Shortly after 11:00 p.m., after repaying the five dollars the garage attendant had given Little Lynn,1248 he goes to his office at the Carousel and makes some more calls, among them to his friend Ralph Paul in Forth Worth, and Breck Wall, an entertainer friend of Jack’s who had gone to Galveston to visit a friend when his show in Dallas suspended its performance out of respect for the president. Wall had just been elected president of the Dallas branch of the American Guild of Variety Artists (AGVA), and Ruby wants to know if AGVA, which includes among its members striptease dancers, had met to discuss his beef with the union—their failure to enforce AGVA’s ban on “striptease contests” and performances by “amateurs,” both of which the Weinsteins were guilty of—but AGVA hadn’t met yet on the issue. Ruby, Wall can tell, is “very upset” about the assassination and curses the Weinsteins for not having the decency to close their two clubs out of respect for the dead president.1249
Ruby caps his evening around midnight at the Pago Club, about ten minutes from the Carousel, where he orders a Coke (Ruby rarely drinks alcohol) and asks the waitress in a very disapproving tone, “Why are you open?” “Ask my employer,” she says, and leaves Ruby’s table. The manager of the club, Robert Norton, knows Jack, and when he sees him sitting alone he joins him to chat. He tells Jack he doesn’t know whether he should keep his club open and Ruby tells him he has closed his. During their short visit Norton brought up the assassination, saying “it was terrible” and “an insult to our country,” adding that “we couldn’t do enough to the person that had done this sort of thing.” For once, Ruby, apparently already all talked out for the day about the assassination, shows no emotion and says nothing except he was “tired” and was “going home.”1250 Ruby then heads home and goes to bed around 1:30 a.m.1251
Jack’s ugly mood when he awakens worsens when he sees in the Sunday morning’s Times Herald a heartbreaking letter to “My Dear Caroline” dated two days earlier from a Dallas resident who tells her that “even as I write, you probably have not yet received” the news of her father’s death. “This news is now being transmitted to all parts of the world…In all of this, my thoughts turn to you.” Saying that though she was “old enough to feel the awful pain” but not yet “mature enough to understand this sorrow,” he tells her he is a man of forty with two young daughters whom he had taken out of school “in order that they might get to see your mother and daddy” when they visited Dallas. From a position on the street not too far from Love Field, he said Caroline’s mother and father looked “so very nice and appeared so happy.” He said when the limousine passed by, “your daddy…did something that made me love him very much. It seemed like such a little thing, but it made me appreciate him the more for it. He looked at the grownups for just a second, and then he looked squarely at my youngest and then my eldest daughter. He smiled broadly and waved just to them in his warm way. Caroline, it was then I first thought of you. I thought your daddy must love little boys and little girls very much. Only one who loves and understands little children would realize just how much it would mean to them to be noticed in the presence of so many adults. I thought then how much he must love you.”
He goes on to conclude, “No one can erase this day…You will cry. (My children did, my wife did, and I did). You will miss him. (We will). You will be lonely for him…You will want to know why anyone would do a thing like this to your father.” Telling her he wished there was something he could do to help her, he says that she would be given strength and help and love by her mother and friends. “Most of all, God will help you. You see, God loves little girls, too,” and closes by praying that Caroline would “be cradled in God’s love.”1252*
The letter has a devastating effect on Ruby. He also reads in another article in the Times Herald, captioned “State’s Biggest Trial Expected,” that when asked about “the possibility of Jacqueline Kennedy” being used as a witness at the trial of Oswald, DA Henry Wade said, “We will try to avoid [issuing a] subpoena” for Mrs. Kennedy, that she wouldn’t “necessarily” have to come to Dallas to testify.1253 Ruby seethes. If something happened to the president’s killer, his jumbled mind thinks, then Mrs. Kennedy won’t have to come back for the trial. He decides that he just has to kill Oswald. He suddenly gets this tremendously emotional feeling that someone owes a debt to the slain president to spare his wife the ordeal of coming back to Dallas. He doesn’t know what the connection is, but he also has this feeling about wanting to show his love for his Jewish faith and demonstrate to the world that a Jew has guts. In the welter of emotions is his hatred for the SOB who had killed his president. If he had confessed, then Jack could know he’d get what was coming to him. But he hasn’t and there apparently is going to be a trial. Jack recalls that hotel guy who killed a Dallas police officer a while back and he beat the rap and got away with the killing. It’s possible Oswald could get turned loose too.1254†
He knows there are people going about their regular activities, out dancing at the clubs and having a good time, not suffering the way he is. The civic leaders of Dallas are probably sincere in their sorrow, but they’re helpless to overcome the everlasting stain on the reputation of Dallas, a city he loves and is proud of. The officers of the Dallas Police Department are helpless to do anything to Oswald for killing the president and one of their own. He saw Bobby Kennedy on television, saw how much he loved his brother, and thought how much Bobby would like to do something to Oswald, but of course he can’t do anything either. Somebody ought to do something, something that no one else can apparently do. Though Jack is not insane, most people know he’s not all there either, and his limited intellect gets carried away emotionally by the power of his thought to kill Oswald, though he has no idea exactly when or where he will attempt to do this.1255
Jack is in another world when Elnora Pitts, the aging, colored maid, calls to see whether Jack wants her to come clean the apartment, as she has for the past eight months or so. He paid her $7.50 the first time she came, because it was pretty dirty. The next time it was $4.00 and bus fare, and then one day he said, “Well, it’s getting pretty dirty, I’m going to give you a little raise today,” and from then on he paid her $5.50 for a half day’s work. She came Tuesdays first, then on Saturday, but eventually they settled on Sunday, because Jack liked to have it clean in case he had guests that day.
