On the eighth floor, inside his three-room suite, Kennedy has already showered and dressed. The Kennedys arrived after midnight, very tired, to find the air conditioner blowing full-blast. The president ordered it shut off, but the controls seemed to be stuck, and it took a while to locate someone on staff who could finally turn it off. A portable television on casters is stationed near the door of the tiny bathroom. The president is amused to see a sign on top of the TV: HOTEL TEXAS. CHECK OUT TIME IS 12:30 P.M. IF YOU PLAN TO STAY AFTER THIS TIME PLEASE CONTACT ASSISTANT MANAGER.5
Jackie is still asleep in the south-facing room, in a small bed with a brass headboard made to look like harp strings. JFK can hear the loud crowd outside, and he is pleased. This trip to Texas has been going very well. People have been far friendlier than he expected. Jackie, too, has been holding up well. Although she will never be a natural campaigner, she almost seems to be enjoying herself at times.
Kennedy walks into the First Lady’s room so he can look out the windows at the gathering. He gently wakes her and then checks the window. The reception is even bigger than he could have imagined. There are several thousand people down there.
“Gosh, look at that crowd!” he says, turning to his wife and smiling happily. “Just look! Isn’t that terrific?”6
In the Will Rogers Suite on the thirteenth floor, Lady Bird Johnson is dressing. These accommodations are larger than the Kennedys’. In fact, they are the Hotel Texas’s finest. The Kennedys were originally scheduled to stay here, but the Secret Service overruled the proposition because the multiple entrances make the space too difficult to guard. That’s why the Kennedys have been boxed into a smaller space five floors below.
Lady Bird is normally a steady, upbeat person, but this trip has been hard on her. Her husband is under attack from both the liberal and conservative wings of the party. The president has privately chewed him out for not being able to control the competing factions. During this trip, he’s been mostly ignored as the crowds focus on the charismatic Kennedys.
And there are also the ominous developments in Washington—a Senate criminal investigation is targeting LBJ’s protégé Bobby Baker, and threatening to swamp Johnson as well. Life magazine is preparing a major story on his business affairs. Even if he avoids being indicted for corruption, his position on the Democratic ticket is hardly secure. He’d been brought aboard to keep the South in line, but now in the wake of Kennedy’s actions on behalf of civil rights, the South is turning away from Kennedy—and Johnson. LBJ no longer seems to be a political asset, and rumors are swirling that the president will dump him. Her husband has been in a sour mood for a long time now.
And now they are preparing to go back to Dallas. Lady Bird is still seared by the memory of her last campaign visit to the city, three years earlier. She is positive-minded, but a dark thought keeps crossing her mind: There might be something ugly today.
As she adjusts her clothing, she notices that her hands are trembling.7
When Nixon is driven to Love Field at 8:30 a.m., he sees the large crowd gathering to welcome President Kennedy. The moment is bittersweet for Nixon. Dallas was his city, not Kennedy’s.
Nixon has famously sworn off politics after losing the governor’s race in California in 1962. “You won’t have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore,” he’d told the press. But his reception in Dallas has been so pleasant. He enjoyed talking to the Morning News, portraying himself as a statesman while spreading a little innuendo to destabilize Lyndon Johnson. Bottlers’ conventions are nice, but politics is Nixon’s game.
It is now boarding time for American Airlines Flight 82 to New York. Nixon quickly walks up the steps to the plane. There are no throngs to cheer him as he leaves Dallas behind.
There are 158 Dallas police officers reporting for motorcade duty. The group includes eighteen motorcycle officers who will escort the procession. The others will be stationed at various points along the route. Their job is to clear all overpasses along the route and to monitor the onlookers for any sign of trouble.
The cops are mostly worried about an ugly prank—somebody throwing rotten eggs or tomatoes at the motorcade. But the possibility of a more violent act is not out of the question, either. Most police are assigned to the downtown area, since that’s where the biggest crowds are expected.
