By Abagail Chartier
New Bedford, one of the southern-most cities in
Massachusetts, was already in motion at six in the morning on a Friday. For
late November, it was surprisingly warm – a cool fifty with only a slight
windchill. There was no snow, no rain, but it was windy. A good day for kids to
walk to school, their shoes crunching beneath leaves that littered the
sidewalks of New Bedford’s North end residencies. One little girl, however,
wasn’t going to be walking to school today.
Over on Chicopee Street, a fever was keeping
seven-year-old Jane Swiszcz from joining her older brother on their walk to St.
Kilian’s school, owned by St. Kilian’s Church, where the two of them attended
for school. Deemed too sick by her mother, Swiszcz was overjoyed about getting
to stay home. Home, however, was not where she’d be staying for the day. With her
parents busy, Jane was sent across the street to be watched by her aunt and
godmother, Olive Weaver Paquin.
Paquin
was a stay-at-home type of woman. Married to a politician, Zephier Paquin, the
pair had one daughter together; a model family unit. Paquin was a perfect
example of what a 1963 woman strived to be – ladylike, well put together, and
perfectly mannered. She engaged in very feminine activities such as knitting;
she had quite a knack for it, and had many knitted items from blankets to
clothes in her home. Paquin’s short grey hair was always curled, and her makeup
was always pristine before she went out, though she wouldn’t be going out today
as she had Swiszcz to watch.
Swiszcz
dressed in her play clothes as she headed over to the tan house across the
street. Her cousin, Paquin’s daughter Lisa, was headed out and to her school,
St. Therese’s. Only nine months apart, the two were playmates. Swiszcz was
disappointed that they wouldn’t be getting to play today, but she said goodbye
to her cousin as she entered the house.
The pair’s Friday would be relaxing.
Paquin was a knitter and would have Swiszcz help her for a while. They’d sit in
the master bedroom, on the bed with beautiful crochet blankets and the room
kept near spotless. At another point, Paquin would allow her niece to go to her
cousin’s room to go and play. Swiszcz came over with her favorite doll as a
comfort item, and Lisa had several toys in her room as well as a deck of cards
to play solitaire. Lisa, as most children did, would come home for school for
lunch. The cousins would eat together before Lisa headed back to her school.
It wasn’t until after lunch when Paquin and Swiszcz went
back to doing quiet, low energy activities that everything changed.
***
Dallas, Texas was loud and celebratory. The President and
the First Lady of the United States were in town and to attend a luncheon at
the Dallas Trade Mart with leaders in the area. On the way, there was a parade
for the motorcade that the president arrived in. President Kennedy’s goal was
to appeal to the people of Dallas and get as much publicity as possible. Many
flocked to see them. Instead of going an easier route to their destination, the
motorcade passed through Dealey Plaza. The Kennedys waved from their
convertible, along with Texas Governor John Connally and his wife
who were with them.
“Mr.
President, you can’t say Dallas doesn’t love you,” Governor Connally’s wife
said as she turned to look at him.
“No,
you certainly can’t,” President Kennedy agreed.
Moments after shots rang out in the plaza.
Moments after shots rang out in the plaza.
***
President
John F. Kennedy was declared dead at 1 p.m. Dallas time at the Parkland
Hospital. A priest rushed to give him his last rites, but by the time the
priest arrived, Kennedy was already dead. The surgeons could do nothing to save
him, as the first to see him, Dr. Perry, would declare. There was, sadly, no
hope.
Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson
requested that no announcement be made about the death of President Kennedy
until after he left Parkland for Air Force One where he could be sworn in as
the next President of the United States.
***
There was a radio in the den of the Paquin residence that
was often on. Mrs. Paquin listened to it as she did housework. Swiszcz was
sitting on the braided rug placed over the hardwood floor, quietly minding her
own business to keep out of her aunt’s hair as an announcement came through. It
cut right through the middle of a song, which was what caught the attention of
those in the house.
We interrupt this
program to bring you a special bulletin from ABC Radio. Here is a special
bulletin from Dallas, Texas: 'THREE SHOTS WERE FIRED AT PRESIDENT
KENNEDY'S MOTORCADE TODAY IN DOWNTOWN DALLAS, TEXAS.’ This is ABC Radio. To
repeat: 'in Dallas, Texas, three shots were fired at President Kennedy's
motorcade today.' The president now making a two-day speaking tour of Texas.
We're going to stand by for more details on the incident in Dallas. Stay tuned
to your ABC station for further details. Now, we return you to your regular
program.
ABC would not return to their regular schedule
programming that day.
***
***
Swiszcz was brought back to her house after her parents
picked her brother up from school. It was let out early. Normally St. Kilian’s
was let out around three, a good while earlier than other schools in the area,
but today was different. Kids would either walk home or be picked up by their
parents. At the time, they didn’t know it, but school wouldn’t be held the
following Monday.
The family, like many across the nation, were glued to
the TV as they watched for updates. On the TV in the den, CBS News played
instead of the typical soap operas that played during the day. Swiszcz caught
part of Walter Cronkite’s report announcing that President Kennedy had been
killed in the shooting announced earlier. Later, while Charles Osgood was
reporting, Swiszcz was shooed away from the TV as her crying mother attempted
to shelter her.
Swiszcz cried as well. The seven-year-old was afraid for
herself, but mostly for the President’s children. She wondered what Kennedy’s
kids would do, now that they no longer had a father. How would they take it?
Were they going to be okay? What were they doing? Were they with their mother?
Would they remember him?
What if she lost her own father?
Dinner
that night was tense. Swiszcz’s mother cried several times after the
announcement of Kennedy’s death was made, though she did attempt to power
through it. She was nervous, as most of the nation was, about safety. Was is
just Kennedy the killer was after? Was it more than that? Who else could they
hurt? Who else would they hurt?
Unspoken
questions made the tension in the air thick. It would stay this way for days.
***
Life carried on, because it had to. Thanksgiving was
coming up the following Thursday, and it was Swiszcz’s house that the family
would gather in. There would be aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents
instead of just her usual family unit with her parents, older brother, and
younger brother.
She
couldn’t help but wonder what the Kennedy kids were doing for Thanksgiving this
year. Would they even celebrate it? How could they with this tragedy that she knew
so little about?
She
only got little glimpses of it, as her mother and father tried to keep her away
from it. It was hard, as it was all over the radio and TV. She didn’t know
about the weapon used or any details, really. Only the basics. Swiszcz knew
that they found Lee Harvey Oswald, the suspected killer. She was across the
street with Lisa watching on their colored TV as Oswald’s transfer from city to
county jail was being filmed. They watched, as did most of the nation, Oswald was
fatally shot on live television by Jack Ruby. That clip would play over and
over on TV, and she would be turned away from it repeatedly. Lucky for her
parents, Thanksgiving would be a distraction for their children, Swiszcz
included.
***
Nearly fifty-six years later much has changed for Jane
Swiszcz, including getting glasses and growing quite a bit taller. She works at
Stonehill College in Easton, Massachusetts, only forty minutes from New Bedford
where she has lived her whole life. She enjoys her job as a reference and government
documents librarian, a position she’s held for twenty-six years. She doesn’t
think of the tragedy she and others in the United States lived through very
often; there is far too much news today going on to think of the past.
When
November 22nd rolls around, however, for just a few moments she
allows herself to remember.
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