by Bryce Zabel
My fellow Americans, I am aware that the American people have not elected me President by their ballots, and so I ask you to guide me toward the justice and mercy and wisdom that this office demands. John Kennedy is a friend of mine; we come from the same state. History will judge President Kennedy, but I will not. Yet both he and I know that our great republic is a government of laws and not of men. The people have spoken through our constitutional process. Now, today, I humbly accept this great honor and will, as I have sworn today, protect this office to the best of my ability. God bless America.
With McCormack’s spare 112 words delivered, the new President met with the Cabinet, asked them all to stay on the job until he could determine what combination would work best to the advantage of the United States. President McCormack then took his daily nap. He was awake before his predecessor’s plane had touched down to his new life far from Washington.
✪
Chapter 6:
Life After
_______________
Closing the Book
On March 16, 1966, President John McCormack asked for time on all three television networks. It was initially assumed that he wanted to address the American public about the situation near Palomares, Spain where a B-52 bomber had collided with a KC-135 jet tanker over Spain’s Mediterranean coast two months earlier. Three seventy-kiloton hydrogen bombs were found on land but one was lost in the nearby sea. Although none of the bombs was armed, their loss created an international incident as more than two thousand U.S. military personnel were on site decontaminating the area and more than thirty U.S. Navy vessels had been engaged in the search for the lost hydrogen weapon. It had been located the day before.
McCormack, however, had a bomb of another kind to drop. The new President had been relatively silent about the fate of John Kennedy since the transition but, as was later revealed, that was his public position. In private, he had apparently lost a lot of sleep over the matter.
He began his address by relaying how he had come to a decision that he felt was good for America, one that he had struggled with, seeking the advice of God and conscience about the right thing to do with respect to his predecessor, John Kennedy.
What has happened in this country over the past two and a half years is an American tragedy in which we all have played a part. It could go on and on and on, or someone must write the end to it. I have concluded that only I can do that, and if I can, I must. There are no historic or legal precedents to which I can turn in this matter, none that precisely fit the circumstances of a private citizen who has resigned the presidency of the United States. But it is common knowledge that serious allegations and accusations hang like a sword over our former President's head, threatening his health as he tries to reshape his life, a great part of which was spent in the service of this country and by the mandate of its people.
With that, President McCormack granted the former president a full pardon for “all offenses against the United States that he, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, has committed, or may have committed” during his time in office. McCormack said he had not spoken with Kennedy, nor his representatives, and that he was unaware of any specific attempts to bring charges against Kennedy. Even so, accepting the pardon, McCormack argued, would be the admission of guilt that some Americans had demanded.
The simple fact is that a former President of the United States, instead of enjoying equal treatment with any other citizen accused of violating the law, would be cruelly and excessively penalized either in preserving the presumption of his innocence or in obtaining a speedy determination of his guilt in order to repay a legal debt to society. During this long period of delay and potential litigation, ugly passions would again be aroused. And our people would again be polarized in their opinions. And the credibility of our free institutions of government would again be challenged at home and abroad.
McCormack knew this decision would be controversial, and because he had already lived a long life with a full career, he concluded, “In order for this decision to be considered in the least political environment possible, I have resolved to end my service as President on January 1st, 1969 and not to seek the nomination of my party for a second term.”
Later, acting as the lawyer for former President Kennedy, Clark Clifford accepted the pardon. Asked if this meant the public could assume Kennedy was admitting guilt on any of the potential charges he might face, Clifford responded, “Former President Kennedy agrees with President McCormack that justice delayed is justice denied and has instructed me to end this chapter for both himself and the nation at large.”
Justice Swerved
What is most surprising about the constitutional crisis of the Kennedy years is how few people actually went to jail, given the magnitude of the original crime that began it.
Clearly, even though the assassination attempt failed to kill President Kennedy, it had been constructed with a post-Dallas cover-up in mind and those plans had still been implemented. During the twilight war waged in the background of the 1964 election, forensic evidence was destroyed, documents shredded, and witnesses silenced through bribery or murder. Prosecutors who faced the standard of overcoming reasonable doubt often found themselves simply unable to imagine convincing a jury of something they knew in their bones was true.
The irony, in retrospect, was that the intended victim of the crime, John Kennedy, was made to suffer such a humbling, public punishment in the immediate aftermath. Even so, over the years, others were punished as well. Some went to prison.
Lyndon Baines Johnson
While John Kennedy received a pardon from President McCormack, Lyndon Johnson did not. His plea deal with the Justice Department eventually derailed all continuing investigations, in both Washington, D.C. and Texas. He grumbled to Lady Bird, “They’ve turned me into Aaron Fucking Burr.” On May 13, 1966, Lyndon Baines Johnson surrendered himself to authorities of the Federal Bureau of Prisons in Texarkana, just 175 miles east of Dallas, Texas, where his most serious crime had been committed, and began serving his ten-year sentence.
