Twenty-Six Seconds

by Alexandra Zapruder

  For decades, LIFE was portrayed as a commercial Goliath with negligible concern for the Zapruder film beyond protecting its financial interest in it. And it’s true that, looking through the prism of the post-Kennedy era and the cynicism that arose at that time, it would be easy to reduce the whole story of the Zapruder film at LIFE magazine to the now familiar narrative of corporate abuse of power. The reality, however, is far more complex and nuanced. LIFE’s resistance to granting access to the film in the midsixties was shaped not only by a desire to protect its exclusive and by the mores of the time but also by the proximity to the assassination and the personal nature of the deal Stolley had struck with Abe Zapruder.

  I realized this only because, to my surprise, I came upon a number of letters from Abe to Dick Stolley, and later to Dick Pollard, in the LIFE archives. In the years following the assassination, Abe called and wrote from time to time, inquiring about violations of copyright or rumors he had heard or other concerns about the film. That Abe continued to feel an attachment to it, and a concern for how it was being used, is not surprising. What is unexpected is that Stolley and Pollard did not brush him off, or manage him, or treat him like an irritating interloper. To the contrary, they took pains to keep him informed, to follow up on potential rights infractions, and to reassure him of their shared concern for how the film should be made public. In one letter, Stolley wrote to dispel a rumor that the film had been publicly shown, going on to update Abe as follows: “No decisions have yet been made about the film you shot. It is locked up in the company vault until such time as it seems appropriate to make those decisions. Meanwhile, the feeling is that it increases in commercial value. You certainly will be advised of any such decisions… As I explained to you at the time I purchased your film, we are concerned that it be handled in a proper and respectful way. That remains our objective and I’m sure you share our feelings.” It is abundantly clear that the relationship they had forged, and the agreement they had made, was not a dusty relic from a distant past. It was, at least in 1966, still current not only for Abe but for the editors at LIFE, as well.

  In February 1967, LIFE decided to suspend its investigation of the assassination and amicably ended their consulting arrangement with Josiah Thompson around the same time. He continued to work on his own investigation with the understanding that he would be allowed to use the material he gathered in the course of his research. Except, that is, for the stills from the Zapruder film, stolen or otherwise.

  LIFE had weathered quite a few rocky shoals in 1966. However, by early 1967, the relationship with Josiah Thompson and CBS seemed under control. One matter that would not go away, however, was the pesky problem of the “missing frames.” In the wake of the “Matter of Reasonable Doubt” issue, the question came up again. In the LIFE files, there is an undated statement—likely written after the magazine came out—sent to them by Wesley Liebeler, the Warren Commission lawyer who had deposed Abe.

  I know I’m going to get a laugh when I tell you this, because it is absolutely unbelievable, [but] LIFE magazine, who paid almost $500,000 [sic] for this picture, for this roll of film, was working with the original in our laboratory [sic] and some guy dropped it on the floor, reached to grab it and he crushed those four frames and they cut them out. Now I know you laugh but I put it to you bluntly—I’ve talked about this to the editors of LIFE magazine time and time again and I’ve said to them—since you had such an interest in the work of the Commission and you published Governor Connally’s speculations about this and some of the Zapruder film, why don’t you have the moral courage to tell the American people in your editorial column that you broke the film and lost those four frames? Well, they haven’t done it yet but I suggest that someday they’re going to get their nerve up and they’re going to do it and I’m perfectly willing to stake my whole case on that one fact and you can check it out any way you want but it’s a fact.

  Since the editors had questioned the conclusions of the Warren Report—and by extension Wesley Liebeler’s work—in the November issue, I have to wonder if he wrote this and sent it to LIFE to let them know he planned to publish the information as a response to their issue. Wesley Liebeler never dropped that bombshell, but it may well have been the catalyst for managing editor George Hunt’s statement on January 30, 1967, clarifying the matter of the so-called “missing frames.” He explained that six of the original frames (207–212) were damaged by LIFE but that before that happened, three color copies of the film had already been made. “These are and have always been intact,” he stated. When the Warren Commission wanted to make reproductions from the original film, they obviously could not use the missing frames. Hunt explained that those frames were made available to the Warren Commission from the duplicate. Hoping to defuse once and for all what he deemed an “irrelevant discussion,” Hunt released for publication the six frames that were left out of the Warren Report.

