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John C. McGinley: A Storyteller at Heart

John C. McGinley knew from a young age that he was meant to tell stories. It was almost as if he didn’t have a choice—there was something intrinsic that compelled him to participate in the storytelling process. “It was as clear as day, based on nothing,” McGinley says about his inclination, which became apparent around the time he started college. “I think it was genetic. Sometimes I feel I had nothing to do with any of this, other than being a fanatic about my training.”

By Sarah Nolan

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Current, Cover Feature

John C. McGinley: A Storyteller at Heart

John C. McGinley knew from a young age that he was meant to tell stories. It was almost as if he didn’t have a choice—there was something intrinsic that compelled him to participate in the storytelling process. “It was as clear as day, based on nothing,” McGinley says about his inclination, which became apparent around the time he started college. “I think it was genetic. Sometimes I feel I had nothing to do with any of this, other than being a fanatic about my training.”

By Sarah Nolan

Like this article? Share it with your friends!


John C. McGinley knew from a young age that he was meant to tell stories. It was almost as if he didn’t have a choice—there was something intrinsic that compelled him to participate in the storytelling process. “It was as clear as day, based on nothing,” McGinley says about his inclination, which became apparent around the time he started college. “I think it was genetic. Sometimes I feel I had nothing to do with any of this, other than being a fanatic about my training.”


The acclaimed actor says that growing up in Short Hills, he was the furthest thing from a theater kid; he was a jock, focused on being the best athlete he could be at his alma mater, Millburn High School. Yet at home, particularly gathered around the large, round Douglas fir table his family sat at each evening, the art of telling tales was encouraged among the five McGinley kids.


His mother, Pat, a schoolteacher at The Pingry School in Short Hills, and his father, Gerald, a gifted salesman, had a unique way of getting their kids to speak. “You were allowed to touch the lazy Susan where Mom put the leftovers for seconds if you did two things,” McGinley remembers. “One, your plate had to be completely clear. Two, you had to tell a story. You had to contribute to the meal, and it didn’t matter what it was, whatever petulance a 12-year-old had to share.”


What at times felt like forced sharing paid off for McGinley, an actor and producer whose career spans film, television, and theater. He’s currently experiencing a resurgence of sorts, after some time off from acting when he relished his role as a full-time dad to his three kids. He’s reprised the role of the deeply sarcastic, cynical Dr. Perry Cox on a reboot of the fan favorite “Scrubs” while simultaneously taking on a standout role opposite Steve Carell in HBO’s hit comedy series “Rooster.” When producer Bill Lawrence approached him for both roles in one sitting, McGinley responded: “Put me in coach.”


Jersey Roots and Values

A decades-long Angeleno, McGinley says he still holds memories of growing up in Short Hills close. Riding his bike to school every day, whether to Glenwood Elementary, Millburn Middle School, or Millburn High School, is something he now realizes was a “profound privilege.”


The actor refers to himself as a “fanatical denizen” of the Millburn Deli but says his old pals (a core group with whom he still has weekly contact) will be horrified to read that the sloppy joes the shop is known for were never for him. McGinley preferred a fresh-sliced turkey sandwich with some mustard and lettuce on deli rye—“perfection,” he says.


Another core memory is driving his father down Hobart Avenue to the Short Hills train station in the morning. He’d wake early so his dad could make the 6:20 a.m. train to Wall Street; the trade-off being that he could use the car for the day. “The tacit understanding was that when he got home, I’d be there to pick him up,” McGinley says. “His words could’ve been tattooed on my forehead: ‘Be on time—or be early!’ I’ve applied that to my work ethic, and it’s served me really well as my career has progressed. As a result, I can’t tolerate tardiness, I think it’s rude.”


Among the classic 1970s cliques including stoners, jocks, motorheads, and artsy types, McGinley fell squarely in the jock category, excelling at track and football. He credits Millburn coaches for keeping him in line. He says their ramifications sometimes held more teeth than his parents. “The coaches could take you to task for misbehaving, and you would stop because the consequence of running stadium steps was just excruciating,” he recalls. “They were good at making behavior more palatable to the way it served the team. As a result, I stopped getting detention. The coaches at Millburn kept us on track.”


Led by Passion

Despite a mom who performed at Story Time Theater at the Paper Mill Playhouse and a salesman father who was “very comfortable sewing a yarn,” McGinley says it wasn’t until he went off to college that his passion for storytelling began to grow. He was immediately attracted to the radio station at Ohio Wesleyan University, which he describes as a “track into the performative.”


