Before Bosch made Titus Welliver a TV institution, Welliver already had a résumé of quietly resonant performances. One of them that sometimes gets overlooked is his stint as Silas Adams in HBO's Deadwood, a Western historical drama. Long before the stoic detective Harry Bosch graced TV screens, Welliver was already demonstrating his acting skills in an open-wheeling Wild West world, playing a character whose own complexity was reflective of the same moral ambivalence that would later define Bosch.
Although Deadwood was an ensemble show with major characters frequently stepping forward in the form of Al Swearengen and Seth Bullock, it also made room for needed niches in the case of lesser-known individuals. Silas Adams, introduced in season two, proved to be one such character whose trajectory needed to unfold in subtle and tough-grained ways.
Welliver's acting didn't just fill space in the shadows—it revealed a sequence of feelings, responses, and allegiances that made the character essential by the end of the series. In hindsight, Silas Adams was an early indicator of the kind of inner gravitas Welliver would later bring to Bosch.
Silas Adams: From the peripheries to the inner circle
Titus Welliver's run on Deadwood began with uncertainty. Silas Adams entered the series as somewhat of a mystery, an ex-Pinkerton operative with no prior moral commitment. Serving first under Cy Tolliver, then getting tempted by the sphere of Al Swearengen, Silas's loyalty was questionable. But with each passing season, the character's value kept unfolding—it wasn't in words or intimidation, but by steady determination.
Silas was not a man who delivered big speeches or produced violent theatrics. Instead, he operated on the fringes, doing Swearengen's bidding and navigating warily through the lethal undertows of a town at sea. His loyalty had to be won, and having been won, would never shift. That impression of commitment—measured, guarded, but unshakeable—is an early harbinger of what audiences would come to discover when watching Harry Bosch.
The connection is not in dialogue or demeanor but in emotional tempo: a man hardened by circumstance, committed to principles, even when those principles are unclear to others.
The Performance: Understated and purposeful
In a show that boasts more and more dialogue and stagey confrontations, Welliver's performances stood out because they were so restrained. Silas spoke little in general, observed a lot, and just reacted enough to give everyone a look at what was going through his head. He was a steady figure in Swearengen's crazyhouse world, playing the role of a man who'd likely seen too much and knew when to speak up and when to shut up.
The nuance of this performance—across several episodes—requires a kind of long-form character development that not all actors can maintain. Silas wasn't designed as an archetypal hero or villain, but Welliver imbued him with gravity and an air of believability with each carefully chosen word or glance. He wasn't playing a character; he was giving the emotional filling that the script lacked.
Years later, the same deliberate tempo and emotional restraint would define his work as Bosch.
Comparing Silas Adams and Harry Bosch
At first glance, Silas Adams and Harry Bosch are miles apart. The one is a 19th-century frontier town enforcer; the other, a modern Los Angeles policeman. But both of their mechanics share several aspects. Both are outside the law and living on the edge, but absolutely honest. Both are observant, never impulsive, and often misunderstood. Both deal with bad men, not with bravado, but with finesse.
In Bosch, Welliver is a man of principle haunted by his past and unwilling to compromise—no matter what the cost professionally or personally. In Deadwood, Silas does the same kind of morally ambiguous finagling, choosing loyalty out of not naivety but calculated trust. The acting is linked in tone and texture, if not circumstance. Welliver's ability to draw the viewer into his characters without talking about them at all is a quality of both performances.
Deadwood as a school for art
Deadwood offered a unique place for actors—rich, poetic dialogue; ensemble storytelling; and a world that built its characters through slow unfolding instead of quick resolution. Welliver's time on the show allowed him to work in an environment in which things evolved over the years, where individuals were defined more by what they endured than by what they said. In a way, this setup paved the way for Bosch, a series equally dedicated to emotional stoicism as it was to plotting by character.
It must be stated that Welliver was not the focal point of Deadwood. He was not meant to steal attention from other performers. Instead, his acting was a supporting element of the grand scheme, adding to the overall drama and keeping it going without ever tipping it over. That talent—making strong from the inside out rather than grasping attention—is precisely what made him suitable for the lead role in Bosch years later.
A career-building role that deserves recognition
While most people discovered Titus Welliver initially through his work on Bosch, his Deadwood performance does a great job of demonstrating that he was well equipped for leading work far in advance of Harry Bosch. Silas Adams wasn't necessarily a breakout role per se, but it was significant. It required patience, restraint, and the art of being able to convey entire stories with almost no exposition.
Such work does not receive notice in the world of television, where louder, more bombastic roles are more likely to attract the notice of critics and viewers. But looking back, it is clear that Deadwood provided Welliver with sufficient terrain on which to develop the same virtues that had made Bosch a sensation: emotional control, hard-willed resolve, and enduring sensibility based on experience, not explication.
Titus Welliver's performance in Deadwood might not have made headlines at the time, but it gave a compelling preview of the depth and control he would ultimately bring to his later work in Bosch. Silas Adams, secondary only in chronology on screen, was the key in tone and influence. With every calculated line and wary glance, Welliver distilled a world of experience—just as Harry Bosch would later do in the streets of Los Angeles.
In retrospect, Deadwood did more than introduce audiences to a great Western; it gave a future TV legend one of his first opportunities to show what he could really do. And for fans who were paying close attention, Silas Adams was never just a supporting player. He was the hint of something more—something like the show, around the corner.