James A. Mullins
REMEMBRANCE by Mike Jacobsen: Though we were not in the same dorm, Jim and I met early during our freshman year, and we hit it off right away. We recognized each other as kindred spirits: offbeat, adventurous, intellectual, inquisitive…Along with my freshman roommate Chris Murck and several others from Vanderbilt Hall, Jim and I chose to stay together Sophomore year. We were about eight in all and were assigned to Morse. In Junior year Jim, I, Chris, Lee Bowie and most of the others all moved up to the 9th floor (is that accurate?) in Morse tower. Each had a single room around a central bathroom.
As college progressed Jim and I grew closer. He and I were the first to “experiment” with pot, which he would somehow procure; (maybe I did some procuring as well). Jim was entrepreneurial from the start; I remember him getting involved with selling class rings at one point as a freshman, and he had ways of making connections with people, organizations and resources beyond the walls of the Ivy Tower.
In one or the other’s room, we would get high while listening to jazz, specifically as I recall to John Coltrane’s album “Olé.” The novelty of this experience made a strong impression on both of us. I remember Jim’s enthusiasm – how he would wax poetic while we listened, asking me if I felt the sensations he was feeling, and giving voice to philosophical and spiritual musings prompted by the sound, and the drug. Jim was a seeker then, and, I believe, remained a seeker throughout his all-too-short life. Jim’s passion for philosophy led him to make that subject his major. (Quite obviously neither of us was focused on a practical course of studies that could lead to Law School of Medical School or anything like that.) I believe we both had something of a devil-may-care attitude towards the future, and that we both were probably reacting against our successful fathers with their straightforward professional career paths…
In college, when studying philosophy, Jim would introduce me to various thinkers such as Husserl and Merleau-Ponty (confession: both remain on my “to read” list!). He loved talking about the philosophical ideas he had been exposed to. He was in awe of so much he encountered in his studies, feeling that his mind was expanding through these pursuits; that his universe was exploding. In my recollection, there was always a strong emotional content to the way Jim talked about philosophy and philosophers; to say he was enthusiastic would be a gargantuan understatement.
Both of us were interested in film, especially what was then dubbed Underground Film. Together we started the Morse College Film Society, where we could show films by the likes of Stan Brakhage. Jim and I did all the work for this, including publicity, management, etc., and it was successful. We invited underground filmmakers to visit and present at Morse. (I even had the privilege of meeting Brakhage at the airport and driving him to Yale.)
Upon graduation, I knew I would be heading to New York City for film study at NYU, and Jim likewise knew he wanted to live in NY. We found an apartment together on East 6th street, on the top floor of an elevator building (one of the few). While I attended school, Jim was working, as I recall, though I am not sure if he then began his gig working for Jonas Mekas at the unique showcase for underground film, the Filmmakers’ Cinematheque. But that position, as manager of the Cinematheque, certainly grew out of his activities in 1966 when we roomed together.
Our shared use of marijuana continued during this year, to the benefit of both of us. One memorable moment was when we decided to roast a duck jointly, for ourselves and our girlfriends. That was a treat. It occurs to me now that many of my memories of Jim are centered around fine cuisine. Both of us always put a premium on that aspect of life.
After that year Jim married, and he and his wife moved to the upper West Side, though we continued to see each other quite frequently. Jim was certainly working then as manager of the Film Maker’s Cinematheque. Both of us spent considerable time watching independent films there and Jim got to be close to several luminaires including Brakhage whom he later visited at the filmmaker’s home in Colorado.
Recently, within the past 2-3 years, I spoke to Jim on the phone for the last time. During our conversation I asked if the name Jane Wodening meant anything to him? Indeed, the fiction writer Jane Wodening, the former Jane Brakhage, brought instant recognition – and a fond reminiscence.
Jim and I remained close for the rest of his life. We saw each other in many different locations, in New Hampshire, when he lived on a farm he’d bought, then later in San Francisco, and for the last time, perhaps fittingly, in his beloved Paris. Though there are dozens of other memories I could share, of phone conversations, letters, and on and on, perhaps it’s best to conclude with one episode. Jim, working part-time as game warden for the State of New Hampshire, had confiscated an illegally shot Canada goose. We proceeded, as best we could, to try to pluck that big bird entirely, which turned out to be a monumental task, but which produced lots of laughs, just so our little group could enjoy a roasted wild goose, which we very memorably did!
OBITUARY
Seattle, WA – James A. Mullins, 81, died on June 14, 2024 near Seattle, where he had lived since 2014. The cause was complications of chronic myeloid leukemia.
Born December 1, 1942 in Concord, NH, he was the son of Nadine Simmons Mullins and Dr. Clinton Ross Mullins, a Concord surgeon.
Jim graduated from Concord High School in 1961 and Yale University in 1965. Upon graduation from Yale, he moved to New York, where he managed the Filmmaker’s Cinematheque and was Special Events Coordinator for Lincoln Center’s New York Film Festival. From there, he went on to work for KING-TV’s screen division in Seattle.
Jim returned to New Hampshire in 1970, living in Webster and Portsmouth until 1987. During this time, he served as editor of New Hampshire Natural Resources magazine, was Vice-President and Assistant Director of The Audubon Society of New Hampshire, and Communications Director of the Marine and Sea Grant programs at the University of New Hampshire.
Fulfilling a life-long dream, he and his wife Alice K. Boatwright moved to San Francisco in 1987 where, for 18 years, he served as a medical writer and editor for the medical centers at the University of California. From 1997 through 2004, he was the Managing Editor of The American Journal of Medicine, one of the leading medical journals in the United States.
During his time in California, he and his wife traveled widely throughout Asia and Africa, using their skills in writing and photography to document international public health programs for the World Health Organization and human rights and women’s development programs for The Asia Foundation.
In 2004, he and Alice moved to Paris where they served as consultants to the World Health Organization and the International Union Against Tuberculosis and Lung Disease. Over the decade they spent abroad, they also had a home in Oxfordshire for several years.
They returned to the US in 2014, where Jim continued to write periodically for The Lancet. Jim had been an active and loyal member of Alcoholics Anonymous since 1984, always mindful that “Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics achieve sobriety.”
Jim is survived by his wife, his extended family, and his many friends around the world. A gathering to celebrate his life will be held in Paris at a date to be announced.