John Williams: The Life Story Behind the Film Music Legend

John Williams wrote the music that tells you a shark is coming, that a hero is about to fly, and that a boy on a bicycle is about to lift off into the sky. Two notes for Jaws, a fanfare for Star Wars, a gentle theme for E.T.: these are not only tunes, they are memories, and they belong to everyone who has ever been to the cinema. Williams has written music for more than a hundred films, he has won five Academy Awards, and he has been nominated more than fifty times, more than any other living person, and he has done it by working quietly, by studying the film, and by writing music that serves the story, not himself.

He was born in New York in 1932, the son of a jazz drummer, and he grew up in a house full of music, learning the piano, the trumpet, and the trombone, and studying at the Juilliard School in New York. He worked as a jazz pianist, as a studio musician in Hollywood, and as a composer for television, before he became a film composer, and he learned his trade slowly, film by film, from small movies to the biggest blockbusters in history. He met Steven Spielberg in the early 1970s, and that meeting changed both of their lives, because together they made Jaws, Close Encounters, E.T., and the Indiana Jones films, and Williams’s music became part of the films themselves.

He is still working in his nineties, still conducting, still composing, and still writing music that sounds like Williams, clear, melodic, and emotional, without ever repeating himself. His story is not a story of a sudden genius, or of a dramatic life. It is a story of a craftsman who learned his trade, who worked hard, and who became the most famous film composer in the world by serving the story, by serving the director, and by writing tunes that people hum for the rest of their lives.

A Drummer’s Son in New York and Los Angeles

John Towner Williams was born on 8 February 1932 in Floral Park, New York, on Long Island, the eldest of four children of Johnny Williams, a jazz drummer who played in the Raymond Scott Quintette, and Esther Towner Williams. The family moved to Los Angeles in 1948, when John was sixteen, because his father got work as a studio musician in Hollywood, and John grew up in a house where music was work, where his father came home from the studio, and where the radio played jazz, classical music, and film scores. He learned the piano as a child, and he also learned the trumpet, the trombone, and the clarinet, and he played in school bands, learning how an orchestra works from the inside, as a player, not only as a listener.

He studied at the University of California, Los Angeles, and then at the Juilliard School in New York, where he studied piano and composition, and where he learned the craft of writing music, of harmony, of counterpoint, and of orchestration. He was a good student, but he was not a star, and he did not stand out as a genius. He was a hard worker, and he was a practical musician, who wanted to make a living by playing and by writing, and who was willing to do the work that was offered to him, whether it was playing jazz in a club, or playing piano in a studio, or writing music for television. That practicality would serve him well in Hollywood, where a composer has to write quickly, to meet a deadline, and to serve a film, not his own ego.

After Juilliard, he returned to Los Angeles, and he worked as a studio pianist, playing on film scores, on television shows, and on records, for other composers, including Henry Mancini, who wrote the music for The Pink Panther, and Franz Waxman, who wrote for many films. He learned how a film score is made, how it is recorded, how it is timed to the picture, and how it is mixed, and he learned it by doing, not by studying theory. He also began to write music for television, for shows like Alcoa Premiere and Kraft Suspense Theatre, and he won his first Emmy Award for his television work. He was building a career, slowly, film by film, and he was learning the trade that would make him famous.

In 1956 he married Barbara Ruick, an actress and singer, and they had three children, Jennifer, Mark, and Joseph, who later became a singer with the band Toto. Barbara died in 1974, after eighteen years of marriage, and Williams was left a widower with three children, at the age of forty-two, just as his career was about to take off. He married again in 1980, to Samantha Winslow, a photographer, and they have been together since. His family life, like his working life, has been steady, private, and devoted to work, and he has rarely talked about himself in public, preferring to let his music speak for him.

Television, Studio Work, and the First Films

In the 1960s Williams began to write music for films, starting with small, low-budget movies, and working his way up to larger films. He wrote the music for Daddy-O in 1958, for The Secret Ways in 1961, and for many other films that are now forgotten, but that taught him how to write for a picture, how to time music to dialogue, and how to work with a director. He also wrote music for television, for the show Lost in Space, and for other programmes, and he won awards for his work, but he was not yet famous, and he was not yet the John Williams that the world knows today. He was a working composer, earning a living, and learning his trade.

