Mr. Rogers Neighborhood

Review: Officer Clemmons

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Officer Clemmons, Dr. François S. Clemmons. New York: Catapult, 2020.

Summary: An autobiographical memoir of Dr. François S. Clemmons, from his earliest years in Alabama, his youth in Youngstown, Ohio through his college years when he accepted that he was gay, his relationship with Fred Rogers, and subsequent performing and teaching career.

Recently in connection with my “Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown” series, I wrote about François Clemmons after discovering that he also grew up in Youngstown. I also learned that he had recently published a memoir, and intrigued as I was, I picked up a copy to learn about this man who worked on Mr. Rogers Neighborhood for twenty-five years, breaking down racial barriers through his very presence.

My article viewed Clemmons as an outside observer. The memoir gave me a sense of what it was like to be François Clemmons from those early childhood years, the years of awakening to his homosexuality, the extraordinary relationship he had with Fred Rogers, and his later career. He begins with his troubled childhood with a violent father. His Great Grandmama Laura Mae protected him, forcibly removing him when his father kidnapped him at gunpoint, shooting the father in the shoulder! It was his Great Grandmama who led the effort to gather enough money to send a group of men, his mother Inez, and himself to the industrial north, to begin a new life away from his violent father. He also writes of his Granddaddy Saul, from whom he learned to sing.

Youngstown was not any better family-wise. Inez, his mother, took up with Warren, who she adored, but who became an abusive step-father to Clemmons. Singing, especially in the city’s churches became an escape and he rapidly gained status, learning to read music, eventually becoming choir director at his church. Even then, he was beginning to realize that he had feelings for his own sex, “tamping” these down, discouraged by both friends and his church’s, and especially his mother’s, beliefs. He also discovers the racism that would put him on a vocational rather than a college track and excluded him from music venues, except for special Blacks-only nights. His ticket out of Youngstown came in the form of a social worker who paid for music lessons from a well-trained choral director and encouraged his application to Oberlin College. He describes the day a high school principal who was part of the Oberlin Alumni Association called him to his office to share the news that he was going to ask the alumni to provide a scholarship to attend Oberlin, which had a very fine conservatory. That support was crucial because, by then, he was living with friends to escape his step-father’s violent temper.

The next part of the memoir recounts Clemmons musical training under the tutelage of Ellen Repp and his acceptance of his homosexuality. Ironically, an effort of his mother and stepfather to “fix” him by taking him to a prostitute led to his taking refuge with the Beechwoods, whose son was gay and who fully accepted both him and François. They would be his home in Youngstown until his graduation. He became involved in civil rights advocacy, meeting Dr. King and learning about Bayard Rustin, a key organizer who was also a gay man. When he met Nick, he experienced deep fulfillment in a relationship with another man.

The final part of the memoir covers the years in Pittsburgh and the development of his singing career in New York. Much focuses on his extraordinary relationship with Fred Rogers, who he first met during his MFA studies at Carnegie Mellon, while singing in the choir at the church Fred and Joanne attended. From the first lunch he had with Fred, he discovered someone who loved him unconditionally. He describes on particular episode of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood where Rogers ended as he always did, saying, “You make every day a special day by being you, and I like you just the way you are.” Clemmons felt like Fred was looking at him, and asked him, after the show, “Fred, were you talking to me.” Rogers replied, “Yes I was. I have been talking to you for years. You finally heard me today.” While Rogers personally accepted Clemmons homosexuality, he would not permit Clemmons to be publicly out and remain on the show. That just would not have been possible in the 1960’s. Clemmons describes the tension he struggled with between his homosexuality and his recognition of the work he was able to do on the show to change perceptions of Blacks. He admired Rogers support of civil rights, typified by a time when they were on tour in Cincinnati and a music director refused to let Clemmons rehearse. Rogers asked the man to apologize or they would not work with him.

