by Kelly Reeves
As a kid in the 70s, the only thing more exciting than watching Westerns on television on the weekends, was going outside and playing cowboys and Indians with the neighborhood boys afterward. Sometimes it was lawmen versus the bad guys, readily recognizable by the black cowboy hats and low-slung cap guns they wore. The thing that stayed the same was that it never got old, and the good guys always won.
Also in the 1970s, Waylon Jennings sang “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys.” Willie Nelson liked the song so much, he released the same song in the 80s as a single on the soundtrack of The Electric Horseman movie. That statement rings true for many of us who grew up in that era. This love of the cowboy is the reason they have been deemed America’s folk heroes.
I hate to be a braggart, but when I stumbled into an opportunity to spend a fall afternoon visiting with a long time Texas cowboy, a living part of the American West and star of the big screen and television, I couldn’t get there fast enough. I took an old friend and long time Corbin fan, Patrick Ezell, and our art director, Noel Martin, along for the ride west to the home of Barry and Jo Corbin.
The front porch at Barry Corbin’s place is much like the man himself—welcoming, comfortable and layered with a bit of Texas sand. A gusty fall breeze blew the length of the long porch. Weathered rocking chairs sat lined up in a row seemingly calling our name.
We were greeted by Barry Corbin and his wife, Jo, both wearing smiles as big as Texas. Barry looked me in the eye and shook my hand with the firm grip of a cowboy. I can’t begin to describe the welcome feeling that I instantly felt from the couple. It truly felt like coming home to see your favorite Uncle.
On the porch, Corbin emanated the kind of genuine warmth that feels rare, a friendliness that’s different from the glossy celebrity charm. He speaks with the calm authority of a man who’s lived more than most, his words accented by the drawl that Texans carry like a badge of honor. Barry, known for his iconic booming voice and rugged charm is a living symbol of the Western spirit. Dressed in a well-worn cowboy hat, jeans, and a western shirt, he invited us to sit down and visit a spell. As we sat in the rockers I could almost hear the piano of an old western saloon.
Corbin’s storied career has spanned six decades, featuring roles in classics like Urban Cowboy, War Games, Lonesome Dove, Conagher, and No Country for Old Men, among many other hit movies. He also starred in the beloved television series Northern Exposure, and many others. Barry has never slowed down. Even in his 70s and 80s, he played roles in The Ranch,Yellowstone, Killers of the Flower Moon, and Tulsa King. His portrayal of Maurice Minnifield in Northern Exposure was nominated for an Emmy, a testament to his ability to blend grit and heart in a way that few others can. Although Barry Corbin loved acting in western movies, he really just loves acting. He has portrayed much more than cowboys and had roles in almost every genre there is. But, his love affair with the West began long before he ever set foot on a Hollywood set. Barry was born in Lamesa, Texas, and his Texas roots run deep. “Texas just kind of gets in your blood; once it’s there, you can’t shake it,” he said. “I’ve lived in a lot of places from New York to California, but nothing feels quite like home the way this place does.”
Corbin’s start in acting wasn’t a typical Hollywood story. He didn’t make his way to Los Angeles on a wing and a prayer, armed with headshots and a rehearsed monologue. In fact, his career began on the stage in Texas and New York. “Acting in the theater, that’s where you learn the trade,” he says, his voice thoughtful, carrying the weight of someone who knows the difference between fame and skill. “You can’t fake it on stage.” In the 1960s, he left Texas briefly for New York, where he studied Shakespeare and developed a reputation as a formidable character actor. It was there he learned to shape his natural Texan accent to fit the Bard’s words, a skill that served him well later when he brought Shakespearean depth to his Western roles.
Corbin’s breakthrough into film didn’t come until the late 1970s, when he was cast in the 1979 film Urban Cowboy. “I was already in my 40s by then,” he says, laughing. “Most actors hit their prime earlier than that, but I guess it took me a little longer to make it to Hollywood.” He grins, clearly comfortable with his unconventional career path. “The West has always been a place for people who don’t fit into other molds, and I think I fit right in.” Urban Cowboy cast him alongside John Travolta, and while the film was centered around honky-tonkin’, love, dancing, and mechanical bull riding, Corbin brought a depth to his character, Travolta’s uncle Bob Davis, that hinted at something more. “Urban Cowboy was a lot of fun,” he said. “I mean, it wasn’t exactly Shakespeare, but it was a good part and my first role in the movies.”
