| Article as it 
	originally appeared in The Rollins Alumni Record (Summer 2003), 
	20-23. "Farewell to 
	Our Favorite Neighbor: In Honor of Fred Rogers '51, March 20, 1928 - 
	February 27, 2003" Fred Rogers died as peacefully as he lived, a true 
	American icon who embodied the spirit of peace and civility. Beginning in 
	the tense early 1950s (when he developed his first television show, The 
	Children's Corner, in his native Pittsburgh), through the turbulent passions 
	of the '60s and '70s, into the era of Hip Hop and the Internet, Fred Rogers 
	and his Neighborhood were an oasis of calm and kindness for millions of 
	American children and their parents. Few would complain about the television 
	serving as a babysitter. Fred Rogers found his calling at the dawn of the 
	Television Age. Indeed, after graduating from Rollins with a degree in music 
	composition, he planned to enter the seminary and become a minister-until he 
	saw his first children's television show in his parent's home in 1951. 
	Disappointed with what he saw, Rogers had an epiphany-a brilliant 
	recognition that he could accomplish his mission to help people in an 
	entirely new way. 
	 I’m a composer and piano player," Rogers once told an 
	interviewer, "a writer and television producer...almost by accident a 
	performer...a husband, father, and grandfather. And I'm a minister. You 
	know, most of us are many things, and I remember the marvelous feeling I had 
	when I realized that many parts of who I am could be brought together in 
	work for children and their families. That's what I am the most: a man who 
	cares deeply about children."   He resolved to make television shows for children that 
	were better than what he saw, and soon went to New York to work in the 
	fledgling television industry. He started with NBC television as an 
	assistant producer for The Voice of Firestone and later became floor 
	director for The Lucky Strike Hit Parade, The Kate Smith Hour, and the NBC 
	Opera Theatre. The medium of television was wide-open: experimental, part 
	wasteland and part a medium for brilliant entertainment. Rogers is rarely 
	mentioned in the company of that era's great innovators-Sid Caesar, Jackie 
	Gleason, Lucille Ball, Steve Allen, Ernie Kovacs-yet in his way he is part 
	of that pantheon, for he changed children's programming forever. Along with Kukla, Fran and Ollie (which ran from 1947 to 1957), Rogers paved the way 
	for Sesame Street, the Muppets, Barney, and the entire world of children's 
	educational programming, yet Mister Rogers maintained its popularity right 
	alongside them. At its commercial peak, in 1985-86, Mister Rogers' 
	Neighborhood drew 8 percent of American households to its friendly environs.
	  "When I first saw children's television, I thought it 
	was perfectly horrible," Rogers once told Pittsburgh Magazine. "And I 
	thought there was some way of using this fabulous medium to be of nurture to 
	those who would watch and listen." Much changed in American family life 
	during the 33-year run of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, yet Rogers never 
	changed the basic format of his show. (He did, however, add many characters, 
	including several African-American and Latino characters.) The outside world 
	changed greatly, but the Neighborhood remained timeless. The characters 
	Mister McFeely (named for Rogers' adored grandfather, with whom he spent 
	much time as a child), Lady Elaine Fairchild, King Friday XVIII, Daniel 
	Striped Tiger, X the Owl, and others-remained his lifelong co-stars and 
	companions. He barely seemed to age in all those years. And his message of 
	universal respect remained as meaningful in 2001, when the show aired its 
	last episode, as it did when it began in 1968. The program stood out for its cast of well realized characters, but above 
	all for its quiet. Children were mesmerized by the tinkling of the trolley, 
	the songs (Rogers composed more than 200 of them, including the show's 
	theme), the soft-spoken exchanges between Rogers and the other characters, 
	and Rogers' earnest discussions about things that children are concerned 
	about. Most television shows and commercials are loud and call attention to 
	themselves, but Mister Rogers' Neighborhood was like hanging out in your 
	living room with your mild mannered and loving uncle. Rogers' signature move 
	came at the beginning of each show, when he made himself comfortable by 
	taking off his suit jacket and leather shoes and putting on his sweater and 
	his sneakers, while singing, "Would you be mine, could you be mine, won't 
	you be my neighbor?" He subtly invited the viewer to be comfortable, and in 
	fact Rogers said that he saw the show as an extension of his daily life, not 
	a separate interlude.
 In his three decades on the air with Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, Rogers 
	wore more than 24 cardigan sweaters. "My mother made a sweater a month for 
	as many years as I knew her," Rogers said. "And every Christmas she would 
	give this extended family of ours a sweater. "She would say, 'What kind do 
	you all want next year?' Then she'd say, 'I know what kind you want, Freddy. 