Rogers supported his singing career, including standing with him, supporting him financially, and mentoring him through further racist treatment with the Metropolitan Opera. Eventually Clemmons retired from the show, going on to research and perform the great spirituals in the Black American music tradition, first with the Harlem Spiritual Ensemble, and later, at Middlebury College, where he now makes his home. One of the heartwarming episodes he describes is the opportunity to invite Rogers to Middlebury to receive an honorary degree.

The memoir concludes with a man who seems to be at peace, having finally found the way to forgiving his two fathers, accepting his own sexuality, championing the distinctive music of his people, and reveling in the love of this most unusual figure in television history, Fred Rogers. The memoir helps us to see how hardwon this peace was, given the racism, the opposition from family and society to his sexuality, and the challenges of making it as a Black in the classical and operatic world. It’s a story of both persevering in a gifted calling, and the difference that a few people who did the right thing–a great grandmother, a social worker, a choral director, a principal, a music professor, and finally, Fred Rogers. In the end, through teaching and through this memoir, Clemmons has turned around to give to others the best of what was entrusted to him.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — François Clemmons

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François Clemmons in Oberlin College’s 1967 yearbook Hi-O-Hi, The Stofan Studio, Public Domain

I did not realize until last week, through comments on my article on “Distinguished Black Citizens,” that François Clemmons grew up in Youngstown. He was born in Birmingham, Alabama, but the family migrated north and settled in Youngstown when he was young. It wasn’t an easy childhood. His parents were abusive. From kindergarten on, however, people recognized that he had a beautiful voice. In his own words, he came to realize that “Singing was the key out of the ghetto.” He sang in many churches, community groups and even a rock group called the Jokers.

He had to exercise determination to resist the ways Blacks were “tracked” in those days. A guidance counselor pressed him to sign papers to go to vocational school. He refused. A social worker, Mary Lou Davis, agreed to pay for voice lessons as long as he stayed out of trouble. His music teacher was Ron Gould who conspired to get him an audition at the Oberlin Conservatory. He was accepted and awarded a scholarship by the Oberlin alumni association, facilitated by the efforts of his principal at The Rayen School, an Oberlin alumnus. This was a huge boon because he could not afford the tuition. After gdraduating from Oberlin, he went on to pursue a Masters degree at Carnegie-Mellon University.

The year 1968 was significant for Clemmons. He won auditions to the Metropolitan Opera. This led to performances with a number of orchestras including those in Cleveland, Pittsburgh, and Philadelphia. This eventually led to a Grammy winning recording of Porgy and Bess in 1976. But 1968 was also the year he met Fred Rogers. Fred’s wife Joanne sang in the same choir at Third Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh as Clemmons. After a particularly moving concert of spirituals, everyone came up to say how much they appreciated Clemmons. The last in line was this self-effacing man who turned out to be Fred Rogers. In his memoir, he writes:

“My clearest memory of that occasion was of Fred Rogers’s sincerity and the deep look, bordering on passion, in his gentle blue eyes. He nailed me when he took my hand, turned his head slightly, and paused, as though he was waiting for me to say something. I waited too, because it was he who had come over to talk to me. He took his time and spoke of my lovely voice, my compelling interpretations, and the genuine effect the songs had had on him during the service. I smiled and returned his warmth and sincerity. It was easy to accept his praise. There was something serious yet comforting and disarming about him. His eyes hugged me without touching me.”

Rogers followed up by inviting him to lunch and a visit to the studio. Eventually, he asked him to sing and then offered him a part as Officer Clemmons. Clemmons struggled with this because of the perception of police in the Black community. Rogers convinced him that he could change the perception of police. They did more than that together. This was still a time when swimming pools were segregated (this was true at one time in Youngstown). There is a famous scene, filmed in 1969, in which Mr. Rogers invites Officer Clemmons to cool his feet with Rogers in a small child’s pool, and even share Rogers towel to dry them. You can see the scene in this clip of scenes with François Clemmons on Mr. Rogers Neighborhood.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018) – Officer Clemmons Scene (5/10) | Movieclips

Clemmons had realized he was gay during college but remain closeted. He discussed this with Rogers who continued to be warmly accepting personally, but warning him that he could not be “out” or wear an earing on the show and continue on the show. Clemmons went so far in following Rogers’ advice that he entered into a brief, disastrous marriage. Rogers always welcomed Clemmons gay friends and later encouraged him to pursue a stable gay relationship. This challenged the trust they had built but reflected societal realities of the time. Rogers worried that Clemmons’ sexuality could actually put Clemmons in danger.

