We've lost another legend of drive-in movie history.

L.Q. Jones was a character actor whose roughshod visage made him a natural for roles in Western movies. He was a regular in Sam Peckinpah movies. Jones made appearances in dozens of TV shows, mostly in cowboy programs. There were a couple of roles in Elvis movies, some war epics, and redneck roles.

Prior to his work in pictures, L.Q. Jones studied law, and he was Fess Parker's roommate. Jones played pro sports, and he dabbled in standup comedy. He joined the Navy at the tail end of World War 2, thankfully too late to see any real action.

Despite his hard appearance, there was always an amiable quality in L.Q. Jones. He had charm and charisma. I'd take him over ten Sam Elliotts.

Along the way something funny happened with the career of L.Q. Jones. He became a filmmaker in his own right, producing and directing horror movies. His production partner was Alvy Moore, Mr. Haney from the Green Acres sitcom.

The partners made pretty good genre features like The Brotherhood of Satan and The Witchmaker, but they are best known for their wild adaptation of Harlan Ellison's A Boy and His Dog. To date they are the only ones who have managed to make a full-length feature from an Ellison story.

Jones wrote, co-produced, and directed A Boy and His Dog. Ellison was skeptical at first, wondering how this shitkicker, a former rancher and cowboy actor for God's sake, would be able to make a good film from a crazy story like A Boy and His Dog. The road to release was a rocky one, but Ellison and Jones became unlikely friends who had mutual respect for one another. Harlan was even mostly happy with the end results of the movie.

A Boy and His Dog became a legendary cult film. It was the first starring role for Don Johnson, and the movie was popular in the midnight movie circuit. Fans are encouraged to seek out a rollicking conversation between Ellison and Jones on the Shout Takes podcast.

There are many highlights from the vast career of L.Q. Jones: Hang 'em High; The Wild Bunch; White Line Fever, Mother, Jugs and Speed; The Beast Within; Lone Wolf McQuade; Timerider: The Adventure of Lyle Swann and Casino are just a few of the movies I liked. The final screen appearance of L.Q. Jones was in A Prairie Home Companion, a Robert Altman film I unashamedly loved.

I obviously have not seen all his performances, but L.Q. Jones was excellent in everything I did have the pleasure of watching. He was always convincing, always authentic, always entertaining.

L.Q. Jones died peacefully in his home at the age of ninety-four. We should all be so lucky. We are fortunate, however, for having had him for so long.

Written by Mark Sieber

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