Two days after I turned sixteen on November 20, 1963, I was returning to Falls City High School from our noon lunch break. My friend, Carol Malick, had come to my home to pick me up in her car, and we had picked up a couple more girls along the way back to school. When we arrived at the school we were just about to pull into the parking lot when I heard something on the radio that caught my attention. I said, "Quiet!" and turned the audio up. I'm not sure we really believed what we were hearing, but I remember sitting there in the car totally stunned. I don't recall that we exchanged any conversation at all. The newsman was reporting that John F. Kennedy, the President of the United States, had been shot in Dallas, Texas, and was rushed to a hospital.
My next memory is of sitting in the library adjacent to the Study Hall area at a table close to the front of the room. The tables were filled, though I don't remember how much of the Study Hall was occupied. We had all been required to go to our classes for that hour, but I think there were some in with us that had chosen to listen to the reports there. The school intercom system was broadcasting from a radio station all the moment by moment reports coming across the wires. Other than the radio blasting the awful news, there was silence. No one spoke. The teachers sat motionless at their desks. I watched the clock on the wall and listened, praying for the words that we would not hear, that he was alive, that he had come out of surgery and was doing well.
I was sixteen years old, and I was enamoured with my President of the United States and especially with his wife. John Fitzgerald Kennedy and Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy were young and beautiful and fashionable people who had become leaders of our great nation. I simply loved them for those reasons. Politics meant nothing to me then, only their image. I remember visiting at my brother's home the summer before and reading all the movie magazines that my sister-in-law had bought. I even bought some with my own money. Anything that had a picture or an article about Jackie Kennedy I devoured. She was beautiful and glamorous, and I wanted to know everything about her. She was a well-spoken, sophisticated woman, with the softest voice I had ever heard. President Kennedy was handsome and charming and a gifted speaker with a pronounced New England accent. I just couldn't get enough of this marvelous duo.
I believe that many teens of my era were as in love with the Kennedy's as I was. Young people of the 60s generation were idealistic and rebellious of the established way of life. The expectation was that John Kennedy and his administration would make the changes for America that would begin a new era of freedom for minorities, namely the black Americans, and for all to live in whatever manner they chose. Affluence was a sign of detestable weakness to the youth of the 60s, strictly to be avoided. No one seemed to notice that the name Kennedy was the epitome of wealth and power.
That Friday all those idealist dreams came crashing in front of us. But, for the moment, sitting in that school library, we listened over and over to the announcers rehashing the events of the morning. The President, First Lady and their entourage had deplaned at what seems like was about 9 that morning. There had been a convoy of cars, including a car with the governor of Texas, John Connolly, in one, and the president, Mrs. Kennedy in the back seat of that car. They were riding in an open convertible. I believe they were initially to take another route through downtown Dallas, but for some reason the plan had changed. I don't recall if this had any bearing on the outcome of the day. But, these were the kind of reports being broadcast over and over as we waited and waited for what seemed like hours, but, in fact, it was less than an hour that we were finally to hear the worst.
I can't tell you exactly the words, but what I remember is that the voice was of a most mournful man telling us that President Kennedy had died and been pronounced dead at 1p.m. The room, as with all the nation, erupted in the most awful, sinking feeling. Tears and disbelief filled our world. Our hope was gone, dead, pronounced dead at 1p.m.
I believe I went to another class soon after, history class. But I'm also almost sure that school was dismissed before the end of the school day. I went home and parked in front of the TV. We listened for the rest of the evening to the same facts repeated. I should remember it all word for word, but it is all a blur. Only one fact remains in my memory, and I hesitate to repeat it. But it is in my memory. It is also a reminder of the gravity of attitudes that were rampant then, and still are, in our country. It is the reminder of hate.