His first major success came in the late 1960s and early 1970s, when he wrote the music for The Reivers in 1969, for The Cowboys in 1972, and for The Towering Inferno in 1974, for which he was nominated for an Academy Award. He also wrote the music for The Sugarland Express in 1974, a film directed by a young Steven Spielberg, who was then twenty-seven, and who was impressed by Williams’s work. Spielberg asked Williams to write the music for his next film, Jaws, in 1975, and that film, and that music, would change both of their lives, and the history of film music, forever.

Jaws is a film about a shark that terrorises a small seaside town, and Williams wrote a theme for the shark that is only two notes, played low, over and over, getting faster and louder as the shark gets closer. The two notes are simple, and they are terrifying, because they tell the audience, without a word, that danger is coming. The theme became famous, and it is still used today to signal danger, in films, in television, and in everyday life, when someone wants to say that something bad is about to happen. Williams won his second Academy Award for Jaws, after winning his first for Fiddler on the Roof in 1971, and he became known as a composer who could write a tune that everyone would remember.

He also wrote the music for Close Encounters of the Third Kind in 1977, a film about aliens, with a five-note theme that is used to communicate with the aliens, a theme that is simple, and that is central to the story. The film was a success, and Williams was nominated for an Academy Award, though he did not win that year, because he won for another film, Star Wars, which was released in the same year, and which had a score that would become the most famous film score in history.

Star Wars, Spielberg, and the Great Themes

In 1977 Williams wrote the music for Star Wars, a film directed by George Lucas, who wanted a score that sounded like the old Hollywood films of the 1930s and 1940s, with a full orchestra, with big themes, and with a sense of adventure. Williams wrote a main theme, a fanfare, that is now one of the most famous tunes in the world, and he wrote themes for each character: a theme for Luke Skywalker, a theme for Princess Leia, a theme for Darth Vader, the Imperial March, which is dark, powerful, and instantly recognisable, and a theme for Yoda, which is gentle and wise. The score was recorded with the London Symphony Orchestra, and it won the Academy Award for Best Original Score, and it has been voted the greatest film score of all time in many polls.

He wrote the music for the other Star Wars films as well, for The Empire Strikes Back in 1980, for Return of the Jedi in 1983, and for the prequels and sequels that followed, over a period of more than forty years, from 1977 to 2019, when he wrote the music for The Rise of Skywalker, at the age of eighty-seven. That is a remarkable career, to write music for the same story for more than forty years, and to keep it fresh, and to keep it true to the characters, while also writing new themes for new characters. Williams did it, and he did it with a skill that few composers have matched, and his Star Wars music is now part of popular culture, played at concerts, at weddings, and in schools, by musicians of every age.

He also wrote the music for E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial in 1982, a film by Spielberg about a boy who befriends an alien, with a theme that is gentle, emotional, and soaring, especially in the famous bicycle scene, where the boy and the alien fly across the sky, in front of the moon. Williams won his fourth Academy Award for E.T., and the score is one of his most loved works. He wrote the music for the Indiana Jones films, starting with Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981, with a theme, the Raiders March, that is fast, adventurous, and heroic, and that has become the sound of adventure itself. He wrote the music for Jurassic Park in 1993, with a theme that is majestic and beautiful, and for Schindler’s List in 1993, with a theme for solo violin, played by Itzhak Perlman, that is sad, haunting, and unforgettable, and for which he won his fifth Academy Award.

He also wrote the music for the first three Harry Potter films, starting in 2001, with a theme, Hedwig’s Theme, that is magical, mysterious, and instantly recognisable, and that has become the sound of Harry Potter for millions of children and adults around the world. He wrote the music for Home Alone, for Saving Private Ryan, for War Horse, and for many other films, and he has worked with Spielberg on almost all of his films, a partnership that has lasted for more than fifty years, and that is one of the longest and most successful partnerships in film history.

