Remembering "Bobby" Carradine: The Kindness of a Cowboy Nerd

The news of Robert "Bobby" Carradine’s passing at 71 is a heavy blow, not just because of the legendary acting dynasty he belonged to, but because of the specific, gentle light he brought to the screen.

His niece, Martha Plimpton, shared a beautiful tribute noting that of all the eight Carradine brothers, Bobby was "the absolute best" because of his inherent decency and heart. She credited his talent to his kindness—a rare, nonjudgmental love that made everyone around him feel seen.

I had the privilege of meeting and talking with Bobby at the 2024 Western Heritage Awards. It was a fitting place to see him; his career began in the dust of the 1972 classic The Cowboys, playing Slim Honeycutt alongside John Wayne.

While the Western genre often celebrates a rigid, stoic masculinity, Bobby’s career was defined by a much broader range of humanity. He brought a gritty realism to Scorsese’s Mean Streets and stood tall in the definitive "family" Western, The Long Riders. His performances in Samuel Fuller’s The Big Red One and his hauntingly good turn in Coming Home proved that he was perhaps the finest actor in a family with an unparalleled acting legacy.

Yet, for me, his portrayal of the leader of Lambda Lambda Lambda remains his most courageous. I’m a writer, not a cowboy, and standing there in the Cowboy Hall of Fame, I told him something that might seem like heresy to a Western traditionalist: I was more impacted and inspired by his Lewis Skolnick than I ever was by the Duke’s Hondo.

Across all his roles—from a soldier to a Skolnick—he traded the usual Hollywood bravado for something real. He made "nerd" a badge of honor and showed that vulnerability was its own kind of strength, teaching a generation that you don’t have to change who you are to win; you just have to find your people. When I told him that Lewis had more of an impact on me than the Duke ever did, he didn't just give a polite nod—he lit up.

Bobby’s family shared that he lost a long, brave battle with bipolar disorder. It is a heartbreaking reminder that even those who provide the most light to others can struggle with a profound internal darkness. In a world that often prizes toughness over tenderness, Bobby Carradine proved you could be both a Cowboy and a "Nerd"—but most importantly, you could be kind. He was, as Martha said, "the best of the bunch."

Rest in peace, Bobby. Thanks for making the world a little happier for the rest of us.