Modern-Day Silent Screen Star : Actor: Tom Willett has made a career of playing non-speaking roles, including his latest on TV’s ‘Dear John.’

He’s a country music die-hard, owning thousands of albums and a record company in Van Nuys. He fills in as disc jockey at KCSN and tours local clubs as Herman Schmerdley, a ‘50s rockabilly singer.

But Tom Willett is earning his reputation--and more money than he ever imagined--by saying absolutely nothing.

He is Tom of the One-to-One Club, a support group for the divorced on the NBC sitcom “Dear John” starring Judd Hirsch, which airs Wednesday nights. The other characters are flamboyant or flaky. They have lines. Tom is a statue in the back of the room who never utters a sound. He has gestures.

And respect.

“You don’t have to say anything to make your presence felt, and that’s what he does,” said actress Jane Carr, who plays Louise, the supervising therapist. “He does it so well. I’d burst if I were him. I’d keep wanting to say something.”

Not Willett. Silence suits him. “If I say one or two words,” he said, “there’s no reason to have me here.”

How he got there reveals the inner workings of a unique Hollywood veteran--little schooling, lots of smarts. He edged out dozens of others for the “Dear John” role by showing up at the audition in a suit with wide lapels and an out-of-date tie. Everyone else conformed. Willett improvised.

“They all looked like something out of C & R,” Willett, 52, said. “They told me the guy should be well-dressed. And he should be immaculate, but there’s got to be something wrong about him. So I made him 15 years behind the times.”

It may not be a stretch. Willett avoids materialism as he does dialogue. His 1969 blue Rambler, which he bought new, has racked up more than 209,000 miles. He lives alone in a Van Nuys mobile home and uses coupons to buy groceries. And he still has a BETA videocassette recorder.

“If it does the job, I’d rather have a $7 suit than a $750 suit,” he said.

He estimates he will make about $70,000 this year.

Willett idolizes the carefree, fun-loving days of the 1950s. Back then, he worked in an L.A. warehouse, stocking furniture during the day and producing country music records at night. His records never sold well, and the next decade meant more manual labor. In 1962, after moving to Las Vegas, he got a gig writing comedy for low-level acts. He also helped write tunes for a then-unknown country artist, Roy Clark.

Soon he became a disc jockey on Las Vegas radio station KENO and worked frequently as an extra for movies and television shows filmed in Nevada. The acting bug bit. He took an acting workshop and quickly made a realization about his talents.

“I learned I’m not a very good actor,” Willett said matter-of-factly. “But I learned how to get around that fact. You have to do things that the other people don’t. You have to find that one thing that will get you the part.”

Willett has had plenty of parts. He says he has appeared in 101 movies and 35 television shows, mostly non-speaking roles. He had a kissing scene with Mary Steenburgen in “Melvin & Howard.” He appeared in “Grease 2” and “Best Defense.”

“I’ve been in some dreadful movies,” Willett said. “Let me think of some good pictures I did, and that will take some doing.”

Willett shows more pride toward his accomplishments in country music. His company, Tomark Records--Mark Thornton is co-owner--recently released a compilation of country recordings, although Willett admits the work is for love, not profit.

“I really don’t anticipate making anything over this. We don’t have any kind of distribution. But I’d like to see this become a launching pad for local artists.”

He isn’t worried about one local artist--Herman Schmerdley. Willett played at the Palomino last month under the stage name he adopted decades ago. He thrives on his versatility. “I don’t want to get into a box,” he said. “There is art attached to everything I do. If I just acted, it would be like going to the buffet and just eating a salad.”

And just because he doesn’t say any lines on “Dear John” doesn’t mean he prepares lackadaisically. He learns everyone’s dialogue in order to be ready for the proper gesture and not miss his cue. His character, he says, must be someone the audience realizes can talk but chooses not to at the group sessions. “It’s just that the camera hasn’t caught him talking yet.”