By Edwin Cooney
It’s almost impossible to grasp that fifty years have passed
since the afternoon of Friday, November 22nd, 1963! By now, you’ve doubtless read and heard
countless accounts of where people were, what they thought and how they felt,
when they learned that President John F. Kennedy had been shot to death in
Dallas, Texas.
For those of us too young to remember the Depression or
either world war, Friday, November 22nd, 1963 was our equivalent of
the day the stock market crashed, the day Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and the
day Franklin Delano Roosevelt died all rolled into one life altering instant. On that day, practically every American
became a victim of the assassin’s bullets along with the president and his
family. Almost everyone old enough to have a grasp of national affairs
remembers where they were, what they were doing, and who and what was important
to them on that day. Even today,
fifty years later, I have a need to tell you what happened and what it all was
like for me. Exactly what makes me
want to do that is hard to articulate.
I suppose it is a measure of the shock and pain I felt –- and to some
degree still feel -- at the loss of a man I’d come to depend upon as part of my
sense of national identification.
My personal concerns that pre-Thanksgiving weekend included
the state of my love relationship with my then sweetheart Doris, the
celebration of my eighteenth birthday just six days away, how much I would
enjoy the on-campus smoking privileges my eighteenth birthday would bring me
and, finally, what the Yankees might do at the upcoming baseball winter
meetings under their new General Manager Ralph Houk and new Field Manager Yogi
Berra. Where the president was and
what was on his mind, I hadn’t a clue!
Jack Kennedy, as much as being our president, was an
attractive, energetic and knowledgeable young mentor who was suddenly and
literally snatched from our midst.
Almost every aspect of him that most of us were aware of at that time --
his handsomeness, his Harvard/Boston accent, his intellect, his wealth, his
Catholic faith, his large family, his beautiful wife and young children, his
quick wit -- gave him the aura of a young, athletic, contemporary adult
authority figure. Even if we
didn’t really know him, we thought we did.
Had he been killed while sailing or perhaps in an automobile
accident, as shocking and heartrending as that would have been, it might have
been more comprehendible! However,
to most of us, his murder was nearly impossible to fathom. “Why,” we demanded to know, “would any
American want to kill Jack Kennedy?”
(According to longtime speechwriter and friend Ted Sorensen,
the possibility of Jack Kennedy having an automobile accident was almost likely
if he were behind the wheel. In his 1965 book “Kennedy,” Sorenson reported that
if you were riding in a car with Kennedy driving, it was better to sit next to
him rather than behind him because JFK would invariably turn and face you to
talk instead of heeding the road and the speed limit.)
With all of the theories and explanations of his murder (the
Warren Report included), many of us who lived while he governed were not able
to reach a sense of finality or completeness about it all.
Shortly after 2:30 p.m. on that fateful Friday, I was
sitting in a typing class at the residential school for the blind I was
attending in Batavia, New York.
Suddenly our typing teacher was called out of class by our science
teacher. She came back and told us
that the president had been shot and was apparently dead. “Ah! Tell us another one,” I remember
responding. “No, kids,” she
responded, “I wouldn’t kid about a thing like that.” In the next few minutes,
we heard rumors that Vice President Johnson had suffered a heart attack as he
entered the Dallas hospital to which JFK had been taken.
News of the shooting came at the close of the seventh period
class and we still had a 46 minute eighth period class to get through before
the close of school. Our typing
teacher was our teacher for business law as well, which meant that we didn’t
have to change classrooms. It’s
unlikely that any of us really focused much on the 46-minute lecture on
business law which our teacher obviously felt obligated to present. It’s more likely that her heart really
wasn’t in it, but that the topic served as a coping mechanism for her own
feelings. Suddenly, the school day
ended and the weekend of watching, listening, and grieving began.
School let out at 3:36 pm. Irrational as it was, as the plane carrying Mrs. Kennedy,
the president’s body and LBJ approached Washington, D.C. some three hours
later, I imagined President Kennedy holding a news conference reassuring us
that he hadn’t been hurt during the shooting incident.
In my mind’s ear, I could hear his crisp Harvard accent
saying:
“Ladies and Gentleman, as all of you know, a shooting
incident occurred here in Dallas a couple of hours ago as I was riding through
the city to speak at a luncheon at the Trade Mart which was being hosted by
local Democrats. Rumors that I was
injured during the shooting are obviously untrue as you can tell.” (A nervous
chuckle of relief would be heard from the assembled news people at that point.)
The president would continue, “As I’m sure you’re all aware, an official
investigation of the incident is already under way and, as I am something of a
witness, circumstances don’t permit me to comment on it any further. All I’ll say at this point is that
incidents like this are invariably a part of serving in the presidency as the
experiences of Presidents Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley and even President Truman
all tell us. I’ll leave it there for now, but as I did some twenty years ago
when a Japanese destroyer caused my PT boat to dump me and my crew into the
South Pacific, I’ll certainly continue to meet my ongoing
responsibilities. Meanwhile,
Jackie and I will spend the night at the ranch of Vice President and Mrs.
Johnson and tomorrow I’ll head back to Washington to celebrate my little boy’s
third birthday on Monday and my little girl’s sixth birthday on Wednesday. In
closing, I want to express my appreciation to Governor Connelly, Senator
Yarborough, and Mayor Cavell, as well as to Vice President and Mrs. Johnson,
for their very generous hospitality to Jackie and to me during our stay here in
Texas.” More laughter mixed with applause would come from the news media as the
press conference closed and we would all feel better.
Alas, such wasn’t the case; it was only my illusion.
However, throughout that whole weekend, reality seemed as much an illusion as
illusion itself! Instead, over the
airwaves came the southern drawl of President Lyndon Baines Johnson over the
drone of jet engines at Andrews Air Force Base as he said:
“This is a sad time for all people. We have suffered a loss that cannot be
weighed. For me, it is a deep
personal tragedy. I know the world
shares the sorrow that Mrs. Kennedy and her family bear. I will do my best. That is all I can do. I ask for your help and God’s!”
So, there was no getting away from it! The unthinkable was too real!
That sunny Friday was followed by a rainy Saturday in
Washington D.C. and, back in Dallas on that Sunday, by violence to the
suspected gunman by a distressed nightclub owner. It was a weekend filled with
regrets and tears, by the dignity of a grief-stricken widow, and by a salute to
a daddy by his little boy.
Most of all, as was observed in one commentary on the
morning of Saturday, November 23rd, 1963: “America the Beautiful
awakened that morning stripped of her innocence!”
Friday, November 22nd, 1963 permanently left its
mark on most of our hearts.
Then, for you and for me, came all those tomorrows!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
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