Frank M. Kinney, Jr., was born on Christmas Day in 1924 in New York City, to Frank Martindale Kinney, Sr., and (Natalie) Gladys Clarke Kinney, who brought him home to New York City, soon to move to New Jersey, where he was raised. As for Gladys--a businesswoman in the fine jewelry trade, unusual at that time—Frank Jr. was indisputably her darling. Frank Senior was a widower with grown children when he married Gladys, and another child had not necessarily been a part of his life plan. To have remarried and produced a child at his age was not considered in the best of taste--so to ease the social awkwardness, Frank Jr. was required to refer to his half-siblings as "aunts" and "uncles," and grew up feeling that he had a lot of proving to do to gain his father's attention and respect.
He started young, distinguishing himself in the church choir, where his father also sang, eventually outshining him with the development of a powerful baritone singing voice of rare richness, which everyone always felt could have been his key to fame and fortune "if only show business wasn't so risky."
Frank Jr. was introduced to the Y.M.C.A. by his father at about the age of 12, where his natural sport revealed itself to be swimming, where he not only excelled, but won in event after event, at meet after meet; and with discipline and dedication that were unusual for a school kid, he amassed almost an embarrassment of competition-swimming medals. By the time he graduated from West Orange High School in 1943, there was talk of him making the swim team for the next Olympics--but suddenly World War II had reared its head, and the "next Olympics," which had been scheduled to be held in Germany, were canceled. Although Frank Jr.'s swimming prowess had earned him a scholarship to Rutgers University, it had also made him very fit--and therefore instead of being college-bound upon graduating from West Orange High School in wartime, he quickly found himself keeping company with Uncle Sam in the 8th Army Air Force.
On leave from pilot training at a base in Minnesota, Frank singled out Eileen Berger, a native of St. Paul. After a brief courtship, they were engaged. He was disappointed to be dropped from pilot training due to his equilibrium not recovering sufficiently from barrel rolls, and he was soon posted in Ipswich, England, in a bombing squadron that dodged German buzz-bombs on the ground and then took to the air to give them a taste of their own medicine. He finished his military training in the mechanical maintenance of P-38 aircraft, and was often taken aloft on bombing missions to photograph where the bombs landed.
Back home, his romance continued, largely by mail--even the engagement ring!--and upon his Honorable Discharge in 1945, Frank and Eileen had a candle-lit wartime wedding. Their oldest daughter, Sue, made her appearance in time for their first anniversary.
After the war, Frank's quick--and some would say, corny--jokes, along with his competitive work ethic to satisfy the customer at all costs, made him the quintessential salesman for his era. To those who groaned at his jokes, he offered this advice: "Don't change your material--change your audience." In 1950, the family moved to the Northwest; son Steve was born in 1951, and they eventually settled near the airport in south Seattle. Frank's natural sales skills enabled him to provide a comfortable living, and in 1955, a second daughter, Barbara, completed the family.
The Kinneys were a typical postwar family of the 1950's and 60's: vacations were road trips to National Parks with the children squabbling in the backseat--frequently punctuated by the classic cliché, "Don't make me turn this car around!"--or camping trips, often with another family, disrupting the quiet hush of the pristine Spirit Lake, long years ago, before it disappeared with the eruption of Mt. St. Helens. The grownups sat up laughing, talking--and cocktailing--for hours around the campfire, after the kids had been packed off to sleep. But Frank was always first up in the morning to put on the coffee and get breakfast under way.
Anyone who knew Frank would agree that he was a genuine US Grade-A HAM, always the instigator of practical jokes. After years of working on the road and eating big, rich restaurant meals, Frank's physique had shifted from the streamlined swimmer to the more "big-boned" fellow that most would remember. And he took every opportunity to show off that incredible singing voice of operatic quality, so he participated in community theatre groups wherever they lived, and when Frank and Eileen went out for an evening, it was usually to a restaurant with a piano bar, where the piano player quickly became second-banana.
As the girls grew older and less interested in camping trips, Frank continued to take Steve and a friend for weekends of camping and fishing, repeating the role of his own father--organizing and packing for the trip, up at the crack of dawn, frying bacon and flipping pancakes. And he repeated this father-figure role again in the lives of his two oldest grandsons, Rod and Craig Britten--Sue's sons--providing them with stability and values from which they benefited as grown men with children of their own; and later on, as age and distance would permit, continued to foster the love of the outdoors with Barbara's son, Jake Derry.
Frank and Eileen had set one overriding goal in their lives: to see that each of their kids made it through college, since they had married too young to achieve that for themselves. Frank worked tirelessly, logging uncountable hours and miles, to make certain that dream came true.
