriving in Michigan, he entered the first year of what he now calls his “mute-period”.
I imagine this is a tick on his timeline that really raises eyebrows. Many find it challenging to picture the man behind Mufasa and Darth Vader vocally suppressed by his own volition. But it’s easy to understand, once you separate that James Earl Jones from this kid who happened to stutter badly. Especially when you take into account how grossly under-discussed the topic of stuttering was back then. Sprinkle in all of the societal pressures faced during this era, and the situation starts to make more sense.
Willing To Go Word-less.
At the time, though obviously not forever, the young James was content with drifting by inaudibly.
“As long as people respected and didn’t bother me, and didn’t probe me, it was a nice place to be.”, James Earl remarked when talking about that silent chapter in his story.
He doesn’t appear to look back on that version of himself with much regret. And he’s never worded it as some sort of tragic happenstance that befell him. Both of which I think we can attribute to a strong sense of reasoning. Because it wouldn’t be out of the question for somebody to assume a victim’s position in this kind of situation. But Jones chooses to contextualize his falling mute as something more meaningful than that. A means that culminated towards an end if you will.
Those long days spent laboring away on the farm seemed to do a lot of healthy-good for his inward thinking.
And hey, I do believe that James found moments of peace within the quiet.
I’m feeling one now, as I normally do after most lengthy, stutter-filled work weeks. Everyone who struggles to communicate is likely to want an occasional reprieve from having to partake in conversation.
Even so, there’s often a turning point for stutterers, when the ease found in silence is replaced by a kind of subtle longing. The longer we spend listening to the expressions of others, the more inclined we are to want to yell out our own renditions. The deeper the desire to communicate our ideas, the more we understand just how badly our tight-lips have betrayed us. Suddenly, our locked-jaws feel the urge, more like a need, to open themselves once more. To sing the song. To speak the mind, or introduce people to whatever it is that mind has come to believe.
Maybe we’re asked to read a poem written about grapefruits…
A Poem Written About Grapefruits.
Ah yes, let’s elaborate on this ambiguous-sounding grapefruit poem. Perhaps the most under-discussed credit on the creative resume of Mr. Jones. Composed on behalf of a rudimentary English assignment, we wouldn’t even be discussing it now if it hadn’t caught the eye of high school teacher and James’s mentor, Donald Crouch.
At a time where most thoughts sat jailed inside his young student, Crouch saw a glimmer of potential unbeknownst to anybody else.
James Earl’s piece, “An Ode to Grapefruit” struck a chord with him, prompting an attempt to boost the boy’s faith in his capabilities.
He quick-wittedly challenged James to read the piece out loud to the entire class, confessing doubt as to whether the vivid, citrus-filled stanzas were really his. Daring the unsuspecting adolescent to prove him wrong, in confident hopes that he would.
Ultimately, David Crouch did more than just urge James to confront his anxieties, which, by the way, he did without a hitch. He was able to instill a newfound appreciation of speech in somebody who, up until that year, actively separated the world from his own.
James came to the conclusion that in mediums like poetry or theatre there was no battling with anyone else’s voice. He held on to this idea of creating and fostering his own verbal mannerisms. Interpreting a singular sound in a way that remained authentic to him.
He still recalls the way his past mentor guided him “toward acknowledging and appreciating the beauty of words.”. Crouch didn’t actually give James Earl a set of tips for verbalizing cleanly. He didn’t offer up a magical elixir that erased his stammering. But at least now the young man had the motivation to open his mouth once more.
Only now, it was more like something he wanted to do.
This would end up being a remarkable start.
What Could’ve Been Vs What He Wanted.
When it came time for James to decide on a career path, there was really only one fitting choice. A singular viable option for the young, evolving wordsmith. So, taking into consideration his own interests, James Earl Jones decided to enroll at the University of Michigan to study Medicine. The rest, as they say with all legends, is…
I just need to know, how floored are you with my use of sarcasm? It’s subtle, right?
