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A Grieving Nation
The Death of a President is William Manchester’s account of the events of five fate
ful days in November 1963. In this bestseller, he details the impact of President
Kennedy’s assassination and funeral on millions of people in the United States
and around the world who watched the events and mourned along with the
President’s family.
As you read, picture yourself one of millions of Americans who “remained glued to
television” for five days watching accounts of the assassination and funeral ceremonies.
acqueline Kennedy had appeared on the North
Portico, a child in either hand. The President’s
son and daughter did not have to come out this
way. They could have been driven out the south
grounds and up Constitution. and before her
departure for Texas their mother would have
insisted upon that; at Andrews Field three days
earlier she had forbidden John to leave the heli
copter because photographers were present. But
today and tomorrow were to be a season apart in
her life. The shock of that brief scene was
immense. In that one instant she revealed to the
great audience the full measure of its loss. Old
Guard infantrymen in dress blues and snowy
gloves flanked the fatherless First Family, strain
ing at attention. Caroline, her eyes hazy in reflec
tion, gently rested her black headband against her
mother’s slim waist. John squirmed, wriggled
free, and clenched his tiny fist behind his back in
a crimping gesture which brought a stab of pain
to those who remembered his father’s restless
right hand. Few saw it, however, for nearly every
eye was upon the widow. Transfigured beneath
the North Portico’s hanging lantern she awaited
the procession, her swollen eyes fixed on the cais
son and the six matched horses. Her expression of
ineffable tragedy was, in that flicker of a moment,
indelibly etched upon the national conscience; in
a survey of New England college students con
ducted later that week the investigators found
that ‘attention to Mrs. Kennedy’s actions and
deportment bordered on the obsessive.”
This was her first exposure to it. It was also the
first sunlight she had seen since Dallas, but she
did not blink. Steadfast and still, she awaited the
signal to move, her lashes heavy and her lovely
mouth drawn down in a classic curve of grief.
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Immediately behind her, vigilant as always, stood
Robert Kennedy. The cameras were frozen on the
motionless widow, and omitting those who were
reading newspaper accounts or talking to friends,
nearly everyone in the United States was watching
Mrs. Kennedy. By its own account, a minimum of
95 percent of the adult population was peering at
television or listening to radio accounts. To the
Americans must be added all of Europe and those
parts of Asia which were periodically reached by
relay satellite. Even Russia had announced that
the Soviet Union would televise the funeral,
including the Mass in St. Matthew’s. By Sunday
noon the U.S.A. and most of the civilized world
had become a kind of closed-circuit hookup.
Nothing existed except this one blinding spotlight.
“An entire nation was trapped
in grief”
Not only had commercials been canceled;
such routine reports as weather, newscasts, and
sports were unmentioned. The National Football
League was playing its full schedule, but the
country was unaware of it. The communication
industry’s coverage was unprecedented.
The
United States had become the victim of voluntary
hypnosis. There seemed to be no way for Americans
to avoid concentration on the center of the national
stage.
It wasn’t necessary to stand on Pennsylvania
Avenue and see the Stars and Stripes flutter over
the coffin for a man to weep before his children.
It was happening to heads of families in every
part of the country. ranging from a third of the
anti-Kennedy Southerners to nearly two-thirds of
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Literature Activity
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Chapter 18 Modern American History Edition
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(continued)
the pro-Kennedy Northerners, with the national
average well over 50 percent.
Therefore flight was impossible. Every hatch
was battened down, every roadblock impassable.
An entire nation was trapped in grief. ‘What has
happened,” a network commentator said a halfhour after the Oswald shooting, “has been too
much, too ugly, and too fast,” The velocity of
transmission, moving at the speed of light; the
surfeit of horror; and the sense of shared sorrow
bound the American people together more closely
than any other nation since the beginning of man.
The average American, whatever his race, reli
gious convictions, or politics, was gaping, anes
thetized by what after two full days he still felt
could not be happening.
Drums are muffled by loosening the tension
on each drumhead, thus deadening the reso
nance. The two bass and sixteen snare drummers
had completed this task before falling in outside
the White House, and had been holding their
sticks with practiced ease when Mrs. Kennedy
shepherded her children into the limousine out
side the portico. Accompanying them were
Attorney General Kennedy, the new President
and Mrs. Johnson on the jump seats, and, some
where in the back seat, a small and astonishingly
mobile pair of white gloves. The gloves belonged
to John F. Kennedy, Jr.
Down the long drive they moved beneath the
naked trees, and the fifty colorful state flags,
ranged on either side, dipped in homage to the
simple caisson.
“Oh Lyndon,” Mrs. Kennedy said suddenly,
breaking for the first and last time her vow never
again to call him by his first name, “what an
awful way for you to come in.”
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[T]he entire area from Justice to the
Treasury had become black with straining people.
