Johnny Mathis: A born crooner

"Chances Are" that when you think of Johnny Mathis coming to sing at Casino Rama Thursday and Friday, you'll start out by getting "Misty" and wind up feeling "Wonderful, Wonderful".

For more than half a century, Mathis has been providing a devoted public with what he does so well: pouring out that woodsmoke and honey voice of his until anyone with a heart is bound to melt.

"Music has been the thing that propels my life," he begins, speaking over the phone from his California home. "I'm thankful for the gifts that I've been given and for the parents who encouraged me from the start."

John Royce Mathis was born in Gilmer, Texas, on Sept. 30, 1935. His parents, Clem and Mildred, moved to San Francisco when he was very young and supported themselves by working at a variety of domestic jobs.

But Clem, a gifted singer in his own right, had other dreams that he never got to fulfill.

"Pop was a wonderful entertainer, a self-taught pianist and an amazing vocalist," recalls Mathis with evident fondness. "He taught me all the songs that he knew once I got to the age of 5. All my earliest recordings were tunes that he had helped me learn years before.

"He sang constantly, when we were out fishing and hunting on the weekends. I still remember how, when he got off work, as soon as he walked in the door, with his work clothes still on, he'd sit down at the piano and unwind for a bit."

It took Mathis years to realize it, but "I finally came to understand that Pop was helping me to get the career he couldn't have. He got married when he was 17 and mom was 15. Then the kids started coming – all seven of us – and he had to worry about putting bread on the table, not a song in his heart.

"He got me a teacher right away, as soon as it became obvious I could sing, and he encouraged me on every step of my journey."

Mathis pauses and continues a bit wistfully. "You know, as I've gotten older, I realize that our voices are similar, absolutely. Every time I open my mouth today, I say, `God, I sound just like Pop!'"

The teacher that began instructing Mathis at the age of 13 was a classically trained woman named Connie Cox, who would give the young singer lessons in exchange for his doing a series of odd jobs around her house. "I thank her every day for those six years we spent together," says Mathis. "She taught me how to protect my voice and not abuse it. That's the major reason I've been able to keep going for so long, taking advantage of all the hills and valleys in this profession."

Mathis has nothing but happy memories of his early years, and he thinks that the place he was raised had a lot to do with it.

"Growing up in San Francisco was the best thing that ever happened to me. That society was so hip, so accepting of all kinds of people, that I was never really all that aware of my blackness. It certainly wasn't anything that ever got in my way."

Besides working on his singing, Mathis was a star athlete in high school, excelling in basketball as well as track and field. In fact, when he entered San Francisco State University on a scholarship in September, 1954, he was determined to become a physical education teacher.

"But then fate kind of hit me over the head with some ideas of its own," Mathis laughs. "There was this lady named Helen Noga who was a partner in this jazz club called The Black Hawk. She heard me sing and decided she was going to promote me.

"The next thing I knew, I was singing with all the great musicians who passed through her club: Miles Davis, Oscar Peterson, Dizzy Gillespie."

One of the people who dropped by The Black Hawk and heard Mathis sing was a jazz producer for Columbia Records named George Avakian.

"He liked my voice, but felt I needed some more experience and told me he'd be in touch again in about a year."

Mathis forgot all about that and promptly picked up the threads of his athletic career, advancing to the point where he was about to try out for the 1956 Olympics. "And that week, Avakian called me and asked me to come to New York and make some recordings," remembers Mathis. It may have seemed like a big decision for a 19-year-old guy to make: The U.S. Olympic Team, or Columbia Records. But Mathis admits, "I never had a moment of doubt.

"Music won out and even though I wasn't quite sure I was good enough, Pop thought I could make something of myself and told me to go for it."

It took Columbia a while to figure out how to use Mathis, because, as he admits, "I was a typical 19-year-old and sang every note as high and as loudly as I could."

But they sent him out on the road to get some seasoning and Mathis describes that period as "hard work, very lonely. One club on Long Island, I actually manipulated the lights with my feet and conducted the band behind me with one hand."By late 1956, Mathis had two big hits – "Wonderful, Wonderful" and "It's Not For Me To Say" – which started him off on a road he's never left.

Mathis has always kept his personal life private, and when US Magazine quoted him in 1982 as admitting his homosexuality, the publication later had to retract the statement.

But now, Mathis opens up more and admits that it wasn't the nature of his sexuality, but the whole concept of revealing it that troubled him. "It's always a struggle for a celebrity. They want to know everything about you, especially who you go to bed with. I've always been reticent and shy because Mom and Pop told me you just didn't discuss things like that.

"But times go on, there are different mores and things change. Once people get to know you, they're willing to be a lot more accepting."

Over the years, Mathis has known some tough times and, by his own admission, has been through rehab for both alcohol and prescription medication addictions, but can now say, "I'm happy with the way things turned out."

Asked if he thinks there's any secret to his amazing career, he recalls the time he asked his father the same question.

"`Johnny,' Pop told me, 'people just like to hear you sing.'"