In his suite, President Kennedy greets the hotel waiter, who has brought in a cart with breakfast. Kennedy shakes the man’s hand and gives him a PT-boat tie clip as a gift. Sipping coffee, the president begins skimming the morning newspapers. He’s annoyed to discover the focus is on the political feuding among the Texas politicians accompanying him on this trip. The only good headlines he can find are the ones about Jackie.
He rings for his aide Kenny O’Donnell, and tells him that the bickering must end right now. O’Donnell explains how the liberal Texas Senator Ralph Yarborough refused to ride in LBJ’s car yesterday. Kennedy speaks very evenly. Today, the president says, will be different. “You tell him it’s ride with Lyndon—or walk.”8
Now Kennedy puts on his best face—it’s time to go speak to the huge gathering of supporters outside. It is still drizzling. Secret Service Agent Bill Greer offers Kennedy a raincoat, but the president waves him off. A huge roar erupts from the eight thousand people as the president appears. A flatbed truck has been set up with a microphone and portable amplifier system. Kennedy steps forward to speak.
“There are no faint hearts in Fort Worth,” he says, smiling broadly.
People cheer in response, but several in the audience are yelling, “Where’s Jackie?”
Kennedy pauses and points up at the eighth floor. “Mrs. Kennedy is organizing herself. It takes her a little longer…” The crowd begins laughing. Kennedy offers another smile. “But of course she looks better than we do when she does it.” More laughter.9
Upstairs, Jackie Kennedy can hear her husband addressing the Texans. She rises from bed and looks out the window. It’s still raining. Good, she thinks. She’s hoping the Secret Service will affix the bubbletop to the presidential limousine today. The bubbletop may not be bulletproof, but it sure is windproof—an important consideration for Jackie. She’s tired of trying to keep her coiffure in place during the steady breeze.
Morning has come too soon for her after the long day yesterday. “Oh, God,” she groans. “One day’s campaigning can age a person thirty years.”10
She considers the outfit she has selected for this day. Of all the cities they will visit in Texas, her husband was most concerned about how she would look in Dallas. “There are going to be all these rich, Republican women at that lunch,” he told her, “wearing mink coats and diamond bracelets. And you’ve got to look as marvelous as any of them. Be simple—show these Texans what good taste really is.”11
For Dallas she has selected a strawberry-pink wool suit designed by Coco Chanel with navy trim, gold buttons, and a matching pink pillbox hat.
It is 9 a.m., and Bernard Weissman needs to leave for work in a few minutes, but for now he is still enjoying the great satisfaction of seeing his name printed at the bottom of the full-page advertisement in the Dallas Morning News. Everyone in Dallas will know who he is.
He gets into his car and pulls onto Reiger Avenue. His employer, Carpet Engineers, is about fifteen minutes away, and there is a sales meeting scheduled for this morning. Weissman still hasn’t sold a carpet, but he has an appointment in the afternoon with a potential client. Thanks to the ad in the News, he feels his prospects are looking up. And it’s just in time, too, since he’s already gone through most of his savings.
Weissman has no intention of seeing Kennedy while the president is in town. Instead, he plans to meet with Larrie Schmidt and Joe Grinnan at the DuCharme Club at twelve thirty to have a few beers over lunch.
In the Grand Ballroom of the Hotel Texas, a well-dressed gathering of two thousand Fort Worth business leaders has finished breakfast and waits expectantly for the president and First Lady to arrive. The Kennedys were due ten
minutes earlier, at 9 a.m., but the president had gone outside to speak to the crowd.
Finally, the door to the kitchen opens and several Secret Service agents come out into the ballroom, followed a few seconds later by the president of the United States. A local high school band strikes up “Hail to the Chief” as flashbulbs pop and everyone rises to applaud—and to get a better view. Kennedy is the very picture of vibrant health, standing six feet tall, smiling and deeply tanned.
Kennedy remains standing until “Hail to the Chief” finishes, then he takes his seat at the head table. The spot next to him is conspicuously empty. Jackie is listed on the program, but she is not with him. People in the audience are disappointed—many of the women in particular came to get a good look at the First Lady.
