You were one of those rare performers

who laid your ego down,

while the world was ripe in your palm.

There will be no successor

with your whipwillow energy,

no Joe Average underdog

of geewhiz sincerity.

Through the Depression, you were

thick apple pie smiles,

a nice guy who deserved the girl’s kiss.

You were the image of decency.

When America went to war,

you enlisted to prove it.

Cast yourself as a real hero.

Whisked into foreign blue yonder,

you flew off shiny as a medal,

eyes full of small town wonder.

You returned tarnished.

Cheerful charm hallowed.

As if you had dropped the bomb

that changed the world’s stage.

Both careers flourished,

as America took control.

McCarthy went to Hollywood,

to crush the soul of silver screen.

Innocence became an act.

The sparkle became a cynical glint.

You couldn’t hide the changes within.

The perennial bachelor married.

The pie hardened its crust.

The flag in your blood

lost that carefree breeze.

You were drawn to bitter, darker roles.

Hitchcock understood.

Revealed the shadows tucked inside

Through four full decades

your eyes told us the story,

beyond your signature stammer.

The look of dignity struggling

in hardened cowboy, in frazzled lawyer.

You were the face of America

we shall never forget.

1997