CHAPTER 1
My Age of Innocence (1927–1941)
My life was destined to be different, in conflict with what was considered normal, at the far end of the normal curve. I would have to cope with how I was expected to live and how I wanted to live.
I was born a month earlier than predicted, on the cusp of Sagittarius and Capricorn, near the end of the Roaring Twenties and the beginning of the Great Depression. Although I don't believe in astrology, babies born on the cusp are thought to be influenced by both signs. Either way, I feel I was born to have a confluent life.
I either was anxious about getting started in life or wanted to arrive in time for the holidays, an early Christmas present. I was born December 21, 1927, a month earlier than expected, changing the holiday plans of a lot of people. Mother told me she had a hard time conceiving me and giving birth. We celebrated my first Christmas in the hospital because it was the custom in those days for a mother and child to remain confined for up to two weeks. I often tell people, "I cruised the doctor when I was born."
The entire family anticipated my arrival, my being the first grandchild on both sides of the family. According to my mother, I was a beautiful baby with curly blond hair who was doted on by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and family friends. I was named James Burton, James after my father and Burton after my maternal grandfather.
My mother had wanted a girl, and my father had hoped for a vigorous "all boy." I was an underweight, sickly child with feminine traits, not what my father wanted. My arrival didn't fulfill the expectations of either parent. However, Mother got closer to her wish than Dad.
My father worked, like his father before him, in the railroad yards of Chicago. He was over six feet tall and weighed over two hundred pounds. Hardworking and extremely strong, he was capable of carrying two locomotive air brakes, one on each shoulder, whereas an ordinary man managed only one. He was handsome, with bright red hair, and was faithful to my mother. He tried to be a good father and husband but had an uncontrollable temper.
His mother, my grandmother, had raised him under the tenets of the strict Reformed Presbyterian Church and didn't believe in playing cards, dancing, drinking, or having instrumental music during church services. I am not sure whether he completed high school, given that he was the oldest of five siblings. He had to go to work while still in his teens to help support his family. Mother told me he liked to read books about history whenever he had the chance.
Dad had a big appetite. He needed the strength to work at his job. Mother told the story of how her family had invited him over for dinner on several occasions when they were first dating and how, after they were married, he told her he had always eaten a normal-sized dinner at home before going to her family's house. She learned soon after their marriage to prepare three big meals a day for him.
Mother was of average height, slightly built, and beautiful. She was tomboyish, having to compete with two younger brothers. She completed high school, earned a certificate in journalism, and was planning a career as a reporter until she met my father. It was unusual for a woman to have such a certificate. Most women in the twenties were stay-at-home housewives. She published numerous articles and poems in the Chicago Tribune, in a neighborhood newspaper, and in various other similar publications during her lifetime, complete with bylines. Mother's family didn't attend church, and they drank beer and played poker almost every Saturday night.
My childhood changed with the birth of a second son nearly three years after I was born. Lawrence, nicknamed "Laurie," had red hair like our father and was a healthy, robust, and rambunctious child. He was just what my father wanted. His antics won the favor of family and friends. He was friendly, whereas I was shy, a trait that would affect me the rest of my life. Eventually, my father rejected me and focused on my brother. When Dad came home from work, he always picked up my brother. I began to resent Laurie. I gave up competing with him for my father's attention.
My father and I never bonded, although I wanted and needed his attention and affection. I couldn't bond with my little brother because I was jealous of the attention he received from my father. This began my lifelong feeling that there was something wrong with me.
My father's rejection during these formative years affected my entire life. I had few friends during grade school because I feared I wasn't acceptable for some reason. I became a loner at a young age.
I was a sickly child compared to Laurie. Chronic tonsillitis plagued me throughout the early years of my life, and because I was so unhealthy, the doctors advised my parents not to circumcise me right away. The circumcision was done when I was between four and five years old, at the same time that my tonsils and adenoids were removed. I was sore at both ends, not quite sure what had happened to me. The family gave me a lot of attention until I recovered, after which Laurie again became the center of attention. My health improved after the surgeries, and I became a more active child. I'm not sure which cut of the knife did the trick.
I was quiet compared to my healthier brother. Rather mischievous, he challenged both parents by always getting into things. When we were punished, he got over it right away; I didn't. I was told I was too sensitive, a virtue I didn't understand until later in life. The belief that my father favored Laurie was confirmed by a major incident when I was disciplined by my father.
Dad was driving our 1930s family car, Mother was in the passenger seat, and Laurie and I were in the back seat, acting up as siblings often do. My father got angry and told me to stop teasing my brother. He swung his right arm back over the front seat and hit me. In those days, there were no seat belts or headrests to restrain him. This was a shock for a five-year-old; he hit me so hard, for the first time, that he made my nose bleed. I had intermittent spontaneous nosebleeds for many years afterward. Convinced he didn't like me, I stopped trying to gain his favor.
Mother later related to me how she had protected me on other occasions from being beaten by him when he became angry at something I had done, even though I tried not to provoke him. This and other incidents made me a "mama's boy."
My parents were able to make a down payment on a modest bungalow on Chicago's south side. They were the oldest children on both sides of their families, the first to marry and to have a home. It was during the Great Depression and Prohibition. Their home became a hangout for their brothers, sisters, and friends because Dad made...