The mob was the quietest ever to break a police
line, and the break was so quick and effortless
that none of the riders up ahead suspected any
thing unusual. The spectacle was, in fact, spectac
ular; climbing the equestrian statue opposite the
National Archives, three of the routed policemen
attempted to estimate the size of the multitude,
Their best guess was that John Kennedy was
being followed by a hundred thousand “Other
Mourners.”
Now Lyndon Johnson stepped forward for
the ritualistic wreath-placing by the President of
the United States. His floral tribute was huge,
brilliantly green with red and white carnation,
mounted on a stand held from behind by a lanky
Army sergeant 1st class. As Johnson faced it and
glided forward, the soldier retreated, matching
his steps with the President’s. The odd two-man
waltz ended; the sergeant swiftly departed.
Johnson paused in momentary prayer and
returned to his place. Except for the muted sob
bing of the sergeant—two colonels were leading
him to an anteroom—the great rotunda was
silent. The plans had ended here. The fourteenminute ceremony was over, and suddenly Mrs.
Kennedy who had felt faint and was swaying
slightly, realized everyone was waiting for her
to leave first.
She wasn’t quite ready. Facing Robert Kennedy
she asked softly, “Can I say good-bye?” He nodded
once, and she took Caroline by the hand.
Eyes
closed, they leaned over to brush their lips against
the flag. Caroline’s small gloved hand crept under
neath, to be nearer, and in that single instant an
entire nation was brought to its knees.
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From THE DEATH OF A PRESIDENT by William Manchester.
Copyright © 1967. Published by HarperCollins Publishers.
1. Ho does this excerpt indicate the enoi mous effect the death of’ President
Kenned had on Americans? Can ‘
ou think of an event in your lifetime that
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has affec ted so many people? if so, describe it.
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2. Drawing Conclusions The Death of a President was ovei 700 pages long,
and yet it was a bestseller for many months. Why do you think this was so?
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LITERATURE ACTIVITY
The Invisible Poor
In his 1962 book, The Other America, Michael Harrington documented the
existence of millions of impoverished Americans. The book became an unlikely
best-seller, and its readers, many of whom were young idealists, became supporters
of President Johnson’s War on Poverty.
As you read, think about poverty in American society today. Are the poor still “invisible”?
he millions who are poor in the United States
tend to become increasingly invisible. Here is
a great mass of people, yet it takes an effort of the
intellect and will even to see them.
There are perennial reasons that make the
other America an invisible land.
Poverty is often off the beaten track.
If the middle class never did like ugliness and
poverty, it was at least aware of them, “Across the
tracks” was not a very long way to go. There were
forays into the slums at Christmas time; there were
charitable organizations that brought contact with
the poor. Occasionally, almost everyone passed
through the Negro ghetto or the blocks of tenements,
if only to get downtown to work or to entertainment.
Now the American city has been transformed.
The pool’ still inhabit the miserable housing in the
central area, but they are increasingly isolated from
contact with, or sight of, anybody else.. ,The fail
ures, the unskilled, the disabled, the aged, and the
minorities are right there, across the tracks, where
they have always been. But hardly anyone else is,
In short, the very development of the American
city has removed poverty from the living, emotional
experience of millions upon millions of middle-class
Americans. Living out in the suburbs, it is easy to
assume that ours is, indeed, an affluent society.
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There are mighty historical and economic
forces that keep the poor down,
But the real
explanation of why the poor are where they are is
that they made the mistake of being born to the
wrong parents, in the wrong section of the coun
try, in the wrong industry, or in the wrong racial
or ethnic group. Once that mistake has been
made, they could have been paragons (models) of
will and morality, but most of them would never
even have had a chance to get out of the other
America..
Here is one of the most familiar forms of the
vicious circle of poverty. The poor get sick more
than anyone else in the society. That is because
they live in slums, jammed together under unhy
gienic conditions; they have inadequate diets, and
cannot get decent medical care. When they
become sick, they are sick longer than any other
group in society. Because they are sick more often
and longer than anyone else, they lose wages and
work, and find it difficult to hold a steady job.
And because of this, they cannot pay for good
housing, for a nutritious diet, for doctors. At any
given point in the circle, particularly when there
is a major illness, their prospect is to move to an
even lower level and to begin the cycle, round
and round, toward even more suffering.
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Reprinted with the permission of Macmillan Publishing Co. from THE OTHER AMERICA: POVERTY
IN THE UNITED STATES by Michael Harrington. Copyright © 1962 by Michael Harrington.
QUESTIONS TO
Discuss
1. Determining Relevance Harrington’s book was published in 1962, Do you
think the cycle of poverty as he describes it still exists? If you were writing
about poverty today, what new factors might you include in discussing a
cycle of poverty?
2. Formulating Questions If you could ask Michael Harrington one question
about the information he offers in his book, what might you want to know?
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