The Boston Pops and a Life in Concert

From 1980 to 1993 Williams was the conductor of the Boston Pops Orchestra, one of the most famous orchestras in America, succeeding Arthur Fiedler, who had conducted the Pops for fifty years. Williams was the first composer to conduct the Pops, and he brought his film music to the concert hall, playing themes from Star Wars, from E.T., and from other films, alongside classical music, and introducing a new audience to the orchestra. He was a popular conductor, and he was respected by the musicians, who admired his skill, his knowledge, and his calm, clear way of conducting. He left the Pops in 1993 to concentrate on composing, but he remained its laureate conductor, and he still conducts the orchestra on special occasions.

He has also conducted other orchestras, including the London Symphony Orchestra, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and the Vienna Philharmonic, which invited him to conduct a concert of his film music in 2020, at the age of eighty-seven, a rare honour for a film composer, and a sign of how respected he is in the classical world. He has written concert works as well, including concertos for violin, for cello, for flute, and for other instruments, and he has written music for the Olympic Games, including the Olympic Fanfare and Theme for the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, which is still played at Olympic ceremonies. He is not only a film composer. He is a composer, in the full sense, who writes for the concert hall as well as for the cinema.

He has been nominated for the Academy Award more than fifty times, and he has won five times, for Fiddler on the Roof, Jaws, Star Wars, E.T., and Schindler’s List. He has also won many other awards, including Grammy Awards, Golden Globe Awards, and BAFTA Awards, and he has been given honours by the American Film Institute, by the Kennedy Center, and by other organisations. He is, by any measure, the most successful film composer in history, and he is still working, in his nineties, writing music for new films, and conducting concerts, with the same energy and the same skill that he had fifty years ago.

Working with Spielberg and Lucas

Williams’s partnerships with Steven Spielberg and George Lucas are among the most important in film history, because they show how a composer and a director can work together, over decades, to create films that are greater than the sum of their parts. With Spielberg, he has worked on almost every film, from The Sugarland Express in 1974 to The Fabelmans in 2022, a partnership of nearly fifty years. Spielberg has said that Williams’s music is half of his films, and that he cannot imagine making a film without him. Williams has said that Spielberg gives him freedom, and that he trusts him to write music that serves the story, even if it is not what the director first imagined. That trust, built over decades, is the foundation of their work together.

With Lucas, he worked on Star Wars, a film that Lucas had imagined with a classical score, and Williams delivered a score that became the sound of the saga, with themes that Lucas used to tell the story, to introduce characters, and to create emotion. Lucas has said that Williams’s music is the heart of Star Wars, and that without it, the films would not be the same. Williams’s work with both directors shows a composer who listens, who understands a story, and who writes music that helps the audience feel what the director wants them to feel. That is a rare skill, and it is why he has been so successful, for so long.

Why His Tunes Stay in Your Head

Williams’s music stays in your head because he writes melodies, clear, memorable tunes that you can hum, even if you have only heard them once. In a time when many film scores are made of sound effects, of drones, and of atmosphere, Williams writes tunes, and his tunes are the reason his scores are so loved. The Jaws theme is two notes, the Star Wars theme is a fanfare, the E.T. theme is a gentle melody, and each one is simple enough to remember, and rich enough to reward listening again and again. He learned that skill from the old Hollywood composers, from the classical composers he studied at Juilliard, and from his father, who played jazz, and who taught him that a good tune is the foundation of all music. That lesson has served him well, for more than sixty years, and it is why his music will be hummed for generations to come.

The Olympic Fanfare and Music for the World

Williams wrote music for the Olympic Games, including the Olympic Fanfare and Theme for the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, a piece that is still played at Olympic ceremonies, and that has become the sound of the Games for many people. He also wrote music for other Olympic Games, and for other public events, and his fanfares are played at celebrations, at sporting events, and at ceremonies around the world. That work, for a public event, shows a different side of Williams, as a composer who can write for a large audience, for a television audience of millions, and for a moment that needs to feel grand, and hopeful, and universal. He did it with the same skill he brought to film, with a clear melody, with a full orchestra, and with a sense of occasion, and the music has lasted, long after the Games ended.

