I first met Russ and Winnie Kingman in 1972 at their store in Glen Ellen, California. But I had corresponded with Russ earlier, writing him at his office in Oakland's Jack London Square. He was just starting his Jack London Bookstore, running it on the weekends.

In June 1972 my friend Patricia Milan received a grant to study Harvard Project Physics at San Diego State University. I went along. Our first destination was a Jack London pizza party at Shakey's in Oakland hosted by the Kingmans. On the way we stopped in Glen Ellen. Finding the bookstore closed, we headed for the post office to inquire about Mr. Kingman. A portly man approached on the boardwalk. Looking him in the eye, I asked, "Russ Kingman?"

He took us through his museum. I was most drawn by a plethora of photos about the room, pictures of Jack and his world I had never seen before. Russ sold copies as well as books by and about Jack. He also bought books, of course. I had a couple boxes to sell. But we were a hundred dollars apart from a deal. As we talked about other things, Russ suddenly raised his offer by fifty dollars.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," I countered. "I'll take your first offer, but I want a copy of every photo you've got around here." A win-win situation, our deal illustrates Russ's fairness in book dealing and the ease one experienced negotiating with him.

Later at the pizza party, he introduced me to Jack's daughter Becky. Russ also showed Jack London starring Michael O'Shea, a wretched, blatant propaganda movie from World War II. London aficionados will find nothing to admire in this haute and insulting film.

The next morning Russ and Winnie took us on a day-long, red-carpet tour of the Bay Area. This experience demonstrates the Kingmans' generosity with their time and their graciousness to strangers. In the evening Pat and I took the Kingmans to the Elegant Farmer in Jack London Square. The vast and popular eatery was packed; in fact, the waiting line stretched out the door onto the sidewalk. Russ left us in the lobby and gave his name to the maitre d'. We were seated within ten minutes. It never hurts to eat with the director of Jack London Square.

Midway through the summer Russ called to invite me to an open house at his home in Oakland. Present were Sal Noto and his girlfriend Nancy Avery, Leonard Verbarg, Franklin Walker, and Earle and Betty Labor. In the afternoon Russ and I picked Earle up downtown. Russ took us to see Jack's Oakland houses. One interesting stop was the vacant field where the Oakland Street Railway once generated power for street cars. The only thing standing amid tar pools was the abandoned chimney. Shoveling coal, Jack was responsible for some of the black residue on the fire bricks lining its interior. Russ picked up a large stone and smashed in into the liner. Several courses fell. Each of us took a fire brick for a souvenir. This adventure illustrates the extremes collectors go to pursuing their passion. We willingly committed trespass and theft. And Russ Kingman was our ring leader. Before we met him, Earle and I were nice guys, mild-mannered, gentlemanly bibliophiles. Now we have tar on our shoes.

Pat and I enjoyed our summer in San Diego. It was, in fact, our honeymoon. We enjoyed it so much we decided to get married. The next time we saw Russ and Winnie was when they visited on their way to Vermont. They were living in a camper atop their pickup with a cat. Their visit gave me a chance to take them to used bookstores in Kalamazoo and Lansing. On one evening Russ proved himself a capable educator, giving a slide lecture for my friends, a group that included Jim and Sally McClintock from East Lansing. Jim wrote White Logic, an analysis of Jack's short stories. After all these years, it is still one of the best critical studies of Jack London. Michigan State University will soon reprint it.

In 1976 the Kingmans put together Jack's 100th birthday bash at the Sea Wolf Restaurant. Wanting to make the event memorable, Russ overdid it. He lined up too many speakers. I was one of them. Impatient at the number and length of speeches, I kept my remarks about Jack London ephemera below two minutes. Finally we got to the keynote speaker, Franklin Walker, who was also honored as "Jack London Man of the Year." Walker was a brilliant choice, in both meanings of the word. Dying of cancer, he was alive with wit, animated by the love of his subject. At the end of his speech, he said he always liked to remember Jack as the boy Johnnie in The Valley of the Moon, Johnnie in his boat in San Francisco Bay, sweeping his arm across the horizon and telling Saxon that's what he wants, the world and the liberty to explore it. Then raising his glass of California champagne, Walker said, "I give you Jack London, California's gift to our nation's bicentennial." Everyone joined in the toast, one of the memorable moments in Londoniana for this aficionado. Besides the best centennial celebrations anyone could have wished, the event illuminates another aspect of the Kingmans' protean dispositions. They selflessly organize events for Londonphiles and honor others' accomplishments.