Johnson immediately unleashed the same skills he had honed on U.S. senators while running the United States Senate. Soon the inmates he served with knew him as “Lyndon,” and he became extremely popular. The warden stated, “All issues here end up in Lyndon’s cell before they get to my office.” LBJ, it turned out, was a born deal-maker. If he couldn’t make them in the congress or the White House, the prison yard would serve just fine. He is widely credited with improving the quality of food served to inmates when he began a hunger strike to denounce the injustice of his own preferential prison menu, stating, “I won’t eat another bite until everyone here gets the same square meal they give me.” His hunger strike was ended with Texas steak and shared with every member of the penitentiary. He died in prison at age 64, on January 22, 1973.
The Conspirators
An exact identification of all the conspirators and participants in the Dallas ambush has never been fully accomplished. It has become something of a national parlor game, full of speculation. While shadowy, some definition has emerged with time.
First, it is generally accepted that Lee Harvey Oswald was aware of and recruited into the conspiracy, although his death before full evidence could be presented at his trial means we will never know for certain if he was an actual member of a shooting team or “just a patsy,” as he had maintained. We do know that Corsican mobster Lucien Sarti was convicted of being Oswald’s backup, with or without Oswald’s knowledge. A jury said in 1976 that Sarti, dressed in a Dallas police uniform, had fired several of the bullets that hit the Kennedy motorcade from the grassy knoll area behind the picket fence.
We also know that the Central Intelligence Agency’s Bill Harvey was convicted of having recruited Sarti and others to take part in the plot. Actual CIA planning was never shown, however, and Harvey has always contended that he acted as a classic rogue element within the agency. Harvey’s boss, James Angleton, was a constant suspect. He denied any involve
ment and no prosecutor ever managed to mount a case against him.
U.S.-based members of organized crime also were under suspicion, but none ever made it to court. Johnny Roselli, Santos Trafficante, Sam Giancana and Carlos Marcello all were, to one degree or another, believed to have participated in CIA plots to assassinate Fidel Castro and suspected of transferring that working relationship to targeting John Kennedy. Active cases existed against Roselli and Marcello, who were both viciously murdered before charges could be filed. Trafficante and Giancana also died mysteriously. Prosecutors leaned heavily on Dallas nightclub owner Jack Ruby to testify. Two days after he met with them, he died in a car accident.
Federal prosecutors mounted a case against Antonio Veciana, the leader of the anti-Castro group Alpha 66. The jury found him not guilty. Even though the majority of jurors believed he had been involved, they simply felt the government had not proven its case.
Texas oilman Clint Murchison also was taken to court and, as with Veciana, the jury came away loathing him as a person and acquitting him as a conspirator.
And so it went. Trial and error.
Today, it is generally believed that the main plotters escaped punishment because they had planned carefully, never stating explicitly what they wanted or expected. The men who carried out their wishes either managed to stay silent or were silenced by violent means. Over and over, men were found to be victims of shocking suicides, or robbery-turned-homicides. In some cases, particularly with some of the Mafia leaders, the deaths were not mysterious at all. They were outright murders, designed to send a message not to talk, a message that was heard.
In the end, there was no doubt that a conspiracy had led to the ambush in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963. There were two and possibly three teams in Dealey Plaza that fired as many as seven shots. The plot involved Texas oil money that hired both foreign and domestic sharpshooters who were managed by CIA rogue agents working with organized crime leaders in concert with anti-Castro Cubans. It was as complicated as it sounds, wildly improbable, and yet it happened.
David Powers
A continuing source of pain and guilt to the former President was the incarceration of his great friend Dave Powers at the Massachusetts Correctional Institute at Norfolk. Powers had received an eight-year prison sentence for his role in disposing of the White House tapes and charges of interfering with the authority of the Secret Service to perform its duty to protect the President of the United States. The relatively spacious and campus-like atmosphere and architecture of MCI-Norfolk permitted a form of “community life” that was generally not available at other penal institutions of the time.
Kennedy knew that even though he had not asked Powers to destroy the tapes or to specifically thwart the Secret Service by bringing women into the White House, those acts had, indeed, been performed to his benefit. Kennedy visited Powers once a month, every month, from the time he left office until the time Powers was given early release in August of 1970. The two men were allowed to visit in private on the grounds and to smoke cigars together. After he was granted his freedom, Powers told friends that his privileges involved Scotch from a flask first used by Joseph Kennedy during the days of Prohibition, something that has always been officially denied.
Aftermath
Former President Kennedy moved his base of operations to the family compound in Palm Beach, Florida, and started his new life. He joked to friends that his situation proved to what extremes a man might go to escape the harsh winters of Washington, D.C. He stayed in Florida through the spring of 1966, living as a virtual recluse.
At the President’s request, his housemate was Paul “Red” Fay Jr., who had served with JFK going back to their PT boat days in World War II and continuing through his administration. Fay took a room in a separate wing of the house and was a constant companion. Because Kennedy could not venture into town without photographers following in great abundance, it was Fay who, along with a housekeeper, kept the place running. Evelyn Lincoln made occasional visits to work personally with Kennedy, although she spent most days at an office maintained by the Kennedy family in Washington, D.C.
