The Amazing Mr. Amos
And now he's gone, too.
He was really gone 45 days before it was announced.
But the announcement, coming so quickly behind the death of James Earl Jones, gave me little time to recover from one before having to take in the other. You see, even though I had met them both, I had spent much more time with John Amos.
photo by Denise Cross
I only watched the tv show Good Times sporadically, because I didn’t like the baboonish representation of some of the characters. However, I always thought Mr. Amos one of the most talented and handsome African American men in the world, and fell in love with him immediately. I fell in love again while watching his performance in Roots.
Years after both shows were gone from prime time, I was browsing through the Prince George’s Publick Playhouse 2012-2013 season brochure. I read that Mr. Amos was going to give a one-night performance of his play, Halley’s Comet, and immediately decided to attend; but my heart skipped a beat when I read: ADULT ACTING CLASS - Pick up some tips with the master by treating yourself to an acting class with John Amos.
I couldn’t make my reservations for both quickly enough!
THE CLASS
It was cloudy and 40 degrees that Saturday morning in February 2013, but my spirits were above the clouds as I and my classmates waited to meet Mr. Amos for our Master Class. We didn’t have to wait long and we were not disappointed.
He appeared right on time, and yet, the first thing he did was thank us for our punctuality! He said it was one of the most important traits of a serious actor.
He added it was also important for serious actors to read lots of plays in order to be prepared to interpret any character.
When asked how he prepared for older characters, he told us to keep in mind that older people have experience, and he would go out and observe them. He told us how he once went into the NBC studios and “passed” (his words) for a cleaning man, then “studied” the older men he saw. He added that he liked to start his character interpretations from the shoes up, and that he literally wore shoes that were not his to prepare for a role.
At one point he was trying to remember the old adage about the “Five Stages Of An Actor’s Life”. I knew the adage and raised my hand to ask if I could “help” him. He graciously let me. I started out by using the name of the actor who originated the saying, then changed it by substituting my name (yes, so he wouldn’t forget me):
Stage 1: Who’s Denise Cross?
Stage 2: Get me Denise Cross!
Stage 3: Get me someone like Denise Cross.
Stage 4: Get me a young Denise Cross.
Stage 5: Who’s Denise Cross?
He smiled, and for the rest of the class he referred to me as Ms. Cross.
photo by Joe Cross
He said stand-up comics are the bravest in the profession because they have the ability to make people laugh, an invaluable gift.
As the interaction between us became even more comfortable, he talked about other things, like his decision to leave Good Times and performing with Denzel Washington.
I clearly remember something he said about a well-known African American actor/producer. Though he didn’t particularly like the producer’s work, he respected him for having control of his productions, and to Mr. Amos that was the most important thing. I admired him even more for understanding that an African American could disagree with another African American’s output and still praise him for making his own decisions.
And I remember how proudly he spoke of the project he produced with his son, Their Stories, Their Voices, the little known story about the African American soldiers who fought in Iwo Jima during World War II.
His final words to the class were:
“Don’t wait for somebody else to validate you.”
“God knows what He’s building you for. Trust in The Lord and take your time.”
After that class, he was not just a handsome, talented actor—John Amos was a mentor.
THE GIFT
He had such a warm personality and had spoken to us as though we were his friends. I was so moved by his demeanor and his words that I wanted to give him something more than the fee I had paid for the class; I wanted to give him something of myself. I only had to remember the name of the play he would be performing that night to know immediately what that gift would be.
Halley’s Comet last appeared in April 1986 (coincidentally, the month of my birth). I had commemorated the event by making a quilt for myself. It was approximately 3x5 feet, with block letters on the top reading Haley’s Comet and April 1986 below. Between top and bottom was my interpretation of the comet with a bright red center and yellow and white “tails”. It hung on the wall of my apartment bedroom for many years. When I got married, I folded it up and put it in a closet in our new home.
After the class I felt as though I had made it those many years ago, only to give to him then.
The class ended at noon and the performance started at 7:30, so there was plenty of time to get home, pull it from storage, prep it and return to the theater, with the quilt and the husband in tow.
THE PLAY
Mr. Amos wrote his one-man show in 1990. In it he plays an 87 year old who tells “Mr. Comet” about the events in his life between the first time he saw it in 1910 and its return in 1986. He speaks to the comet as if catching up with his long lost friend. At one point he shares an in-joke with the audience by making a reference to the role he played in Roots. The old man talks about his children and grandchildren, one of them named Kunta. “Oh yes sir, Mr. Comet, it seemed like everybody named their boy child Kunta after that TV show came out.” He speaks about the wars overseas and the “war” for civil rights at home and how they took some of his children from him. There was so much to tell “Mr. Comet” and, of course, it was told masterfully.
AFTERWARD
He could see me carrying something and waited for me to present it. I introduced my husband first then said that I wanted to thank him for the class and his performance and that I could think of no better person to have my quilt.
If he was acting, it was the greatest job in the world, for he smiled appreciatively and said that it was beautiful and that he would always treasure it.
And I believed he always did.
Deep in my heart, I hope his children will also read this and know that I will never forget the things their father taught me. It pains my heart to hear the stories of controversy and hate amongst them, where there should be sadness at his loss and praise for his many accomplishments.
To his children I would say this: if you find the quilt and decide that no one wants it; I will be more than happy to take it back. However, if you decide to keep it, please do so with my blessing, I give it to you with the same love with which I gave it to your father.