December 2005, Los Angeles, California
This eulogy was initially read by Bradley Whitford at John Spencer’s memorial service as Richard Schiff could not be present. Schiff recorded it for the West Wing Weekly podcast
To John from Richard. I am a great actor. You can laugh if you want. For seven years, John Spencer has been trying to convince me to get me to say it out loud. I am a great actor. To honor John, I have said it. For those of you who know me, you know how ridiculously impossible that is for me to say. Never mind that I still think I suck. That's not the point. John Spencer came at you with love like Joe Frazier came at Muhammad Ali with fists.
Think about it. John Spencer would come at you, short and powerful, forehead first with fiery eyes and loading that left hook with compliments and adoration and admiration, respect and absolute and pure love. And throw them at you with ferocity and determination and grit. He would not let up no matter how you ducked, bobbed, weaved, and sidestepped. Sure enough, he'd catch you with that left hook and buckle your knees.
He had the spirit of the boxer, you see. He was a fighter. He fought his demons that way and day in and day out, he was triumphant over them, batting them down as they popped up like so many Jacks in the boxes, trying to divert his focus, his drive, his well to be the best human being he could be.
His great weapon was acting. He loved acting like no one I've ever met. He loved the makeup, the robe, the slippers, the trailers, the prizes, the gossip. He ate it and dreamt it, drank it, devoured it like steak. To do it right, he kept those demons nearby, allowing them to live through his acting and so always walking that dangerous, courageous line. The line only great actors and artists must tread on.
John Spencer was a great actor.
I was doing a scene in the Oval Office on The West Wing, a tough scene. John was doing the Warren Leight play at the Taper and had to leave the set every day by 5:00 PM to make a show. He was shot out first. All day long, I was doing this very hard scene and all day it was going well, alive in the moments. When I was being shot, I expected it to go just as well. But John had left for the play, and when I looked over to his chair where he had been sitting all day, the scene suddenly stopped. Someone had replaced John in his chair, and the scene stopped. You see? And I realized that all day in my glances over to John, I had received this great gift. One look from Leo and I had been filled with substance, with purpose, with clarity. And now with John gone, I was empty, and the scene stopped. The play was over, and I had to start again by myself, and I hated it. I told him that the next day. I thanked him for his great gift to us, his generosity, his presence. John was always there for us off camera, giving constantly and totally and forever giving.
I am not present at the memorial because I am doing a one man show in New Jersey of all places. When I told everyone of this choice to do this play, I was greeted with such remarks as, "Are you out of your mind? Why on earth are you doing that?" But John responded with, "Oh, that's great. It's going to be so great for you. What's the play? You're going to kill them." And so on and on. Each and every day, as I wait terrified in the wings to embark on this wild expedition on stage, I talk to John. And I thank him for his faith in me.
I think if John were back here as fearful and shaking as I am, he would smack down those demons and put the proverbial mouth guard between his clenching teeth and tear out on that stage and conquer all.
I thank him every night. I thank him for all that he has given us and will keep giving us. At his funeral in New Jersey, I watched his friends and family and the other Catholics present reach over and touch his casket to say goodbye. And so I did as well, and then felt a rush, an electric surge coming through my hand from his casket. I was reaching out and touching him to say goodbye. I had missed the chance in Los Angeles. Some believe that the soul stays around for a couple of days before it embarks on the next journey, wherever that is. Well John had stuck around I think to say goodbye to us.
Wouldn't it be just like him, one last act of generosity to let us say goodbye, to stick around for a little, just a bit more conversation and companionship to chat about the things in this world one more time. What's the greatest thing you can say about someone? That without them you would not be who you are. John Spencer has changed my life knowing him, and I will always love him for it. With severely buckled knees lying flat on my back on the canvas, in fact, I say this for you, John. I am a great actor.
One day, maybe one day, if I keep talking to you, keep listening to you, I'll be just maybe as great as you.