François S. Clemmons - Never the Bridegroom, Never the Bride

 

It was 1967 and 1968 during the sexual revolution in America. Lyndon B. Johnson and I was having the most wonderful time of my life you could imagine. [audience laughter] A singing. [audience chuckle] I had done an audition for Fred Rogers while I was still matriculating at Carnegie Mellon. And Fred, oh, thank you, Fred, had asked me to come on his television program, Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

There are many ways to say yes, and I found them. The only stumbling block that I had in those days was he asked me to be Officer Clemmons. He convinced me of how valuable I would be on his program and how much I could contribute. I wanted to be with him very much. However, there was one evening I was futzing around my house, and he gave me a phone call. I picked up the phone. “Hello, Fred. How are you doing?” He said, “François, I heard a story about you. Have you been going to some club downtown in Pittsburgh called the Playpen? [audience chuckle] It’s a gay club?” I said, “Yeah, man, I had a wonderful time. I was up half the night.” [audience chuckles] He said, “You can’t go there anymore.” I said, “What?” “Can’t go there anymore.” 

 

“There are people,” he said, “who wouldn’t like the idea of an openly gay man on a children’s television program. François, they’ll say terrible things about you and they’ll imagine the worst. And the next thing you know, we’re going to have Procter & Gamble and the Johnson & Johnson sponsors, Joseph Horne Company. They’re going to pull their support away from us, and we’re not going to have a program.” He said, “You need to think about that.” Boy, oh, boy, oh boy, was I was shocked.

 

I liked being openly gay, to say the least. But I also liked being on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. I was having my career taken off. I was in Screen Actors Guild. I was in Equity. I was American Federation of Television, Radio Artists. I was 24 years old and I was flying high. And he was saying, “No, no, no, no, Mm-hmm. Can’t do that.” It reminded me of when I was five years old. My family was in Youngstown, Ohio, and we had all gotten together on Saturday. My cousin Johnny May was having a wedding. And whoo. I looked at her, and she was wearing this beautiful white wedding dress. 

 

And I said, “Oh, Johnny May, you look so beautiful.” She had a tiara on her hair and bangs here. And I said, “I’m going to grow up, and one day, I’m going to wear a wedding dress just like yours,” and whack. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, my mother slapped the shit out of me. She said, “No son of mine is going to grow up and wear a wedding dress. Do you hear me, boy?” She hit me so hard that the tears flew out of my eyes and the gum I was chewing flew across the room. And I knew, I knew I could never mention that again. I felt so hurt and so lost. And here it was, Fred telling me I couldn’t go back to the Playpen and that feeling started coming back to me again. I can’t be gay ever, anywhere, with anybody? So, I made up my mind. I’m going to do something. 

 

I’ve got to conquer this. I was talking to my friends about it, “What should we do? What can we do?” And I said, “Well, you know, some people forget about it. It fades away, and eventually you’re straight.” [audience chuckle] Oh. So, I was telling this friend of mine, Carol, she was my best buddy. I talked to her about everything. And she said, “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard too.” I said, “Carol, you too?” She said, “Yeah.” “Friends, is this talk a proposal?” “Oh, that’s what you think?” She said, “Yeah, that’s what it sounds like.” Well, yeah, it is a proposal then. So, we got married, just like that. 

 

I started doing all kinds of butch things. Then I started washing the car [audience laughter] and let’s see, what else. I started mowing the grass. I learned to use the hose well and I watched the Super Bowl. I went to football games instead of concerts. And then, eventually, won the Metropolitan Opera auditions. We moved to New York and things were moving right along and the singing and right there at the Metropolitan Opera here, next door to Alice Tully Hall, man. I said, “Okay, something was missing. I shried it.” 

 

One day, I was walking up Broadway, past 69th Street. There was a club called La Boheme. I stood there and I looked in the big glass window, and there were guys in there. There was music playing. What’s going on? Y’all mauving gay? Oooooo. The guys were dancing and moving and drinking beer. And I thought, God, I wish one of them. Over there in the corner, there were guys kissing and hugging. I thought, it’s been a long time since I kissed a guy. I said, “I’m going to have to tell Carol. It’s just not working. It’s not. I can’t keep this up.” 

 

And in my mind, I kept thinking, she deserved better. She deserved a real husband who could love her and who could see her as a special woman and offer her a life with children and a family. I wasn’t prepared to do that. So, I went home and I told her. She didn’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to hear it. Don’t tell me that. I don’t want to hear it.” So, she ran into the bedroom crying. I thought, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I kept going back and forth to rehearsals. And one day I came home, she was gone. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.” 

 

So, I decided, “Listen, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get your stuff packed up. You can’t stay in this apartment. You can’t afford the rent.” I found another apartment. I called a couple of my buddies and they came over right away and they helped me throw some clothes in boxes, and they got a U-Haul. I was catatonic. I couldn’t help with the piano, couldn’t help with the couch, couldn’t help with the bed. They did everything. I said, “I’ll meet you guys up there.” I took the train and went up to the new apartment. 

 

When I went inside, it too was empty, like me. I looked around, and in a short time, the guys were coming up with all kinds of boxes. They were putting them in all kinds of disarray. I watched them. And once again, I just couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t organize. My head was so empty and so confused. It seemed like in no time, they were stacked boxes everywhere and saying, “Goodbye, I’ll see you later.” I heard the door slam and I said, “I need to sit, so I can get myself together.” I thought, I need to put my clothes up, so they’re not wrinkled. 

 

So, I went over, and I grabbed one of the boxes, and I opened it up, and I grabbed a couple of my outfits and I started straightening them out. And then, got a couple hangers, and I opened the door and started putting them up. And there was a bag. “What is that bag doing here? It’s not mine.” So, I grabbed the bag and I brought it over. Huh. A clothes bag? Well, I unzipped it. [laughs] Oh, God, a wedding dress. Where did that come from?

 

So, I said, “All right, I took it. I ran to the door and I made sure that it was locked. And then, I took my shirt off and I took my pants off, kicked my shoes off and I got that wedding dress. It was so beautiful and white. I lifted it up over my head. I’ll be damned. It looks like it’s going to fit. Pulled it down and got it over my shoulders and brought it down over my chest. There was a zipper on this side and a zipper on that side, and it was tight, but it fit. I’m in it. I stood there and I looked at myself. [sings] Oh, man, I was feeling good. I didn’t feel bad like they said I would.

 

I walked over, they got the box that had the vodka and the dishes and the groceries and I got the vodka. Poured myself a heavy one and I turned that girl up. [audience chuckle] [blows a kiss] I set that down and I said-- Turn the TV on over there. They hooked that up and I found me a chair and I sat down. [sings] For the first time I said, “I feel like myself.” And I quietly went to sleep.