  George Hunt and the editors at LIFE barely had time to catch their breath from putting out this fire before two quietly burning embers—CBS and Josiah Thompson—flared up again. Both issues involved the right to use the film. And while one would be tried in the court of public opinion, the other would end in a lawsuit.

  In April 1967, Josiah Thompson contacted the editors at LIFE to make a formal appeal to use frames from the film in his upcoming book about the assassination, Six Seconds in Dallas. In order to reconstruct exactly what had happened in Dealey Plaza that day, he planned to make use of all the photographic materials that existed, as well as schematic drawings, charts, measurements, and highly precise, detailed examinations of every aspect of the material evidence. The crux of his theory was that four shots were fired in Dealey Plaza by three different gunmen: the first from the Book Depository (hitting Kennedy); a second shot one to one-and-a-half seconds later from the Records Building on Houston Street, kitty-corner from the Book Depository (hitting Connally); and then, nearly simultaneously, a third shot from the Book Depository and a fourth shot from an area behind the stockade fence on the grassy knoll behind Abe’s location (both of which hit the president in the head).

  Thompson’s theory was, by definition, a refutation of the Warren Report. He challenged the single-bullet theory, positing that the elapsed time between the president’s reaction and that of Governor Connally was too long to be the result of one bullet but too short to allow two bullets fired in succession by the same gunman. A second assassin in another location seemed the answer. But it was his theory about the so-called head shot that was the most original. By scrutinizing the Zapruder film, Thompson theorized that a shot from the Book Depository explained the short forward motion of the president’s head but that only another shot, fired at almost the same time from the grassy knoll, could explain how the president’s head—and his brain matter and parts of his skull—flew dramatically backward and to the left. Thompson had looked at the Zapruder film and had combed through the forensic and ballistic evidence, reviewed testimonies, and analyzed the autopsy reports. Certainly, there were many who disagreed with his interpretation of the evidence and his findings. But his approach was logical, measured, and thorough; and unlike many who came before him, he was neither strident nor aggressive in the presentation of his case. Most of all, he was the first to offer a clear theory regarding the confusing visual information about the president’s fatal head wound on the Zapruder film. In the coming years, the debate over a single assassin versus a conspiracy would center almost entirely on this issue.

  For Thompson, there was no way to publish his “micro-study” of the assassination in Six Seconds in Dallas without the visual evidence provided by the Zapruder film. “You can’t even try to reconstruct this case without the Zapruder film,” he said. For this reason, between April and June, Thompson, his editor Don Preston, and Douglas Hamilton, a copyright law professor from Columbia who advised them, made no fewer than five appeals to LIFE to allow the use of certain frames of the film in the book. What started off as a plea—explaining that the lack
of the film images were “holes” in the book and emphasizing how much Thompson needed them—quickly turned to frustration, as Thompson suggested that LIFE’s control over the images came about through a “quirk in the property laws” and that although they might have a legal claim to the film, they had only a “tenuous moral claim” to it. It’s a phrase that stops me in my tracks. Is there such a thing as a moral claim that supersedes a legal one? Does an object’s content or status (its historical value, emotional impact, importance to a society, a culture, or an individual) determine the legitimacy of private ownership? I can think of examples across the spectrum in which I would answer both yes and no. But we don’t have select laws for select objects. Here, as the daughter of a lawyer but also as a writer of history, I see both sides, though I believe—as my father did—in the inherent necessity of the law even when its consequences are infuriating.