Corbin’s roles in Westerns are as vast as the prairies of his home state. He has portrayed lawmen, ranchers, and men that are a little rough around the edges. “Westerns… well, they’re more than just movies to us,” he says with a kind of reverence. “They’re about good guys and bad guys, sure, but they’re also about what it means to live by a code.” Cowboys value loyalty, courage, and kindness, values that echo in his own life. “It’s funny, the movies make it look like a hard life—and it was—but it was an honest one, too.”
Despite his numerous accolades and iconic roles, Corbin carries himself with a humility that’s almost disarming. He speaks proudly about his work on Northern Exposure, a series set in Alaska that was as quirky as it was heartfelt. Corbin’s character, Maurice Minnifield, was an ex-astronaut with deep conservative values and an undeniable charm, embodying a mix of pride and vulnerability that felt uniquely Corbin. “Maurice was something else,” he says, chuckling. “He was this larger-than-life character with all his flaws and dreams right there on display.” The role brought Corbin widespread recognition and cemented his place in the television landscape. He reflects on how much he enjoyed digging into the eccentricities of Maurice, finding the humor and humanity beneath the bombast. “At the end of the day, I always try to find something real in every character,” he says. “Even if it’s buried way down deep.”
As the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the porch, Corbin begins to talk about the current state of the Western genre. “There’s been a revival in recent years, with shows like Yellowstone and 1883, bringing that old Western spirit back to TV,” he noted with a hint of pride.
He sees the Western genre’s resurgence as a sign that audiences are craving stories rooted in timeless values, tales of resilience, loyalty, and courage. “I think folks are lookin’ for something to hold onto these days, something that speaks to who we are, deep down. And the Western has always done that.” Corbin himself has been involved in some of these recent projects, lending his talents to modern Westerns that allow him to both pay homage to the genre and keep it alive for future generations.
Corbin’s dedication to his craft goes hand-in-hand with his devotion to family, and his community. Over the years, he’s remained connected to Texas, even while navigating the Hollywood limelight. Despite his success, he’s never forgotten where he came from, and he’s always found a way to balance both worlds.
Over the years, Corbin has earned a reputation as a hard-working, reliable actor, someone who brings depth and authenticity to every role, whether he’s a cowboy, a sheriff, a politician, or a retired astronaut in Alaska. But he’s also known for being kind and down-to-earth, the sort of man who wouldn’t think twice about inviting a stranger to sit on his porch for a chat. “Texans are friendly people … for the most part,” he says with a grin. “Texas folks don’t care much about fame; they care about whether you’re a good person.” His attitude is a reminder of what it means to be truly authentic, to live by a set of values rather than an image or fame.
As our time grew short, I asked Barry where he goes from here. “I’m not finished yet,” he says with eyebrows raised and a smile as big as Texas. “There’s still a few roles I’d like to play, a few stories I’d like to tell. Acting, whether it’s a theatre on Broadway, or in movies or television, it’s a way of connecting with people. You can make ’em laugh, make ’em cry, make ’em think. That’s what keeps me going.” Barry said, “When I’m gone, folks won’t remember me for very long, but those that do think of me from time to time, I hope think of me as a man that left the world a little better place.”
Although still carrying a busy acting schedule, Barry has put together an on-stage presentation called An Evening With Barry Corbin, which is a celebration of his personal and professional life, and includes photos from on set and off. Barry ‘shoots from the hip’ during these special performances as there is no script. The audience gets an up-close and personal seat to hear Barry’s skillfull story telling. Barry said, “I encourage the audience to participate. That’s what makes these shows special. We really just have a real good visit.” Barry takes questions from a moderator, and audience members, and will take photos and sign autographs afterward. There are several shows scheduled for the next few months. Barrycorbin.com, followed by a click of the ‘Events’ button will take you directly to the schedule of “An Evening With Barry Corbin.” These shows offer fans an up-close and personal visit with Barry Corbin that won’t soon be forgotten.
As our visit was nearing the end, I hated to leave the presence of a man who’s devoted his life to telling stories that matter. It’s clear, visiting with Barry Corbin, that he’s not just a Western legend because of his roles in film and television. He’s a legend because he lives the values those Westerns are built on. In his own way, he embodies the spirit of the cowboy—steadfast, genuine, and unyielding in his dedication to his craft and his principles.
As I got up to leave, he offered another firm handshake and a warm smile. “You stop by any time. You’re always welcome at our home,” he says, his voice filled with the easy hospitality that seems to flow as naturally from him as his words do. Jo Corbin echoed the invitation to return, and hugged me like I was her son leaving for war. And with that, I left the Corbins standing in their driveway waving goodbye with those genuinely friendly smiles, and the knowledge that I had made two new friends.
