Greetings, my fellow port swillers! A toast, if you please, to the memory of actor James Best, whose death at the age of 88 was announced today. Requiescat in pace.
Best is, ah, best known for his portrayal of Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane in the teevee series The Dukes of Hazzard, but anyone who spends any time at all watching old westerns will also remember that back in the day he seemed to have had an awful lot of minor parts in them, always playing one of the bad guy’s henchmen or a member of the posse or a ranch hand. From what I know, Best never had much by way of dialogue, but he was a predictable part of the ensemble. Frankly, I admire workaday actors of that sort much more than I do the sooperstar snowflake types.
As a matter of fact, I never much bought Best as one of the baddies. He always came across as so…..nice. Which is why I think he worked so well as Sheriff Roscoe, who was bumbling and corrupted, but ultimately good-hearted.
And yes, I watched them Duke boys loyally in my misspent yoot. And no, I didn’t just watch so to see Daisy sporting cut-offs. (That was a mere bonus.) Got a problem with that? Remember: For all ol’ Robbo’s crankiness about matters of High Art, he also has an earthier side free of condescension and snobbery. After all, for all I am on about Bach and Handel, Mozart and Haydn, I also derive great pleasure singing along to Joe Diffie’s “Pickup Man”.
Eh. As Popeye says, I ams what I ams, and that’s what I ams.
Speaking of Sheriff Roscoe, a bit of Duke Boy trivia for you: John “Bo Duke” Schneider bought the house my parents built in the (then) exurbs of San Antonio. Not from them, but (I think) from the people who bought it from the ‘rents when the Old Gentleman retired and they moved away.
* Those who know will know.