	You want the one with the zipper up the front.'' Despite the show's 
	saccharine reputation, Rogers did not close his eyes to the rise of a 
	divorce culture or avoid difficult topics on his shows. He brought a new 
	emotional frankness to children's programming. Children have heard-many of 
	them for the first time--open and direct talk about divorce, conflict, 
	adoption, religious faith, and death from the kindly, comforting Mister 
	Rogers. During the Persian Gulf War, he made a series of public-service 
	announcements telling parents how to talk to their children about war. No 
	wonder the Village Voice once lauded him as the only authentic father figure 
	on television. “I think children appreciate having a real person talk with 
	them about feelings that are real to them. Why have two generations of 
	children watched our programs? I'd say that's why," Rogers said.
  Rogers was born on March 20, 1928, and grew up in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, an 
	industrial city near Pittsburgh known for steel production, machine parts, 
	tools, industrial ceramics, and Rolling Rock beer. He lived alone with 
	doting parents until they adopted a daughter when he was 11, and he spent 
	much of his time quietly, playing with puppets and making music. Even then, 
	he and his family created an oasis of calm in a harsher environment. It is 
	no wonder, then, that Rogers charmed the tough Rollins football players who 
	sometimes would intimidate the Rollins music students. "He was a very 
	likeable person, very gentle," remembered Hap Clark '49, one of the football 
	players-many of whom, like Clark, were World War II veterans. "He had 
	feelings for everybody, even the mean football players. The music students 
	would cross the street to avoid us when we came down the street. Fred and I 
	were joking about it last year, at our last Reunion together in March. I 
	apologized. I said if I was ever mean to him, I was sorry. He laughed. He 
	got a kick our of that." Despite his "tough" image, Clark always attended 
	Rogers' piano recitals during their time at Rollins. Clark noted that all 
	three of his children grew up watching his former classmate, and he joined 
	them as an adult. "I watched the show, sure. It was so laid back. Fred had 
	some wonderful ideas about trying to help people live a better life," he 
	said. Rogers actually spent a year at Dartmouth before transferring to 
	Rollins, where he found a quiet, peaceful place to hone his music and 
	intellect, while still finding time to have some fun. He studied music 
	composition, and his studies in philosophy and religion inspired him to 
	consider the ministry. He received the Canadian French Scholarship Award and 
	participated in numerous organizations and activities, including Alpha Phi 
	Lambda, Chapel Staff, After Chapel Club, French Club, Student Music Guild, 
	Chapel Choir, Bach Choir, Welcoming Committee, Intramural swimming, and Pi 
	Kappa Lambda. 
 At Rollins Rogers met his future bride, Sara Joanne Byrd Rogers '50, a 
	fellow music student who went on to become an accomplished concert pianist. 
	They married in 1952 and had two children, James (born in 1959) and John 
	(born in 1961), and they remained devoted to each other their entire lives. 
	Joanne has been memorialized forever as Queen Sara in the Neighborhood of 
	Make Believe. "Before he was anyone's icon, he was my icon," Joanne said. "I 
	always have seen the wisdom and the quiet intelligence that's there...It's a 
	kind of goodness and thoughtfulness that would have been quietly there but 
	never known about if not for the media." Mary Wismar-Davis 76 '80MBA related 
	her feelings about an incident that took place during a Rollins Reunion 
	alumni concert about a decade ago. "Fred was playing the piano for a large 
	audience of alumni when Joanne, whose flight had been delayed, walked into 
	the room. He immediately stopped playing, jumped up, excitedly ran over, 
	gave her a big hug and kiss, and told her how happy he was to see her. It 
	was such a beautifully spontaneous moment of affection and love between 
	people who had been married many years, and it didn't matter to Fred that 
	the room was filled with people. That's when I truly saw that the TV Fred 
	Rogers and the real-life Fred Rogers were one and the same."
