Sleep was a futile undertaking for Rattler Nation last night as we learned that Florida A&M University (FAMU) President Emeritus Frederick S. Humphries had passed away at the age of 85.
While there will be fond remembrances and numerous encomiums written and spoken in the weeks ahead about a life very well lived, I submit that reading literally thousands of “Humphries Era Rattler” retrospectives on social media last night and this morning has filled me with an indescribable joy in realizing that my own life was made better over the past 36 years due to his enormous influence on the Hobbs family.
I was heading to 8th grade at FAMU High School when the Humphries Era began at FAMU. Soon thereafter, both of my parents would work for and become life-long friends with Dr. Humphries and his dearly departed wife, Antoinette, with my father, Charles, directing the FAMU Housing Department for several years before being named Chief of Police (where he served until his passing in 2000), and my mother, Vivian, serving as an English and Humanities professor and within several administrative capacities, most notably as the coach of what “Hump” always lovingly called his Honda Campus All-Star Challenge quiz bowl team—the winningest in competition history!
During the Summer of ‘85, I befriended his younger son, Laurence, at a Jack and Jill retreat; Laurence would enroll at FAMU High that Fall, and our friendship would remain throughout our matriculations at Morehouse College and beyond!
Now, the first time I saw President Humphries up close and personal was during Homecoming ‘85 as the famed Marching 100 received the coveted “Sudler Award” from the John Phillip Sousa Foundation—becoming the first HBCU Band so honored! What struck me as I and my FAMU High bandmates stood at attention on the sidelines was how tall and large the president was—and I was instantly in awe of his booming voice as he spoke to a standing room only crowd at Bragg Stadium.
This backdrop gives proper context to what I wrote last night on Facebook: “President Humphries was a giant of a man—standing about 6'7—and he was a basketball star during his student days at Florida A&M. But what I will NEVER forget is that he was a brilliant scientist who LOVED academic competitions—and all things that celebrated Black intellectual prowess—as much as he adored sports!
As a rather tall and large young Black man who was far better at quiz bowl than playing linebacker during my high school days, I will never forget how President Humphries made being a nerd super cool as he sat cheering in the front rows at #HCASC quiz bowl tournaments, or handing out "Life Gets Better" and other scholarships to talented young Black students during the "Golden Era" at Florida A&M University—one that included the school being named Time/Princeton Review College of the Year in 1997.
I use the word "legendary" from time to time in my writings...perhaps too much... but it truly applies to President Frederick S. Humphries, a man who, if ever there becomes a Mount Rushmore for Black educators, deserves to have his image carved and enshrined along with Booker T. Washington, Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune, Dr. Benjamin E. Mays and other academic luminaries hailing from the Black community!”
My post elicited numerous responses but one in particular, written by my old FAMU High schoolmate (and current FAMU computer science professor) Dr. Jason Black, reinforced President Humphries as “Nerd-in-Chief” on a campus filled with brilliant professors and young scholars!
I would be remiss if I did not note my regret in never telling President Humphries how much his visionary and bold advocacy meant two decades ago to a young lawyer and writer who observed his indefatigable efforts to fight back against systemic racism in the Florida educational hierarchy. During the same Golden Era of which I write above, President Humphries had to fight each year to ensure that the Florida legislature and Board of Regents funded (and treated) FAMU with the respect that it deserved. Whether it was battling for dollars to modernize and construct new facilities in the 80s and 90s, or the ‘97-98 “tiered system” battle that saw racist wolves in sheep's clothing seeking to limit FAMU's ability to expand into a full fledged research university; or, his unyielding efforts to get a new FAMU School of Law funded only a few decades after Jim Crow era Florida closed FAMU's original law school (and shipped its books and supplies two miles north to a brand new law school built at predominantly white Florida State University—where some books remain to this day), President Humphries fought back with words and deeds in a way that only unapologetically Black men and women can do, particularly when said men and women are endowed with razor sharp minds and zero concerns about the critics in the arena who do precious little to advance the cause of mankind.
Such was the President Humphries that I knew and loved and while his loss is one that cannot be easily weighed, his life is one that we all should emulate within our own spheres of influence!
Requiescat in Pace, Mr. President…
A deserving tribute and historical connection for you. He would indeed be proud of you...
Rest in love, Dr. Humphries. He certainly touched many lives, including mine as the mother of a Rattler ... as a person who would stop and share with me his life story and proudly explain the narratives for meaningful shifts in our thinking to aid all HBCU educators, supporters and more. Thank you for this piece.