RECOLLECTIONS OF THE JFK ASSASSINATION
From members of the Gustavus community, 2003
If you would like to add your own recollections to this
collection, send an e-mail to Chris Gilbert (cgilbert@gac.edu)
or via campus mail to Box B-33. This
page will be updated for as long as new recollections are received.
Last updated November 21, 2003.
* * * * * * * * * *
I was at Oberlin College in a basement classroom in Peters
Hall (not unlike Old Main) taking a Philosophy 101 class. Memory is a
tricky thing. But I think I remember looking up and out the ground level
window and seeing some people gathering. Did I hear something? Did
someone have a radio on? Leaving class I met a small group and someone was
saying that Kennedy had been shot. My first reaction was one of
disbelief--it seemed impossible that a president could be shot--especially
Kennedy. Later I remember being with my
girl friend when we learned that he had actually died. She was
distraught and we spent a lot of time outside walking around, then just sitting
and trying to absorb it outside Hall Auditorium--all white, green shrubbery.
Classes were cancelled.
Rob Gardner
* * * * * * * * * *
Milt and I were on leave from Gustavus and living in Lawrence, Kansas, where
Milt was studying in the mathematics and computer science departments.
Our children were Jim and Jenny, 3 1/2 and 1 1/2 years old. We had enough
resources so that I was able to be at home with the children.
Jenny had gone in
for her nap and I was getting Jim ready for his nap while watching "As the
World Turns." The news came on television and I remember standing in
front of the TV, holding Jim, watching the news in disbelief.
Jim remembered the
time for weeks after that as an amazing moment, "the time Mama
cried."
Elaine M. Brostrom
* * * * * * * * * *
Before the Zapruder film was stolen and shown illegally on TV all over the
country (1975) thus making it legal forever, there was a deliberately blurry
version Jim Garrison was grudgingly given by the government on subpoena during
the Clay Shaw trial, which he hijacked and distributed.
In 1969, I saw the blurry version illegally in the basement of a parking lot at
Vermont and Sunset in LA in the middle of the night. There were about eight of
us. The guy who was showing it to us was Mike Farrell, who was making
refrigerator commercials at the time and later starred on MASH. In addition,
there were three or four guys in suits with lapel pins impossible to
decipher--while we watched the screen, these guys stood at the door and watched
us watching the screen. It was weird.
What was even weirder is that the movie stopped and froze on a frame and began
to burn and melt. You could see the picture melting on the screen and smell the
smoke coming from the projector. It was the only time I've ever seen that...
In 1975 I met a four star general named Penn Jones. We drank beer together in
his room. He told me he knew who had committed the murder and that half of
Congress did too.
In 1963 I was sitting in Drivers' Ed, when the rent-a-cop came in with a
transistor radio saying President Kennedy had been shot. The girl in front of
me was quite upset, but I told her don't worry, Kennedy would be okay.
Previously I had given her my drivo-trainer. I still know her today. She's
nice, but Kennedy is still dead.
I always believed the Oswald story until 1967, when members of the Warren
Commission said they had seen a picture of the Book Depository at the moment of
the assassination and that Oswald was clearly seen shooting from the
window--but that they were not releasing the picture because it was classified.
I have never lost interest in the case.
Rich Hilbert
* * * * * * * * * *
I was a student at Caltech when I heard the news that President Kennedy had
been shot. I have memories of the shock I felt when I heard the news, and
the daze I was in in the aftermath.
I don't think my experience at the time was unusual. But around the time
of the anniversary of that dark day in 1985, I learned something that did
strike me as unusual. I was Gustavus's exchange professor at Kansai
Gaidai that year, and in late November I was talking with the wife of the man I
played Go with. We conversed with some difficulty, because my Japanese
was not good, and she was not proficient in English. She told me that she
remembered the shock she felt on November 23, when Kennedy was shot. I
objected that I was sure that it was November 22. But she remembered it
clearly, because it was just at that time that Japan started receiving live
television signals from the United States via satellite. And, of course,
Japan is across the international date line from the U.S. What a shock it
must have been to the Japanese to have this window to the West opened up just
as the tragic events in Dallas were unfolding!
