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.
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My Parents Refused to Attend My Wedding Because My Fiancé Was Poor — We Met 10 Years Later and They Begged to Build a Relationship
When Emma fell in love with a humble teacher, her parents gave her an ultimatum: choose him or them. On her wedding day, their seats sat empty, but her grandpa stood by her side. At his funeral ten years later, her estranged parents begged for her forgiveness, but not for the reasons she thought.
Growing up in our pristine suburban home, my parents had a running joke about how we’d all live in a grand mansion someday.
A mansion with a formal garden | Source: Pexels
“One day, Emma,” my father would say, adjusting his already-perfect tie in the hallway mirror, “we’ll live in a house so big you’ll need a map to find the kitchen.”
My mother would laugh, the sound like crystal glasses clinking, adding, “And you’ll marry someone who’ll help us get there, won’t you, sweetheart?”
“A prince!” I’d reply when I was a kid. “With a big castle! And lots of horses!”
An excited girl with her hands in the air | Source: Midjourney
I thought it was funny throughout my early childhood. I even used to daydream about my future castle. But by high school, I understood there was nothing funny about it at all.
My parents were relentless. Every decision they made, every friendship they had, and every activity we attended had to advance our social climbing somehow.
Mom vetted my friends based on their parents’ tax brackets! I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she sneered when I brought my classmate Bianca over to work on our science project.
A woman with a disapproving look | Source: Midjourney
“You aren’t friends with that girl, are you?” Mom asked at dinner that evening.
I shrugged. “Bianca’s nice, and she’s one of the top students in class.”
“She’s not good enough for you,” Mom replied sternly. “Those cheap clothes and awful haircut says it all, top student or not.”
A strange feeling churned in my gut when Mom said those words. That was when I truly realized how narrow-minded my parents were.
A teen girl seated at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
Dad was no better. He networked at my school events instead of watching my performances.
I still remember my leading role in “The Glass Menagerie” senior year. Father spent the entire show in the lobby discussing investment opportunities with the parents of my cast mates.
“Did you see me at all?” I asked him afterward, still in my costume.
“Of course, princess,” he replied, not looking up from his phone. “I heard the applause. Must have been wonderful.”
A man using his phone while his sad teen daughter stands nearby | Source: Midjourney
Then came college and Liam.
“A teacher?” My mother had practically choked on her champagne when I told her about him. “Emma, darling, teachers are wonderful people, but they’re not exactly… well, you know.”
She glanced around our country club as if someone might overhear this shameful secret.
I knew exactly what she meant, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
A woman with a determined look on her face | Source: Midjourney
Liam was different from anyone I’d ever met. While other guys tried to impress me with their parents’ vacation homes or luxury cars, he talked about becoming a teacher with such passion it made his whole face light up.
When he proposed, it wasn’t with an enormous diamond in a fancy restaurant. It was with his grandmother’s ring in the community garden where we’d had our first date.
The stone was small but caught the sunlight in a way that made it look like it held all the stars in the universe.
A diamond ring sparkling in sunlight | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t give you a mansion,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “but I promise to give you a home filled with love.”
I said yes before he could even finish asking.
My parents’ response was arctic.
“Not that teacher!” my father had spat as though he was talking about some criminal. “How will he provide for you? For us? You’ll be throwing your future in the trash if you marry him!”
A man gesturing angrily during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“He already provides everything I need,” I told them. “He’s kind, he makes me laugh, and he—”
“I forbid it!” Dad interrupted. “If you go through with this, if you marry that teacher…”
“Then we’ll cut you off,” Mom finished, her voice sharp as glass. “Call him right this minute and break up with him, or we’ll disown you. We didn’t invest so much time and effort in your upbringing only for you to throw it all away.”
My jaw dropped.
A woman gasping in disbelief during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t be serious,” I whispered.
“It’s him or us,” Dad replied, his face like stone.
I’d known my parents might have a hard time accepting Liam, but this? I couldn’t believe they’d make such an impossible demand.
But the hard look on their faces made it clear their decision was final. I knew I had to make a choice, and it broke my heart.
A sad but determined woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding in case you change your minds,” I said before standing up and walking away.
The wedding was small, intimate, and perfect, except for the two empty seats in the front row. But Grandpa was there, and somehow his presence filled the whole church.
He walked me down the aisle, his steps slow but steady, and his grip on my arm was firm and reassuring.
“You picked the right kind of wealth, kid,” he whispered as he hugged me. “Love matters more than money. Always has, always will.”
A bride hugging her grandfather | Source: Midjourney
Life wasn’t easy after that. Liam’s teaching salary and the money I made from freelancing brought in just enough to make ends meet.
We lived in a tiny apartment where the heat only worked when it felt like it, and the neighbor’s music became our constant soundtrack. But our home was full of laughter, especially after Sophie was born.
She inherited her father’s gentle heart and my stubborn streak, a combination that made me proud daily.
A child looking at a book | Source: Pexels
Grandpa was our rock through it all.
He’d show up with groceries when things were tight, though we never told him about our struggles. He’d sit for hours with Sophie, teaching her card tricks and telling her stories about his childhood.
“You know what real wealth is, sweetheart?” I overheard him telling her once. “It’s having people who love you for exactly who you are.”
An elderly man telling stories to his great-granddaughter | Source: Midjourney
“Like how Mommy and Daddy love me?” Sophie had asked.
“Exactly like that,” he’d replied, his eyes meeting mine across the room. “That’s the kind of rich that lasts forever.”
When Grandpa passed away, it felt like losing my foundation. Standing at his funeral, holding Liam’s hand while Sophie pressed against his leg, I could barely get through the eulogy.
Then I saw them — my parents. They were older but still immaculate and approached me with tears during the reception.
A mature couple at a funeral reception | Source: Midjourney
Mother’s pearls caught the light from the stained glass windows, and Father’s suit probably cost more than our monthly rent.
“Emma, darling,” my mother said, reaching for my hands. “We’ve been such fools. Please, can we try to rebuild our relationship?”
For a moment, my heart soared. Ten years of pain seemed ready to heal until Aunt Claire marched up and pulled me aside.
A woman with a grim look | Source: Midjourney
“Emma, honey, don’t fall for it,” she said, her voice low and urgent as she guided me toward a quiet corner, “your parents’ apology isn’t genuine. They’re only doing it because of the condition in your Grandpa’s will.”
“What condition?”
Aunt Claire pursed her lips. “Dad spent years trying to convince your parents to reconcile with you. They always refused, so he put it in his will. The only way your mom will get her inheritance is if they apologize and make peace with you, otherwise, her share of the money will go to charity.”
A woman whispering to someone | Source: Midjourney
The truth hit me like a physical blow. Even now, after all these years, it is still about the money. The tears in their eyes weren’t for me, or Grandpa. They were for their bank account.
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