Although they parted company during the "empty nest" years of their marriage, Eileen said, "Even after 40 years of marriage, I don't have too much bad to say about Frank." And although he moved more than an hour south and across the water from the family, Frank never stopped reaching out to them, and taking pride and joy in his grandchildren. An hour-and-a-half drive each way for birthday parties or sports events didn't phase him; if he could be there, he was.
Frank spent several single years just spinning his wheels, and these were the loneliest years of his life. In about 1986, Frank met Jan Gibbs--bringing him not only loving companionship, but a second family of young teenagers in need of a father's hand, and the opportunity to continue his aptitude for fathering and mentoring. He and Jan were wed in January, 1988. Frank very quickly became "Dad" instead of "Frank"--and all of their lives were better because of it.
In this second stage of his life, Frank re-examined his faith, and became involved with his church community, which gave him much pleasure and satisfaction; through the church, he distinguished himself in over 17 years of volunteer work with the Purdy Women's Prison--where many of the programs he implemented (to enable pregnant inmates to keep their babies with them while in prison) are still in use today and are even in use or consideration by other women's prisons around the country. These women have proven dramatically less likely to re-offend upon release. Jan worked tirelessly at his side; and when she was involved in her own charity projects, he reciprocated--even learning how to machine-embroider stacks of tee-shirts for impoverished children for missions in foreign countries.
Frank also joined the all-senior but very professional entertainment ensemble, "WOW" (or "Wrinkles on Wheels"), the Olympia-based entertainment group that finally enabled him to realize his lifelong dream of showcasing his great voice and showmanship. The group's traveling appearances were always sold out, and these years were truly the cherry on top of Frank's life. And standing behind him in this was Jan, who tailored all of his costumes with her own hands and made sure his appearance was impeccable.
In between projects and shows, Frank and Jan were able to do a fair amount of traveling, which they both loved, and Frank reestablished contact with his East-Coast Kinney cousins, discovering that there was a great deal more welcoming, familial love--together with shared memories of the past--to be found in that quarter, than he had ever expected. He had come full circle, finally understanding that he WAS very much a part of the family from which he had once felt excluded.
Jan and her children Annette, Scott and Stephanie—and later THEIR children--filled Frank's life with companionship and love; and Jan cared for him in his declining years. On November 3, 2009, Frank took his own advice, and moved on--taking his material to a new audience.
Jan retained Frank's ashes, with the possible plan of eventually settling them in the military Tahoma National Cemetery in Kent, Washington.
© November, 2009, Clair Josten Kinney
Frank M. Kinney, Jr., was born on Christmas Day in 1924 in New York City, to Frank Martindale Kinney, Sr., and (Natalie) Gladys Clarke Kinney, who brought him home to New York City, soon to move to New Jersey, where he was raised. As for Gladys--a businesswoman in the fine jewelry trade, unusual at that time—Frank Jr. was indisputably her darling. Frank Senior was a widower with grown children when he married Gladys, and another child had not necessarily been a part of his life plan. To have remarried and produced a child at his age was not considered in the best of taste--so to ease the social awkwardness, Frank Jr. was required to refer to his half-siblings as "aunts" and "uncles," and grew up feeling that he had a lot of proving to do to gain his father's attention and respect.
He started young, distinguishing himself in the church choir, where his father also sang, eventually outshining him with the development of a powerful baritone singing voice of rare richness, which everyone always felt could have been his key to fame and fortune "if only show business wasn't so risky."
Frank Jr. was introduced to the Y.M.C.A. by his father at about the age of 12, where his natural sport revealed itself to be swimming, where he not only excelled, but won in event after event, at meet after meet; and with discipline and dedication that were unusual for a school kid, he amassed almost an embarrassment of competition-swimming medals. By the time he graduated from West Orange High School in 1943, there was talk of him making the swim team for the next Olympics--but suddenly World War II had reared its head, and the "next Olympics," which had been scheduled to be held in Germany, were canceled. Although Frank Jr.'s swimming prowess had earned him a scholarship to Rutgers University, it had also made him very fit--and therefore instead of being college-bound upon graduating from West Orange High School in wartime, he quickly found himself keeping company with Uncle Sam in the 8th Army Air Force.
On leave from pilot training at a base in Minnesota, Frank singled out Eileen Berger, a native of St. Paul. After a brief courtship, they were engaged. He was disappointed to be dropped from pilot training due to his equilibrium not recovering sufficiently from barrel rolls, and he was soon posted in Ipswich, England, in a bombing squadron that dodged German buzz-bombs on the ground and then took to the air to give them a taste of their own medicine. He finished his military training in the mechanical maintenance of P-38 aircraft, and was often taken aloft on bombing missions to photograph where the bombs landed.
Back home, his romance continued, largely by mail--even the engagement ring!--and upon his Honorable Discharge in 1945, Frank and Eileen had a candle-lit wartime wedding. Their oldest daughter, Sue, made her appearance in time for their first anniversary.