John Holte
* * * * * * * * * *
I was in 8th-grade biology class, dissecting a frog. Our group had been blessed
with a much larger frog than the other groups, so the organs were much easier
to identify. A girl in the next group was crying, but refused to say why. She
was not the sort of person given to crying, so I was curious. She was
apparently not allowed by the school administration to speak freely until an
official announcement had been made.
Next hour, in my English class, the teacher made the announcement. I remember
thinking that America was in a horrible mess, and that a significant hope for
the future had been lost.
Karen Larson
* * * * * * * * * *
I was in third grade at St. Patrick's Parochial School in
Clinton Iowa on November 22, 1963. I had finished lunch when some
students who had gone home for lunch returned to tell us that Kennedy had been
shot. I found it hard to believe but our teacher looked very serious so I
figured they weren't teasing. This was profound for our community because
Kennedy was our Catholic president.
Shortly after finding out about the tragedy, everyone in the school processed
the 1/2 block to the church and the principal began leading us in reciting the
rosary. We were about half way through when the church bell began
tolling. I remember not knowing what that meant, but as it continued the
principle stopped leading in the rosary, stood up, and walked silently out of
the church, silently followed by the rest of us. By the time I had gotten
outside I realized that John F. Kennedy was dead.
Michael Jorgensen
* * * * * * * * * *
That afternoon, I was driving from Cleveland, OH, to Erie, PA, in an old beater
that had no working radio. I noticed that the volume of traffic was lighter
than normal, and that most cars were going slower than the speed limit. When I
got to Erie, I stopped at Gannon College to look up some old friends, but the
campus seemed nearly deserted. As I walked from the parking lot to one of
the dormitories, a former roommate hailed me. After the usual exchange of
pleasantries, he said, "Well, I guess they really nailed Kennedy." I
hadn't a clue what he was talking about, and he gave me as much of the news as
he had heard. I was stunned. I went immediately to my girlfriend's house, two
hours before I had arranged to pick her up for dinner and a movie, and we spent
the rest of the day glued to the TV. For the next two days, we drove from one
friend's house to another, to another--there were groups of friends drifting in
and out of living rooms all over the city, migrating from TV set to TV set, as
though somewhere there might be a message that it had all been just imaginary,
that the president could be shot by a sniper who could be caught so quickly at
a movie theater where he had shot a policeman, and that he in turn would be
shot before our eyes as we watched through that gray television window (most
people didn't have color TV at that point). And the discussions: every theory,
every speculation, every explanation anyone could imagine. We were all obsessed
with trying to understand how and why. We took refuge in intellectual exercises
based on too little information, we were so emotionally numbed. I don't
remember anyone crying until the funeral, where we all did, even those of us
who were conservative Republicans. Whatever we thought of his politics, we had
all been affected by the Kennedy magic, and suddenly the magic had evaporated,
and we were ashamed at having laughed at all the previous years' jokes about
Camelot and PT 109.
John Rezmerski
* * * * * * * * * *
In 1963 I was a student at the gymnasium in Karlshamn
in southern Sweden. I rented a room from an elderly widow, Mrs.
Ohlsson. My favorite subject was history, particularly American history.
I don't know if I had already begun planning to study in the US after
graduating, but AMERIKA was often on my mind. My Chicago relatives
had visited the parental farm in the summer of 1962. I remember hearing from
them - they were staunch Republicans - that Kennedy was not to be
trusted. But they knew my interest in history and the US so they kept me
supplied with books and clippings from newspapers. In 1964, for instance, I
received None Dare Call It Treason, probably intended to cure me of my
youthful aberrations. But that's a different story.
Kennedy was well liked in Sweden. Many had followed the presidential
campaign, worried with him and the world during the Cuba missile crisis, and
talked and talked about his "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech. And
pictures of the Kennedy family were more common in the Swedish press than those
of our king and queen and Tage Erlander, our prime minister.