Clemmons was on the show for 25 years until 1993. In that year, he reprised the pool scene with Rogers drying his feet. In 1988, he formed the Harlem Spiritual Ensemble to preserve Black spirituals. Then in 1997, he artist in residence and director of the Martin Luther King Spiritual Choir at Middlebury College, in which he continued working until his retirement in 2013. Middlebury awarded him an honorary Doctor of Arts degree.

He still lives in Middlebury, Vermont and has published a volume of spirituals, children’s books, and a memoir, Officer Clemmons in 2020. Like many other Blacks growing up in the 1950’s in Youngstown, racial prejudice resulted in barriers he overcame through his determination, his singing and the help of a social worker, teacher, and principal. His work on Mr. Rogers Neighborhood contributed to changing racial perceptions and exposed people to his splendid voice. He realized his dreams of singing at the top levels. His work in creating the Harlem Spiritual Ensemble preserved our rich heritage of spirituals.

I’ll leave you with this performance of a Mr. Rogers favorite by Clemmons:

François Clemmons sings There Are Many Ways (to Say I Love You)

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: The Good Neighbor

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the good neighbor

The Good Neighbor: The Life and Work of Fred Rogers, Maxwell King. New York: Abrams Press, 2018.

Summary: The biography of this pioneer in children’s television, the good neighbor in life as well as on screen.

I grew up before Mr. Rogers. My son grew up with him, and I remember coming in when Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was on and I could feel the tensions of the day drain away, and my racing thoughts slow down as I listened to him talk calmly and slowly, feeding his fish, and telling me that “I like you just the way you are.” The only thing I found myself wondering sometimes was “is this guy for real.”

Maxwell King, who knew Rogers for many years through his leadership in several philanthropic organizations in Pittsburgh, makes the point that the Rogers we saw on screen was the Rogers everyone who worked with him or met him encountered. In this first full-length biography on Roger’s life, King traces the course of his life from his privileged childhood in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, to the generous way he ended his life, dying of stomach cancer.

We meet a boy who was overly protected by loving parents until grandparents helped him to begin to spread his wings. His love of music is encouraged, and when he is allowed to choose a piano, he selects a Steinway concert grand that his grandmother purchases, and that followed him through life. The gift of a puppet leads to setting up a puppet theater in the attic of his home. He doesn’t fit in with the athletic culture of his school, but his kindness to the star athlete, who he helps with studies while the athlete was hospitalized, won the attention of his classmates. The morally serious student just doesn’t fit in at Dartmouth, and transfers to the music school at Rollins in Florida. He meets Joanne, the love of his life.

While Joanne completes her studies, Rogers goes to New York, getting a job as an apprentice on NBC, eventually becoming a floor manager under Pat Weaver, working with some of the landmark productions of the early era of television, including the live broadcast of Amahl and the Night Visitors. Along the way, Fred and Joanne marry and buy “The Crooked House” on Nantucket.

What looked like an east coast life was interrupted by an invitation to return to Pittsburgh to work with an educational television station being launched, WQED, to work on a children’s television program. Teaming up with vivacious Josie Carey, The Children’s Corner launches in 1954. King describes the growing distance between spontaneous Carey, the entertainer, and Rogers, already thinking about the development of children and the care needed with every word. They part, the show ends, and Rogers life takes another startling turn.

