Here we are, not quite halfway into February, and celebrities are dying at an alarming rate. The month began with the news of Maximilian Schell's death, which was quickly followed by Philip Seymour Hoffman's death.
A few days later, it was Shirley Temple, followed by Sid Caesar.
I remember watching The Waltons when it was on during prime time, and I tried to think of an episode that summarized Waite's character, but I couldn't come up with one.
What comes to mind when I think of Waite as John Walton Sr. is not a particular episode but the steadiness of his character within the context of the series, always there for his family, ready to offer advice but not insistent upon it.
He was probably the ideal father, supportive of his children, whatever they wanted to do. He was a faithful husband and a dutiful son. He didn't draw much attention to himself.
Oh, I'm sure there must have been an episode or two when the spotlight was on Daddy Walton. I just don't remember now what it was. Maybe it was a conversation he had with John Boy when he was facing some sort of crisis. The series really was about John Boy, after all. He was the aspiring writer, the young man with his life stretching out in front of him.
But there were episodes in which John Boy wasn't the focus, and it is possible that there was one about John Sr.
He was the only adult in the cast who didn't win at least one Emmy during the series' nine–year run. Richard Thomas, Michael Learned, Ellen Corby and Will Geer were all winners; I'm not even sure Waite was nominated.
Perhaps that is appropriate. When The Waltons was slated to come on the air in 1972, Waite was reluctant to audition for it. He was a stage actor, and he didn't want to be locked into a TV series that might run for several years — even though CBS seemingly tried to make the show fail, scheduling it opposite two popular programs on the rival networks.
His agent persuaded him to do it, telling him he could make a little money before the show was canceled. He wound up staying with it for nine years, demonstrating the kind of personal commitment to his work that his character had to his family.
Outside of his acting career, Waite, a liberal Democrat, sought election to the U.S. House from California three times in the 1990s; he lost each time.
I suspected that he might have won if he lived in another part of California. The southern California district leans Republican even though the state has voted for Democrats for president six straight times. It was represented for a time by Republican Sonny Bono, and Waite lost both the special election and the general election following Bono's death in 1998.
I have admired his Oscar–winning work in 1961's "Judgment at Nuremberg" ever since I saw it for the first time. I've never seen it on the big screen, only on TV screens, but I don't think that matters.
It is the acting, not the cinematography, that tells the story in that movie, and Schell's performance, as brilliant as it was, was only one part of it. Other parts were co–star (and co–Best Actor nominee) Spencer Tracy and many other stars in lesser — but no less important — roles, some of whom believed in the project so deeply that they accepted no pay for their work.
Still, Schell's performance was, as I say, brilliant. I wish to take nothing away from it. I've never seen anything like it — and I consider myself to be fairly knowledgeable about movies. I've seen many admirable performances, but Schell's may have been was the best.
(Well, upon further review, I might have to put it second behind Gregory Peck in "To Kill a Mockingbird.")
Unfortunately, I think it led to the Austrian–born Schell being pigeonholed in Nazi–related roles — ironic, really, since Schell's family fled Austria after it was annexed by Nazi Germany. That may have been a mixed blessing; he received additional Oscar nominations for his work in two World War II–themed movies in the 1970s.
But he never won another statuette.
He did take steps to avoid being typecast, appearing in a variety of roles through the remainder of his career. I've seen many of them, and I always come away with a renewed respect for Schell's work.
Schell was a remarkably talented man. His family relocated to Zurich, Switzerland, where the young Schell read the classics — and wrote a play at the age of 10. His mother was an actress, and his father was a writer; as a result, Schell said he grew up in a "theater atmosphere," and his artistic talents initially gravitated more to writing, painting and music than acting.
He did a lot of writing in his college years, including part–time work for newspapers to supplement his income. Ultimately, though, he settled on a career in acting, which he launched at the age of 24.
I suspect he still felt torn, even after he had settled on a career in acting. "I don't actually have a profession," he once said. "I wander through life and through all areas of art."
I guess you could say he was something of a pioneer. When he won his Oscar, it was the first awarded to a German–speaking actor since World War II — a real breakthrough for that time in history.
I wrote about the absence of such films nearly a year and a half ago, and I still think it is appalling that so few attempts have been made to tell that story — the story of how the Allies brought the surviving Nazi leaders to justice after the war in Europe — when so many attempts have been made to tell the story of Hitler's life, his rise to power and his brutal application of that power.