Friday, November 22, 1963, was a test day at school. It was "composition
day." The students were given ten-fifteen topics from which they had
to choose one and then write for four-five hours, first a rough draft in pencil
and then a final draft in ink. I probably selected a topic supplied by my
history teacher. I almost always did. Perhaps I even wrote about
American history. When I came home to my room I turned on my transistor radio.
Curiously there was no talking, only classical funereal music. I knew
what that meant. Something serious had happened, someone important had
died. That was when Swedish radio suspended regular programming and
played classical music, music of mourning. I don't remember how
long I had to wait to find out what had actually happened, but when it came it
came in the form of a brief bulletin. No outpouring of emotions, no
lengthy speculations, just a bulletin and more serious music.
Swedish schools had Saturday morning classes until the mid 1960s. I must
have gone to my classes, but I can't remember a thing about talking with
teachers or other students. But I do remember standing on the platform at
the Karlshamn train station in the mid-afternoon, waiting for the train to take
me back to my home in the woods for a Sunday visit. News bills with ugly black
letters - JOHN F KENNEDY DD - hung on pillars. Everyone on the
platform and in the train was quiet, everyone was reading newspapers. Pictures
of John F. Kennedy and the motorcade in Dallas were on the front page of every
paper. Soon speculations began.
Roland Thorstensson
* * * * * * * * * *
I was teaching at the University of Nigeria as a member of
the Peace Corps. President
Kennedy's assassination took place during the noon hour in Dallas, which was
early evening in Nigeria. We did not have telephones, so I got the news
from a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, who ran down to my house after he heard
about it from the Voice of America on short-wave radio.
Kennedy was extremely popular in Nigeria and elsewhere in Africa. The
univeristy students were upset, believing it was a political killing—the
assassination took place in Vice-President Lyndon Johnson's home state of
Texas, and was followed a day later by the killing of Kennedy's assassin, Lee
Harvey Oswald, while he was in police custody.
Much of the Nigerians' image of America at that time had been shaped by cowboy
movies, which they often believed was a contemporary picture of the United
States. The front-page headline in the local newspaper the day after
Kennedy's assassination read "Kennedy Shot in Wild West."
The students were relieved that I and the other Peace Corps Volunteers would be
staying on, since they assumed we would be heading home after the
assassination--we were "President Kennedy's Peace Corps."
Don Ostrom
* * * * * * * * * *
I remember it like yesterday. I was a freshman at
Oberlin College. I was in my early afternoon German class, and a
prospective student and her mother came to class. They spoke up and told
us that JFK had been shot in Dallas, and that it was on the news. We
continued with German. After class finished, I went over to the Snack Bar
to see if anyone knew anything, and the place was pretty empty. I went
over to the dorm and found people watching TV quietly. A leftist
"friend" of mine said that conservatives "like you" had
shot him. I punched the guy in the face and broke his glasses. He
later forgave me. There was a memorial church service in Finney Chapel
that evening at which hymns were sung and tears were shed. It was hard to
keep up on the news due to the scarcity of TV sets around campus, but when I
got home for Thanksgiving I caught up. My brother and father watched
Oswald get shot on live TV and were amazed.
Larry Potts
* * * * * * * * * *
On that day in November, 1963, Faith and I (newly married
and 20 and 21 yrs. old) were walking downtown in Kobe, Japan, when strangers began
bowing to us and expressing condolences. Our Japanese language was still very
rudimentary, since we had only arrived in Japan the previous July on a three
year teaching contract. After about 15 minutes, a Japanese with English
proficiency explained that President Kennedy had just been shot in Dallas. We
immediately hailed a cab and rushed back to our home to watch the Japanese TV
coverage. We were glued to that continuous coverage for the next several days,
which included the killing of Oswald. Our country seemed to be falling apart
and we felt so far away.
David Wicklund
* * * * * * * * * *
My memory of that day is still so vivid. I was a
senior in high school. We had an AFS exchange student from Chili. I
sat next to her for almost all my classes, as we were really good
friends. When we got the news, we were in Social Studies class, she
looked at me and started crying and said, "At the end of the school year,
our AFS group was going to Washington, and we were going to meet the Great Mr.
Kennedy." We both cried.
