Reverend Dr. François Scarborough Clemmons is a lifelong professional musician, grammy-winning opera singer, author, and beloved member of the Middlebury community. He is perhaps best known for playing Mr. Clemmons in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood and being the first recurring African American children’s tv show character. He worked and taught at Middlebury College for 16 years as the Alexander Twilight Artist in Residence and director of the Martin Luther King Jr. Spiritual Choir. He is now retired and continues to sing and live in Middlebury.
I had the great privilege of talking to Dr. Clemmons one winter afternoon in his warm apartment, filled to the brim with memorabilia from his achievements and adventures. I was enraptured by the rich life experiences he shared about his artistic career and personal life. Who is the Dr. Clemmons behind the awards and prestige?
There is one question I always ask when in conversation with creative professionals: “How do you deal with performance anxiety?” With some meager experience playing the viola, (not a violin!) in a middle-school orchestra, I remember all too well that musical performance can generate existential fright like nothing else. For Dr. Clemmons, the answer is simple. There was nothing to “deal with” in the first place.
“I wasn't afraid. Never, no, never. No, I was naive… I took performance as a major because I wanted to be out there. I wanted the attention. And I love the music. I just don't know how people get along in life without some serious musical outlets.”
From an early age, Dr. Clemmons was determined to make music his lifelong endeavor. In a run-in with his high school college counselor, Ms. Crysen, in Youngstown, Ohio, Clemmons was confronted about his decision to apply to the music conservatory at Oberlin College. He had done so instead of completing the forms for vocational school she had passed out to all the Black students.
Clemmons added that all the Black guys in his class had filled out these applications except for him. Meanwhile, many of his white classmates were on track to university. Some were even multi-generational legacy students at institutions like Oberlin. Clemmons animatedly acted out her beration.
“You're applying to these colleges, you know you can't afford to pay for them — how do you know whether or not you sing well enough? And you’re spending all that money for applications?” Dr Clemmons said, repeating what the counselor told him.
“So I said to her, ‘Ms. Crysen, you don't know who I am, and you don't know what I can do! I have no intention of going to a vocational school… I'm going to Oberlin.’ And so we got into a little bit of a noisy. I always say that's when Diva Clemmons was born because she burst out there and said, ‘No, I'm not going to do it.’ I spoke my truth to power well.”
As I became engrossed in this story, a sparkling ornament hanging off of a shelf behind Dr. Clemmons caught my eye: four pink letters spelling “Diva.” He continued to describe how this challenge only made his conviction stronger.
“I despised this woman. I was a young guy full of blood and fire, and for her to try to tell me what I couldn't do was the challenge that I needed. I was going to make it happen through a miracle. A miracle!”
And a miracle is exactly what arrived on Dr. Clemmons’ doorstep. After the fallout with Ms. Crysen, he was called into the high school principal’s office. He was forced to apologize, but was surprised to find out that the principal himself was an Oberlin alumnus and willing to recommend him. Coupled with his guidance and even financial support for applications from his high school music teacher, Dr. Clemmons eventually received a full scholarship to Oberlin.
“And my music teacher in high school, Mr. Miller, became like a surrogate father. He was so good to me, and [with the principal] they helped me enter Oberlin.”
Working in the dining hall in Oberlin to support his vocal studies, he met an older woman worker who invited him to eat exclusive soul food meals cooked by and for the staff. Clemmons recalled that as opposed to the all white, and some Asian faculty, all the dining hall workers were Black.
“I really felt God was smiling down on me, because why was I getting all the help? My voice teacher helped me, and here she was feeding me. Always, the universe sent somebody to take care of me and I'm very much aware of that,” Clemmons said.
Nearing 80 years old, he has a crystal clear memory of those who showed him kindness throughout his early singing career. Without the presence of family support, his determination enabled him to find a community of adults who took his rich musical talent seriously. Dr. Clemmons was so determined as a teenager that he informed his family of his enrollment in art school after receiving financial and academic acceptance, having completed all of his applications independently.
Dr. Clemmons’ luck in finding mentors unfortunately did not manifest in other parts of his life. He was vulnerable in our interview, sharing stories of family turmoil and moving from Alabama to Youngstown at five years old. Clemmons told The Campus that growing up during the Civil Rights Era as a gay man was extremely difficult.
“People were very kind to me, but I was gay. I didn't have a boyfriend — I couldn't have a boyfriend. I heard what they said about faggots and what they said about gay people… So I had a terrible time trying to figure out: who am I? What does this mean?”
Social stigma around homosexuality affected him in his role in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. Fred Rogers invited Dr. Clemmons on his show after seeing him regularly perform spirituals on Sundays at a Church in Pittsburgh, PA. When Clemmons told Rogers that he wanted to come out publicly, Rogers responded with doubt.
“He said, ‘People will say bad things, terrible things about you if they find out. They don't want a gay person who's openly gay on a children's television program.’ I have learned [being gay] has made no difference. It does not make any sense but that's how they very stupidly felt.”
Dr. Clemmons reflected on the homophobia that permeated his environment and the painful decision he made after hearing Rogers’ advice.
“Being gay was something that was going to taint and infect other heteronormative people. And so I went back into the closet because Mister Rogers meant so much to me by that time. I couldn't tolerate losing his love or pushing him away, so I went back into the closet. I stayed there for 10 years.”
On one hand, Dr. Clemmons’ career was defined by artistic expression and boldness. He seemingly never struggled with performing in front of vast crowds populated with the likes of Martin Luther King Jr., whom Clemmons fondly remembers meeting when Dr. King gave a speech in Oberlin.
On the other hand, a crucial part of Dr. Clemmons’ identity was suppressed for significant years of his life and career. His friends and family flat-out denied his sexuality in adolescence. Then, he confronted the homophobia of the public eye that said he would be shamed and shunned as a pervert just for who he wanted to love.
Rogers eventually encouraged Clemmons to come out after the 1969 Stonewall Riots had shifted public opinion, even becoming friends with Clemmons’ boyfriend who would visit the show’s set.
Sitting in Dr. Clemmons’ living room, I reflected on what I heard as I took in my surroundings. Admiring his collection of fabulous trinkets, homoerotic statues and excellent sense of fashion glinting off of his jewelry, I basked in his presence of unapologetic, veteran authenticity.
Be sure to check out his acclaimed autobiography, “Officer Clemmons,” for the 1 million and 1 stories not included in this article.
June Su '27 (he/him) is the Senior Multimedia Editor.
He is a political science major also studying studio art and Spanish. June spent this last summer working for Artchange, Inc. as an intern working to release their new documentary, Cruise Boom, to academic and general audiences. On campus, he is a part of Students for Justice in Palestine and enjoys painting the Vermontese scenery.
