James Earl Jones has died.

When you hear his name, does Darth Vader’s voice immediately come to mind? Or do you think of Jones’s famous baseball monologue in Field of Dreams? Or is he (or your children’s) forever Lion King?

I love all those, but for me, Mr. Jones will always be Othello. He starred in a production at the Goodman Theater in 1968, when I was 12 years old. It was my introduction to Shakespeare, and my introduction to recognizing the power of an actor just reaching his prime.

I was a frequent visitor to the Goodman, seeing plays at both the children’s theater and the main stage as a guest of my aunt and uncle. Paula and Poldi would treat my sister and me to dinner at the Italian Village, before we walked the few blocks to the old Goodman Theater building, adjoining the Art Institute of Chicago.

We saw Bertolt Brecht’s The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, a parable about fascism that is frighteningly relevant today and You Can’t Take it With You, a classic comedy by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart. But it is Othello that has always stayed with me.

I don’t believe Jones was well-known when I saw him perform. His first Tony Award would come a year later. But to a 12-year-old kid who was becoming fascinated with the theater, every move he made, every word he uttered, had an impact on me.

Did I follow the entire plot of the play? Did I recognize the evil in Iago, the helplessness of Desdemona, or the weakness in Othello? I am sure I did not. But the power of the play and the performances, especially of the lead actor, were undeniable.

So, while like all of you, I loved Star Wars IV-VI and the revelation that Luke was Darth Vader’s son. And yes, Mustafa was magnificent and the beloved baseball soliloquy so moved me that I suggested our son use it for a required recitation in one of his English classes. But unlike most of you, I got to see and hear James Earl Jones live on stage proclaim “I kissed thee ere I killed thee: no way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.”

Top that, Darth Vader!