Side note: I'm still sad that our generation was cheated out of the great
things he could have done for our country.
Carol Lawrence
* * * * * * * * * *
I was 10 years old and home sick from school watching
television. I remember hearing the news bulletin and then calling my mother
into the room. She didn't believe me. At first, it was thought that he was only
injured, but soon the announcement of his death was broadcast. I think I
actually saw the Cronkite broadcast live. Oddly enough, I have always regretted
being home from school on that day as my memories of the event are of being
alone. Since I was sick, I couldn't go out to find out what happened in
school or what the other kids experienced. In those days, there was no thought
of grief counseling for kids. I just sat in the television room all by myself
for hours watching the events unfold. I don't remember anyone crying, but I do
remember being glued to the television all through the weekend. My uncle and
aunt came over and the adults discussed the various options of who might have
been behind the killing. In our house, the most likely culprits were thought to
be the communists.
Steve Griffith
* * * * * * * * * *
At the time JFK was assassinated, I was a junior in High
School. Our football team was playing in the state championship in
Metarie, Louisiana; and I traveled with my father and brother to see the game.
We first heard of the assassination when we stopped at a Holiday Inn in Metarie
to get directions. I heard a broadcast on the television in the lobby
talking about "the President being shot." At first, I thought
it was a documentary on either the McKinley or Garfield assassination. (I
had not imagined JFK.) However, when I saw the broadcast and heard place
names, the truth struck home. My father had business downtown, and every
merchant had their radios tuned to the news.
My most vivid recollection was watching the 6:00 news with my aunt. To
this day I can hear Jim Garrison (the DA of Orleans Parish at the time) saying
that he knew the assassination was a conspiracy centered in New Orleans and he
was going to prove it. In fact considering his reputation as a showboat,
the timing of his statement, and his tone and demeanor; his claim had little to
no credibility. (Note: The only indictment was against Clay
Shaw. Even law enforcement officials with no love for gays claimed at the
time that Garrison had trumped up the charges against Shaw because he was gay.)
Oh, by the way, our High School played its football game that evening in a
heavy rain. The score was tied 7-7, but we lost on penetration. The
starting quarterback for our High School died three years later in Viet Nam.
Glenn Barnette
* * * * * * * * * *
I was in the 10th grade and had just come back
from the noon hour to begin afternoon class, and was greeted with the news by a
teary-eyed Miss Walker, my Latin teacher. I don't really
remember any specific reaction from the class, except for the general
shock. Although it almost seemed sacriligious, I remember seeing
"Lawrence of Arabia" either that evening or the following
evening. It helped get our minds off the horrible event.
Jim Welsh
* * * * * * * * * *
I was a junior at Hamline University (St. Paul), the day
John Kennedy was shot and remember vividly walking into the student union
Friday morning for a cup of coffee and seeing a group of students huddled
quietly around a TV in one corner as the news spread in whispers through the
room that someone had shot the President. Unable to vote in the 1960 election,
I had nevertheless followed the process closely because like many of my age I
was fascinated by the young candidate who seemed to speak for us as over
against the representative of the old Eisenhower administration, so all I
remember of my immediate reaction was an overpowering sense of sorrow, a
feeling that the floor of the known was falling out from under us. I remember
the rest of the weekend as "dark," literally as well as figuratively,
as we stayed home in rooms lit only by the cold glare of TV screens: droning,
sober voices going over and over the accumulating details; drums and horses
hoves, and the strains of the Navy Hymn, which I still cannot hear without my
throat feeling tight. Other shocks followed (Bobby, MLK); only 9/11 compares
with 11/22, but the first shock (of many in our sad, troubled time) somehow
remains the strongest.
Claude C. Brew
* * * * * * * * * *
I was in fourth grade at a Catholic school (in the days when "the Catholic vote" was uttered seriously as a category; Jack was one of us, and it meant something). Sister Christina, who taught kindergarten,
raced around to all the classrooms on foot blurting
out the news, as white as her whimpple. Actually, she was telling the teachers, not us small fry, but she was so rattled we all heard. We were ordered to drop to our knees and start the rosary immediately. Barbara Fister
* * * * * * * * * *
I don't think I've ever put this story down on
"paper" before, although I have told it many times. It has a
preamble.
