Small Town Grieves President Kennedy

By Lily Whitten

Small Town Grieves President Kennedy

Elaine Enochs lived a simple life in many ways. She grew up in Lincoln, Maine, population 4,541 and she enjoyed the benefits of a small, safe town. She enjoyed going to the bowling alley and the movie theater. She liked going to the roller-skating rink on the weekends. She rode her bike around the small town, waving to others. She would walk around Lincoln alone. She would ride in her mother’s Pontiac without a seatbelt. The town was safe but even Lincoln could not escape a national tragedy. 

Elaine lived in a large white farmhouse, a comfortable home for her large family of six. Her father was a classic family man. He provided for his family even when it meant traveling for weeks at a time then returning on the weekends occasionally. He was a professional salesman, selling vacuum cleaners. Elaine remembers always seeing him in a suit. Her mother had brown curly hair. She was a housewife. She always wore cat-eye glasses with bright red lipstick. She could be identified by the sound of her high heels.

Elaine was the middle child. She was overshadowed by her older brother, Robert. He was seventeen at the time and a reckless teenager. He enjoyed going to parties frequently and had a habit of staying out late and sneaking back into the house as the sun came up. He was well-liked and popular, but he was not around the family much. Elaine’s two younger sisters required the most attention from her mother. Mary Jane was seven and the youngest Joann was five. Elaine kept to herself most of the time.

November 22, 1963 started as a normal day for Elaine. She rode the bus to Ella P. Burr Elementary school. She was wearing a home-made floral dress and sat quietly with her legs crossed at her desk. Her permed brown hair hung off her face, some curls hugged her chin. Her mother was a hairdresser and never let her leave the house with unstyled hair. Each night for as long as she could remember, she slept with curlers in her hair. At age twelve, she had permed hair. Sitting in school she glanced out the window. The sky was clear, and the wind lightly blew. Just earlier the class had recited the Pledge of Allegiance.

The kids returned from lunch and filed into their seats. They were still rowdy from recess. They squirmed in their seats ready for the afternoon lesson. Their teacher walked in and closed the door. She had curled black hair and black cat eye-glasses. The door opened and a voice called her out of the room. After a minute, she returned. She was softly crying. Tears fell from her eyes but she managed to muster up a few words.

“The president has been shot,” she said.

The faces of the young children went blank. The kids sat in their seats silently. The class was dismissed and school was not held until the next week. The next few hours were dipped in a fog. Elaine could not recall the bus ride home. Her mind shut down.

When she returned home, the television was already turned on to the news. Her mother paced the house, restless. The rooms of the house were filled with the sound of a manly voice. The voice of Walter Cronkite echoed to every part of the house alerting all the members of the family of the latest updates. Cronkite was the most popular CBS news anchor at the time. The family relied on Cronkite to relay any updates. When their eyes were not glued to the screen, they were listening.

On their small screen, in black and white. Cronkite sat at a desk and spoke into a thin microphone. The camera zoomed into his face. His hair was slicked back neatly, and his bushy eyebrows hardly moved while he was speaking. He reached for his chunky black reading glasses. He stared somberly into the camera, Elaine felt like he was talking directly to her. He fidgeted with his glasses and repeatedly looked down at the desk like the words were almost too hard for him to get out.

“President Kennedy died at 1 Central Standard Time 2 Eastern Standard Time, 38 minutes ago,” he said.

The death of the president rocked the small and patriotic town. It invited shock and fear into the all-American family’s home. Elaine’s neighbors dropped their flags to half-staff. In the days following, everywhere Elaine went she overheard whispers of fear and concern. She wondered what was going to happen to the country. In the grocery store, people spent more time gossiping than food shopping.

President Kennedy’s funeral was broadcasted on November 25. Again, her family gathered together in the small living room. They watched solemnly. No one said a word. The younger children were silent even though they did not understand what was happening. The faces of thousands of citizens were featured on the screen.

On Thursday, November 28, the family gathered in front of the television again. Elaine and her father watched the giant balloons stride down the street for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. That Thanksgiving was quieter than usual. The family had an open-door policy with neighbors and family but on that day, the front door was never opened. Her mother cooked a feast as usual. She brought out the good china for the holiday. Elaine recalls only seeing the blue china set on special occasions. In the middle of the table were candles wrapped in plastic. Her mother always put them out for display but never burned them. The family gathered around the table. This was the first time all of the family dined together since the news. They turned off the radio and the television. Though the country suffered a great loss, the family was able to unite in the wake of chaos.

Slaying of President Kennedy Remembered 56 Years Later

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.

***

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.

***

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEVfKKjODBg

***

            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 22^nd rolls around, however, for just a few moments she allows herself to remember.

Prayers for JFK

By Elaina Cronin

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

She commuted into work as she always did. This was after she bought her beige two-door Opel of course, which made the commute significantly easier and much more enjoyable.
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 18^th 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.”