Neal E. Boyd: Growing up poor and talented in Sikeston

SIKESTON, Mo. — Neal E. Boyd's mother Esther Boyd knew from an early age that her son had a gift for vocal music.

Not long after his birth in November 1975, that gift, weaned on the classic rock and pop albums in his mother's collection — the Beatles, B.J. Thomas, Journey — and his own taste for Motown, was on display.

As early as first grade Esther noticed her son's singing ability.

"Mrs. Sikes [a music teacher at Sikeston[']s Lee Hunter Elementary] gave him a solo in first grade in the Christmas play, and he sang 'Little Lamb,'" Esther said.

He never stopped singing.

Neal belted out tunes constantly: "He would turn up the stereo and close his bedroom door and sing at the top of his lungs, and I used to tell him he was going to hurt his voice. Evidently he didn't," Esther Boyd remembers.

Esther turned up the TV in the living room to drown out her boisterous son.

Later, Neal would get turned on to opera by listening to Luciano Pavoratti while helping his older brother with a book report on the three tenors. He began imitating the famous tenor, and he was noticed by William Grega, a high school music teacher, who persuaded Neal to join the choir and develop his talent — a story well-documented in the local media and in Neal's bio.

From then on, most of Neal's time was devoted to music, and his path to national fame had its earnest start.

Growing up poor with one parent

Neal's father took off when he was young, leaving Esther to raise her two children alone.

"It wasn't easy, trying to raise two boys and give them everything I could possibly give them. They couldn't have a normal life, like most kids with two parents. It was hard trying to be mother and dad," Esther said in a recent phone interview from her Sikeston home.

"They didn't have the advantage of being able to go to the other parent and get their way," Esther joked. "They knew if mom said 'no' that was it."

Boyd and his older brother, Michael Boyd Jr., developed a close relationship with their mother. And despite growing up poor, the two boys grew up to be well-adjusted adults — Michael entered a career in journalism, while Neal pursued the development of his musical talents and worked as an insurance salesman.

Both boys played football, a sport that's next to religion in Sikeston. Neal was a lineman in junior high and high school, his large frame well-suited to moving bodies in the mayhem around the line of scrimmage.

Not only were the Boyds poor and the product of a single parent, but they were biracial children in Southeast Missouri — a place where traditional Southern culture is strong and many people sided with the Confederacy in the Civil War. In a previous interview Neal said growing up biracial was a challenge at times. Once, he said, another child at school asked him mockingly why his mom was white.

But if Neal and Michael had any struggles from their racially mixed background, Esther said they didn't show it, and others didn't give her any trouble.

"I don't think he really thought about it, because we didn't really have a whole lot of problems with that, here in Sikeston," Esther said. The people in the small town of Sikeston were gracious, she said.

And being without much in the way of money didn't bother the Boyds either. "If he asked for something and I couldn't afford it, he understood," Esther said.

Neal even became class president in high school, demonstrating that despite his socio-economic status and racial difference, other students didn't see him as an outcast.

Esther said both her sons are a contrast to her — they're outgoing, while she's very private. They played baseball, they took karate lessons, they hung out and spent the night at friends' houses. The Boyd boys were normal kids, growing up in a small town.

A community hero

In 1994, Neal graduated from Sikeston High School and began his college days at nearby Southeast Missouri State University in Cape Girardeau. He amazed his instructors and competition judges with his skill, and graduated in 2001 from both Southeast and the University of Missouri-Columbia. By that time he'd racked up a variety of vocal honors, including a performance at Carnegie Hall in New York City.

As he started to pursue graduate studies at Boston's prestigious New England Conservatory of Music, the community, including a man who became very close to Neal, stepped up to help.

Sikeston lawyer Dan S. Norton had met Neal while the singer was in high school. He took a liking to the young man's personality and was impressed by his talent. In 2002 Norton helped organize a concert in Sikeston to raise money for Boyd's graduate schooling after his first year at the New England Conservatory.

"We sold out the whole Methodist church," Norton said. Though Sikeston is small in size, Norton says the town has been known for its erudite nature, once boasting a notably high number of millionaires per capita. Neal's talent didn't go unnoticed in this Bootheel town, Norton said. He had become a town hero.

Trouble in Boston

At Boston, hard times struck — a vocal infection threatened Neal's singing ability and doctors told him he might not sing again. "It was very hard for Neal. It broke his heart that he thought he wasn't going to be able to sing again, because he loved that more than anything, being able to sing," Esther said.

Neal had to rest his voice and work his way back into singing.

Now he's bounced back, Esther said. "If it gives him trouble anymore he doesn't say anything about it."

To this day, Neal stays in touch with his mother and "godfather" Norton. Esther said he calls her at least once day.

But those who know the big tenor say holding friends and family close — and respecting strangers — is just part of who Neal is, as is his close connection to the small town where he grew up.

And today Boyd's story still creates plenty of buzz in Sikeston, Norton said.

"He's still the object of a lot of conversations around the village," Norton said. His appearance on "America's Got Talent" will only add to Neal's local legend.