He has also written concertos for solo instruments, including a violin concerto, a cello concerto, and a flute concerto, works that are played by soloists in concert halls, and that show his skill as a classical composer, not only as a film composer. Those concertos are less famous than his film scores, but they are important, because they show that Williams is a composer in the full sense, who can write for a soloist, for an orchestra, and for a concert hall, as well as for a film. He has said that he loves writing concert music, because it gives him freedom, without a picture to serve, and without a deadline from a studio, and that freedom has produced some of his most personal work.

Harry Potter, Home Alone, and Music for Children

Williams wrote music for children as well as for adults, and his scores for Home Alone in 1990, with its Christmas theme, and for the first three Harry Potter films, starting in 2001, are among his most loved works, because they are heard by children, who hum them, and who remember them for the rest of their lives. Hedwig’s Theme, the main theme for Harry Potter, is a magical, mysterious tune, played on a celesta, that sounds like owls, like magic, and like a school for wizards, and it has become the sound of Harry Potter for millions of people around the world. Williams wrote it when he was in his late sixties, and he wrote it with the same care, and the same melodic gift, that he had brought to Star Wars twenty-five years earlier, proving that a composer does not lose his gift with age, and that a tune for children can be as serious, and as beautiful, as a tune for adults. His music for children is a gift, because it introduces young listeners to the orchestra, to melody, and to the joy of film music, and it will be hummed by generations of children who have never been to a concert hall. He also wrote the music for Amistad, for Lincoln, and for The Fabelmans, films that are about history, about America, and about Spielberg’s own life, and those scores show a composer who can write for a serious, adult story, as well as for a shark, or a spaceship, or a boy on a bicycle. His music for Lincoln is quiet, and dignified, and it honours a president, without making him into a hero in a simple way, and his music for The Fabelmans, about a young Spielberg growing up, is tender, and personal, and it shows a composer who has known his director for fifty years, and who understands his story, as well as his own. Those late scores, written in his eighties and nineties, are among his most mature work, and they prove that he has not lost his gift, even after a hundred films.

My Take:

I think John Williams is the composer I hum most often, even without realising it, because his tunes are part of my daily life. I hum the Star Wars fanfare when I feel brave, I hum the Jaws theme when I want to joke about danger, and I hum the E.T. theme when I feel gentle, and I do it without thinking, because the tunes are in my head, and they have been there since I was a child. That is a remarkable achievement, to write music that lives in people’s heads, without them trying to learn it, and Williams has done it, again and again, for more than sixty years. I admire that, because it means his music is not only for concert halls. It is for everyone, and it belongs to everyone.

What I admire most is his craftsmanship. He did not become famous overnight, and he did not become a film composer by accident. He studied at Juilliard, he worked as a studio pianist, he wrote music for television, and he learned his trade film by film, from small movies to the biggest blockbusters in history. He learned how to time music to a picture, how to write for an orchestra, and how to serve a story, not himself. That kind of learning takes years, and it takes humility, because a film composer has to accept that the film comes first, and that the music is there to help the film, not to show off. Williams accepted that, and he became great by serving the story, and that is a lesson I think about a lot: serve the work, not your ego, and the work will be better for it.

The Jaws theme is the piece I think about most, because it is so simple, and so effective. Two notes, played low, over and over, getting faster and louder. That is all, and yet it is terrifying, because it tells you, without a word, that a shark is coming. I think about how hard it is to be simple, and how many composers try to be clever, with complex harmonies and loud effects, and fail to be scary, or to be moving. Williams was simple, and he was scary, and he was moving, all at once, with two notes. That is a lesson in simplicity, and it is one I want to remember: a simple idea, done well, is stronger than a complicated idea, done poorly.

