Memories of Jonathan Winters – The Loved One

Illustrious funny man Jonathan Winter’s passed away last Friday at his home in Santa Barbara county. His remarkable life and career has been explored by media worldwide in recent days. I, however, felt a personal tribute was in order.
Perhaps, those of us fortunate enough to have spent any time with this comic mastermind could share some insight into his marvelous, mysterious mind some considered possessed. Winters managed to make millions laugh at not only his classic characters but mostly at ourselves. He asked us to take a peek at life a little less seriously, and enjoy what’s really important ….a bloody good guffaw.
From the ‘Russians are Coming” to “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad world” to television’s Mork and Mindy and some truly classic appearances on just about every talk show of the day, Winters remained calm cool collected and infectiously hilarious. His own shrot-lived television show was ahead of its time as was Winters himself. I couldn’t help but laugh, just seeing his face.
The old grey lady, the New York Times had this to say about Jonathan Winters last week: “Mr. Winters, a rotund man whose face had a melancholy basset-hound expression in repose, burst onto the comedy scene in the late 1950s and instantly made his mark as one of the funniest, least definable comics in a rising generation that included Mort Sahl, Shelley Berman and Bob Newhart.
Mr. Winters was at his best when winging it, confounding television hosts and luckless straight men with his rapid-fire delivery of bizarre observations uttered by characters like Elwood P. Suggins, a Midwestern Everyman, or one-off creations like the woodland sprite who bounded onto Jack Paar’s late-night show and simperingly proclaimed: “I’m the voice of spring. I bring you little goodies from the forest.”
A one-man sketch factory, Mr. Winters could re-enact Hollywood movies, complete with sound effects, or create sublime comic nonsense with simple props like a pen-and-pencil set.”
It was his brilliant improvising that garnered the world’s attention.
The very first time I met Jonathan Winters, I felt a distinctive bond. He was at a trade show of some kind in Santa Barbara, sometime in the 1980’s. I happened upon this giant of a star and plucked up the courage to talk to him. He detected a British accent and immediately asked to see my credentials/papers (i.e., Green card) in his finest London accent. Needless to say, I complied with the rather resolute Winters, who after examining the card, said … “Ok, how did you get here?” I told him the story and the conversation went on like this for some time. Winters, a big fan of British culture and natives, welcomed me to America. Needless to say, I was thrilled and even moreso when he allowed me to take a picture of him examining my legal right to be in the US.
My second encounter with Mr. Jonathan Winters was in the late 1980’s in Santa Barbara, at, of all places, the Santa Barbara Polo Fields for some event I was covering, when I spied the actor donning a Straw hat, akin to those one would wear at a cricket match. He was sipping soda water and holding court with some of Santa Barbara’s “A – listers.” I think there might have been a polo match and a Concours d’elegance of some sort . However, I kept my trusty F3 pointed in Winters’ general direction. Some classic photos were made that afternoon.
Ever courteous and always remembering my name, he and his wife Ilene were tremendously gracious in social situations at fancy events when Jonathan was getting some award or other, or in their home in the hills of Montecito just south of Santa Barbara.
After getting use to me and my camera being a part of their social lives, Ilene would say, “ look Jonathan, there’s Terry,” as they were being escorted into some private event. He’d wave and always stop for a shot and a quick story. The first thing he usually said when he saw me was “ Click.. Click…” referring, of course, to the sound of my Nikon shutter clicking away each time I photographed the truly flamboyant funny man. Either that, or he forgot my name.
One classic interview comes to mind when I and the paper’s top reporter, Monica Prinzing were assigned to do an in depth story on Winters’ life. We got the okay from his publicist and said we could have an hour at the Winters’ house in Montecito, outside Santa Barbara.
We stayed there the entire afternoon.
I sat on the floor in Jonathan’s living room snapping some candid shots as Winters seemed to fall into one of several characters with each change of hat.
I could barely stop laughing long enough to click the shutter on my Nikon F3 loaded with Tri X. Luckily I did, and some memorable images were made.
At one point, hours into the epic journey, Jonathan got a ‘phone call. He told Ilene he couldn’t talk (to his agent) – he was “in a very important meeting.” That meeting was of course, with us ( a small community newspaper- interviewing a comedic genius loved the world over.)
It gets better.
While Monica was laughing trying to get her notes straight, I asked Jonathan what his favorite character or movie role was. He thought for a split second and told me his favorite film was ‘The Loved One’ …a dark comedy about an undertaker.
It was at this point, Jonathan Winters invited Monica and I into his bedroom. This in itself was funny, very funny indeed but knowing Winters’ propensity for collections, we knew we were in for a rare treat.
He first pointed to the beautifully framed poster of “The Loved One”, again describing how proud he was of that film with such an impressive cast. He then pointed out some toy iron soldiers he had on display in a beautiful cabinet ( he collected rare tin soldiers ) Winters picked one up…a British soldier and said “ Here Terry, give this to your Dad…he was in the RAF, wasn’t he?” I was stunned by his generosity and moreover a few weeks later, I received an autographed photo commemorating our visit to his home complete with one for my mother and father. That image, reprinted here, has a pride of place in my mother’s home to this day.
As we walked the hallowed halls of Winters’ comfortable ranch home in Montectio, he pointed out some letters signed from just about every U.S. President he had painstakingly framed. He was not only a good painter but a great history buff.
When the article was published, Winters called my apt. on De La Viva street asking to buy some of my images shot that wonderful day. He didn’t want any “ freebies” he insisted…but of course, I made sure he received a copy of every picture I made. I continued to do same with each encounter I had with Winters.
A few weeks after our interview, Winters was getting a another in a series of awards . This time it was at the very posh Four Season Biltmore overlooking the Pacific ocean in Montecito . I was with a handful of eager and invited journalists who patiently waited for the legend’s arrival. There were some big names attending but one seemed to be missing , Robin Williams.
We had heard ( Williams) was going to make some remarks at the event and , of course, we were all hoping for that rare shot of the two comedians together. Time pressed on and the guests were ushered into the exclusive hall where we were not allowed to shoot any more images. Winters waited outside and spoke with a few friends . My colleagues and I shot a few more images and figured Williams was a no-show.
Reluctantly, I stated to walk out with the Santa Barbara Independent photographer when I noticed someone in sweats talking to the concierge. It was none other than Robin Williams, presumably asking where he might find his mentor, Jonathan Winters.
I gently nudged my colleague, did an about face and we both followed Robin Williams as he went to see Winters. The priceless images we took for those few moments will stand out in my memory as one of the greatest meetings of comedic minds I’d ever witnessed.
The image of Winters and Williams ran across the front page the next day.
Last Friday we lost the world’s greatest improvisational actors in the unique form that was Jonathan Winters. You will forever and always be, the loved one.

Let me see your papers….Winters checking the photographer’s credentials circa 1988. -Photo and story by Terry Miller

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