As long as I've known them, they always put themselves out for others. Another example will suffice. When my wife Pat was fighting ovarian cancer, she went to Mexico for treatments. While visiting her sister Delores in Fresno, Pat drove up to the Valley of the Moon to see the Kingmans. Sleeping in their camper, they gave Pat their house and bed. I want to say thank you, Winnie, for taking such good care of my mate woman. And thanks for caring for Russ so long and so well. He could never have found a helpmate more meet for him.

--Richard Weiderman

I really wish I could answer your questionnaire. You see, I only saw Russ Kingman on two occasions. The first one was in 1986 when taking a granddaughter to see Jack London's place. Coming down the hill we stopped in at Russ's bookstore to purchase a book about London for my granddaughter. This was my first visit there. I was impressed by Russ's book and purchased one. In paying Winnie, who had been working quietly at her desk, I asked: "Who is Russ Kingman?" She replied, "He is in his office over there, go in and talk to him." I had no idea at the time that this unassuming lady was Mrs. Russ Kingman. In her place I would have proudly said, "He is my husband." I also was surprised that an author of his caliber, an authority on Jack London, would welcome a total stranger, as he did me.

After telling Russ that I was going to enjoy reading his book, I asked him what he thought of Stone's statement that London had committed suicide. As you well know that started Russ off on his defense of Jack London. I told Russ that I also did not think he committed suicide, and added that I was quite certain that Jack had not had yaws while on his cruise in the Snark. I believed London's sores were tropical ulcers and not yaws. Russ, of course was interested and wanted to know on what I based my opinion. After telling him that I had grown up in Brazil, had myself had tropical ulcers as a young man, that I had directed a joint American Peruvian government medical program on the Peruvian Amazon from 1942 to 1946, and that I had reason to have some knowledge of tropical medicine, Russ looked me right in the eye and said: "You write me a letter with your evidence, I'd like to know about this." I wrote, quoting chapter and verse from The Cruise of the Snark, describing tropical ulcer in detail, and comparing the medical picture of yaws to that of tropical ulcer. Russ replied, stating that he now agreed with me on the question of yaws versus tropical ulcers.

When, in reply to Russ's query "What were you doing in Brazil?" I told him that my parents had been missionaries, I had the feeling that Russ liked this. He told me he had been a Baptist preacher at one time and I sensed a feeling of kinship building up between us.

About a year later I was in the area again and dropped in to see Russ. On this occasion, I suppose because I was a physician, Russ told me he was having therapy for a prostate problem. I was very interested and asked questions. From this I was certain, although Russ never said so, that he had cancer of the prostate with metastasis to the bones. I was impressed with his equanimity, and wondered if he knew what he really had and what he was up against. Even today, with all the advances in medicine, cancer of the prostate, once it has metastasized to the bones, is fatal. The average survival, regardless of the treatment, is two years, with a few surviving to three years. Today's consensus among the real experts is that in case of cancer of the prostate that has metastasized to the bones it is best not to undergo any treatment and not add to the misery of chemotherapy or radiation therapy. The outcome will be the same.

I was very sorry to hear of Russ's problem, for I knew what miseries he was going to go through. I was impressed with his attitude and most curious about it. In our short acquaintance I had become aware that Russ was a brilliant person. As such, I would expect him to have queried his physicians and that he would know what was going to happen to him--and still--he never once, in our conversation at that time, or in the few letters we exchanged about the severe pains he was having in his low back, hips and legs, expressed any fear of the future, any indication that he only had a short time to live, or any indication that he knew the seriousness of his condition. Naturally, I would very much have liked to know if he knew, and just what his attitude was. Of course I did not dare ask any direct questions for obvious reasons.

Having had a number of patients with metastatic cancer of the prostate and helped them to obtain relief from the intractable pain, I tried to help Russ, even though he never asked for any help. However, once I suggested a medication, he seemed pleased at the attempt at helping him, and stated his appreciation. We tried a number of things, but sadly nothing seemed to help the pain very much, if at all. It just kept getting worse.

At this same time a good friend and patient was dying of the same condition. He was having similar pain as Russ was, and each time I saw him, which was at least twice a week, I thought of Russ and how he was suffering quietly and patiently.

I could not but admire Russ. He could sublimate his pain and write, by hand, letters to "his children." He could write me giving details that I asked for, but never utter a word of complaint, even though going from his office to his bedroom was slow and excruciating torture.

Russ had told me that he was working on a chronology of Jack London's life. I had no idea what a monumental work this was until I was surprised, flattered, and delighted to receive a copy of his Definitive Chronology inscribed:

For my favorite physician, Dr. Ed Westphal. This is just a partial repayment for all the nice things you have done for me, and for all the nice things you have been doing for over fifty years in many parts of the world.

With love, Russ Kingman.
Please note that this is our 51st wedding anniversary, Russ

The incredible gift and the letter brought tears to my eyes (still do), for besides good intentions I had done very little, if anything for Russ.

