But let’s be honest, folks, I didn’t die so much as fade out dramatically with a voiceover. I mean, if you’re going to exit this mortal coil, do it with gravitas. Do it like the final scene of a Shakespearean tragedy, except you’re not, your Darth Vader.
Let’s take a stroll down memory lane and its a funny thing about being the voice of God, Mufasa, and the soul of every public service announcement about deforestation, I didn’t talk until I was five. That’s right. My voice took a leisurely detour through selective mutism and my parents just said i would speak when i was ready, and boy was I ready but I never meant to become the voice of evil space emperors although I didn’t get royalties on the voice for decades because I signed away the rights for $7,500. Seven thousand. Five hundred. For the voice of Darth Vader.
But hey, I’ve got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, a couple of Tonys, an Oscar (lifetime achievement, but still no small feat when your face isn’t usually visible). And let’s not forget The Lion King. I played Mufasa. A lion. A majestic, noble lion.
I lent my voice to everything, commercials for cereal, car insurance, mobile phones. I once narrated a commercial for toilet paper but you got to earn a dollar, even if it does smells faintly of aloe vera and lavender.
I finally lost my battle with diabetes aged 93 but don’t want to be remembered only for the voice, I want people to remember that I was an actor but your voice matters,even if you don’t use it for decades. Even if it sounds like a mountain clearing its throat. Speak up. Tell your story. Recite Shakespeare. Narrate your grocery list and order a chicken sandwich in Gregg's as if you are about to start a World War.
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