I also think about his partnership with Spielberg, and how rare it is for two artists to work together for fifty years. They met when Spielberg was twenty-seven and Williams was forty-two, and they have made almost every film together since. That kind of partnership is built on trust, on respect, and on a shared understanding of story, and it is one of the reasons their films are so good. I think about my own partnerships, in work and in life, and I wonder if I have that kind of trust, and if I have earned it. Williams earned it by being reliable, by meeting deadlines, and by writing music that made Spielberg’s films better, film after film, for fifty years. That is a record that few people can match, in any field.

His work on Schindler’s List is the piece that moves me most, because it is so different from Star Wars and Jaws. It is quiet, it is sad, and it is played by a solo violin, with a theme that is haunting and beautiful. Williams won his fifth Academy Award for it, and he said that the music was the hardest he had ever written, because the subject, the Holocaust, was so painful, and because he did not want to write music that was sentimental, or that exploited the tragedy. He wrote music that was respectful, and that honoured the victims, and that is a difficult thing to do, and he did it well. I respect him for that, because it shows that a film composer can be serious, and that music can honour a tragedy, without making it into entertainment.

I have mixed feelings about film music in general, and about Williams’s place in it, and I want to be honest about that. Some people say that film music is not real music, because it is written to serve a film, and because it is not written for the concert hall. I do not agree with that, because Williams’s music is played in concert halls, by the Vienna Philharmonic, by the Boston Pops, and by orchestras around the world, and it stands on its own, without the film. But I also think that film music has a different job from concert music, and that Williams understands that job better than anyone. He writes music that helps a film, and that music, when it is played alone, still works, because it is well written, and because it has a tune. That double quality, serving the film and standing alone, is rare, and it is why his work lasts.

I also think about his age, and about how he is still working in his nineties. He wrote the music for The Rise of Skywalker at eighty-seven, he conducted the Vienna Philharmonic at eighty-seven, and he is still composing, still conducting, and still writing tunes. That is inspiring to me, because it shows that a person does not have to retire at sixty-five, and that work can be a source of joy, even in old age. I hope I can work like that, with the same energy, and the same love for the work, even when I am old. Williams shows that it is possible, if you love what you do, and if you keep doing it, every day, for sixty years.

I do not think every Williams score is perfect, and I do not think his work is all equal. Some of his later scores feel like they are repeating themes from Star Wars, without finding a new idea, and some of his concert works feel less memorable than his film music. I say that because I think it is important to be honest, even about a composer I admire. His best work, Jaws, Star Wars, E.T., Schindler’s List, and the Indiana Jones films, is so strong that it does not need every score to be a masterpiece. The peaks are high enough, and the tunes in those peaks are enough to carry his name, and to make him the most famous film composer in history.

What I take from his life is a lesson about serving the story. Williams does not write music to show off. He writes music to help a film, to help a director, and to help an audience feel what the film wants them to feel. That is a humble way of working, and it is a powerful way, because it puts the story first, and the composer second. I think that is a good way to work in any field: serve the story, serve the audience, and serve the work, not your ego, and the work will be better, and you will be remembered, not for showing off, but for helping. Williams is remembered for helping, and for writing tunes that we hum, and that is a legacy I admire.

If I could ask Williams one question, I would ask him how he writes a tune that stays in your head, whether he hears it first, or whether he works at it, note by note, until it feels right. I think he would say that he hears it, and that he writes it down, and that he revises it, until it is simple enough to remember, and rich enough to last. That is a beautiful answer, and it is one I want to keep. A good tune is not an accident. It is a craft, learned over sixty years, in studios, in concert halls, and in front of a film, with a director waiting, and a deadline approaching, and a story to serve. Williams learned that craft, and he practised it, and he left us with tunes that will be hummed for generations.

In the end, I think Williams teaches me that music can be both popular and serious, both simple and deep, and that a composer who writes for the cinema can also write for the concert hall, and can be respected in both worlds. He was born in New York, he grew up in Los Angeles, he studied at Juilliard, and he became the composer of Star Wars, of Jaws, and of E.T., by working hard, by serving the story, and by writing tunes that people remember. I am glad we have his music, and I am glad he is still working, and I hope that the next time I hear two notes, low and slow, I will remember the shark, and the man who wrote those two notes, and the sixty years of work that made them possible.