  LIFE repeatedly denied Thompson’s requests, though not without sympathy. In a last-ditch effort to get access to the images, Thompson and his publisher offered to turn over all profits from the book to LIFE in exchange for the use of the frames. It was a pretty extraordinary offer. But LIFE didn’t want Thompson’s money. They were not trying to extort him, nor were they trying to prevent him from making his case, though they certainly did want to avoid devaluing the film images until such time that they could use the film themselves. But they were also trying—fruitlessly, as it would turn out—to keep the floodgates closed to requests for the Zapruder film. It didn’t take a genius to see that the instant they granted permission to one individual or organization, they would be deluged with requests and would find themselves deciding who should and shouldn’t use the film, under what circumstances, and how. As unenviable as LIFE’s position was, Thompson’s position was frustrating, too. He was left with few avenues to pursue in order to complete the work that he had begun. For any scholar or writer or creative person, there is almost nothing as maddening as having an original idea, believing deeply in it, investing time, emotion, energy, and money, working relentlessly on it, and then finding it impossible to bring it to completion because of something entirely outside of your control.

  While LIFE was going back and forth with Thompson, CBS made its third appeal to LIFE to allow the use of the Zapruder film in a four-part documentary series on the Warren Report that they were planning to air that summer. On June 16, general manager John Watters responded to Gordon Manning, vice president and director of TV News at CBS, with the familiar refrain. “The Zapruder film is owned by Time Inc. and copyrighted in its name. Although Time Inc. gave a print of the film to the Warren Commission to help in its important deliberations, it has been and will continue to be the policy of Time Inc. not to allow anyone to use all or any part of this film in the United States at this time. We consider this film an invaluable asset of Time Inc. and its use is presently limited to Time’s publications and its other enterprises.” In retrospect, this was perhaps not the absolute best answer to send to CBS, since it failed to capture any of the nuances or complexities inherent in their reasoning, and it left the magazine wide open to criticism for hoarding the film for financial gain.

  The four-part series A CBS News Inquiry: The Warren Report aired on CBS beginning on June 27, 1967. In it, the reporters deeply analyzed the commission’s findings, questioning some aspects of the investigation but for the most part agreeing with its conclusions. Although they did not have the ability to show the film, they did conduct an interview with Abe, a very brief excerpt of which was included in the broadcast. Instead of leaving the film out of its series, CBS repeatedly commented on their inability to show it on the air. At a certain point, Walter Cronkite, America’s beloved, trusted newsman, who had delivered the news of the president’s death to the nation, handed down a sober and stern rebuke of LIFE magazine to millions of viewers:

  There is one further piece of evidence which we feel must now be made available to the entire public: Abraham Zapruder’s film of the actual assassination. The original is now the private property of LIFE magazine. A LIFE executive refused CBS News permission to show you that film at any price on the ground that it is ‘an invaluable asset of Time Inc.’… LIFE’s decision means you cannot see the Zapruder film in its proper form, as motion picture film. We believe that the Zapruder film is an invaluable asset, not of Time Inc., but of the people of the United States.

  Cronkite’s statement immediately had the desired effect. Letters began to pour into the LIFE offices, and this time they were not filled with gratitude, accolades, and thanks for a job well done. To the contrary, they were from angry members of the public who demanded an explanation as to why the Zapruder film was being withheld from view. It is utterly clear that every reader was convinced by Cronkite’s statement that LIFE’s sole reason for withholding the film was to protect its financial interest.

  One of the first letters reads, “The [CBS] programs were important. They were tremendously worthwhile. They were marred by just one terrible omission… the Abraham Zapruder film of the actual shooting in Dallas… It has always been my opinion that LIFE never had any right to buy this film. It belongs to the nation. And in spite of the money you paid for it… it still isn’t yours.” Another writer says, “Money cannot buy everything; it certainly should not have bought the Zapruder film.” The letters go on and on with rage and fury at LIFE’s apparently despicable, profiteering, selfish desire to profit at any cost. A number of letter writers canceled subscriptions or asked LIFE to revisit their policy or begged them to turn the film over to the government. One writer from Tacoma, Washington, wrote: “As an American, I feel outraged by your actions. You shrewdly snatched up the film and use it to, I see, help sell your magazines. America, on the whole, is deeply concerned over the assassination. And you know it. So, we see no film. I used to enjoy the integrity you people backed LIFE up with. Now I’m sickened, like I am with that senseless Dallas crime. Can you come up with a decent excuse or do you even care? I care. You people obviously don’t. Unfortunately, you’ve lost my lousy 35 cents.”

