Introduction:
For more than seven decades, Johnny Mathis has been celebrated as the velvet-voiced balladeer behind timeless classics like Chances Are, Misty, and It’s Not for Me to Say. With more than 360 million records sold, his career is one of the most enduring in music history. Yet, behind the elegance and romance of his voice lay decades of pain, silence, and struggles he rarely spoke about—until now, at age 89.
Born in 1935 in Gilmer, Texas, and raised in San Francisco, Mathis grew up in a family that valued music deeply. His father’s sacrifice—saving $25 for an upright piano that he rebuilt inside their tiny apartment—symbolized the unwavering faith placed in his young son. By his teens, Mathis was training under renowned vocal coach Connie Cox, bartering household chores for lessons. That discipline helped shape the smooth, soaring tenor that would later conquer the world.
But success was never simple. When he burst onto the national stage in the late 1950s with Wonderful! Wonderful! and Chances Are, Mathis’s music stood apart from the rock ’n’ roll era. While Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry electrified teenagers, Mathis became the voice of romance for those longing for something softer, more timeless. Yet his path was littered with obstacles few knew about.
On tour in the segregated South, Mathis faced threats so violent he was once warned he might be shot on stage. Terrified but determined, he kept moving as he performed, dodging potential bullets while singing the very songs that made him beloved. Even as he headlined venues in Las Vegas, he was denied the right to stay in the very hotels where he performed.
Critics mocked him too. Frank Sinatra dismissed him early on with a cruel nickname, and jazz purists derided his romantic ballads as “elevator music.” Yet Mathis never lashed out. Instead, he carried himself with dignity, letting his voice silence critics as song after song climbed the charts. In time, even Sinatra admitted Mathis was one of the greatest singers of his generation.
Behind the curtain, though, his life nearly unraveled. Introduced to so-called “vitamin shots” laced with amphetamines and leaning on alcohol to cope with the demands of fame, Mathis battled addiction that threatened his career. Salvation came unexpectedly when First Lady Nancy Reagan encouraged him to seek help at a rehabilitation center—an intervention he later called “the greatest thing that ever happened” to him.
Through it all, Mathis never stopped singing. His voice became the soundtrack of holidays with his beloved Merry Christmas album, the heart of romantic films, and the sound of resilience for millions who found comfort in his music.
Now, looking back at 89, Johnny Mathis has finally revealed the racism, the cruelty, the addictions, and the fear he endured. Yet his story is not defined by suffering, but by triumph. He remains proof that grace, talent, and perseverance can outlast hate, silence, and even time itself.