The Texas Boys Choir launches into a fervent version of “The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You.” When they finish, nothing else happens. Murmured exchanges break out in the audience. On stage, Kennedy whispers briefly to the emcee. After a few more minutes of muted confusion, the Texas Boys Choir begins another song, one not listed on the program: There was a noble ranger, They called him Mustang Gray; He left his home when but a youth, Went ranging far away… like a brave old Texan, a-ranging he would go…
As the children sing, Kennedy edits his speech. He’d originally planned to give a twenty-minute address, but now he’s striking entire passages. The boys finish singing and the emcee starts a monologue, stalling for time. Finally, after several more minutes, he shouts happily: “And now, an event I know you all have been waiting for.”
The crowd stands and applauds wildly as First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy finally walks in. She is in her pink suit and white gloves. There are whistles and yells. Some men are climbing up onto their chairs to get a better view. She walks stiffly past everyone, seeming a bit embarrassed. She finally spots her husband in the crowded room and moves quickly toward him. He smiles at her warmly. If he is annoyed that she is very late for this breakfast, nothing in his face betrays it.
Now it is time for the president to speak. After seeing the reception for his wife, he decides to improvise: “Two years ago I introduced myself in Paris as the man who had accompanied Mrs. Kennedy to Paris. I’m getting somewhat that same sensation as I travel around Texas.” The audience laughs appreciatively and Jackie is giggling, covering her mouth with one of her white-gloved hands. Kennedy smiles. “Nobody wonders what Lyndon and I wear.”12
John and Jackie Kennedy return to their suite at the Hotel Texas at 10 a.m. In forty-five minutes they will leave for Dallas. Kennedy’s aide Kenny O’Donnell comes into the suite with a copy of the Dallas Morning News. The president skimmed the headlines earlier, but didn’t look through the whole paper. O’Donnell shows him the full-page advertisement denouncing him on page 14. Kennedy reads every word, grimacing. Finished, he hands the paper over to Jackie for her inspection.
He shakes his head and says to O’Donnell: “Can you imagine a paper doing a thing like that?”
Then he turns to Jackie: “Oh, you know, we’re heading into nut country today.”
Kennedy begins pacing around the hotel room. He stops in front of his wife: “You know, last night would have been a hell of a night to assassinate a President.”
She gives him a look.
“I mean it,” he continues. “There was the rain, and the night, and we were all getting jostled. Suppose a man had a pistol in a briefcase.”
He points at a wall with his finger and pretends to shoot: “Then he could have dropped the gun and the briefcase and melted away in the crowd.”
A few weeks earlier, he’d met in the White House with Jim Bishop, the author of The Day Lincoln Was Shot. Kennedy said his feelings about assassination were similar to Lincoln’s:
“Any man who is willing to exchange his life for mine can do so.”
And now, the ad in Dealey’s paper has brought back to the surface a reality he tries to suppress—there are people in America who would like to see him dead. He walks over to a window and looks outside.
“It would not be a very difficult job to shoot the president of the United States,” he muses aloud. “All you’d have to do is get up in a high building with a high-powered rifle with a telescopic sight, and there’s nothing anybody could do.”13
From Love Field, Secret Service Agent Winston Lawson is calling the Hotel Texas. He says that the weather appears to be clearing a bit. He wonders whether or not to secure the bubbletop to the presidential limousine. Kenny O’Donnell knows that the president never likes to ride under it unless it’s absolutely necessary.
“If the weather is clear and it is not raining,” O’Donnell says, “have that bubbletop off.”14
In Dallas, people are tuning in to KPCN, the latest radio station to broadcast H. L. Hunt’s Life Line program, joining other local outlets that already air the show. As families race to get ready to go see the president’s motorcade, they can hear the announcer saying:
You would not be able to sing “The Star Spangled Banner” or state your Pledge of Allegiance to the American flag, because our Stars and Stripes would be replaced by the Hammer and Sickle. You would not be able to celebrate Independence Day, Memorial Day, or Labor Day. You would not be able to observe Thanksgiving as we know it today, thanking the Lord for his blessings and fruitful harvest. You would not be able to celebrate any holiday of freedom.
