Remembering JFK's funeral….
Posted: November 25th, 2013, 6:41 am
REMEMBERING THE FUNERAL OF PRESIDENT JOHN F. KENNEDY
The funeral of President John F. Kennedy was fifty years ago. I’m glad I was there and am pleased the majority of news films of the day remain black and white.
On the Sunday evening before Thanksgiving of 1963, Senator Richard Russell of Georgia contacted our Commandant of Cadets at North Georgia College as to the possibility of having an honor guard present the next day in Washington for the funeral of President Kennedy. A few minutes later volunteers were accepted, emergency leaves approved and posted, dress uniforms and essential toiletries packed and five cadets were off from Dahlonega enroute to Washington, D.C.
We arrived at the pre-arranged parking lot section of the quite empty Pentagon parking lot before noon on Monday after a late night and early morning of difficult driving through much light sleet and snow and frequent stops for coffee and changing of drivers. While driving through Virginia, we had stopped to shave and change into our uniforms in an old service station that appeared deserted.
As Senator Russell had promised, we were met and driven in an Army staff car directly to Arlington National Cemetery. It was an exciting experience for a small group of military cadets from a small essential military college in the Georgia mountains to be in Washington to attend the funeral of their fallen Commander-in-Chief.
The weather was cold and brisk! At Arlington the trees were virtually bare with drifts of fallen leaves everywhere. It was cold enough we wished for our leather gloves and walked quite a bit simply for warmth. Numerous foreign uniformed service personnel were encountered and saluted mostly due to our ignorance as to their actual ranks. Many uniformed personnel also saluted us with questioning looks as to our uniforms and ranks.
Near the time the funeral processional was to begin moving across the Potomac we settled atop the wall at the cemetery entrance providing quite a panoramic view across the river and shared the perch with several television camera crews. Our excitement of having such a great viewing position was quite brief as Secret Service personnel quickly ordered everyone on the wall to move away. When asked where we might move, one of the more personable agents suggested we might accompany him up the hill to the gravesite where he could position us in an appropriate location as an honor guard. What happened subsequently was almost too good to be true. We walked quickly up the hill with the agent to the gravesite and he moved people back and placed us in the very front row behind the containment rope facing directly opposite where the President’s family eventually stood. It seemed thousands of observers were already assembled behind us and across the small paved roadway adjacent to the gravesite.
An eerie, almost unbelievable quietness was constant over the huge crowd. Several ceremonial military units quickly arrived and were positioned. Several buses arrived and the unloading passengers passed directly in front of us. The people we so closely observed was probably the greatest assemblage of political and military “who’s who” of the free world at that time. I was particularly impressed with the towering, yet somewhat stooped, stately nature of Senator Everett Dirksen and the blandly contrasting attire of General Charles de Gaulle of France, with whom I later exchanged salutes.
The Kennedy family arrived and President and Mrs. Johnson. I was struck by the contrasts in the veiled dignified solemness of Jackie Kennedy flanked by the youthful Senator Ted Kennedy and the very boyish appearing Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who stood constantly stooped over and never seemed to look upward.
The scene was incredibly colorful in the bright afternoon sun on the hillside. There were marked contrasts: between colorful military formal dress uniforms and flags and shiny band instruments and funeral traditional dark dress; between Black Jack, the striking and quite spirited stallion, with shiny black cavalry boots reversed in his saddle’s stirrups
and the colorful dress uniform of his masterful handler; between the fragile appearing caisson and the impressive casket with bright flag covering; and, between the pallbearers distinctively different uniforms and Cardinal Cushing’s striking red attire.
In quiet reflection, I can still clearly recall the colors and hear the numerous equivocal sounds: hoof beats, the caisson’s squeaky wheels, drum rolls, crisp military commands, Hail to the Chief and our National Anthem, snifflings, sobbings, the massive echoing responses during the shore gun’s twenty-one gun salute, the deafening roar as Air Force One passed low overhead dipping its wings in tribute, Taps in the distance, and, the silent dispersal of thousands of people.
I remember being awed by the vivid colors amidst the ultimate in pomp and formality, but it was a very sad and dark day. It remains appropriate the news accounts seen replayed are overwhelmingly in black and white.
Our group returned to North Georgia College late Tuesday. The campus was virtually deserted as most students had already left for an extended holiday weekend. Alone, I drove in quite heavy sleet from Dahlonega across to Helen and on towards LaPrade’s Camp on Lake Burton for some deer hunting and relaxation with some family and friends. The mountains were quiet dark with low hanging cold clouds dropping the sleet. At one point near my destination, I eased very carefully onto the side of the road and stopped. I put on a heavy coat and gloves and walked to a rocky outcropping and stood for a long time looking at the rather desolate, stormy beauty of the mountains. I could only reflect on the past two days. I had been to the funeral of President John F. Kennedy. I had cried during the funeral and I cried some more. As we sat down to supper that evening in the historic cookhouse from C.C.C. days, one of my cousins asked why I had arrived so late as they had expected me much earlier in the day. I answered that I had been to Washington to the funeral of President Kennedy. Nothing else was said during the meal.
Each year at this time, as the news media reminds us of the events surrounding the murder and funeral of President Kennedy, I find it quite natural to mentally relive the times. The major questions of who and why were already troubling me during the funeral and continue to perplex. Beginning with the news accounts of Oswald even before the funeral and continuing throughout the years since that terrible time near Thanksgiving of 1963, subsequent events as the ridiculous Warren Commission’s summary findings, books of theories and speculations, media specials and fictionals…none have provided undisputable answers.
