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.

An Early Dismissal

By Julia Carolan

Sister Mary Patricia, and older woman with deep frown lines wearing a habit stands at the front of the second grade classroom as she does every day at St. Greggory’s elementary school in Dorchester, MA. It’s a small room filled with tiny wooden desks barely able to fit a piece of paper on. Two chalkboards sit at the front at the room while the rest of the walls hold crosses or cursive letters of the alphabet. The young students scribble silently in their daily journal when another nun who usually watches over the class down the hall burst in, tears in her eyes. 

            The two quickly exited to the hallway and even behind a heavy wooden door slammed between them, the classroom quickly filled with the wails of the nuns. Moments later a small TV was wheeled into the room. Robert, one of the third grade students at the school, glanced around at his classmates and laughed. It wasn’t often class got derailed to watch TV.

 The small box flicked on to the greyscale footage of a grey haired man in a white button up and a slim black tie sitting at a desk. “There has been an attempt, as perhaps you know now, on the life of president Kennedy. He was wounded in an automobile driving from Dallas airport into downtown Dallas along with governor Connolly of Texas. They have been taken to Parkland hospital there where their condition is yet unknown.”

A heaviness fell over the room as the students watched their caretakers fall apart watching the TV. Robert squinted at the small screen for second before raising his hand.

“Did the president die?” he asked, not waiting to be called on.

Sister Mary Patricia spun around and shot him a look. “You should be watching the television,” she said. 

The nun turned back around glassy eyes glued to the television once again. Almost immediately after an announcement came over the intercom saying school was being let out early. 

Excited about the early recess Robert hopped on his bike and joked around with his friends as they rode through the streets. It was an unusually warm day in November, but the usually bustling neighborhood seemed almost deserted. He figured this must be what it’s like while they’re in school. 

“Do you think the president is okay?” one of his friends asked. 

Robert frowned. All the adults were acting hysterical, but the news had said there was an attempt on his life, not a successful one. Plus, he was already at the hospital. Robert simply shrugged to his friend while another boy also ignored the question saying they hope they kill the man that did it. 

Across town in the same Boston neighborhood Maureen was also headed home from school. The Paul A. Dever school in Columbia Point couldn’t afford televisions so Maureen had to resort to pestering her older brother who walked home with her. 

“My teacher was crying Cliff,” she told him again. 

Her brother nodded. He walked at a much faster pace than usual. Maureen had to jog to keep up. “Did Ginny and Anne get out too you think?” she asked him. Her brother didn’t answer. They walked in silence the rest of the way home.

Inside Maureen was greeted by her family gathered in the living room, the TV up full volume. Cliff rushed over to join while Maureen sat on the floor by her sisters. Even her great aunts and uncles were in here, but no one said hello when they came inside. They were supposed to be at work. With them in here the already small room felt so stuffy it was hard to breathe. She wanted to ask her sisters what was going on but the only sound in the room besides the TV was the muffled sobs of her step mother. 

“From Dallas Texas the flash apparently official President Kennedy died at 1pm central standard time, 2pm eastern standard time,” said the news anchor. 

The sobbing grew louder, not only from her own living room, but from other parts of the triple decker. Her father got up and lit a cigarette and her youngest sister burst into tears. Maureen didn’t know exactly how to react, but she was glad the man who did it was in Texas so he couldn’t hurt her or her family.  

Both Robert and Maureen, who would normally be out at this point, hanging with friends or playing baseball sat inside their homes. The usual siren of knocks on the front door after school were replaced with silence. No one went in or out. All nine children in Robert’s family, who would usually be shooed out by their mother sat still and silent in the living room. 

What felt like instantly after the president was announced dead the TV switched to shaky cam footage. There was mumbling but above the crowd of reporters and police packed into what appeared to be a narrow hallway you could hear one man ask, “Did you shoot the president?” 

“I didn’t shoot anybody, no sir,” the man answered, his southern accent clear. 

“Bullshit,” Robert’s mom responded. His father gave her a disapproving glance before turning his focus back to the television. 

“They got him?” Robert asked his father. Vincent Carolan frowned over at him as if to say ‘shut up and pay attention’ before his eyes flicked back to the small television screen. 

Maureen watched the man on the screen get paraded in front of the reporters. They were holding their cameras inches away from his face. The sound of the photos being taken was almost like background music.

“Did you kill the president?” the reporter asked. At the sound of the word kill Maureen’s oldest brother Cliff winced. 

At his answer her youngest sister Anne smirked. “He sounds stupid.” 

Her response was answered with a harsh punch on the arm from her brother. The smirk dropped off her face as she resumed watching the program. 

