Kneeling down at the thin wooden altar, her thoughts were fixed in prayer. The Shrine was antiquated, and just about 200 people could fit inside at a time. It settled right along the seaport, and was shining on the cool Fall day. The weather was balmy, 58 degrees and clear, which was refreshing as the days before had been hovering in the chilled 40s. Elaine had just graduated Chandler Secretarial School for Women, and at 21, was proud to have landed a job working for one of the biggest and most successful law firms in Boston; Nutter, McClennen and Fish. Just a few yards down from her office, Our Lady of Good Voyage was where she walked in solitude.
Our Lady of Good Voyage
Before she had her car, Elaine had to commute into Boston by taking the bus and then the train, from her charming town of Brookline, Massachusetts. Her day began by taking the bus to Kenmore Square, which is where the Red Sox field is at, then she would make her way downstairs to the trains which go into the city, there, she would come out near the Boston Commons, where the swan boats are, and then, she would walk to the office building and all the way up to the 18th floor.
“One day when I had been working for a few years, I decided it was a beautiful day. I had on my three-inch heels and I walked back from Boston all the way home to Brookline.”
The office was incredible, at least in her eyes, as she never had a job before working in their large Boston office. There were at least ten senior partners at the time and of course all the regular ‘Junior Lawyers’ which all had their own offices. Then all the secretaries would have desks right outside their door, that way they could be in communication with them throughout the day.
She grew up in an old antique home, with fireplaces in every room, 204 Aspinwall Avenue was the address; settled along a quiet street and painted a soft gray, it stood out among the others. On the porch sat two beautiful, but worn wicker chairs, and the home backed into the Northeastern University sports field, which allowed for her five brothers to roughhouse in the yard. When you walked into the home you were greeted with a beautiful wooden foyer, and at the top of the staircase, was a bright stain glass window.
“It was a great house, there were 13 rooms and three floors. My Puppa moved Mary and I up to the third floor, and even though there was plenty of space, we shared a room. The boys each got their own room and then my Puppa made the second floor into an apartment, which they rented out to a few boys who were going to pharmaceutical school in Boston. He didn’t want us girls sleeping on the same floor as the boys,” she later recalled.
Inside 204 Aspinwall Ave.
The walls were painted a dusty yellow, and a few rooms had floral wallpaper which her mother always loved. The wide planked wooden floors creaked in a few spots, in a shabby way. Nestled here, she still lived at home with her parents, along with three of her five brothers. By the Fall of 1962, her sister was already married and had moved out, so although her brothers always kept the home lively, there was still a melancholy feeling without her sister to share a room with. The home was nearly full, but it was still sad to come home to an empty space, especially this night as she prayed alone.
Back at the office it was a typical day, the regular commotion, hustle and bustle.
"I was the secretary for the president of the Massachusetts Bar Association at the time, and then later I worked for his senior partner. I spent my days writing letters where the Judge would dictate and I would write what he said in short-hand and then type it up. I actually wrote at least five or six letters from the judge to President Kennedy.”
The office was humming and everyone was doing work as normal. Sitting at her desk right outside the office of the Judge, the room suddenly fell silent as they received word that the President had been shot. It was quiet, but only for a moment, and soon everyone started to slowly gather their belongings and leave.
“We didn’t know quite what to do, we were so shocked, and the news was heartbreaking. I just did what felt normal, and that was to pray.”
Making her way to the church just a few yards away, she couldn’t believe the news. She left right away and went to the church. She just prayed for him, his family, and his children. She just kept asking God to save him, telling Him that the President was such a good man.
After she prayed, she made her way home. The day that started so bright turned solemn, and when she walked in the front door of her warm family home, her parents were sitting in the dim-lit parlor where they had the television on to the news. The small boxed television illuminated the parlor, as black and white flashes crossed the screen as the bulletin was read out. Walter Cronkite gave the clean report informing the audience of the attack on the President.
Cronkite said, “The President was wounded in an automobile from Dallas airport heading to downtown Dallas, the condition earlier in the afternoon was unknown, but shortly after, at around 1 PM, it was reported that Father Hubert had administered the last sacrament of the church to President Kennedy.” They sat in disbelief as they took in the news. The new President’s words embodied the feelings of the country as Lindon B. Johnson spoke, “We have suffered a great loss that cannot be weighed, for me it is a deep personal offense,”
As they watched on, the witnessed the final scenes at Andrews Air Force Base, where the casket carrying the body of President Kennedy was being transferred to an ambulance, and Mrs. Kennedy and Robert Kennedy were following behind and entering the car. They could not believe that this crime had actually befell, and that the President who was so beloved had been senselessly murdered.
She had just begun to start to really read the news, she would read the Boston Globe in those times. Ever since she went to a party with people in their 30s, and she couldn’t understand what they were talking about, she decided she better start to read the news to learn about what was going on. The front cover of the Globe the following morning read “SHOCK…DISBELIEF…GRIEF John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Born in Brookline, Massachusetts – Shot and Killed in Dallas, Texas, at Age of 46.” This is exactly how they felt, they were in complete shock and disbelief. Nobody could believe that the assassination had occurred. There was an immeasurable impact in the Massachusetts community, and especially in Brookline, which was the hometown of JFK.
The entire world mourned the death of the leader and friend, as they all felt the sorrow that surrounded the Kennedy household. Although the mourning period was complete after just 30 days, the legacy of the Kennedys has lived on for decades, and will for decades to come. Tragedy seems to follow their family, and today their tragedy is coined as the “Kennedy Curse.” It is dreadful the misfortunes that their family had endured, as multiple family members have been either murdered or have passed away rather unexpectedly.
Today sitting in her single story, bright yellow house in Florida, separate from her familiar home of Brookline, Elaine still thinks about the assassination. “It is something I will never forget because I felt it. It felt more than just an attack to a person, but to me, and to my country. That is something you can never forget.”
No comments:
Post a Comment