After the war, Frank's quick--and some would say, corny--jokes, along with his competitive work ethic to satisfy the customer at all costs, made him the quintessential salesman for his era. To those who groaned at his jokes, he offered this advice: "Don't change your material--change your audience." In 1950, the family moved to the Northwest; son Steve was born in 1951, and they eventually settled near the airport in south Seattle. Frank's natural sales skills enabled him to provide a comfortable living, and in 1955, a second daughter, Barbara, completed the family.
The Kinneys were a typical postwar family of the 1950's and 60's: vacations were road trips to National Parks with the children squabbling in the backseat--frequently punctuated by the classic cliché, "Don't make me turn this car around!"--or camping trips, often with another family, disrupting the quiet hush of the pristine Spirit Lake, long years ago, before it disappeared with the eruption of Mt. St. Helens. The grownups sat up laughing, talking--and cocktailing--for hours around the campfire, after the kids had been packed off to sleep. But Frank was always first up in the morning to put on the coffee and get breakfast under way.
Anyone who knew Frank would agree that he was a genuine US Grade-A HAM, always the instigator of practical jokes. After years of working on the road and eating big, rich restaurant meals, Frank's physique had shifted from the streamlined swimmer to the more "big-boned" fellow that most would remember. And he took every opportunity to show off that incredible singing voice of operatic quality, so he participated in community theatre groups wherever they lived, and when Frank and Eileen went out for an evening, it was usually to a restaurant with a piano bar, where the piano player quickly became second-banana.
As the girls grew older and less interested in camping trips, Frank continued to take Steve and a friend for weekends of camping and fishing, repeating the role of his own father--organizing and packing for the trip, up at the crack of dawn, frying bacon and flipping pancakes. And he repeated this father-figure role again in the lives of his two oldest grandsons, Rod and Craig Britten--Sue's sons--providing them with stability and values from which they benefited as grown men with children of their own; and later on, as age and distance would permit, continued to foster the love of the outdoors with Barbara's son, Jake Derry.
Frank and Eileen had set one overriding goal in their lives: to see that each of their kids made it through college, since they had married too young to achieve that for themselves. Frank worked tirelessly, logging uncountable hours and miles, to make certain that dream came true.
Although they parted company during the "empty nest" years of their marriage, Eileen said, "Even after 40 years of marriage, I don't have too much bad to say about Frank." And although he moved more than an hour south and across the water from the family, Frank never stopped reaching out to them, and taking pride and joy in his grandchildren. An hour-and-a-half drive each way for birthday parties or sports events didn't phase him; if he could be there, he was.
Frank spent several single years just spinning his wheels, and these were the loneliest years of his life. In about 1986, Frank met Jan Gibbs--bringing him not only loving companionship, but a second family of young teenagers in need of a father's hand, and the opportunity to continue his aptitude for fathering and mentoring. He and Jan were wed in January, 1988. Frank very quickly became "Dad" instead of "Frank"--and all of their lives were better because of it.
In this second stage of his life, Frank re-examined his faith, and became involved with his church community, which gave him much pleasure and satisfaction; through the church, he distinguished himself in over 17 years of volunteer work with the Purdy Women's Prison--where many of the programs he implemented (to enable pregnant inmates to keep their babies with them while in prison) are still in use today and are even in use or consideration by other women's prisons around the country. These women have proven dramatically less likely to re-offend upon release. Jan worked tirelessly at his side; and when she was involved in her own charity projects, he reciprocated--even learning how to machine-embroider stacks of tee-shirts for impoverished children for missions in foreign countries.
Frank also joined the all-senior but very professional entertainment ensemble, "WOW" (or "Wrinkles on Wheels"), the Olympia-based entertainment group that finally enabled him to realize his lifelong dream of showcasing his great voice and showmanship. The group's traveling appearances were always sold out, and these years were truly the cherry on top of Frank's life. And standing behind him in this was Jan, who tailored all of his costumes with her own hands and made sure his appearance was impeccable.
In between projects and shows, Frank and Jan were able to do a fair amount of traveling, which they both loved, and Frank reestablished contact with his East-Coast Kinney cousins, discovering that there was a great deal more welcoming, familial love--together with shared memories of the past--to be found in that quarter, than he had ever expected. He had come full circle, finally understanding that he WAS very much a part of the family from which he had once felt excluded.
Jan and her children Annette, Scott and Stephanie—and later THEIR children--filled Frank's life with companionship and love; and Jan cared for him in his declining years. On November 3, 2009, Frank took his own advice, and moved on--taking his material to a new audience.
Jan retained Frank's ashes, with the possible plan of eventually settling them in the military Tahoma National Cemetery in Kent, Washington.
© November, 2009, Clair Josten Kinney