Luckily, that’s not what really happened. At least not for too long. But you already knew that, didn’t you?
James grew up in a time where only a few career paths were seen as respectable. So he chose Medicine over alternative fields such as Law, and lesser extolled choices like Education. But Medicine wasn’t his passion, and after two years he wasn’t able to keep up with the extensive coursework. Seeing as though the Korean War was raging on, and it was likely that he would be drafted after graduating, James decided it was best to switch majors.
This time, he chose one that ignited some depiction of a fire underneath him. Wanting to spend his last couple of years partaking in a major he deemed enjoyable.
It was at that moment that James crossed over to the dark side of being a Drama major. (I made that joke because I was a theatre major, before realizing it doubled as an obnoxiously on the nose Star Wars reference. I mean, how bizarre!?)
What’s intriguing about James’s interest in Drama is that it didn’t necessarily stem from a desire to be viewed as a famous actor.
He remembers, “ It wasn’t acting. It was language. It was speech. It was the thing that I’d been denied all those years and had denied myself all those years. I now had a great — an abnormal — appreciation for it, you know.”
Even before making a break into show business, Jones had a sturdy foundation built from which he could thoughtfully explore his craft. The reward for his creative risks was never praise, but rather the chance to explore the anatomy of words. He truly was (is) the type of actor who favored the study of articulations over the absorbing of applause.
A performer needs to be able to connect with their material, and having a genuine interest (like James’s) in the bare makeup of said material allows an intense kinship to form with one’s work.
Moving On Up, The Right Way.
Even after a stint with the ROTC, the ever-maturing Jones sought to fuel his artistic prowess. And almost immediately after he was discharged he put his foot on the pedal, taking his ambitions straight to the booming streets of New York City.
Mind you, all of this took place during the early hours of the Civil Rights Movement, which soon raged endlessly through every square inch of NYC. James, mindful of the fact that there was ” a certain energy, a certain rumble, a certain impetus for black actors”, approached the change of pace with the same calm disposition he had always tried to deploy. From his point of view, it was either that or be swept up into a preoccupation with all things involving the nation’s racial controversy. And James knew how that would fare, with him being a still unknown black actor. His career would have to start blemish-free for it to ever go anywhere.
For a while, opportunity stalled for him. After further strengthening his craft at The American Theatre Wing for a few years, James struggled to find reliable work for himself. But he did land himself his first role on Broadway, in the 1958 Production of Sunrise at Campobello.
Jones remembers his portrayal as President Roosevelt’s butler, including an instance where he ran into an old foe during one particular scene. In the middle of the show, a minuscule line of his, “Mrs. Roosevelt, supper is served”, abruptly went south, sounding something like “M-M-M…”
He looks back pensively on blocking in-front of a crowded audience because it was the last time stuttering ever affected him during a performance. And whereas going through something like that might’ve alienated other stutterers from re-taking the stage, (cough cough, not like I’m talking about myself or anything, cough cough), James would not be weighed down by what he knew was only a minor shortcoming.
Remarkable Characters.
Some of the most cathartic dramatic transformations happen when we find common ground between ourselves and our roles. Technically, one should always be mindful of making these connections. But sometimes they’re realized from the start. So we dive into said project having them as existing tools. In a way, it starts to resemble a very light form of method acting, though it may not even feel like it.
We touched upon James’s proclivity for exploring speech, but how exactly does that correlate with his past fictional counterparts?
It just so happens that some of his favorite roles are, as he puts it, “People who don’t articulate much. People like me, who don’t have language.”
In other words, individuals who, through their words, might come off somewhat “unnatural”.
Two of Jones’s that come to mind are chauffer Hoak from Driving Miss Daisy and the intellectually disabled laborer Lennie from Of Mice and Men. James describes Hoak as “inventing a language of his own”, which he interprets as being almost poetic. Lennie, on the other hand, communicates strictly through childlike expressions of emotion, which include a distinct fondness for petting baby animals.
