Life in Bloomington, Indiana

Joseph B Kingsbury moved to Bloomington, Indiana at the end of summer 1946 with his wife Kitty and their two boys, my father, Bryant Kingsbury who was 14 at the time of the move and Preston Deane Kingsbury who had just turned 10 in August that year. The family had lived in Chevy Chase, Maryland (just on the edge of Washington, DC) before the move and that was also where Kitty and the boys lived when JBK was in Tehran, Iran for most of 1944.  

The moved marked the beginning of JBK’s career as a professor of Government at Indiana University, returning to university teaching after many years in government service and working for a private consulting firm. In an early account from this time JBK writes: 

October 31, 1946 –We have been in Indiana 2 months. The country is charming, the weather has been beautiful and warm, the faculty and townspeople easy to get along with. The boys like school better than ever before and seem to have more friends than they did in Chevy Chase. I could be happier than ever before but Kitty seems determined not only to wreck herself, but to take us all with her.

 This is the first account in a file labelled “KBK” in my grandfather’s neat, distinctive print. The file is an inch thick with letters, both typed and handwritten, mostly from JBK documenting four years of Kitty’s drinking habits and bizarre behavior. There’s no benefit to blogging about the details, other than to say they provide a lot of insight into what my father and uncle lived through and leave me even more amazed than ever about my grandfather’s patience and resilience.  

I’ve read through most of JBK’s letters before but I always find something interesting that I missed the first time. Today’s tidbit comes from a letter in the KBK file dated May 17, 1949 in which JBK analyzes his behavior to evaluate the merit of Kitty’s claims that he is responsible for all of her unhappiness.  

I love it for his succinct but accurate description of the Kingsbury and Bush families. When I think about my Kingsbury and Bush ancestors who moved to Iowa in the early to mid- 1800s I tend to lump them together under the labels – religious, hard-working pioneers; strong, mid-western stock; salt of the earth. It’s interesting to read JBK’s perspective on the differences between the two families and his perspectives on self-analysis. 

I don’t know anything harder to do than see ourselves as others see us. Too much introspection is like a disease; I know, because I suffered with it between the ages of 12 and 30, and I have been trying ever since to get over it. But when we are in a cold war, with no referees and no rules, I had better examine myself as critically and objectively as possible and see if I am as right as I think I am. I have no illusions that I can see all my faults, but I shall make an honest attempt. This is my story and it is bound to be one-sided. If I bring you in, it is because it is impossible to leave you out. We are still husband and wife. I shall not go back into history any more than is necessary to explain the present situation. 

It would be foolish to deny that I am still influenced by my parents and early life. I am the product of two rather different families, the Kingsburys, Vermont and Iowa farmers; hard-working, thrifty, puritanical in their religion and morals, undemonstrative, but capable of genuine liking for and kindness to people. The Bush family were more sensitive, imaginative, humorous, and demonstrative, more intellectual in their interests but equally devout in their religion. I was brought up to believe God punished wrong-doing, and the Bible and the church were necessary to keep one straight. I was 25 years old and in graduate school before I had serious doubts that the Bible and the church had all the truth. Then I reacted rather bitterly against churches, but I guess I never lost my fundamental religious nature and never will.  

In my reaction against early piety and strictness, forbidden pleasures became very alluring: smoking, drinking, gambling, forbidden books, women, etc. That was the Prohibition era and the gay 20’s when many young people lost their inhibitions. I had a short and very unsatisfactory affair with a high school teacher in St. Louis – aside from that I was terribly innocent and ignorant of women and quite content to be a bachelor. When I met you, I was beginning to see that bachelors usually turned into queer, selfish, old-maidish persons, and I didn’t want to get that way. The thought that a girl as young, beautiful and sophisticated as you could be interested in me was exciting and flattering.

 Of the early days of their relationship he writes: 

I suffered tortures between the time I met you and the time I asked you to marry me – and milder hell from that time until we were married. My natural caution told me not to, and my study of Sociology told me we were too different to get along well. My newly awakened gambling spirit and my physical desires said “do it.” In the end I think my decision was rational. I convinced myself that I could get along with anyone and you were a very desirable creature.

I will always think of the first 5 years of our married life as happy ones. I was proud of your beauty, your social poise, your hospitality, your initiative, your hard common sense, and many other qualities. I thought it was a case of two quite different people supplementing each other’s lacks and proving that common likes, values and traits were not necessary to successful marriage. We did have some good times those first 5 years, and we were proud and happy when the first baby came.

 Hope I’ve left you wanting more – I just can’t get enough of my grandfather’s writing. I never knew Kitty, but from reading his letters, I get an image of what she was like.

 

Baby Bryant – 1932

My erratic posting schedule belies my scattered train of thought. I want to be more disciplined but at 60 I don’t think that’s likely to happen. I could fool myself and think – “if only I weren’t working full-time, I’d have more time for  . . . ”

I have always had too many things that I want to do. Consequently, manythings don’t get done. Rather than struggle against the stigma of lack of discipline to be overcome, I think I need to embrace it. You get what you get when you get it – I do what I want when I want to. Ahhh… liberating.

Is it a Kingsbury trait – or just me? I look at pictures of Joseph B. Kingsbury and read his wonderfully written contributions to the family letter and review the many things he accomplished, and I doubt my lack of focus comes from him. (But perhaps his influence has something to do with the many interests and activities I pursue.) Maybe from Kitty Bryant – his younger and more impetuous wife? Who knows – it doesn’t really matter.

I need to be working on taxes but the H&R Block page won’t load so I might as well take a minute (or 60) to share some of these adorable photos of my father as an infant. The dates are noted in JBK’s neat handwriting on the back or in the margin. The first two are from August 21, 1932, which would make my father just 9 days shy of 3  months. The one with Kitty, on the far right, is dated July 30, 1932, which makes him exactly two months old.

 

I have a copy of my father’s birth certificate so I know he was born in Bethesda, Maryland. I’m guessing Kitty was at home with her parents in Washington DC as the time for his birth approached because Joe and Kitty never lived in Bethesda. From his federal job application, I know that JBK was teaching government at St. Johns College in Annapolis Maryland from  September 1928 to June 1936. During his summers, JBK often worked for E.O. Griffenhagen & Associates, a Chicago consulting firm that did accounting and personnel studies. He was working for them when he and Kitty got married in January 1928 and their married life began in Columbus, Ohio.

From his letters to Kitty before they were married, I know that his job consisted of interviewing various state agencies and compiling salary surveys and personnel reports in an effort to equalize pay grades within state government. This work took him to such exotic places as Boston, MA, Hartford CT, Columbus, OH, Richmond, VA, Sacramento, CA and East Lansing, MI.  He must have been in Hartford the summer after Bryant was born because this photo is labelled “Hartford 1932.”

I’ll end this post with one last photo of baby Bryant and his mother Kitty, which I believe was taken at 304 Rittenhouse Street, NW, Washington DC – the home of Kitty’s parents, Herbert and Elizabeth Bryant in August 1932. Stay tuned next time (no telling when that might be) for some even more adorable baby photos of my father.