The President's Errant Brother
(Everybody called him "Bunny")
Screen 1 of 3Most of a cadet's military-school education (class work, military training, and related activities) is carefully planned, well organized, approved in advance by appropriate officials, and scheduled in considerable detail. Information about this part of the school experience is published in catalogs and made available to prospective students, their parents, and others requesting it.
Another part of one's education at a military school, however, is acquired in other ways--ways not scheduled, planned, approved, supervised, or publicized. And yet this part is sometimes far more memorable.
What I learned from and about "Bunny" Richmond at Kentucky Military Institute is a good example of the unplanned and unpredictable portion of my year of education at that school. "Bunny" was a brother of Colonel Charles Richmond, president and major stockholder of the Institute in the 1920's and 1930's.
About a month after school began in the fall of 1928, my two roommates and I were informed by the commandant that the fourth sleeping bunk in our barracks' room was soon to be used on a temporary basis by "Bunny." Having a fourth person assigned to this large room was neither unexpected nor unreasonable, since we had two double bunks and two large desks with study spaces on both sides; but having a non-student as a roommate--particularly since he was the president's brother who turned out to be some twenty years older than most of the cadets--was both surprising and disappointing to us. We certainly did not welcome this prospect, but we did not register a protest, since a protest by cadets in those days would have been tantamount to expulsion. So we just decided to wait and see what would happen.
Later that same week, "Bunny" came to our room during the evening study hour. We responded to his quiet knock with a rather formal, "Please enter"--the phrase ordinarily used when a staff officer was expected. (More flippant and less complimentary responses were given when we thought other cadets were about to intrude.)
When the door opened, we saw a medium-size man, perhaps in his late thirties, carrying a shabby, brown-leather suitcase in one hand and a crushed felt hat in the other. Hanging loosely over his shoulder was an old but once-elegant topcoat, much too thin for late-fall and winter weather in Kentucky. His baggy tweed suit badly needed pressing, and the soiled collar of his shirt was held together somehwat askew by an obviously expensive but wrinkled tie. He seemed to be very tired and somewhat embarrassed by this awkward situation.
He stepped into the room, set down his suitcase and introduced himself. When we showed no surprise at his announcement, and after we introduced ourselves courteously, it became evident to him that we already knew he was the president's brother and that he was to be our roommate. This development cleared the air somewhat, but he was still ill-at-ease, as he laid his topcoat and hat on the suitcase.
With some apology, we offered him the only unused chair in the room--a very old one with a high, straight back and a cane-bottom seat. Like the other three chairs, it projected an image of stern austerity befitting a military school. "Bunny" sat down for a few minutes, but we did not talk for very long, partly because we had studying to do, but also because we did not have much to talk to him about under these circumstances.
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