In the Spring of 1960 when I was six years old and not yet in school, I
was keenly aware of the buzz of national politics going on around
me. I am one of those Catholics who was told as a child how momentous an
occasion it would be if a Catholic were elected President of the United States.
The very possibility that a Catholic Senator from Massachusetts had a shot at
the presidency was a constant topic of dinner talk in our large and
extended emigrant family. I might add that the Catholics of Lancaster County
(Pa.) were surrounded by open, blatant and mean anti-Catholic rhetoric. I
distinctly remember my parents trying to hide from us the anti-Kennedy
pamphlets that were circulating at the time; not necessarily because we would
read them , but because of the cover art that depicted nuns and priests in
suggestive settings.
Given the setting, it was no surprise that when JFK came to give a speech in
Penn Square during the primary campaign, the Catholic school kids were given
the afternoon off to go downtown with their parents and loudly cheer. I
marched down King Street with my four brothers, sister and mother. My oldest
brother wore a huge, three inch campaign button (red white and blue with stars
and a black and white portrait of JFK in the middle), my sister waved an
American flag. My brother Leo made snide comments. We were far in the back of
the crowd on the southeast side of the square. I couldn't see anything but the
backs of tall people (this still happens to me often), so my brother Leo had my
climb up on his shoulders. He told me I had to because this man was famous. I
already knew that and already had expectations about what I would see, since my
brother Greg had a picture of the man pinned to his chest. To my great surprise
(and what I remember most) is the great shock of red hair that shone in the
sunlight. It was a brief, brief glimpse - one of those moments you think is
indelibly engraved on your soul, the reruns of which, however, always reveal
that something you thought was on the left side was really on the right and a
lot smaller. The hair WAS red, however and pictures prove it.
Kennedy's presidency was, for a Catholic pupil at St Anthony of Padua's
Parochial School , unknottingly tied to prayers, rosaries, masses and novenas
that he would rule wisely and with justice. The Cuban Missile Crisis was, for
us, just as much a Missal crisis.The death of a Kennedy baby was the catalyst
or explanations of "limbo." Imagine, then, the impact of the news
less than four years later, when Sister Marie Therese sent Richard Feister back
early from his piano lesson to tell us that Kennedy had been shot. At first,
our teacher, Sister Joan refused to believe it. She asked Richard twice,
"Are you sure?" and then left the room to confirm the news with her
the other nuns. Sister Joan discarded the lesson plan in favor of saying the
rosary. While we were in the middle of the middle decade, Tim Keilly came to
tell us that Kennedy had died. Tim was wearing a dark grey sweater. Sr. Joan
gasped out loud, which added to the confusion we fourth-graders were feeling.
They let us out of school early and, contrary to custom, our whole class left
by the girls' exit.
Over the next four days I spent many hours at our neighbor's house (they had a
TV) sorting out the military ceremonies, the criminal proceedings in Dallas and
the endless testimonies. I watched Lee Harvey Oswald get shot on TV. I was the
only on in the room. I had to run and tell my parents, who didn't believe me.We
had the whole week off from school, but went to a Requiem for the repose of the
President's soul sometime during that week. When we returned to school black and
white portraits of Kennedy draped with black crepe had appeared in every
classroom.
Denis Crnkovic
* * * * * * * * * *
When I came out of class on the afternoon of November 22,
1963, students were scurrying more than usual in the hall of the old Classroom
Annex (located between where the Student Center and Lund Arena are now).
A passing student reported that Pres. Kennedy had just been shot.