If communism were to come to America, never again would you be able to go off on hunting trips with friends. Private ownership and private use of firearms is strictly forbidden. No firearms are permitted the people, because they would then have weapons with which to rise up against the oppressors.15
Inside the Trade Mart, all of the businesses are closed. Police are stationed at all entrances, corridors, balconies, and stairways. They are also watching the meal preparations in the kitchen. Seventy plainclothes cops are also on duty, and many of these will be dispersed among the luncheon crowd.
It’s not just the police who are providing security. Civilians have also been pressed into service. The local newsman who filmed the attack on Adlai Stevenson has been invited to the presidential luncheon. He has also been asked quietly, secretly, to keep an eye out for anyone he might recognize from the Stevenson incident, and to immediately report them to the FBI or Secret Service. Outside, dozens of police officers are on high alert. Cops are also posted on nearby rooftops.
Despite the heavy security, a small handful of determined protesters has arrived from the Dallas-based Indignant White Citizens Council. Each person is carrying an anti-Kennedy placard: YANKEE GO HOME; KENNEDY, KING, AND CASTRO; and HAIL CAESAR. Some of the signs have small Confederate flags attached to them. The protesters have pieces of tape over their mouths: “To show that we are being muzzled.”16
In New York, Stanley Marcus has just sat down to lunch inside the chandeliered Le Pavillon, an exclusive French restaurant that is also a favorite of the Kennedy family. He has ordered calf’s liver lyonnaise along with a bottle of French burgundy for himself and his guests: a merchant from Sweden and a young woman from Australia who has recently entered the fashion merchandising business in New York. Although Marcus is fifteen hundred miles away from Dallas, he remains extremely concerned about the president’s visit. He has left instructions with his office how to reach him in case of an emergency.
The flight to Dallas will only take thirteen minutes, and during the brief up-and-down journey the president is at the rear of the plane talking to his aides—and complaining about the negative press coverage in Texas.
“It’s bad,” he says, holding a copy of one newspaper up for his team to see. “What’s worse, it’s inaccurate.”
General Godfrey McHugh, Kennedy’s personal military aide and the commander of Air Force One, comes to the tail-area compartment and overhears Kennedy.
“If you think that’s bad, Mr. President, wait till you see The Dallas News,” says McHugh.
“I have seen it,” replies Kennedy in a thick voice.
T
he men watch as Kennedy paces the plane and then pauses.
“What kind of journalism do you call the Dallas Morning News?” he asks angrily. “You know who’s responsible for that ad? Dealey. Remember him? After that exhibition he put on in the White House I did a little checking on him. He runs around calling himself a war correspondent, and everybody in Dallas believes him.”
And then Kennedy mutters a curse.17
By eleven thirty, the early-morning clouds have blown away and the sun is shining brilliantly under bright blue skies as Air Force One completes its short flight, preparing to land at Love Field. Aboard the plane, everyone’s mood has lifted with the skies. Kennedy’s staff people beam at each other. They have experienced this phenomenon over and over. The president will fly into a cloudy or rainy place and suddenly the skies clear in time for his landing. They even have a name for this: They call it Kennedy Weather.
As the plane taxis to a halt, the tarmac is still wet from the early-morning rain. A crowd of thousands is gathered behind a chain-link fence. Many people have parked their cars right up at the edge of the boundary and are standing on top for a better view. This is an unusually large crowd for an airport arrival. The only question is: What kind of response will the president receive here?
Jackie emerges first from Air Force One, glancing up shyly as a huge cheer rises from the packed crowd. Her pink jacket reflects the sun, and her earrings sparkle brilliantly. In a moment she is joined by her husband, who is smiling broadly. The sunlight is dazzling, and golden rays seem to land directly on the First Couple, illuminating them with a special glow. More raucous cheering erupts. People are stamping their feet, jumping and screaming. There is mad applause for the Kennedys.
Dallas 1963 Page 31