There are some valuable things to learn from Nuremberg. Sure, there were some mistakes. There always are. If anything, the Allies probably overdid the tribunal thing, working their way down from the justified trials of the men who really were responsible for the Holocaust to the generally unjustified trials of those who really were following the orders of their superiors.
But the Allies' intentions were good. Their motivations were noble. And their verdicts were appropriate.
Am I wrong to feel that somehow we're glorifying the bad guys and de–emphasizing the accomplishments of the good guys?
Maybe I am. I wish more filmmakers would examine that period in history. Then, at least, we could have a debate about differing impressions.
But only a handful have even tried in the last 64 years — and, sad to say, some of the results have been abysmal.
The very best one — in my opinion, anyway — wasn't even a re–creation. It was a fictionalized account of the Nuremberg trials, in which the judges who enforced the anti–Semitic laws of Nazi Germany were charged with crimes against humanity.
The film was 1961's "Judgment at Nuremberg," and the story did a great job of discussing issues surrounding the war crimes trials in the years after the Nazi leaders were convicted and executed.
And you can see it at 7 p.m. (Central) tomorrow on Turner Classic Movies. Don't miss it. Record it if you must and watch it later. Or make a note to yourself to see it the next time it is on.
But, please, don't miss it.
The story worked, even though it was largely devoid of action, as courtroom movies are apt to be. And just about everything in the movie took place in the courtroom. That works if a screenplay has great dialogue, which "Judgment at Nuremberg" had. But the story might not have worked if it hadn't had Stanley Kramer directing and producing, and it certainly wouldn't have succeeded without its all–star cast.
In what was certainly one of the great performances of all time, Maximilian Schell won Best Actor for his portrayal of the shrewd defense attorney (he beat co–star Spencer Tracy, who was equally memorable as the American judge).
"It is easy," Schell's character declares, "to condemn the German people, to speak of the flaw in the German character that allowed Hitler to rise to power — and at the same time ignore the flaw that made the Russians sign pacts with him, Winston Churchill praise him, American businessmen profit by him!"
Counterbalancing Schell's impassioned defense is the judicious demeanor of Tracy.
"There are those in our country today, too, who speak of the 'protection' of the country," his character says before announcing the verdict. "Of 'survival.' The answer to that is: 'survival as what?' A country isn't a rock. And it isn't an extension of one's self. It's what it stands for, when standing for something is the most difficult. Before the people of the world, let it now be noted in our decision here that this is what we stand for: justice, truth and the value of a single human being."
There were other big names in the film as well. Some, I have been told, believed so deeply in the project that they worked for only a small portion of their usual salaries.
Judy Garland was nominated for Best Supporting Actress in what was certainly a noteworthy performance, but so was Marlene Dietrich's portrayal of the widow of a German general.
And there have been few figures in American movies who were as tragic as Montgomery Clift, who was unforgettable as the victim of politically motivated sterilization. He was nominated for Best Supporting Actor.
But, as Tracy's character says in his verdict speech, one of the defendants was a tragic figure as well — a German judge played by Burt Lancaster.
I've always felt that Lancaster's performance as the guilt–ridden judge was one of the best of his career. When he spoke of presiding over the "Feldenstein case," it was a fictional treatment of a real case, the Katzenberger Trial, in which an elderly Jewish businessman was convicted and sentenced to death for having an improper relationship with a young Aryan woman, even though no credible evidence of such a relationship was ever presented.
I guess the real greatness of the movie is that, while it was filmed in black and white, the characters were subtle shades of gray. No one was purely good. No one was purely bad. There was more than enough guilt to go around, a lesson the Allies learned a bit belatedly.
But the Nuremberg trials were necessary and important. Until more filmmakers give us re–creations of the actual Nuremberg trials, I recommend this fictional version if you want to learn more about the lengths to which the Nazis went to consolidate their power.
We must learn — and continue to learn — from that very dark chapter in human history if we wish to avoid repeating it.
I got my bachelor's degree in journalism from the University of Arkansas, and I got my master's degree in journalism from the University of North Texas. Most of my adult life has been dedicated to writing and editing in one form or another. Most recently I have taught writing (news and developmental) as an adjunct journalism professor at Richland College, where I advise the student newspaper staff. Go, Thunderducks!
