In Memoriam
Sometimes the losses just come in waves. A couple of weeks ago, the news came that UT alum Steve Barton had died. On the heels of that came word of the passing of longtime Austin actor John Martin. As I was preparing this week’s column in tribute to Martin, the day this issue went to press, the phone in the office rang, and Features Editor Kate Messer was told that local musician, theatre and film artist, and man-about-town Robbie Jacks had just died unexpectedly. In each case, the news came like a blow. All three were important to the life of this city. All three will be missed. Here are a few words to help explain why.
John L. Martin was a character actor blessed with one of the great voices of our time: deep as a well and scratchy as a wool sweater, just country enough to put you at ease and just polished enough to convince you of absolutely anything it said. It was not for nothing that you could hear him on the air, hawking homes, pushing cars, promoting banks, just about any time you turned on the local radio or TV during the past 22 years. His voice was gold, and he knew how to use it. Fortunately, he didn’t use it exclusively in the service of advertising. He worked on the stage, too, starting out in community theatre in Orange, Beaumont, Port Arthur, and Lake Charles, La., in the Fifties and Sixties — he and his wife Gladys had settled in Orange in the Forties and reared their three children there — and after relocating to Austin in 1979, in productions at the Zachary Scott Theatre Center, Capitol City Playhouse, and Hyde Park Theatre. He won a B. Iden Payne Award for his performance as Willie Loman in a Zach production of Death of a Salesman and a second award for his leading performance in the 1983 Cap City production of Final Touches, a drama written by his friend Ken Johnson. I was privileged to work with him in the latter show and will always remember his good humor, unfailing generosity, on and off the stage, and that God’s-on-his-throne voice booming out of his barrel chest. It was around the time of that show that Martin began to break into film and TV, too, scoring parts in the series Dallas, the miniseries Streets of Laredo, and the film Silkwood. Martin died July 24 of congestive heart failure. He was 81. He is survived by his daughter Regina Martin Walsh of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; his son John J. Martin of Bridge City, and his son Steve Martin of Austin. In lieu of flowers, friends are encouraged to donate to Zachary Scott Theatre Center and the acting classes of the State Theater Company.
Robbie Jacks was so involved in so many things that there’s no way I could claim the definitive memorial to him in the Arts section. Look to “Dancing About Architecture” or “Short Cuts” in this issue for a fuller accounting of this man’s gifts and contributions to our cultural life. But somewhere in between collaborating with Debbie Harry and playing Leatherface in one of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequels, Robbie Jacks did some theatre. He was one of the members of a little company called Big State Productions, which created one of the city’s most memorable and well-traveled theatre pieces in In the West. Robbie wasn’t part of that show, but he took part in several other Big State pieces, eventually penning his own play, Boy Trouble, a musical account of the early punk scene here in Austin. Robbie died of cardiac arrest on Wednesday, Aug. 8, one day shy of his 42nd birthday. He was, as I’m sure you will agree, too young to go.
This article appears in August 10 • 2001.