The days that followed were more of this. Unopened front doors once everyone was back from school. Mourning in near silence at the dinner table, and a television that never seemed to be turned off, in fear of missing an update. The update to come would be referred to then and now as “the shot heard around the world”. 

Tragedy on November 22, 1963

By Emma-Cate Rapose

St. Matthew's Cathedral in Washington D.C., where John F. Kennedy's funeral was held.

   Scott Rapose was eager to leave Mrs. Gately’s sixth grade class for the weekend on a Friday afternoon when an announcement came over the loudspeaker.It was November 22, 1963, and Nathaniel Morton School received the news that President John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. The classroom filled with silence, and Rapose will never forget the look of shock on his teacher’s face.

Rapose, confused at the age of 11, proceeded to file out of the classroom with his peers and walk outside into the unusually warm November day for a somber bus ride home. None of his classmates on the bus wanted to talk as Rapose rode from his school in central Plymouth to his one-story ranch style home on the north side of town. 

Nathaniel Morton School, where Scott Rapose attended elementary and middle school.

As he walked into the house, where he lived with his parents and two sisters, he found his mother glued to the television. His sisters were still at school, and his father at work. Here, in his living room as he stood by his mother’s side, he found out Kennedy had been shot and killed by Lee Harvey Oswald in downtown Dallas en route to speak at a luncheon at Trade Mart.

Reporters like Walter Cronkite broke into television broadcasts to tell the nation that President Kennedy had been shot.

“From Dallas, Texas, a flash - apparently official - President Kennedy died at one p.m. Central Standard Time, two p.m. Eastern Standard Time, some 38 minutes ago.” Cronkite said, interrupting the daily CBS broadcast of “As the World Turns.” 

Cronkite then took off his glasses and looked at the clock. Tears welled in the eyes of a man beloved by America, including the Rapose family. His words seemed to catch in his throat. Regaining composure, he slid his glasses back on and continued.

“Vice President Johnson has left the hospital in Dallas but we do not know to where he has proceeded. Presumably, he will be taking the oath of office shortly and become the 36th president of the United States,” Cronkite said.

Rapose watched as Lyndon B. Johnson was almost immediately sworn on Air Force One in as the new president with Mrs. Johnson and Jackie Kennedy, the late president’s wife, by his side. Johnson then declared Monday, November 25, as a national day of mourning.

For the entire weekend, nobody in the Rapose household had any energy. Rapose felt weird and uncomfortable being around, as any conversation he had with his family had a darker and sadder tone than usual. The energy in his home was different.

Everyone in his family was a big fan of Kennedy, especially considering the fact they were all Massachusetts natives, like the late president.

As an avid football fan, Rapose was upset but understood that the National Football League had cancelled all of the games for that weekend. Instead of watching the games, the Rapose family sat around the television and focused on the coverage of the assassination and the following events.

On Sunday, November 24, Rapose watched as Jack Ruby approached Lee Harvey Oswald, who was being escorted to county jail by Dallas police, and shot him in the abdomen with a pistol on live television. Oswald was soon pronounced dead at Parkland Memorial Hospital, the same hospital where Kennedy had been pronounced dead two days earlier. 

“He’s been shot, there’s a man with a gun, absolute panic, absolute panic,” a news reporter said as the shooting aired live for the country to see.

For Rapose, this was the first time he had seen someone killed live on television.

“Being a kid, you see gun fights on TV shows,” Rapose said. “But this was real, someone in a suit and hat really jumped right out in front and shot him.”

On the same day, Kennedy’s flag-draped coffin was carried out of the White House, accompanied by Jackie Kennedy and their two children, Caroline and John Jr. The coffin was carried to the Capitol Rotunda, where the president lay in state for 21 hours. More than 250,000 people lined up behind ropes, waiting to pay their respects.

The next day, the Rapose family watched the funeral of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the late President of the United States, on live television. No one in the family attended work or school that day, and sat fixed to the television as the entire country said goodbye to the late president.

More than 800,000 people lined up in the cold on Pennsylvania Ave. to watch the president’s funeral procession. At 12:14 p.m., the coffin entered St. Matthew’s Cathedral. Among those present for the funeral mass were Presidents Truman and Eisenhower, and more than 53 heads of state. The burial took place soon after at Arlington National Cemetery, and Jackie Kennedy lit an eternal flame.

For the days following, conversations were had regarding the assassination in school, but everyone seemed to mope around. The assassination of John F. Kennedy took a toll on the entire country.

“There is nothing that adds shock to our sadness as the assassination of our leader, chosen as he is to embody the ideals of our people, the faith we have in our institution, and our belief in the fatherhood of god and the brotherhood of man,” Chief Justice of the United States Earl Warren said during a eulogy delivered to the late president. “We are saddened; we are stunned; we are perplexed.”