WHAT EVER WILL BECOME OF YOU? (a.k.a. The Compassion of Jacqueline Kennedy). Pts. 1-3

I missed one day of school during my entire 1963-1964 school year.

As the day dawned clear and a bit cool, I wasn’t feeling well, and I asked my mother if she would allow me to stay home. It seemed a shame to ruin my perfect attendance, but my mom realized I wasn’t a slacker, and she nodded her approval.

I happened to be watching television, comfortably situated in our family’s business office, sitting in my mother’s typing chair; and with my feet propped up on her desk.

Suddenly, there was a news break; something which rarely happened in those days. In recent years, we may see two or three so-called ‘news breaks’ a day on networks such as CNN, Fox or MS-NBC, but fifty years ago the old television cameras had to be warmed up; prior to a coming on the air with a live broadcast. Thus, (as I recall) on this particular day a photo of a popular CBS newsman was posted on the screen with live audio feed accompanying it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Walter Cronkite. I’m coming to you with what appears to have been a shooting in Dallas, Texas. We’re in the process of validating the following information, but it appears President Kennedy has been shot by an unknown assailant in the City of Dallas. There are also reports that Governor Connelly of Texas was also hit, as their vehicle drove past the Texas School Book Depository building. We will be joining you in a live, extended report momentarily.”

After a few minutes, and the cameras were sufficiently warmed live footage of the world famous newsman flickered on the screen. The veteran anchor was obviously anxious, and he stumbled over a few of his words. And every half minute or so, he nervously pulled his glasses off his face and just as quickly replaced them. Cronkite repeated his previous remarks a couple of times with minor variations. It was definite now. The president had been gravely wounded, and his limo had just arrived at Parkland Memorial Hospital.

The minutes ticked by, and sometime after 1PM Eastern Time, old Walter confirmed what, based on the previous news reports, Americans expected to hear.

“It has been substantiated now,” and taking off his glasses, yet again, and looking up at the clock on the wall, “President Kennedy died,” his voice faltered, and tears appeared in his eyes, …“President Kennedy died at approximately 1PM, Central Standard Time.”

The date was November 22, 1963, not unlike an equally traumatic day which transpired two decades earlier, “A Day that will live in Infamy.”

Over the next 72 hours, America witnessed the suspected assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, arrested and charged with the murder of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, we watched fascinated as our beautiful, cultured First Lady stepped off Air Force One, her beloved husband’s blood obscuring the natural color of her legs, we saw the accused assassin gunned down on live television, the funeral of our beloved president was televised, and while millions lingered in a state of shock, his mortal remains were interred on a hillside in Arlington National Cemetery.

*Excerpt from “Snapshots of a Life (Not Always So) Well Lived” Vol. 1. By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright 1997.

Pt. 2

Clint Hill, a White House Secret Service agent, had been assigned to guard the president’s wife; affectionately known to many, perhaps most, of my parent’s generation as ‘Jackie.’

He was positioned on the front bumper of the Secret Service automobile behind the president’s vehicle that day. Like other members of the White House security detail, he’d been concerned about Pres. Kennedy’s decision to leave the top down on his limosine. But he was all too aware that when ‘Jack’ wanted something done a particular way, he usually got what he wanted. Today would be no exception.

We’ve all watched the Zapruder film again and again, and witnessed the horrendous homicide of the 35^th President of the United States. As the presidential limo rounded the curve into Dealey Plaza, several shots echoed across the well-known Dallas landmark. President Kennedy clutched at his throat, and a gasp had hardly escaped his lips when the fatal bullet slammed into the rear right quadrant of his head.

Agent Hill dismounted the Secret Service vehicle and ran to the presidential limosine. By this time Mrs. Kennedy had clamored onto the rear end of the car. (She later claimed she had been attempting to recover a piece of her husband’s skull). Mr. Hill immediately climbed onto the trunk of the automobile, and managed to drag the mortified First Lady into the rear seat; where the president lay mortally wounded. Jackie’s personal agent wasted no time covering the nation’s chief executive and his wife with his own body.

Of course, there was that fateful ride to Parkland Hospital, the death of the president, and the return of Mr. Kennedy’s mortal remains to Air Force One. Who can forget the photograph of the new president, ‘Lady Bird’ Johnson, Jackie and the presiding judge as they stood in the bulkhead of the most famous, (or infamous) aircraft of our time, and the almost indistinct recording of the presidential swearing in ceremony?

Pt. 3

While the foregoing account characterizes the national tragedy which was the Kennedy Assassination, another lesser known, personal scenario played itself out that day.

It was only in recent years, and after the publication of Agent Clint Hill’s book, “Mrs. Kennedy and Me” that the following reminiscence was revealed to the public.

As I have indicated earlier, (and a fact which is well-known to my readers) Jackie refused to change dresses or cleanse the president’s blood from her extremities for hours after the assassination. She made the statement to someone that,

“I want them to see what they have done to my husband.”

(I think the identity of the ‘they’ in the preceding sentence remains a bit nebulous to this day).

Be that as it may, as Mrs. Kennedy sat by her beloved husband’s casket, Agent Hill joined her, and with his usual courtesy asked whether there was anything he might do for her.

Jackie shook her head, but responded in the most incongruous, unexpected manner.

“Oh, Mr. Hill, what will ever become of you?”

I have written about this particular event in the past, and I am constrained to be as articulate, as I like to believe I was at the time. Mrs. Kennedy’s question for a subordinate, at such a time of personal loss and despair, struck me as one of the most compassionate characterizations of caring to which I have been privy in the two thirds of a century I have lived on this planet.

For I think Jacqueline’s ability to transcend her own personal grief for a few seconds on that airplane, and express her concern for the disposition and welfare of her servant at a time, such as this, was nothing less than remarkable. And I think, in this, our dearly departed First Lady set the standard, and acted as a role model for the rest of us.

Suffice it to say that Agent Clint Hill was, subsequently, assigned to Jackie’s security detail for years after she left the White House, and that he performed his duties in an admirable manner.

God give us all both the consciousness and the wherewithal to emulate the character and compassion of our former First Lady.

William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Vol. 37. Copyright Pending.

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