Stunned, I remember leaning for what seemed like a long moment against the
electric blue wall, a futile attempt to lighten up with bright paint that dingy
old war surplus building. Then I ran over to the "new" canteen
where students were crowded around the TV and confirmed that JFK had been shot
and taken to a Dallas hospital where he was reported to be in critical
condition. I ran home. (About 30+ years later, a former student told me
that he had been studying all night for a test in my Argumentation and Debate
class that was to have been given the next class period of that day,)
Like most everybody, we were glued to the TV. When we saw, live, Lee
Harvey Oswald shot at point blank range by Jack Ruby, I rolled from the sofa to
the floor. Our kids became cranky those days, not being able to watch their
cartoons on TV. After four days, our emotional exhaustion was finally
relieved when we went as a family for a long walk in the woods, kicking dead
leaves on a crisp, sunny November afternoon.
Bill Robertz
* * * * * * * * * *
I was living on Mountain Home Air Force Base, Idaho, with my
husband and three children under the age of three. We had arrived just
the previous year in time to be grounded on the base during the Cuban
Crisis. When that time was over I was glad that I had not had to be
evacuated to the mountains with other women and children since it was only a
little time prior to giving birth to my youngest son.
I remember a friend calling and telling me the news of the assassination early
that day. The baby was content in the baby buggy,
the older children were playing, and I remembered that John John was just the
age of my oldest son. It was numbing to think that a President could be
assassinated. What could follow?
I can still see the telephone on the wall in the dining area and looking out
the window, the day was gray and windy. I imagine the pilots were
immediately put on alert.
A sad time.
And I still wonder about it all.
Judith Gardner
* * * * * * * * * *
This is what I remember about JFK assassination:
In a big white farm house in central MN I was not happy because for some reason
cartoons were not on TV and my parents kept watching TV. I also remember
that my mother received a thank you note for the sympathy card she sent to Mrs.
Kenndy and I believe that she has kept that thank you note to this day.
Cynthia L. Favre
* * * * * * * * * *
This is one of those "where were you when..." (like first step on the moon, ML King assassination, OJ Simpson "parade in the white truck" etc). I was in the choir room in high school, listening on the radio as the drama unfolded and we stood in shock that someone would actually kill our President...oh for those naive days of presumed safety...even in the midst of a cold war we seemed to have the notion that civility would reign and personal attacks were bad form, at least in this country.
Steve Hogberg
* * * * * * * * * *
I remember sitting in the former canteen eating lunch with
Dick [former chaplain Elvee] - where the 3 Crowns room used to be -before the 3
Crowns Room, and hearing the announcement over the intercom. If I am
remembering correctly President Carlson made the announcement.
Of course everyone on campus was stunned and for 3 days we all sat in front of
our televisions. We had to borrow one from Ritt Electric as our old one
was not working.
Dick organized a service for later that day and faculty and students gathered
for prayer and homily and comfort from one another. It was all a bit
unreal and surreal.
Linda L. Elvee
* * * * * * * * * *
I was a senior at Cloquet High School (near Duluth), sitting
in my chemistry class, when the news came over the intercom announcing the
shooting. I immediately left school and drove my 1955 Chevy Bel Air
(yellow and white, 4 door sedan, with a lime green interior) to Radio Station
WKLK, 1230 on your AM dial, where I worked evenings and weekends as a disc
jockey.
I went up to the teletype machine. It read something to the order:
"-43w9e3j5 o34mm3o7 jhqw b33em wy95 8h
043w8e3h5n i3h3e6y qw wg33n w95 8n5e9qy
President Kennedy has been shot today in Dallas ... perhaps fatally.
It took three attempts to get the message out. The person sending the
message was so shaken, he/she couldn't get his/her fingers on the right keys.
It was the most difficult death I had experienced at that point in my
life. There have been countless others since!
Jack Niemi
* * * * * * * * * *
I was a senior at Washington Senior High in Sioux Falls,
South Dakota. Some of us got to leave class a few minutes early because
we were needed as "monitors" to guide traffic in a building built for
1800, now filled with 3000, students on double shifts. As I walked out
into the hall, Dick (now WHAT was his last name?), a rock-ribbed Republican
(who in South Dakota but me and Tom, a recent "immigrant" from Texas,
wasn't?), told me the President had been shot. I told him I thought that
was a very bad joke. My next class was civics.