He later transferred to Syracuse University, then New York University, where he was accepted into the graduate program during his senior year. McGinley explains that the acting program was highly competitive, and many students were cut. But he was determined to graduate, which he did.


The struggle didn’t stop there. McGinley also recalls the brutal nature of auditions. “I tell students, if you have something else you are even OK at, definitely do it, because [acting] is really hard. It’s very personal. Because when you’re rejected, they’re still making the film. They’re just not doing it with you.”


McGinley says actors often develop a thick skin out of self-preservation, but unfortunately, that often comes at a cost. “You lose your loveliness,” he says. “Or to quote ‘The Little Prince,’ that which makes you unique in all the world. As soon as you lose that, you’re dead.”


McGinley is proud that he has been able to stay grounded in Hollywood.


The Road to Fame

As a child, McGinley noticed he had trouble reading. When he looked at a page, the words seemed like hieroglyphics. To cope, he began reading aloud—a tool often used by those with dyslexia that helps fill in gaps by using context. “I don’t know if it was psychotic or an epiphany, but I started reading out loud—Edith Wharton, Joe Campbell, Joseph Conrad, Jack London. I did it for hours and hours. Then, when I’d get a piece of text for an audition, I could do it. It felt empowering. I could connect words, make sentences, and say them out loud. It engaged me and opened up a whole new world for me.”


McGinley’s path to stardom reads like a classic Hollywood script. After college, he was performing as an understudy in a Circle in the Square production in New York City when he was spotted by renowned filmmaker Oliver Stone, who cast him in his breakthrough role in “Platoon.” He went on to collaborate with Stone on many other films including “Wall Street,” “Talk Radio,” and “Born on the Fourth of July,” before landing the role of Dr. Cox on “Scrubs,” which ran for nine seasons. After an incredible run, McGinley continued working as an actor and producer—then the pandemic hit.


The Role of Full-Time Dad

McGinley’s son, Max, was born with Down syndrome, and therefore was particularly vulnerable to COVID-19. During this time, the family spent time at home and at the beach down the street.


As the world began to open up, McGinley started to drive Max and his two girls, Billie Grace and Kate Aleena, to their activities. “I really liked it,” he says. “When you’re the driver, everybody chirps in the back. I felt I had a place there, and it felt good. I didn’t have stress.”


As for the itch to tell stories? He fulfilled it in the evenings, spinning tales about Randall the Redtail Hawk—chapters and chapters of misadventures that he would craft each day to prepare for story time in the evenings. He was in a groove and thought he might retire from acting.


But then, two summers ago, his old friend Bill Lawrence rented a house two doors down from him. A couple months later, Lawrence told McGinley he needed to talk to him. “He said, ‘I want to steal your life,’” McGinley recalls. “He was writing something for Steve Carell, and he wanted to have a character based on me who would be the head of the college Carell would work at. Of course, I said yes. Then he added that I couldn’t hose him on the ‘Scrubs’ reboot. He was offering me two hit T.V. shows in a 15-minute period.”


Lawrence had convinced him that he was ready to go back to acting. “With his writing, I’m at home,” he says.


Coming Out of Retirement

In “Rooster,” McGinley plays college dean Walter Mann opposite Carell, whose character he convinces to take a teaching position at the school. Mann has many similarities to McGinley, including spending time in a sauna he calls the “hot house of truth”—similar to the sauna McGinley introduced Lawrence to at his home. McGinley describes Mann as “restrained and flat but genuine,” never approaching the “cyclone” of Dr. Cox in “Scrubs.”


As for reconnecting with his old character in the recent reboot, he says it was like “riding a bike.” Many of the original cast members, including Zach Braff, Donald Faison, Sarah Chalke, and Judy Reyes, have stayed in touch, and Braff even invited the “new kids” who play five interns on the show to join in dinners—McGinley says they are “miraculous.”


While both the characters and shows are profoundly different, Lawrence (who is also the producer of “Shrinking” and “Ted Lasso”) always has a way of tugging at the heartstrings of viewers, McGinley says. “That’s his superpower,” he adds. “He’s the Norman Lear of his generation. He’s not afraid to crack open the sternum of characters and show us their hearts. That takes spine as a writer. It can get too melancholy and saccharine, but he doesn’t go there. It’s a gift to be a part of it.”


Photograph by Emilio Madrid/HBO

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