I also think about the Olympic Fanfare, and about how it is played at every Olympic Games, and how it makes people feel proud, and hopeful, and part of something larger than themselves. That fanfare, written for Los Angeles in 1984, is a piece of music that belongs to the world, not only to America, and it is played in stadiums, on television, and in schools, by musicians who may not know who wrote it, but who know how it feels. I think about how rare it is for a piece of music to become a public ritual, and how Williams did it, not by trying to be grand, but by writing a clear, memorable tune, with a full orchestra, and with a sense of occasion. That is a skill, and it is one I admire, because it shows that a composer can write for a moment, and that moment can last for decades.

There is a lesson in his work as a studio pianist, and in his years playing for other composers, that I want to keep. He learned his trade by playing, by listening, and by serving other people’s music, before he wrote his own. That humility, of playing for others, is a good foundation for a composer, because it teaches you how an orchestra works, how a film is made, and how to serve a story, not your ego. I think about my own work, and about how I learned by helping others, and I remember Williams, sitting at a piano in a studio, playing for Henry Mancini, and learning, note by note, how to write a film score. That is a practical education, and it is one that served him well, for sixty years.

I think about his children, and about how his son Joseph became a singer with Toto, and how his daughter Jennifer and his son Mark have lived their own lives, away from the fame of their father. That is a family story, about a man who was famous, and whose children had to find their own way, in the shadow of that fame, and who did so, each in their own way. I respect them for that, and I think about the children of famous people, who often struggle to be seen as themselves, not only as someone’s son or daughter. Williams’s children have done that, quietly, and with dignity, and that is a testament to the family he built, with Barbara, and later with Samantha, a family that valued work, and privacy, and music, not fame.

Finally, I want to say something about his age, and about how he is still working at ninety-three, still conducting, still composing, and still writing tunes. That is inspiring, and it is also a little daunting, because it sets a high bar for the rest of us. How do you keep working, with the same energy, for sixty years, without becoming tired, or bitter, or repetitive? Williams does it by loving his work, by serving the story, and by writing tunes that he believes in, even when he has written a hundred films before. I hope I can work like that, with the same love, and the same energy, even when I am old, and I hope the reader feels the same way, when they hear a Williams tune, and remember that it was written by a man who is still working, still learning, and still humming a new tune.

I also think about his concertos, and about how he writes for a soloist, in a concert hall, without a film, and how that work shows a different side of him, as a composer who loves the orchestra, and who loves to write for a single voice, against a large group. That work, done without a picture, is a reminder that Williams is not only a film composer, but a composer, in the full sense, who can write for any setting, and who does so with the same care, and the same gift for melody.

Frequently Asked Questions

When was John Williams born?

John Williams was born on 8 February 1932 in Floral Park, New York. His father was a jazz drummer, and Williams grew up in New York and Los Angeles, studying piano and composition at Juilliard.

What films did John Williams write music for?

Williams has written music for more than a hundred films, including Jaws, Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T., the Indiana Jones films, Jurassic Park, Schindler’s List, and the first three Harry Potter films.

How many Academy Awards has John Williams won?

Williams has won five Academy Awards, for Fiddler on the Roof, Jaws, Star Wars, E.T., and Schindler’s List, and he has been nominated more than fifty times, more than any other living person.

What is the Jaws theme?

The Jaws theme is two low notes played over and over, getting faster and louder as the shark approaches. It was written for the 1975 film Jaws, directed by Steven Spielberg, and it has become a universal signal for danger.

Was John Williams the conductor of the Boston Pops?

Yes, Williams was conductor of the Boston Pops Orchestra from 1980 to 1993, succeeding Arthur Fiedler. He brought film music to the concert hall and remains the orchestra’s laureate conductor.

Is John Williams still working?

Yes, Williams is still composing and conducting in his nineties. He wrote the music for Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker in 2019 at eighty-seven, and conducted the Vienna Philharmonic in 2020.