Jack sounds very strange to Elnora on the phone. “What do you want?” he asks.
“This is Elnora.”
“Yes, well, what? You need some money?”
“No,” Elnora says, puzzled. “I was coming to clean today.”
“Well, what do you want?” Jack kind of hollers.
“I was coming to clean today.” She doesn’t think she should have to tell him that, much less repeat it.
“You coming now?”
“No.”
“When?”
She says she’ll try to be there before two.
“Why so late?”
“I have to go to the store, and I have got some things to do. You seem so funny to me,” Elnora says. “Do you want me to come today?”
“Well, yes, you can come,” Jack says, “but you call me.”
“That’s what I’m doing now, calling you so I won’t have to call you again.”
“Are you coming to clean today?”
“Who am I talking to? Is this Mr. Jack Ruby?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says. Jack is sounding terribly strange to Elnora, doesn’t sound like himself, so she says, “Well, I’ll call you.”
“Yes, so I can tell you where the key will be and the money,” he says.
“Okay,” Elnora says, completely bewildered, and she hangs up.
Elnora thinks there is something wrong with Jack, wrong enough to scare her, wrong enough for her to call her daughter, who asks, “Well, are you going over there now?”
“No, he don’t sound right to me over the phone,” Elnora tells her daughter. “I am going to wait.”1256
<
br /> Postal Inspector Holmes hurries up the steps at City Hall and takes the elevator to the third floor. Holmes spots Captain Fritz standing in the corridor just outside the Homicide and Robbery Bureau. Fritz motions to him.
“We’re getting ready to talk with Oswald one more time before we transfer him to the county jail,” Fritz says. “Would you like to join us?”
“I sure would,” Holmes replies.
“Well, come on in,” Fritz says, pushing the door open. “I’m waiting here now for them to bring him downstairs from the holdover.”1257 Fritz leads Holmes into his office and closes the door. Secret Service agent Forrest Sorrels and Dallas police detective L. D. Montgomery are already there. So is Chief Curry, who has stopped by briefly to talk with Captain Fritz.1258
In a moment, Detectives Leavelle, Graves, and Dhority bring Oswald into the office, his hands cuffed in front of him. Oswald slouches into the wooden chair next to Fritz’s desk. Oswald appears in a particularly arrogant mood.
“Are there any FBI men in here?” Oswald asks, looking at the faces around him.
“No,” Fritz says, “no FBI men.”
“Well, who is that man?” Oswald snaps back, motioning toward Holmes.
“He’s a postal inspector and he has a few questions for you,” Fritz says calmly.
Oswald seems to relax at the answer.
“Okay,” he says.1259
Captain Fritz hands Oswald a telegram from an East Coast attorney who is volunteering to represent Oswald. Oswald reads it.
“Maybe you should call him,” Fritz says.
“I’ll call him later, if I can’t reach Mr. Abt,” Oswald replies, predictably.1260
There is a light knock at the door. It opens a crack and Secret Service inspector Thomas Kelley comes in, slightly out of breath, and takes a seat next to Agent Sorrels. Captain Fritz circles his desk, reaches into a drawer, pulls out the photograph of Oswald holding the rifle, and lays it on the desk next to the prisoner. Oswald purses his lips.
“Lee, why don’t you tell us where this picture was taken?” Fritz asks.
Oswald is silent.
“You know, you’ll save us a lot of time if you’ll just tell us,” Fritz continues, slow and methodical. “We’ll find the location sooner or later.”
“I don’t have anything to say about it,” Oswald answers defiantly.1261
“Did you shoot the president?” Fritz suddenly asks.
“No,” Oswald says.
“Do you have any knowledge of the shooting?”
“No,” Oswald replies.
“What about the shooting of Officer Tippit?” Fritz asks.
“Look, I don’t know why you’re asking me these questions,” Oswald says, shaking his head negatively. “The only reason I’m here is because I popped a policeman in the nose at the theater on Jefferson Avenue. Okay, I admit it. But the reason I hit him was because I was protecting myself. As far as the rest of it, I emphatically deny having anything to do with shooting an officer or killing the president.”1262
Chief Curry has had enough of Oswald’s arrogance. Besides, he has transfer arrangements to see to. The police chief silently pulls open the office door and slips out.1263
9:45 a.m.
