Jackson Brown

No. Not that one.

The one you known, the “Doctor, My Eyes” Jackson Browne spells his last name with an e.

This Jackson Brown was an English teacher and drama coach at Milford High School in the 1970’s. I met him when I was in the 9th grade and he cast me in a drama called Summer Tree.

It was my first time on stage and I was hooked.

I was what my Mom called a “late bloomer”, so in the 9th grade I looked like I could have been in the 7th grade. My role in the play was a young boy, and a senior named Gene Beebe played my Dad.

I took to Mr Brown immediately. But I was never 100% sure he took to me.

He was short and gruff and walked fast. He smoked a pipe and could be pretty intimidating. When he got mad, his go to phrase was, “Judas Priest”. Not sure what that meant but he said that instead of cussing.

I took every class with him that I could including all the English’s, Writing, plus electives like Journalism and Improv.

I’d stay after school sometimes to help with the stage area, and we had a beautiful set up. The theater was huge with a nice stage, a heavy curtain, lots of ropes and pullies to “fly” stuff, a band pit and about a thousand cushioned seats. Mr Brown took care of that part of the facility and he knew every inch of it. Somehow he was an expert on lighting and audio and building sets and almost everything else, and I was a sponge. I remember he had this white pickup with big built in tool boxes on the sides, and if we didn’t have the right tool at the theater, he probably had it in his pickup.

He was the advisor to the school newspaper, The Jolly Roger, and I think he may have been an advisor for the Year Book too. I’m not sure about that part because the cool kids did the Yearbook and I was on the staff with the Jolly Roger.

I learned about writing and layout and photography, and it was during my senior year that I decided I wanted to make Journalism my career. Mr Brown named me Editor in Chief of the Jolly Roger, and I finally had some focus.

Mr Brown passed away a few years ago, and fortunately I had the opportunity during my adult life to write him a letter and thank him for his influence on my life.

That part where I said I was never 100% sure he took to me….I’m not 100% sure he really understood what I was trying to say to him that day.

I don’t know how many years he taught but he probably had hundreds, if not a thousand or more, kids in his classes over that time period. And I know he influenced a lot more people than just me.

I think the thing that set him apart was his, “Let’s do this thing” attitude.

Our little high school produced some major productions including Little Mary Sunshine, Oklahoma, West Side Story, Mame, MASH, and more. We had massive sets and often a live orchestra led by music teacher Jerry Thompson and we sold out the theater on consecutive nights.

And there I was in the middle of it.

I had switched to the Milford School District just two years before Mr Brown cast me in my first role, and I was struggling. Being an introvert, and dropping into the middle of a new school with all new classmates and teachers in the 7th grade was so hard for me.

I didn’t make friends quickly, and I wasn’t a stellar student. I wasn’t an athlete, didn’t play a musical instrument, and I was small for my age. Throw in being an only child, some insecurity and some pimples, and you have me roaming the halls at school wishing I was somewhere or somebody else.

Until Mr Brown.

Mr Browns are so important in schools. Mary has her “Mr Brown” where she goes to school, and it makes me feel good to go know she is being “seen” by an older, mature woman who sees something in her.

Mr Brown wasn’t that guy for everybody. Others migrated to Mr Erney, or Mr Thompson, or Coach Watson. But many of us had that one teacher who noticed us, saw something in us, and helped us to wake up to our own potential.

I’m sorry if you didn’t have a Mr Brown.

But maybe you can BE a Mr Brown.

This is from the Jackson Browne you probably have heard of:

Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive and the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive
But you'll never know.

—For A Dancer, by Jackson Browne