I’ve just finished reading one of what I understand will be a plethora of books aimed to coincide with the fiftieth anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in November, 1963.
In 1963 I was in the United States Marine Corps, stationed aboard the U.S.S. Coral Sea, an aircraft carrier. I was the Commanding Officer’s orderly, and the ship was returning to our home port of Naval Air Station Alameda on San Francisco Bay after a nine-month deployment. We were scheduled to pass beneath the Golden Gate Bridge on the afternoon of November 22nd.
My only daughter had been born on October 18th in San Francisco. This was before internet and digital photographs and such technical gadgets. I had received a telegram telling me of Isabel’s birth—I hadn’t spoken to her mother or seen a photograph of my daughter. November 22nd was to be the day I first met her.
We had not yet come within view of the bridge when the ship was abruptly directed to come about and await further orders. The ship’s radio, or intercom system, announced to the crew that shots had been fired at the President in Dallas, Texas. We were placed on high alert. We sailed around for three days while the government caught its breath. I met my daughter on November 25th. Together we watched President Kennedy's funeral on a black-and-white television in San Francisco.
All of this is to make the point that I was an adult when the assassination of the President occurred. That same year I was released from active duty and began college. Although not politically active except in the area of Civil Rights, I was acutely aware of politics and believed that I was more informed than most and certainly well attuned to contemporary issues. Up until a couple of weeks ago, had you asked me about Kennedy’s assassination, I would’ve felt confident that I was relatively well informed about it.
But, like I said, I’ve just read DALLAS 1963 by Bill Minutaglio and Steven L. Davis. And I am, frankly, humbled to see that I had no clear idea about the lead-up to that terrible day.
I really never understood how much hatred for the government and JFK there was in Dallas in the early 1960s. I didn’t realize how much warning—in retrospect, at least—there had been about the President’s safety during his visit to Dallas in November 1963.
This book is a gripping account of an unhinged element spurred on by unhinged individuals; among them Dallas Morning News publisher Ted Dealey, General Edwin Walker, Texas Congressman Bruce Alger, Baptist Reverend W.A. Criswell, and Dallas billionaire H.L. Hunt. Above all, the account is frightening in its awful similarity to the ugly attitudes and vitriolic speech (and worse) we see directed toward “them”—immigrants, Muslims, etc.—today.
Anyone who, like me, can recall where they were on November 22, 1963, will, I suspect, be shaken by Minutaglio’s and Davis’ fascinating and eye-opening chronicle. At the same time, younger readers may, sadly, view the vitriol of 1963 without surprise. After all, it’s become more and more difficult to shut out the hateful noise and the hurtful images with which we are bombarded from every direction.
Full Disclosure: one of the authors is a close friend whom I admire very much.
Spoiler Alert: This is NOT a “Conspiracy Theory” book, though I am confident some of those will appear for readers with a taste for such things.
In 1963 I was in the United States Marine Corps, stationed aboard the U.S.S. Coral Sea, an aircraft carrier. I was the Commanding Officer’s orderly, and the ship was returning to our home port of Naval Air Station Alameda on San Francisco Bay after a nine-month deployment. We were scheduled to pass beneath the Golden Gate Bridge on the afternoon of November 22nd.
My only daughter had been born on October 18th in San Francisco. This was before internet and digital photographs and such technical gadgets. I had received a telegram telling me of Isabel’s birth—I hadn’t spoken to her mother or seen a photograph of my daughter. November 22nd was to be the day I first met her.
We had not yet come within view of the bridge when the ship was abruptly directed to come about and await further orders. The ship’s radio, or intercom system, announced to the crew that shots had been fired at the President in Dallas, Texas. We were placed on high alert. We sailed around for three days while the government caught its breath. I met my daughter on November 25th. Together we watched President Kennedy's funeral on a black-and-white television in San Francisco.
All of this is to make the point that I was an adult when the assassination of the President occurred. That same year I was released from active duty and began college. Although not politically active except in the area of Civil Rights, I was acutely aware of politics and believed that I was more informed than most and certainly well attuned to contemporary issues. Up until a couple of weeks ago, had you asked me about Kennedy’s assassination, I would’ve felt confident that I was relatively well informed about it.
But, like I said, I’ve just read DALLAS 1963 by Bill Minutaglio and Steven L. Davis. And I am, frankly, humbled to see that I had no clear idea about the lead-up to that terrible day.
I really never understood how much hatred for the government and JFK there was in Dallas in the early 1960s. I didn’t realize how much warning—in retrospect, at least—there had been about the President’s safety during his visit to Dallas in November 1963.
This book is a gripping account of an unhinged element spurred on by unhinged individuals; among them Dallas Morning News publisher Ted Dealey, General Edwin Walker, Texas Congressman Bruce Alger, Baptist Reverend W.A. Criswell, and Dallas billionaire H.L. Hunt. Above all, the account is frightening in its awful similarity to the ugly attitudes and vitriolic speech (and worse) we see directed toward “them”—immigrants, Muslims, etc.—today.
Anyone who, like me, can recall where they were on November 22, 1963, will, I suspect, be shaken by Minutaglio’s and Davis’ fascinating and eye-opening chronicle. At the same time, younger readers may, sadly, view the vitriol of 1963 without surprise. After all, it’s become more and more difficult to shut out the hateful noise and the hurtful images with which we are bombarded from every direction.
Full Disclosure: one of the authors is a close friend whom I admire very much.
Spoiler Alert: This is NOT a “Conspiracy Theory” book, though I am confident some of those will appear for readers with a taste for such things.