Neither of them meets the required “norm” in their respective societies (Hoak due to his race, and Lennie, his mental capacity), and it’s clear that the way they speak plays a definitive factor in this. We watch as they are ostracized for their voices (amongst other differences), and perhaps even subconsciously compare them to other characters, from our positions as audience members.
But it’s up to us to decide if they stick out from the rest in a bad way. And too routinely is the word “bad” used synonymously with the word “different”. Ultimately these men are, not forced, but placed into these stories with their own unique vocal qualities. Nothing can (or should) be done to alter their attributes. Because to do so would be to lose the essence of each persona.
We remember them, not in spite of, but because of their differences.
James is masterful at what he does. He is able to graciously accept that his character’s stance on reality is really doubling as their own sense of normalcy. I like to think that this is made easier by the way he seemingly accepts himself. For better or for worse, Jones is able to strike a balance. Between the very real hardships that accompany having a stutter, and the pacifying effects of being transparent about it.
Not only transparent, but eager, too. Invigorated each and every time his voice gets to continue exploring the full lengths of itself.
We’re The Same, We’re Different, We’re Different.
Creative minds know how imperative it is not to allow spite or jealousy to loom inside of them for too long. These are self-destructive feelings better left checked at the door. Or given an expiration date, at the very least. The bottom line being, it’s the job of the artist to prevent these emotions from becoming ill-hearted patterns.
What I’m getting at is that this remains a non-issue for James Earl Jones.
He could easily reserve envy for performers of a higher fluency, but that kind of bitter streak doesn’t exist in him. Nor does self-depreciation, perhaps the creme de la creme of ugly stutterer personality traits.
From his point of view, these are forms of energy that could be more aptly applied to the practice of storytelling.
Jones asserts “Oh no, you don’t have self-doubt. You don’t have fear of failure. If you do, you gotta take care of it. If the way you approach your goal is right for you, then you won’t have self-doubt. Undiminished enthusiasm always stays with you.”
Personally, I admire that as a sentiment. But it speaks to a state of mind I’m nowhere close to orbiting, as a young, stuttering actor. And that’s kind of the reason why James Earl Jones stands out to me as one of the cornerstones of notable stutterers. His simplistic processing of life, including his flaws, has become increasingly harder to find in today’s world. Especially when we’re talking about artists. And even more so, when we add speech problems into the fold.
People like us, like me, are overly prone to letting our disabilities detach us from savoring any level of enjoyment.
Regretfully, as I sit here coming up on year two of my hiatus from the stage, jealousy continues to run deep within me. I used to think I reserved my callous deflections for the endless streams of fluent individuals I encounter every day. But I’m starting to feel like maybe I’m holding onto some resentfulness for fellow stutterers who follow in the footsteps of James Earl Jones. Those who treat their stuttering as a necessary part of their lives, but do not allow themselves to be swallowed up by it. Who maintain their principles, both when dealing with and outside of their words.
What if I’m the one further perpetuating my own stigmas? That’s a whole can of worms that maybe needs to be turned free, another time.
More than anything, my research on James Earl Jones has reinforced to me the notion that there is a better way of living as a stuttering artist out there.
It’s not the side of the coin I find myself on currently. I can’t say if it ever has been. I just know that I would give a lot to capture a piece of James Earl Jones’s nonchalance. Or wade in the direction of his steady heart.
For now, I’ll be grateful that that he has shared both of those with me.
Works Cited
“James Earl Jones – Academy of Achievement.” Academy of Achievement. 14 Aug 2018. Web. 17 Feb 2021.James Earl Jones | Academy of Achievement.
“James Earl Jones on Growing up in Mississippi, 1969: CBC Archives | CBC.” YouTube, uploaded by CBC, 8 Feb. 2012, www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgRIBHAXeZs.
“From Stutterer to Star: How James Earl Jones Found His Voice.” YouTube, uploaded by PBS NewsHour, 11 Oct. 2014, www.youtube.com/watch?v=agi8JHyOZj0&feature=emb_title.