 
 After graduating from Rollins, Rogers did a two-year apprenticeship in New 
	York, then returned to Pittsburgh to help develop The Children's Corner for 
	a new public television station, WQED-TV; the nation's first 
	community-sponsored educational television station. While developing this 
	program, Rogers pursued his original goal and attended the Pittsburgh 
	Theological Seminary. He was ordained a Presbyterian minister in 1963, the 
	same year in which he moved briefly to Toronto to make his on-camera debut-a 
	15-minute program called Misterogers. In 1966, he returned to WQED and 
	turned the show into the half-hour Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. The show 
	debuted nationally in 1968 (the same year as Laugh-In, the year of 
	assassinations and riots) on the fledgling National Education Television 
	(NET), which became the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS). The following 
	year, it won tw
  o George Foster Peabody Awards for television excellence. The 
	rest is history, as Rogers became one of America's most recognized 
	personalities and won a plethora of awards and recognitions, four Emmys 
	among them. He has a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame, and on New Year's Day 
	in 2003, in his last public appearance, he joined Bill Cosby and Art Linkletter as co-Grand Marshal of the Tournament of Roses Parade. As 
	Pittsburgh Magazine noted, it would take 25 pages to list all the awards 
	Rogers has won, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2002, the 
	nation's highest civilian honor. 
 Rogers, of course, would be embarrassed to see such a list. A shy man who 
	never thought of himself as a star or celebrity, his success was merely a 
	means to the greater end of educating and nurturing. His family, his 
	friends, the people he worked with, the people who knew and loved him, knew 
	that the gentle, decent man who appeared on television every day was the 
	real thing. "It takes a great deal of courage to be yourself," said Mister 
	Rogers' Neighborhood associate producer Hedda Sharapan. "Fred Rogers would 
	say, 'All I can give is my honest self' He was even willing to let the world 
	see his vulnerabilities, to see when he couldn't learn something quickly ... 
	He's given us all more courage to be our honest selves and to appreciate our 
	own humanness." A former real-life neighbor of the Rogers, Jessica Reavis, 
	made a telling point in her commemoration for Time, saying, "The most 
	remarkable thing about Mister Rogers was nor that he loved children, 
	although that was apparent to anyone who observed him even for a moment. 
	It's that he respected children, not just for their ability to amuse or 
	inspire, but for their intellect, their inherent sense of right, and their 
	penchant for honesty." Rogers was open-hearted enough to love children 
	unreservedly, but he went beyond that. He was humble enough to learn from 
	them and grant them a respect rarely accorded by adults. Elsie Hillman, a 
	trustee emeritus of WQED Multimedia, summed him up in this way. "Mister 
	Rogers. What a gracious man he was. Never pretentious but always there. A 
	teacher but never a lecturer, a man of wit and wisdom full of compassion and 
	patience. How could anybody be so perfect? He would not want us to believe 
	that he was perfect. He wanted to be one of us and for us to like him just 
	that way, not to revere him. Fred Rogers made us feel good about ourselves 
	because he seemed to understand us and to really love us. It was not a 
	pretend, 'in your face' kind of love, but an in-your-heart kind of love."
 That legacy of unconditional love that is so hard for most people to give is 
	Fred Rogers' parting gift to his intimates, the Rollins community, and the 
	millions of people who ever tuned in their television to listen to this 
	unusual and remarkable man. He found his passions early in life and was able 
	to translate them not only into a successful career, but to communicate them 
	creatively in ways that affected the lives of people allover the world. In 
	the midst of the Cold War, in 1987, Rogers took the extraordinary step of 
	appearing on Russia's longest-running children's television program, and 
	later welcomed that program's host into the Neighborhood.
 
 As a Rollins student, he was inspired by the phrase "Life is for Service" 
	that is engraved in marble and mounted on the wall of the loggia near Strong 
	Hall. He wrote it down on a small piece of paper and carried it in his 
	wallet throughout his life as a reminder (in later years, a framed photo of 
	the plaque given to him by Rollins music department director John Sinclair 
	sat on his desk). Rogers gave his life to that homily. So many of us are 
	better for it. "I received a package in March from Fred's production 
	company," Sinclair related. "I had once shown Fred my cufflink collection, 
	and he particularly admired one pair, so last May I gave this pair to him at 
	his 50th wedding anniversary party in Pittsburgh. In the package I received, 
	sent to 'Cufflink Collector Extraordinaire,' were the cufflinks I had given 
	him, and written in Fred's distinctive handwriting were the words 'Thanks 
	for letting me borrow these for a while.' "Not only is it typical of the man that he would think 
	of others during his final illness, but what a beautiful attitude. If only 
	everyone thought of their time on earth as 'borrowing it for a little 
	while.'"
 
	                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             
	- Bobby Davis
 "Frankly, 
	I think that after we die, we have this wide understanding of 
	what's real. And we'll probably say, 'Ah, so that's what it was all about.'"-Fred Rogers '51
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