Fred Rogers enrolls as a student at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, and as a candidate for Presbyterian ministry. His vision just didn’t fit the mold. He wanted to be a minister to children, on television. Dr. Bill Orr, who claimed that his most important theological word was forgiveness, was Roger’s most significant mentor. It was at this time that he also met child development psychologist, Margaret McFarland, a consultant to Rogers who shaped much of the philosophy of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

After working for a time with the CBC in Toronto, creating Misterogers, where The Neighbor of Make Believe was created, he returned to Pittsburgh in 1968, to launch a half hour version that got Rogers in front of the camera for the first time, and not simply doing puppet segments. The remainder of the book traces the show’s development, it’s path-breaking work dealing with issues like divorce. There is the memorable episode on racial differences  with Francois Clemons, where the two of them, a black man and a white man, cool their feet on a hot summer afternoon, with Rogers drying Clemons feet at the end. Clemons was not only black but also gay, and the two of them reprised this episode in 1993. Clemons describes Rogers standard closing: “You make every day a special day just by being you, and I like you just the way you are.” As he says this he looks at Francois Clemons, who asks, “Fred were you talking to me?” Rogers replied, “Yes, I have been talking to you for years. But you heard me today.”

There were moments like this throughout the book that caught me up, encountering the power of Rogers’ kindness and care for those he encountered. While he did not talk about his faith on the show, his daily practices of reading scripture and other religious books and praying were a wellspring of his life–along with his daily swims. These reflected the disciplined life he led, maintaining his weight at 143 pounds. King helps us see the perfectionist side of Rogers, who was always so concerned to get it just right for the children. It seems he was blessed with people who accepted that and rose to it, talented musicians, singers like Clemons, and so many more.

Yet we also see how the show centered around Rogers, who wrote nearly all the scripts and all the songs, as well as composing thirteen operas for children. King contrasts the approach of Rogers measured speech with the pace and cognitive focus of Sesame Street, begun about the same time. Rogers clearly differed, but never criticized them publicly.

This is not all hagiography. Rogers struggled with his own sons, particular the younger John, who rebelled, and estranged himself for a time from the family. As the show took off, Rogers found it difficult to be always present with them. Yet both sons also spoke of the fun they had as a family, of a father who was just a normal guy, who perhaps could have been tougher on them. Jim, the elder son concludes, “I think all Dad really ever wanted for John or me was to be happy and pleased with who we are.”

One of the gifts of this book is that King interviewed most of the people still living, who interacted with Rogers. Perhaps one of the most striking was Tom Junod’s account of meeting Rogers. Junod, a hard-hitting writer for Esquire wanted to write a piece on Rogers and contacted him. It turns out, Rogers was in Manhattan, and without vetting, invites Junod to his apartment, meeting him in a flimsy old bathrobe. Rogers was wealthy, through his family, but utterly unpretentious.

Most of all we see how children loved him. He totally sidetracked an Oprah show talking to children. A letter from one wheelchair-bound Wisconsin boy from Madison, Jeff Erlanger, whose “make a wish” was to meet Rogers, led to a breakfast in Milwaukee, continuing correspondence and an eventual appearance on the show. But not only children loved him.

“One of Fred Rogers’s most loyal fans was Koko, a famously communicative gorilla who appeared on the Neighborhood in 1998. Since Koko had been a faithful viewer of Rogers’s program for years, Fred visited her at the Gorilla Foundation in Redwood City, California, in his sweater and sneakers. When she saw him, Koko immediately folded him in her long, black arms, as though he were a child, and took off his shoes. Then they conversed in American Sign Language, shared a hug, and took pictures of each other.”

King’s book, and this story in particular, suggests to me that Rogers was a modern St. Francis. He came from wealth, and yet lived simply. He pursued a calling, a ministry with a singleness of vision that seemed strange to some at times, and yet had its own peculiar power to form the character and self-worth of children. He sang and spoke through puppets, fed fish, and met us on screen in homely cardigans. To read about him is to be elevated, and to ask oneself, “am I a good neighbor?”