Senator George Smathers often saw Kennedy when he was in his home state of Florida as well. Smathers, Kennedy and Fay made several famous nighttime visits into town, but none of them ever provided a photographer with a single picture of the ex-President and a female. The trio provided a disappointing guys’ night out to the nation’s curious. Where JFK’s buddies had once enabled his lifestyle, they now went out of their way to keep him from it. Kennedy took it all in stride, admitting to his friends that he had enough women in his life for all of them, and that as a military man, he knew when it was time to stand down.
The Ex-President and the Ex-First Lady
John Kennedy had left Washington, D.C. a President who was separated from his wife and landed in Florida as a Catholic trying to avoid a messy divorce. For more than a year, there remained avid interest in where the situation stood between Jackie and him. It was a source of endless speculation and interest from the American public on the part of both friend and foe.
During this time, Jacqueline Kennedy moved to New York City with the children and enrolled them in private school. She rarely saw the former President when Caroline and John Jr. were handed off. It was all done through family members or other intermediaries. The tables had clearly turned. She had several rumored affairs. He minded his own business. Even when she was seen in public on the arm of another man, it was always explained that the gentleman was acting as an escort only.
In May of 1967, both Jack and Jackie were seen in a red convertible Ford Mustang in Cape Cod just before tourist season. By the summer, Jackie and the kids had moved back into the Hyannis Port home (she loathed the Palm Beach house) with this complex man, who both infuriated and enchanted her. The divorce papers were withdrawn as quietly as possible, given the inflamed tempers of the times and the heightened public interest.
Politics Continue
President McCormack kept his promise to be only a caretaker President and did not seek reelection in 1968. He turned seventy-seven that year, and most voters appreciated his discretion. Instead of curtailing partisan politics, however, his announcement had the opposite effect. From the moment President McCormack took office, it seemed, he was a lame duck, and politicians by the droves in both parties began floating one trial balloon after another.
There was serious talk of Bobby Kennedy running in 1968, but he chose to step back from such an emotionally overwrought race. He accepted a teaching position with Harvard Law School, where his courses were standing room only on everything from the legalities of the Cuban Missile Crisis to the appropriate legal course to pursue with regard to the conspirators who targeted his brother. (He felt the death penalty would be too harsh and believed they should spend as much time in prison as possible in order to consider their treasonous behavior.)
John Kennedy’s 1960 nemesis, former Vice President Richard Nixon, took the Republican nomination that year, holding off a strong challenge from New York’s liberal Governor Nelson Rockefeller. With Lyndon Johnson and both Kennedys out of the running for the Democrats, and Vietnam contained as an issue, Senator Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota and Senator Ed Muskie of Maine fought it out with a number of “favorite sons” holding on to blocks of votes, hoping to be kingmakers. Muskie took the nomination on a third ballot, when Humphrey threw his support behind him. None of the competition mattered in the end, as Nixon beat Muskie by a comfortable margin and returned the White House to Republican rule.
In 1969, former President Kennedy began a national book tour to promote what his publishers had hoped would be an autobiography but instead had become a call to action for Americans to retake control of their government. Just Courage — as the book was titled — led to a national reevaluation of his time in office, with sides being taken once again. The growing conservative movement focused on Kennedy’s transgressions, and the liberal community said JFK’s behavior simply could
not be compared to the venal treason of the conspirators. His support, particularly among women, had dropped precipitously, but not enough to prevent his book from becoming the year’s best seller.
Although it took as much brokering as the Kennedy-Khrushchev Summit of 1965, eventually President Richard Nixon invited John Kennedy to the White House in November of 1969 to greet the astronauts who had returned from the moon the past July. At the time, Nixon had gone to see the astronauts in their isolation quarters, where they had been placed to avoid lunar contamination. He had invited them to the White House after they completed a global goodwill tour on behalf of the United States.
The shadow that haunted Richard Nixon that summer and fall looked like his old rival John Kennedy, the man who had first challenged the United States to send a man to the Moon before the 1960s were over. Nixon’s own advisers fretted that their boss might look like he was trying to take credit for something that wasn’t his, particularly given that he had been in office less than a year. It only took some impertinent questions from some Democratic-leaning reporters to push them into the photo op of the decade.
The photo of an awkwardly smiling Neil Armstrong flanked by former President John Kennedy and current President Richard Nixon became almost as famous as the one with Kennedy and the Beatles. The odd men out, of course, were astronauts Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins, both cropped from the photo by circumstance and artistic design. As JFK left the White House that day, he winked to Kenneth O’Donnell, who had accompanied him to their “old stomping grounds,” and said, “I still got it.” John Kennedy had begun the decade with his New Frontier and had left the decade with his flag firmly planted on the lunar surface.