Curry hooks up with Batchelor and Stevenson and the three descend in the elevator to the basement garage to survey the security requirements for the forthcoming transfer.1264
The press has been arriving in force since nine and have nearly taken over the basement jail office. Cameramen, reporters, and all of their equipment are everywhere, including on top of the booking desk. The media have been insisting all morning that Chief Curry gave them permission to be there. When Curry comes down, they learn otherwise.1265
“Let’s clear this area out,” Curry tells jail lieutenant Woodrow Wiggins. “Move the patrol car and paddy wagon from those first two parking spaces and have the television cameras set up there. If the media want to be down here, put them over behind the rail.” Curry is pointing to an area across the ramp from the jail office.1266
The top brass are pleased to learn that Captain Talbert has already begun, on his own, making security arrangements for the transfer.1267
Back up in Homicide and Robbery, Captain Fritz motions to Inspector Holmes to go ahead and question Oswald. Holmes introduces himself and opens the folder he brought.
“Did you have a post office box here in Dallas?” Holmes asks.
“Yeah.”
“What number?”
“Box 2915,” Oswald answers. “I rented it at the main post office for a few months before moving to New Orleans.”
“Did you rent it in your own name?” Holmes asks.
“Yes.”
“How many keys did you have?”
“Two,” Oswald says. “When they closed the box I had them forward my mail to my new address in New Orleans.”1268
Holmes glances at the forms in his folder as Oswald answers. Everything he offers is correct, although Holmes is surprised that Oswald is willing to volunteer so much information about the post office box that the assassination rifle was shipped to. Of course, Oswald isn’t telling him anything that he doesn’t already know. Holmes quickly learns that this is Oswald’s game.
“Did anyone else receive mail in that box, other than yourself?” Holmes asks.
“No.”
“Did anyone have access to the box, other than yourself?” Holmes asks.
“No,” Oswald says again.
“Did you permit anyone else to use the box?”
“Well, it’s possible that I may have given my wife one of the keys to go get my mail,” Oswald replies, “but that was rare. Certainly, no one else used it.”
“Did you ever receive a package in that box?” Holmes asks.
“What kind of package?” Oswald asks innocently.
“Did you ever have a rifle shipped there?”
“No,” Oswald says, testily. “I did not order any rifle!”
“Ever order a rifle under another name?” Holmes asks.
Oswald emphatically denies that he ever ordered a rifle under his name or any other name, nor permitted anyone else to order a rifle to be received in his post office box.1269
“In fact,” Oswald says, “I’ve never owned a rifle. I haven’t practiced or shot a rifle since I was in the Marine Corps.”
“You’ve never shot a rifle since your discharge?” Fritz asks, disbelievingly.
“No,” Oswald says, then backs up. “Well, maybe a small-bore .22 or something.”
“You don’t own a rifle?” Fritz questions.
“Absolutely not!” Oswald insists. “How can I afford a rifle on my salary? I make $1.25 an hour. I can hardly feed myself on what I make.”
“What about this?” Fritz asks, pointing to the photograph of Oswald and the rifle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oswald sneers.1270
“You mentioned that when you moved to New Orleans you had your mail forwarded to your new street address,” Holmes says. “Did you rent a post office box while you were in New Orleans?”
“Yes,” Oswald says. “Box 30061.”
“Why did you have a post office box if you were getting mail at your residence?” the postal inspector asks.
Oswald explains that he subscribed to several publications, at least two of which are published in Russia, one being the hometown paper published in Minsk where he met his wife at a dance.1271 “I took the two newspapers for her benefit, because it was local news to her,” Oswald says. “She enjoyed reading about the hometown folks.”1272 He explains that he moved around so much that it was more practical to simply rent post office boxes and have his mail forwarded from one box to the next rather than going through the process of furnishing changes of address to the Russian publishers.1273
“Did you permit anyone other than yourself to get mail in the post office box in New Orleans?” Holmes asks.
“No,” Oswald answers.
Holmes looks at t
he original application for Oswald’s New Orleans post office box, which Oswald filled out in his own hand. Under the entry, “Persons entitled to receive mail through box,” Oswald has written “Marina Oswald” and “A. J. Hidell.”*
“Your application here lists Marina Oswald as a person entitled to receive mail in the box,” Holmes reminds Oswald.
“Well, so what?” Oswald says mockingly. “She was my wife. I don’t see anything wrong with that. It could very well be I did put her name on the application.”
“Your application also shows the name A. J. Hidell as another person entitled to receive mail in the box.”1274
Oswald simply shrugs his shoulders.
“I don’t recall anything about that,” he says.1275
Secret Service inspector Thomas Kelley jumps into the fray.
“Well, isn’t it a fact that when you were arrested you had an identification card with the name Hidell on it in your possession?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Oswald grunts.
“How do you explain that?” Kelley asks.
“I don’t explain it,” Oswald says flatly.1276
Reclaiming History Page 50
