Jonathan Worth Bingham
How often I hear from one of the participants in my memoir-writing workshop, “This isn’t for publication. It’s only of interest to my relatives.”
So I was particularly pleased when one of my most perceptive readers, Elaine Pinkerton, sent me this review, and I’m passing it along to remind us all how important our personal stories are for a wide audience. I especially like Elaine’s reminder that there is often a little brother in any family, not defined by age or family placement but by the fact that he is somehow, mysteriously, unconnected to the rest of the family. This can have dire consequences even for a young man as intelligent and well-connected as my little brother. Do look at Elaine’s website to learn about her books. — Sallie
More than a Memoir
“Again” is even sadder than “was” — it is the saddest word of all.”
— WILLIAM FAULKNER, The Sound and the Fury
Thus begins Sallie Bingham’s latest book, a powerful, poignant account of her younger brother Jonathan, his life and untimely death. Part of the prestigious Louisville, Kentucky Binghams the author depicts her family’s life, one of wealth, accomplishment and privilege. Jonathan, adored by his older sister, was of a loose thread in the tapestry.
The family comprised a socialite mother, an involved-in-politics father, and five children. The children were well cared for but seemingly not as consequential as the parents’ very important lives. Jonathan was born in 1942. His father, a friend of President Franklin Roosevelt, could not be around when his third son entered the world. Writes Bingham, “The birth of a third son could not compete with the possibilities unfolding for father.” It seemed, as I read on, often moved to tears, that Jonathan became an increasingly shadowy figure, part of the family but not really. The Binghams owned both the Louisville Courier-Journal and Louisville Times newspapers and their modus operandi was one of high-powered achievement and forward motion. Jonathan, it seemed, couldn’t keep up. It was at Harvard, his sophomore year, that the young man’s life appeared to begin unraveling. His biographer/older sister describes him as becoming “destabilized.” Jonathan dropped out of Harvard. When at home, he was moody and detached. He spent hours in the basement. He had, he claimed, invented “a cure for cancer.”
Jonathan was 21 and planning a party in the barn, a Boy Scout reunion. There was no way to have lights in the barn, so he decided to do it himself. He climbed an electrical pole, grabbed the wrong wire, and was immediately electrocuted. He joined what Ms. Bingham titles “the dreadful list,” close family members who’d died before reaching age fifty. The deaths, she notes, were often suicides.
Bingham gathered notes and diaries, interviewed Jonathan’s friends, and wrote Jonathan’s story as only a grief-stricken and caring relative could. She wrote it so that Jonathan’s brief time on earth would not be forgotten.
Her book Little Brother will remain with me for a long time. It is a sensitive, loving commemoration. Bingham’s story of Jonathan will resonate with any reader who has a “little brother” relative in the family, someone who is not quite connected. The memoir, in addition to being a poignant and beautifully constructed read, serves as a reminder to pay attention, to be kind, to notice.
—Elaine Pinkerton
Went to Louisville Country Day with Jonathan, where he was one grade behind me. Nice person and very intelligent. One never recovers from losing a sibling so tragically and so young.