I close my eyes and remember the colors of the day, but I will always be glad the news films are in black and white.
The funeral of President John F. Kennedy was fifty years ago. I’m glad I was there and am pleased the majority of news films of the day remain black and white.
On the Sunday evening before Thanksgiving of 1963, Senator Richard Russell of Georgia contacted our Commandant of Cadets at North Georgia College as to the possibility of having an honor guard present the next day in Washington for the funeral of President Kennedy. A few minutes later volunteers were accepted, emergency leaves approved and posted, dress uniforms and essential toiletries packed and five cadets were off from Dahlonega enroute to Washington, D.C.
We arrived at the pre-arranged parking lot section of the quite empty Pentagon parking lot before noon on Monday after a late night and early morning of difficult driving through much light sleet and snow and frequent stops for coffee and changing of drivers. While driving through Virginia, we had stopped to shave and change into our uniforms in an old service station that appeared deserted.
As Senator Russell had promised, we were met and driven in an Army staff car directly to Arlington National Cemetery. It was an exciting experience for a small group of military cadets from a small essential military college in the Georgia mountains to be in Washington to attend the funeral of their fallen Commander-in-Chief.
The weather was cold and brisk! At Arlington the trees were virtually bare with drifts of fallen leaves everywhere. It was cold enough we wished for our leather gloves and walked quite a bit simply for warmth. Numerous foreign uniformed service personnel were encountered and saluted mostly due to our ignorance as to their actual ranks. Many uniformed personnel also saluted us with questioning looks as to our uniforms and ranks.
Near the time the funeral processional was to begin moving across the Potomac we settled atop the wall at the cemetery entrance providing quite a panoramic view across the river and shared the perch with several television camera crews. Our excitement of having such a great viewing position was quite brief as Secret Service personnel quickly ordered everyone on the wall to move away. When asked where we might move, one of the more personable agents suggested we might accompany him up the hill to the gravesite where he could position us in an appropriate location as an honor guard. What happened subsequently was almost too good to be true. We walked quickly up the hill with the agent to the gravesite and he moved people back and placed us in the very front row behind the containment rope facing directly opposite where the President’s family eventually stood. It seemed thousands of observers were already assembled behind us and across the small paved roadway adjacent to the gravesite.
An eerie, almost unbelievable quietness was constant over the huge crowd. Several ceremonial military units quickly arrived and were positioned. Several buses arrived and the unloading passengers passed directly in front of us. The people we so closely observed was probably the greatest assemblage of political and military “who’s who” of the free world at that time. I was particularly impressed with the towering, yet somewhat stooped, stately nature of Senator Everett Dirksen and the blandly contrasting attire of General Charles de Gaulle of France, with whom I later exchanged salutes.
The Kennedy family arrived and President and Mrs. Johnson. I was struck by the contrasts in the veiled dignified solemness of Jackie Kennedy flanked by the youthful Senator Ted Kennedy and the very boyish appearing Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who stood constantly stooped over and never seemed to look upward.
The scene was incredibly colorful in the bright afternoon sun on the hillside. There were marked contrasts: between colorful military formal dress uniforms and flags and shiny band instruments and funeral traditional dark dress; between Black Jack, the striking and quite spirited stallion, with shiny black cavalry boots reversed in his saddle’s stirrups
and the colorful dress uniform of his masterful handler; between the fragile appearing caisson and the impressive casket with bright flag covering; and, between the pallbearers distinctively different uniforms and Cardinal Cushing’s striking red attire.
In quiet reflection, I can still clearly recall the colors and hear the numerous equivocal sounds: hoof beats, the caisson’s squeaky wheels, drum rolls, crisp military commands, Hail to the Chief and our National Anthem, snifflings, sobbings, the massive echoing responses during the shore gun’s twenty-one gun salute, the deafening roar as Air Force One passed low overhead dipping its wings in tribute, Taps in the distance, and, the silent dispersal of thousands of people.
I remember being awed by the vivid colors amidst the ultimate in pomp and formality, but it was a very sad and dark day. It remains appropriate the news accounts seen replayed are overwhelmingly in black and white.
Our group returned to North Georgia College late Tuesday. The campus was virtually deserted as most students had already left for an extended holiday weekend. Alone, I drove in quite heavy sleet from Dahlonega across to Helen and on towards LaPrade’s Camp on Lake Burton for some deer hunting and relaxation with some family and friends. The mountains were quiet dark with low hanging cold clouds dropping the sleet. At one point near my destination, I eased very carefully onto the side of the road and stopped. I put on a heavy coat and gloves and walked to a rocky outcropping and stood for a long time looking at the rather desolate, stormy beauty of the mountains. I could only reflect on the past two days. I had been to the funeral of President John F. Kennedy. I had cried during the funeral and I cried some more. As we sat down to supper that evening in the historic cookhouse from C.C.C. days, one of my cousins asked why I had arrived so late as they had expected me much earlier in the day. I answered that I had been to Washington to the funeral of President Kennedy. Nothing else was said during the meal.
Each year at this time, as the news media reminds us of the events surrounding the murder and funeral of President Kennedy, I find it quite natural to mentally relive the times. The major questions of who and why were already troubling me during the funeral and continue to perplex. Beginning with the news accounts of Oswald even before the funeral and continuing throughout the years since that terrible time near Thanksgiving of 1963, subsequent events as the ridiculous Warren Commission’s summary findings, books of theories and speculations, media specials and fictionals…none have provided undisputable answers.
I close my eyes and remember the colors of the day, but I will always be glad the news films are in black and white.