James Earl Jones, acclaimed actor and voice of Darth Vader, dead at 93

James Earl Jones, the beloved stage and screen actor who lent his iconic, deep voice to Darth Vader in Star Wars and Mufasa in The Lion King, has died at 93.
Regarded as one of the best actors of his generation, Jones’ career spanned Shakespeare to Hollywood hits. He is one of the few actors to have won an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony Award.
The actor’s death was reported by Deadline, via his representatives at Independent Artist Group.
James Earl Jones was born January 17, 1931 in Arkabutla, Mississippi and raised by his grandparents in Dublin, Michigan. While he would later become one of the most famous voices in the world, he says he suffered from a stutter in his youth.

“I was a stutterer. I couldn’t talk,” Jones recalled in a 1996 interview. “So my first year of school was my first mute year, and then those mute years continued until I got to high school.” A teacher encouraged him to overcome his stutter by reading poetry aloud.
Jones served in the US Army during the Korean War, and after decided to pursue a career in acting. He studied at the American Theatre Wing, working as a janitor to support himself. By the 1960s, Jones was establishing himself as one of his generation’s great Shakespearean actors, playing roles like Othello and King Lear. He also made his film debut in Stanley Kubrick’s classic 1964 comedy Dr. Strangelove, as bombadier Lt. Lothar Zogg.

In 1967, he played a boxer in The Great White Hope, winning the Tony Award for Best Actor in a Play. He reprised the role in the 1970 film version, receiving his first Academy Award nomination.
Amidst all his acclaimed acting work, Jones soon landed his most well-known and iconic role — one where he didn’t even have to appear on set: voicing the villainous Darth Vader in Star Wars. While Vader was played in costume by David Prowse, Jones dubbed over the lines with his own deep bass voice, helping to create one of the most famous characters in movie history.
While Jones originally opted to go uncredited for the role, it has become perhaps his most famous performance. He continued to voice Vader for decades, in the two sequels The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, the prequel Revenge of the Sith and the spin-off Rogue One. In 2022, Jones retired from the role, but signed an agreement for his voice to be used in future projects using artificial intelligence and archive recordings.

Jones also provided the voice of another beloved movie character, Mufasa in the 1994 Disney film The Lion King. Jones later reprised the role in the 2019 remake.
Throughout the ’80s and ’90s, Jones appeared in many Hollywood films, including Conan the Barbarian, Coming to America, Field of Dreams, and The Hunt for Red October, Patriot Games and The Sandlot. He also won his second Tony Award, starring in the original production of August Wilson’s Fences.
He received eight Emmy Award nominations for his television work, winning twice in 1991: Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Limited Series or Movie for Heat Wave and Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series for Gabriel’s Fire.

Jones also continued to perform on Broadway: over the past 20 years he starred in revivals of On Golden Pond, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Driving Miss Daisy, The Best Man and You Can’t Take it With You.
Jones was the recipient of many awards and honors throughout his acclaimed career. He received an Honorary Academy Award in 2011, making him one of the only people to have won an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony Award, known as “EGOT.” Broadway’s Cort Theatre was renamed the James Earl Jones Theatre in his honor in 2022.
Rest in peace to the iconic James Earl Jones, one of the greatest actors of our time — please share this

A POOR BOY SAVED A RICH MAN’S LIFE—THE NEXT DAY, HE AND HIS ILL MOTHER FOUND A BAG SENT BY THAT SAME MAN ON THEIR PORCH.

The dust of the country road swirled around Martin’s worn sandals as he trudged home, his stomach growling with the familiar pangs of hunger. He was a wisp of a boy, barely ten years old, with eyes that held the weight of too many hardships. His mother, frail and perpetually ill, relied on him for everything, from gathering firewood to earning meager coins from odd jobs.

As he rounded a bend, a sleek, black automobile roared past, kicking up a cloud of dust that stung his eyes. He coughed, waving his hand to clear the air, and then noticed the car had stopped further down the road. It was angled awkwardly, half on the pavement, half in the ditch. A figure slumped inside.

Curiosity piqued, Martin ran towards the car. Inside, a man, dressed in fine clothes, was choking, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. He was clutching his throat, his eyes wide with panic. Martin recognized him; it was Sylvester Thorne, the wealthy landowner whose grand estate loomed over their humble village.

Without hesitation, Martin grabbed a rock from the roadside and smashed the car window. Glass shattered everywhere as he reached in to unlock the door. “Stand back!” he shouted, pulling Sylvester out onto the pavement.

Sylvester was gasping, his hands still clutching his throat. Martin knew he had to act quickly. He remembered a trick he’d seen his father use once, a desperate measure. With all his might, Martin delivered several sharp blows to Sylvester’s back. Suddenly, a chunk of apple flew from Sylvester’s mouth, and he gasped for air, his lungs finally filling with air.

The rich man looked at the boy with tears in his eyes and kept thanking him for saving his life, his voice hoarse. “You… you saved my life, boy. I… I owe you everything.”

Martin, flustered by the man’s gratitude, simply nodded. “Just glad you’re alright, sir.” And then, he turned and walked away, his stomach still growling, his mind already turning to the task of finding something for his mother to eat.

The next morning, Martin was jolted awake by his sister, Lily’s, excited screams. “Marty! Marty! Come quick!”

He rushed outside, his mother calling after them in confusion, her voice weak but laced with concern. There, on their doorstep, sat a large, brown bag. It was tied with a silken ribbon, a stark contrast to the rough, worn wood of their porch.

Lily, her eyes wide with wonder, tugged at the ribbon. Martin cautiously untied it, and the contents spilled out: a loaf of fresh bread, a basket of plump, red apples, a jar of honey, and a small pouch filled with coins. At the bottom of the bag, a folded note lay nestled amongst the food.

Martin unfolded it, his eyes scanning the elegant script. “To Martin, for your bravery and kindness. From Sylvester Thorne.”

His mother, her face etched with a mixture of relief and astonishment, reached for the bread, her fingers trembling. “It’s from Mr. Thorne,” Martin said, his voice hushed. “He remembered.”

The food was a godsend. They hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The coins, though few, were enough to buy medicine for his mother and some seeds for their small garden. But it was more than just the material goods. It was the knowledge that someone, especially someone as powerful as Sylvester Thorne, had seen their plight and cared.

News of Martin’s heroism spread through the village like wildfire. People who had once turned a blind eye to their poverty now offered smiles and words of encouragement. Even the gruff baker, who had always refused them credit, gave them a warm loaf of bread and a wink.

Sylvester Thorne, true to his word, didn’t forget Martin. He visited their small cottage, his presence filling the cramped space with an air of grandeur. He spoke to Martin’s mother, his voice gentle and respectful. He offered to pay for her medical treatment and to send Martin to school.

Martin, overwhelmed by the man’s generosity, looked at his mother, her eyes shining with hope. She nodded, her lips forming a silent “yes.”

Life changed for Martin and his family. His mother’s health improved, and he excelled in school, his sharp mind eager to learn. He never forgot the day he saved Sylvester Thorne, nor the kindness that followed. He understood that even in the midst of hardship, a single act of courage and compassion could change everything. And Sylvester Thorne, in return, learned that true wealth wasn’t measured in possessions, but in the lives he touched and the gratitude he received.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*