Paul James - painter, pianist, world traveler, author, gardener, master bridge player, bird-watcher, hypnotist, voracious reader, trivia buff, handyman, songwriter, retired TV and radio sports pioneer, semiretired Voice of the Cougars and owner of half the world's supply of energy reserves at the age of 65 - is standing at the door of his house, ready to begin the day.
Let's tune into the play by play as the renaissance man shows us around. James, dressed in his home uniform (white shirt and jeans), is looking a little disheveled as he waits to kick off the tour. Apparently, he has lost his comb, but it is only 10 a.m., still early for a man who doesn't go to bed until 2 or 3 a.m. Anyway, we're ready to get started. He shuts the door, and we're off and running.Yes, these are my paintings, he says in answer to a question. He is standing in front of a wall covered entirely with watercolors, most of them landscapes. The house is a virtual art gallery. Paintings everywhere you look. In the entryway, the living room, the kitchen, the basement studio.
"This is from Holland," he says, pointing to a painting, "and this is a scene I painted from China. Oh, and this is a scene in New Zealand."
Did we mention that James took up painting 4 1/2 years ago? Yes, well, it seems that he was reading biographies of Churchill and Eisenhower, and there was some mention of them taking up painting late in life to occupy their retirement. James, staring at retirement himself, decided he would take up painting. Just like that. Why not? He took an art class in the second grade that lasted all of three months.
"I hated it," he said. James, you learn, is not one for learning by the numbers. If he wanted to be a surgeon, he'd skip the med school part and start cutting.
James signed up for a weekly painting class, hated it, signed up for another less formal class, and began painting. A year later a friend suggested that he show his work at ZCMI. He laughed. The friend made the arrangements. James has sold paintings ever since.
He sells enough originals and prints that he can make a good living with only his brush. James' paintings have hung in the Kimball Art Gallery and the Springville Art Museum. He was one of 47 artists whose paintings were exhibited at the Days of '47 art show last summer.
"Here, follow me a second, I've got some others to show you," he says, heading downstairs. More paintings. Stacks of them on the floor and in boxes. Somebody suggested turning his paintings into greeting cards. A local Hallmark store sells them. Want some? he asks, and he is handing you two dozen cards, one at a time, as fast as he can pull them off a rack.
"Send them to someone," he says.
James returns upstairs and walks into the living room, sipping a glass of grapefruit juice. He is talking nonstop. He is excited. He shows and tells about other paintings, some of them on the floor leaning against the wall, two or three deep. His guest notices the glossy grand piano in the room. James slides behind the keys and begins to play Chopin's Prelude in C Minor.
"I can play 90 minutes of classical music from memory without stopping," he says, and he proceeds to play one piece after another. Closing his eyes, he runs through Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu and Etude in E Major, Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata," and two Broadway hits, the "Sun and Moon" and "Memories."
Did we mention when it was that James took up piano playing? Apparently he had some late-life crisis 4 1/2 years ago, so he decided he would take up the piano. Not that he was completely ignorant of music. After all, he took piano lessons when he was 8 years old that lasted for six entire months.
"I hated it," he said.
One day he announced to his wife, Annette, that he was going to learn to play the piano. Annette, an accomplished pianist who taught lessons for years, suggested that he begin by learning scales. Their conversation went something like this:
"I don't want to learn scales. I want to play Chopin," he said.
"That's too difficult," she said.
"I don't care," he said.
He learned Chopin. He plodded through the music a note at a time, asking questions about the fingering and the timing when he had to. Eventually, he learned the piece, and so it goes each time. He can read music, but he's no sight reader. He grinds through each new piece over and over learning the notes until finally he can play it smoothly from memory.
"Here's one you'll know," he says, and he plays "Send in the Clowns," followed by "The Rose."
The concert finished, James grabs his glass of juice and moves to the kitchen, which adjoins what appears to be a large atrium. "Is that an atrium?" he is asked.
"Yeah, I built that."
You could hate this guy.
It seems that many years ago he meant to add a six-foot deep extension onto the back door area. "It just kept getting bigger," he says. It turned into a 25-foot by 30-foot room, with a 15-foot ceiling.
The walls of the atrium are decorated with huge trout. He caught them himself, of course. Did you stuff the fish yourself? he is asked. "Nah. Stuffed a bird once, though. Messy work."
James gives a tour of the atrium's residents. Did we mention that he grows exotic plants and flowers? "Over there are orchids. That's a lemon tree. This is a bird of paradise. There is a small pool. "Tiled it myself," he notes. And that's a hibiscus.
"You should see the yard when it isn't covered with snow," he says, looking out the window.
Returning to the kitchen, he sits on a stool in a light and airy kitchen. He is asked about his broadcasting career. "Did you ever read that book I wrote?" he asks. His career is covered in the book. "Let me get you a copy," he says. He disappears into the back room, returning a moment later with the book, which he signs and hands to his guest. "Cougar Tales" chronicles his first 20 years as Voice of the Cougars. It doesn't include the last 12 years on the job.