Because I was never around Russ or Winnie more than on the two brief occasions at Glen Ellen, that we exchanged only a few letters about medical problems, and that we had only a couple of telephone conversations, you can readily see that I cannot answer the great majority of your questions. I have no personal knowledge of Russ and Winnie's life together, or their relationship to Becky London. On my second visit to Glen Ellen, in answering my questions about his back pains, he told me that he was sure he had arthritis, the result of the backbreaking pick and shovel labor of excavating the hillside next to the bookstore in order to enlarge the building and provide a place for Becky London. I marveled at his and Winnie's kindness in looking after her for the rest of her life. I also marveled at Winnie's modesty when on the occasion of my first visit she sent me in to see the author of A Pictorial Life and did not say boastfully, "The author is my husband." On Russ's part there was no question of his devotion to Winnie, when in his letter when he sent me his Definitive Chronology he called attention to their wedding anniversary. His tongue-in-cheek comment in the preface, "The corrections are Winnie's, the mistakes are mine," is further evidence of his feelings about Winnie.

Ours was an all too short acquaintanceship, but it left me with a warm and unforgettable memory of Russ, an unusual and extraordinary person, humble, kind and warm-hearted, generous to a fault, and an expert at making others feel good about themselves.

--Edward A. Westphal

I first met Russ and Winnie when they came through South Carolina about 1982-1983; they were visiting Mike Bates in Chester. Mike invited me to Chester to spend an evening talking with them.

--Earl Wilcox

Russ and I had corresponded for several years before meeting in 1976. Annie, my wife, and I attended a conference at the University of the Pacific to celebrate the centennial of London's birth. A group of us gathered at the Jack London Bookstore. When Russ found out that we were leaving the next morning from San Francisco, but had no reservations for the night, he got on the phone and located us a place to stay close to the airport. Sal Noto and his wife were kind enough to drive us to San Francisco and to take us out to dinner. Russ went out of his way to help us as he made several calls before he was satisfied with the accommodations he had found for us.

--Hensley Woodbridge

Question: How would you describe Russ and Winnie's marriage?

About as good as marriage can get.

--James Bankes

As good as marriage can be . . . . It also occurs to me that Russ idealized it, just as he idealized Jack London's marriage to Charmian. In my opinion, his marriage was better than Jack London's because he and Winnie completed each other marvelously.

--Claude Chapuis

I found Russ every bit as good-humored and gravelly in person as he was in his letters, and was delighted to find in Winnie a charming counterpoint to his gruff candor. They were the best-matched couple I ever met.

--Loren D. Estleman

I felt their marriage was solid . . . in fact, exceptionally solid for two people who were together twenty-four hours a day. Most other cases of round-the-clock companionship would more likely than not erode the relationship after a time, but I saw no sign of any such erosion. I'm sure that during their time together there were discussions, strong disagreements, joys, and disappointments, but there must also have been respect, high mutual regard, and a strong foundation of love that held them together.

--Andy Flink

Winnie was busy looking after the bookstore and receiving telephone calls coming in for Russ, and I rarely saw them together. But, when Russ and Winnie were staying at our home in Fukuoka, my wife and I witnessed their close, warm, loving relationship. We learned that Russ was in pain most of the time because of his hip and legs. Winnie's care of Russ was natural and giving of herself. Winnie and Russ were always together. Without Winnie's support Russ could not have devoted so much time to Jack London research and to assist us in research.

--Haruo Furukawa

Their marriage had few rough spots. It was obvious that Winnie was always supportive of Russ during his other ventures, such as being a Baptist minister for twelve years. During Russ's failing years, Winnie took charge of his health by administering his daily pills.

--Richard J. Kuyasa

There was really a togetherness with them. Russ often stated how fortunate he was to have an understanding companion like Winnie; also a fine co-worker who shared his beliefs and goals.

--Victor J. Sabo

Russ and Winnie's marriage, from what we could see, seemed to be ideal. Winnie never seemed to mind working in the background, often nearly unnoticed, while Russ was out front in the bright lights. And at appropriate times--and often--Russ gave public recognition to Winnie's support. Russ could probably have still made great inroads in London scholarship without Winnie, but it would not have been as easy . . . and possibly not as wide-ranging. Russ drafted various items; Winnie typed. Russ lectured; Winnie ran the shop to keep the funds rolling in. And the best part: Winnie was also interested, and a great scholar in her own right. It is so much easier to accomplish things when both work together with the same interests and goals, and in support of each other.

--Dave Schlottmann

Russ and Winnie were absolutely devoted to each other. Very much in love, and a shining example of the silken bonds of matrimony.

--Victor R.S. Tambling