A profound and frustratingly humble voice is gone

The death of James Earl Jones on Sept. 9 has me reminiscing about a story a good friend used to tell. I say used to tell because Cina Smith died of cancer a couple of years ago. Since then, her friends and husband have been retelling her stories, and she had some great ones.

Anyone who has ever given me the time to launch into long-winded stories of my own has probably learned that a large percentage of the tales I tell come from my two decades as a professional raft guide.

Andy and Cina Smith grew up in the same South Georgia town and had known each other since the second grade. Andy had been periodically asking her to be his girlfriend since fourth grade, overtures that were politely turned down.

They both left town after high school. After college, Andy ended up guiding rafts in the East and then went out West to work on rivers like the Colorado through the Grand Canyon.

While working out there, one day Andy broke his leg in a non-river-related incident. Andy was back home recuperating from his injury, and Cina showed up in town after completing her master’s in music.

After they reconnected, Cina finally relented and not only agreed to be his girlfriend but his wife. They moved to the mountains of northeast Georgia, where Cina also took up work on the Chattooga River where I spent most of my whitewater career.

After her first season of working there wound down, Andy and Cina went to the Gauley River in West Virginia to work the short fall season there, as many raft guides around the United States do.

The Gauley is a dam-controlled river, but there are around 30 days of guaranteed water releases. It’s a big-water river by eastern standards, which contributes to its lure for nomadic raft guides. Large numbers show up in West Virginia to work the short but exciting season there while not much is happening in whitewater elsewhere across much of the country.

Cina didn’t get a job with a reputable rafting company in her first year. Instead, she went to work for a sketchy company with poor equipment and a sketchier owner named Weasel. His moniker proved amazingly appropriate some years later when Weasel was elected to the West Virginia legislature.

After going through training, Cina showed up a good bit nervous on the morning of her first day as a checked-out guide on the Gauley. Walking into the customer-greeting facility, she could hear the guides and the owner using the n-word and grumbling about a customer they didn’t want to take down the river in any of their rafts. Despite her nerves, Cina found herself saying she would be happy to take the gentleman down the river.

She walked across the room to a group of people where a tall Black man stood with his back to her. As she began to introduce herself to her crew for the day, Cina looked up to see that she was introducing herself to James Earl Jones.

He was in the area filming “Matewan,” a movie about a coal miners’ stike in the 1920s. Jones and some of the others working on the film had decided to take a day off to try whitewater rafting.

Nerves didn’t keep Cina from getting her crew down the Gauley relatively dry, but she herself didn’t fare so well. She fell out of the raft three times. James Earl Jones was sitting right in front of her, so each time she had an unscheduled swim, Cina found herself calling, “James.”

Every time, the renowned actor reached over and pulled her right back in.

At lunch, Cina noticed a spot to sit next to Jones and she jumped at the chance to talk to him about his acting career. In the town where she grew up, Cina was known for her performances in several musicals. More than 40 years later, her performances were something that several people mentioned at her memorial service.

As one person said, “Cina never sought the limelight, but she knew what to do when she found herself in it.”

Trying to draw James Earl Jones out, thespian to thespian, Cina asked him what it felt like to have played Darth Vader, one of the most iconic villains in movie history.

Just as he did in an interview memorializing his amazing career replayed on NPR in recent days, James Earl Jones humbly pointed out that Darth Vader was portrayed by another actor. He said he had just provided the voice.

Every time I’ve heard Cina tell this story over the years, it was clear that she wasn’t mollified by his response. She wanted to hear James Earl Jones brag about the villain his stirring basso profundo voice had essentially created. Just like all of us who loved to hear her tell this story, and the NPR interviewer, we wanted him to take more credit, but Jones insisted on being humble.

When the trip was over, just before leaving, James Earl Jones told her, “Cina, I just want you to know: Today, I have had my first — and my last — whitewater experience.”

Somehow, he found her address in the small town where she and Andy grew up. That Christmas she received a huge gift basket, and for a number of years after, Jones remembered her with a holiday gift.

James Earl Jones wasn’t just an amazing actor, he was a profoundly humble and considerate person.

I was a senior in high school when “The Great White Hope” was released. The film rocked my world, confronting me with aspects of the evils of racism I’m still grappling with, and will for the rest of my life.

I’m also reminded of these lines Jones spoke about baseball in “Field of Dreams” as the writer Terence Mann, “It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again.”

The same could be said of James Earl Jones.