That's 32 years in all, plus six more as Voice of the Utes. Before that, there were seven more years in which all he did was TV. That makes 45 years in the broadcasting business. For nearly five decades he has been a fixture on the Utah sports scene.
His TV career began as a 20-year-old college student, just one year after television went on the air. He was hired to read station breaks off camera, but three weeks later the sports anchor was fired and James was asked to sit in for him until a full-time replacement was found. They never did find a replacement.
For 32 years, James did two radio shows a day, the evening and nightly TV news, a weekly coach's show, plus the play by play for a game or two during the week.
"I never had a day off from September to March," he says. "Now they have six guys to do what I did then."
James retired from TV in 1989 but continued to do the play-by-play radio broadcasts for BYU basketball and football games. He figures he called some 1,600 games during his career. Never missed a one in 38 years as Voice of the Cougars or Utes until last fall. James had a heart attack just before the start of the BYU-Utah football game. Even then, nobody could get him out of the booth. Not his radio sidekicks. Not the doctor. Not the paramedics.
James was calling the play by play while paramedics lifted his shirt and attached electrodes to his back and chest to monitor his heart. During commercial breaks, they begged him to go to the hospital, but he refused. Finally, the exasperated paramedics, after cussing him out, made him sign a waiver, absolving them of responsibility. He finished the game. Two days later doctors told James that he needed heart bypass surgery immediately. He missed the conference championship game.
As the unconscious James was wheeled out of the operating room following surgery, his surgeon tapped him on the shoulder and jokingly said, "Paul, it's time to do your pre-game show." James sat upright, tubes sticking out everywhere, and tried to talk. The startled surgeon had to re-sedate him. James remembers none of this.
On Jan. 1, James returned to the booth to do the play by play for the Cotton Bowl, with his surgeon sitting by his side, serving as spotter.
James broadcast home basketball games for the Cougars this winter, but late in the season he decided it would be his last. He will continue to do football games, but no more basketball. The Cougars gave him a warm standing ovation during halftime of the season finale, along with a new set of golf clubs, just in case he can't think of anything to do with himself. Imagine.
You figure if anyone can find fulfillment in retirement, it is James. He has always spent his time wisely. He was a devoted bird watcher once. He has dabbled with wood carving and cooking. He was once a Shakespearean actor. He was a hypnotist and put on exhibitions around the valley. He has written a couple of songs, which were copyrighted and performed by Robert Peterson. He plays weekly games of tennis and golf (he shoots a 40 for nine holes).
He was once an avid hunter but quit "because I felt like I was shooting my dog." James has raised, in his Mount Olympus neighborhood, swans, pheasants, peacocks, ducks, geese, parrots, owls, lambs, guinea pigs, monkeys, lizards, gerbils, exotic fish, dogs, cats and four children.
James reads books, four or five a month. To make more room in his basement, he recently gave away some 2,000 books from his library. Read them all. Biography. History. Literature. Poetry.
Did we mention that he does poetry readings? He has read for church groups, BYU students, house guests. "I can recite poetry from memory for two hours," he says.
James' daughter, Susan, who is also his business manager, arranges what are essentially Evenings With Paul. She brings potential art buyers to the house. James plays piano for them, recites poetry and shows his gallery.
James does his own plumbing, carpentry and electrical work. "I never hire anyone to do anything," he says.
Are you surprised?
James plays cards. As a bridge player he has achieved the rank of "life master," which is to bridge what the black belt is to karate. He has won a number of national and regional tournaments. He finds tournaments in the various cities in which the Cougars play.
James does tricks and trivia. During flights on the BYU team charter, he entertains himself and those around him with trivia games (don't even think about playing him in Trivial Pursuit) and card tricks.
James travels. Over the years he has hosted tour groups on world tours. He has had foreign visitors stay at his house, and he himself has stayed with families throughout the world. His paintings serve as travelogues. He takes photographs during his travels from which he will later paint. His paintings are scenes from Yugoslavia, New Zealand, New Guinea, France, Italy, Estonia, Jamaica, Japan, Greece. . . . Some paintings are composites - Bear Lake cows, a Park City barn, New Zealand hills, a neighbor's trees.
On James' desk, in a gold frame, is a quote from Socrates: "The unexamined life is not worth living." "That's been my motivation," says James. "If you're not doing quality things, then life is not worth living. People say, `I don't have time.' You have all the time there is. We all have the same amount of time. It's a matter of priorities. The things I regret are not the things I did, but the things I didn't do. If I spend my entire day reading or practicing piano, it will be a day well spent. I tell people, `Enjoy your life. Don't let it slip by.' "
At the door, James says goodbye to his guest and returns to the busy work of retirement. More paintings to paint, more plants to nurture, more songs to learn, so many things to do.