was plain, even so, that Truman was not becoming the ordinary, masculine boy she wanted him to be. Coming from the South, she had known many boys, her brother Seabon included, who had proudly worn the uniform of a military-school cadet, and she reasoned that where she and the psychiatrists had failed, tough drill instructors and the company of other, more virile boys might succeed. Thus it was that after Truman had spent three years at Trinity, she decided to send him to military school. Joe argued with her, and so may have some of the teachers at Trinity. “How could she have been so insane as to send that boy to a military school?” asked one of them long after. “It was cruel, the last place in the world he should have been sent. I couldn’t believe it.” Where Truman was concerned, Nina always prevailed, and in the fall of 1936, shortly before his twelfth birthday, she registered him at St. John’s Military Academy, a now-defunct Episcopal school in Ossining, New York, about thirty miles up the Hudson River from Manhattan. Arch’s dream that his son should wear a cadet’s uniform was to be fulfilled, albeit three years later and in a different climate altogether.
Truman himself was excited, thinking more, no doubt, about the pleasures rather than the pains of such a place, about the opportunity he would have to ride horses rather than about the martial discipline. In a rare burst of enthusiasm, he wrote Arch that he would soon be attending a “wonderful Military school.” Once he was there, however, he quickly changed his mind, and it is impossible to imagine a boy who was less suited to a military education than Truman. He disliked wearing a uniform, and he was uncomfortable living in a dormitory. Although he made some friends, his fellow cadets were not so tolerant of him as the boys at Trinity had been, and they found a dozen ways to make his life miserable, including mocking his Southern accent and ridiculing his mannerisms. He was able to alter his accent; but his mannerisms neither he nor St. John’s could change.
If Nina had deliberately wanted to encourage his manifest homosexual tendencies, she could not, in fact, have chosen a better place than a military school. St. John’s did the exact opposite of what she thought it would do. The smallest and prettiest boy in his class, Truman was looked upon as sexual prey by several cadets—the tough, manly types he was supposed to emulate—and when the lights went out, he was occasionally forced into some stronger boy’s bed. As he recalled it, none of what took place beneath those sheets went beyond adolescent sex play—kissing, fondling, and “belly rubbing,” with him providing the belly and some bigger boy doing the rubbing. Still, the threat of coercion turned those relatively innocent sexual experiences into something ugly and unpleasant. “I was afraid of most of the boys at St. John’s,” he said. “They took sex very seriously. Instead of making me happy and secure, being chased after like that had the opposite effect. It was as if I were in prison. I’ve talked to a lot of prisoners and I know what it’s like. There is always some young pretty convict everybody is after.”
The end of the school year was the only escape from St. John’s, and Nina was not about to take him out before then. During the months he was there, she seems to have pushed him out of her mind, as well as her life. She was pregnant when he left home—probably another reason for her sending him away—and she had the shock and pain of another miscarriage while he was gone. Even so, she was inexcusably negligent. St. John’s was only an hour away from Manhattan, an easy journey by either car or train, but if Truman’s count was correct, she visited him only twice during the school year.
Once again he felt rejected by his mother, but this time he did not have Sook to turn to. He was isolated and intensely lonely in his expensive jail cell on the Hudson. The
Truman himself was excited, thinking more, no doubt, about the pleasures rather than the pains of such a place, about the opportunity he would have to ride horses rather than about the martial discipline. In a rare burst of enthusiasm, he wrote Arch that he would soon be attending a “wonderful Military school.” Once he was there, however, he quickly changed his mind, and it is impossible to imagine a boy who was less suited to a military education than Truman. He disliked wearing a uniform, and he was uncomfortable living in a dormitory. Although he made some friends, his fellow cadets were not so tolerant of him as the boys at Trinity had been, and they found a dozen ways to make his life miserable, including mocking his Southern accent and ridiculing his mannerisms. He was able to alter his accent; but his mannerisms neither he nor St. John’s could change.
If Nina had deliberately wanted to encourage his manifest homosexual tendencies, she could not, in fact, have chosen a better place than a military school. St. John’s did the exact opposite of what she thought it would do. The smallest and prettiest boy in his class, Truman was looked upon as sexual prey by several cadets—the tough, manly types he was supposed to emulate—and when the lights went out, he was occasionally forced into some stronger boy’s bed. As he recalled it, none of what took place beneath those sheets went beyond adolescent sex play—kissing, fondling, and “belly rubbing,” with him providing the belly and some bigger boy doing the rubbing. Still, the threat of coercion turned those relatively innocent sexual experiences into something ugly and unpleasant. “I was afraid of most of the boys at St. John’s,” he said. “They took sex very seriously. Instead of making me happy and secure, being chased after like that had the opposite effect. It was as if I were in prison. I’ve talked to a lot of prisoners and I know what it’s like. There is always some young pretty convict everybody is after.”
The end of the school year was the only escape from St. John’s, and Nina was not about to take him out before then. During the months he was there, she seems to have pushed him out of her mind, as well as her life. She was pregnant when he left home—probably another reason for her sending him away—and she had the shock and pain of another miscarriage while he was gone. Even so, she was inexcusably negligent. St. John’s was only an hour away from Manhattan, an easy journey by either car or train, but if Truman’s count was correct, she visited him only twice during the school year.
Once again he felt rejected by his mother, but this time he did not have Sook to turn to. He was isolated and intensely lonely in his expensive jail cell on the Hudson. The
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