My family and I watched TV all weekend. I recall especially these
things: Brahms' Requiem, conducted by Leonard Bernstein from NYC, and the
day of the funeral. The Navy hymn ("Eternal Father, strong to
save..."), John-John's salute, Mrs. Kennedy's gracious grief, the two
younger brothers--and so many, many world leaders (remember how tall Charles
DeGaulle looked?)-- walking behind the cortege and that restless, riderless
black horse....
I had rung doorbells for Kennedy in 1960. I still have a photo of my brother
John, 14, and me, 12, in those silly styrofoam campaign "boaters"
with the Kennedy-Johnson paper hatband. In 1984, in the midst of El
Salvador's civil war, I remember visiting an old woman whose husband had been a
schoolteacher. On a small bookcase next to her favorite chair were two
framed photos: one of her late husband, one of John F. Kennedy. I still have
that photo, too.
November 22, 1963, was the beginning of what was for me a decade-long
coming-of-age: through civil rights, Vietnam, Watergate, and the murders of
both Dr. King and Robert F. Kennedy. The other night, as I watched
(again!) the news footage of Robert Kennedy's victory speech at the Ambassador
Hotel--and what followed--I suddenly found myself sobbing as if my heart would
break. I cried for ten minutes solid.
Our task is to help keep hope alive...Let's see that we do it.
Mary M. Solberg
* * * * * * * * * *
I was teaching and coaching at UW-Stout and that day I was
attending the fall meeting of the conference football coaches at UW-Eau Claire.
At noon we ate at the cafeteria and I was going through the line with Link
Walker, coach at Eau Claire. As we were pushing our trays along we looked
up at the TV monitor located above the check out, and we heard and saw the
announcement of the shooting (at that moment the president was not announced as
being dead). The conversation in the lunch room became all about this
tragedy. I recall the afternoon meeting being cut short. The entire
University system was shut down early for thanksgiving week and all activities,
including athletic contests and practices, were postponed or cancelled.
This gave me a week to do nothing but sit in front of the TV. I watched
as Jack Ruby shot and killed Lee Harvey Oswald. I watched the proceedings
leading up to and the funeral of Kennedy. Time seemed to shut down for
those few days and I still remember the event clearly.
Dennis Raarup
* * * * * * * * * *
Althought hard to believe, it is true, I was in high school
40 years ago.
At that time - all students took a swimming class. For the boys - that
meant splashing about in the pool sans a swimming suit - as in buck naked.
The teacher - also the wrasslin' coach - walked out onto the end of the diving
board - blew his whistle - telling us to all assemble at the deep end of the
pool.
He was fully clothed - thank God.
So, you;ve got about 35 boys either hanging on to the edge of the pool or
sitting along the side - no clothes.
The teacher slapped his stomach - somewhat like George C. Scott in Doctor
Strangelove - then told us of Kennedy's death.
That's all he said - then told us there was 20 minutes left in the pool –
continue splashing.
The rest of the day was spent watching tv - no one really talked.
That evening, the fall senior class play went on as scheduled.
Pretty surreal.
Bruce H. Johnson
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I was in my sixth or seventh week of US Army basic training at Ft. Leonard Wood, MO. Our schedule that day included using the bayonet.
The emphasis was on being aggressive with the sharp pointed knife on the end of one's rifle and this included shouting while countering, then thrusting.
Drill Instructors would sometimes use fictitious situations to encourage a more aggressive response. Still, when one of the DI's said the President had
been shot I whispered to a buddy that they had never used this kind of encouragement, especially identifying individuals. Shortly after that we were
told to fall in and march back to the training barracks. Worldwide, US Forces had been put on alert and even a training battalion had its place
in that scheme.
The next day all soldiers at Ft. Leonard Wood were assembled in their units and a proclamation was read declaring the Commander in Chief had fallen.
Then we were dismissed and later went back to the bayonet course.
On the anniversary of Kennedy's death I always think of the images that are associated with his death and our national mourning. But for over
thirty years now I also reflect on another picture so clearly burned in my mind. I see the rows of young soldiers in their class A uniforms gathered
to listen to the news of their fallen Chief. They would become the enlisted leaders of the cadres that would be the army in Vietnam. Mike Haeuser
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