Why We Miss Mr. Rogers

He was a white, Republican, ordained minister. And I loved him. So did millions of others. He led us to bring out the best in ourselves and he did this in a simple, low-budgeted, educational TV show for children.  I never knew until I watched a documentary last night that Fred Rogers was Republican and an ordained minister. Even though he was Republican, others Republicans turned on him. President Richard Nixon, no friend of the media, wanted to drastically -- if not totally -- cut the funding to the educational show.  Fox News anchors blamed him for a generation of children feeling that it was special. But he did feel that all children are special. He whole-heartedly believed in the Christian principle to "Love thy neighbor."  Trust me on this, if you want to refresh your faith in people and see the strength that it takes to keep kindness in action, if you're not afraid to let a tear or two roll down your face, take 90 minutes to watch the 2018 documentary WON'T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR?  Directed by Morgan Neville, it guides us into the legacy, lessons and life of the beloved television host.

I was a latchkey kid. Mom and Dad had fulltime jobs and had to leave for work early in the morning. I was the last to leave the house and my parents had thoroughly drilled me on how to make sure all the lights were turned off, the stove was turned off and the doors were locked before I left for my walk to St elementary school. I would leave the house at half past CAPTAIN KANGAROO.  That was 7:30 in the morning. Hosts of kids' shows were like grown-up friends who loved cartoons and puppets as much as you did.  Captain Kangaroo, Shari Lewis on NBC and -- locally on Los Angeles television -- Sheriff John, Engineer Bill, Skipper Frank and Hobo Kelly.

MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD, a simple and substantial children's show, premiered in that most turbulent and horrible year, 1968. I was in high school. 1968 made me afraid of my future in America. The Vietnam War, which drafted millions of black and Latino working class young men, waged on and seemed to be the lead story every weeknight on the network evening news. Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. Two months later, presidential candidate Sen. Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated. I had seen him in person just two days before when he came to campaign near our high school in Watts. The entire student body was so keyed up about his appearance that the principal dismissed classes early so we could dash to see him. I was one of many students running gleefully behind his convertible as he arrived, fueled by the hope he gave us. That hope disappeared when he was killed. From that time to right after the Sept. 11th attacks, Fred Rogers provided spiritual comfort and a soothing voice in frightening times for kids. He could also be loopy and silly and make us laugh. Behind the scenes, he could be formidable without being mean. He had regard for people and diversity. He embraced tolerance. He gently motivated you to pay attention, to be silent for a moment and go within. That is a lost art nowadays. A simple yet powerful exercise.

In the documentary, we hear from co-workers and relatives. We hear about the bawdy prank a stagehand pulled on Mr. Rogers. We hear about the heartbreak in Fred Rogers' youth that surely influenced the vulnerability of his TV persona. We see his simple lesson about racial equality and fairness in the 1960s when black people were not allowed in some public swimming pools. We learn about his friendship with a cast member who was black and gay. That's a significant section.  Their work and friendship was at a time in our American history when, if news had leaked out that the gifted and popular cast member was gay, MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD could have lost two major sponsors (which are named). It was groundbreaking just for him to be black on the show.  American TV execs were not ready for someone to be black AND gay. That attitude towards gay performers still existed in the early 80s when I started my TV career. 

Fred Rogers understood that childhood is often the blueprint for the rest of your life. Some of those early wounds in your heart have not healed when you are well into your adult years.

I fell in love with classic films when I was in grade school. When summer vacation rolled around, I could watch old movies -- especially Fred Astaire musicals -- on TV in the daytime. For me that was Heaven. I'd even asked my parents if I could take dance classes because I was so fascinated with Fred Astaire. But I think my parents were of the generation that felt dance classes were for girls, the outdoors were for boys. They asked me if I wanted to go to summer camp. 8 days in the San Bernardino mountains thanks to the local Boys' Club chapter.  I said "No."  Mom kept gently pushing. I kept saying "No." Then Dad took me aside one afternoon and said in a friendly fashion, "Your mom really wants you to go to summer camp."

The next thing I knew, I was on a bus from 120th and Central Avenue to the woods in the San Bernardino mountains.  There was not one whole day that I enjoyed because I did not want to be there. Not only that, I had a near-death experience. I almost drowned in a lake. Blessedly, I was rescued. The best day was the day we boarded the busses for the 2-hour ride back home.

I'd been gone 8 days.8 days. When the busses pulled into the Boys' Club parking lot, parents were waving and cheering and waiting by the family cars to take boys home.

Guess whose parents forget to pick him up? Over 30 minutes later, I was sitting with my little suitcase and my outdoor jacket waiting for my parents. It was heavy jacket for the camping trip. One of the club counselors asked me if I had anyone coming for me. He gave me change to use the pay phone. I called home. My aunt was babysitting my little sister. Aunt Ruby said, "Your parents went to go look at some furniture."

Mom and Dad had gone to the Wilshire district to look at new furniture. It was a Friday afternoon. It must've been like a scene in HOME ALONE when Mom gasped "Bobby!" and they remembered I was returning that day. They hit serious Friday rush hour traffic and, by the time they got to the Boys Club, I had put on the heavy jacket, picked up my little suitcase and took the half mile walk home in the summer heat. The club was right next door to my school.

My wonderful sister remembers this incident and recalls that neither Mom or Dad apologized to me when they zoomed home from the Boys' Club. They blamed the lateness on each other and said, "Why didn't you wait?"  I had waited. Nearly one hour. I was under the age of 10 and felt like I took second place to home furnishings.

I know there's a sitcom vibe to that true story. But it did hurt for a long, long time. And, to be honest, a bit of that went into my desire to work on TV. I wanted to do something that would make my parents see me and regard me as special.

Fred Rogers understood this about people. He understood that so many of us -- kids and grown-ups -- just want a hug and don't know how to ask for it. He felt that way himself. That's why, to him, all kids were special.  See WON'T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR? It's beautiful and poignant.