  CHAPTER 7

  COURT CASES AND BOOTLEGS

  By the fall of 1967, LIFE was mulling over its options regarding the Zapruder film. In an internal memo to general manager John Watters dated November 10, editor Dick Pollard laid the matter out quite clearly:

  We will certainly lose the copyright to this film eventually. In the interim a lot of reputable and disreputable people and companies are sniping at us for concealment and possession (for profit) of a film which, they say, should be in the public domain.

  In the public interest (and in the interest of getting our money back), I suggest we make a thirty minute movie of the late John F. Kennedy animating [sic] from our superb collection of stills, plus amateur film, plus Zapruder… Then give the film, including the Zapruder footage, to the Government or Harvard or someone and let them make the decisions as to who should be allowed to view or use the Zapruder frames.

  Before this idea could even make the rounds at LIFE, the publication of Josiah Thompson’s book Six Seconds in Dallas by Bernard Geis Associates stirred up more problems for LIFE. Unlike CBS, which had addressed the problem of not being able to use the film by publicly shaming the company on national television and causing a giant public-relations headache, Thompson and Geis dealt with it by coming up with an ingenious, if devious, workaround. They hired an artist to render black-and-white drawings of the film frames that Thompson needed to make his arguments, presumably using the images that Thompson had illegally procured from LIFE. In the book, publisher Bernard Geis wrote a prefatory note explaining the circumstances of the sketches and how they had come to be used. He described the great lengths to which they had gone to gain permission for the use of the frames and LIFE’s repeated refusals. Then he went on to explain the rationale for their solution. “It seems clear to us that this crucial historical document should not be sequestered from the eye of responsible enquiry through an accident of private ownership; still, by law, the film bel
ongs to LIFE and we cannot make use of it without their consent. We have therefore been forced to content ourselves with an artist’s rendering of the events depicted on the Zapruder film, since the events themselves are John Kennedy’s tragic legacy to us all.”

  In fact, the film’s ownership was not “accidental” at all, nor was it somehow a quirk of the law or a trick perpetrated by LIFE. Those who railed against LIFE’s ownership of the film either forgot or never knew that the object in question was a home movie made by a private citizen who had first offered it to the government. When the government failed to grasp its importance, the media swept in and did its job, as unsavory as it was, swarming and harassing him to such an extent that he sold it to the news organization he felt was most responsible. There was nothing accidental about it. Had a LIFE photographer taken this film, it’s hard to imagine that Josiah Thompson or CBS or any researcher would have felt morally entitled to have access to it. So what made this circumstance different? Was it the subject matter itself or the fact that it was a home movie by an amateur photographer?

  If those questions seem thorny, they get even more confusing with the rest of the publisher’s note. Geis explains at length how accurate the renderings are and asks readers to compare a photographic reproduction of frame 207, released by LIFE, with the artist’s copy of it. “These charcoal sketches… have been checked rigorously against the original sources and every attempt has been made to ensure that their representation of the events is scrupulously exact.” At the same time, he asserts that “the sketches are not the Zapruder film.” So let’s review: The events of the assassination were Kennedy’s legacy to the public. The film depicting that event legally belonged to LIFE but its content morally belonged to the American public. The artist’s drawings of it in the book are precise and accurate enough to use as evidence in Thompson’s arguments but they are not so precise and accurate as to be reproductions of the film, which would imply infringement. It was a fine, fine line indeed.