JFK's Death, 1963, by Gayle Rose Calmes
From MemoryArchive
Who: Gayle Rose Calmes What: Death of Kennedy When: November 22, 1963 Where: Ft. Myers, Florida
My best friend, Linda, had the same last name of Rose, so we had almost all of our classes together. As we entered our Science classroom we noticed the intercom was on, only it wasn’t a teacher making an announcement. The voice was that of a newscaster. As I was thinking how weird that was, one of the boys near my desk blurted out, “President Kennedy has been shot.” I looked at him while the words tried to register in my brain. He was smiling, like kids sometimes do when they hear something exciting, even if it is terrible news. I turned back to look at the teacher, but he had his back to us and was facing the speaker hung next to the ceiling above the blackboard. I sat down in numb disbelief, and so did Linda next to me. Two boys started talking and laughing, and I think I told them to shut up, but maybe I just thought it. The room gradually became silent, except for the constant voice from the speaker. It seemed like it was no time at all before the announcer gave the world the bad news. President John Fitzgerald Kennedy had died. Again, the shock was so great that nobody spoke at first. These things just didn’t happen in the world of Junior High students. We were concerned about homework and dates and clothes and music. Presidents didn’t GET shot, much less die. Someone began to cry, but I didn’t turn around to see who it was. My world was shifting, like when my Grandpa died and we couldn’t believe it because we couldn’t see him. We all moved through the rest of the afternoon in a strange fog. School was released early and parents were called. I was already scheduled to spend the weekend with Linda. I remember we sat on the cement benches out front not speaking, which was rare for us. Her dad drove up in their station wagon, and I felt so relieved to see him! The connection with someone who loved me helped me feel safer somehow. We were planning to go to a dance that night, but of course, that was cancelled. Linda’s parents drove us around until they found a movie theater that was playing old Charlie Chaplin movies in an attempt to bring back the less-painful past. It wasn’t what was scheduled to be playing, and we kids had no interest in seeing some old, funny looking guy that we’d hardly heard of. Yet, Linda, her brother Larry and Sister Peggy, and I all needed a distraction. TV was nothing but news about the assassination and the capture of Lee Harvey Oswald, the man who did the shooting. So we went to the movie and ate popcorn and forgot somewhat the reality outside the darkened room. We laughed with the few other people inside as a way of blocking out reality. The only problem was, even though Charlie Chaplin was actually pretty funny, he usually looked sad, and we already felt sad and didn’t need to see him remind us. I don’t know what Linda’s parents did in those two hours. I’m sure they needed a few hours without children to try to make some sense out of it all. They probably drank coffee at the bus station café near the theater. When they picked us up, we rode quietly home and everybody went to bed. I don’t remember whether Linda and I cried then or not, but if we were going to that was the perfect opportunity. It was dark in the bedroom, and we were at last alone. Saturday was depressing. Houses didn’t have air conditioning then, even in sunny Florida, so every house had the windows open and the TV on. Linda and I walked around the neighborhood until we couldn’t stand it any longer. We ended up walking all the way to our school and back, which was several miles and took us all day. It at least helped us burn up some of the nervous energy. We talked about boys and giggled and all the usual stuff, but it wasn’t the same. When we returned to the noisy neighborhood we were tired, but nothing had changed.
Sunday Linda and I were in her bedroom when her parents started yelling, “They shot him! Somebody shot him!” We ran into the living room to find out that a man had rushed through the crowd as police escorted a handcuffed Lee Harvey Oswald and shot him on live, national TV. Thousands of Americans, maybe even millions, saw a life end before their very eyes. However people felt about Oswald, this aspect was shocking. Losing the president was bad enough. This was something beyond horrible. Linda and I looked at each other, and then at her family, and then the TV. Of course, later the footage was shown over and over. Something was very wrong about that to me. It wasn’t just that the man was dead. It was as if we had all been WITH him because we were able to see him shot. Live. In real time. Television, and America, would never be the same.
School was out Monday so everybody could watch the funeral on TV. Again, the neighborhood reverberated with the sounds of the procession and commentators from TVs inside houses. Walking around outside, it was impossible to escape the sadness. Staying inside wasn’t any better. It was a sad end to an awful weekend. I don’t think I’ve felt that same shock of horror until 9/11 hit.
School, and life, resumed Tuesday, as we all attempted to go back to normal. But normal was no longer normal, and in our hearts, I think we knew it.
Gayle Rose Calmes, Class of 1967 Cypress Lake Jr. & Sr. High School (Now just Jr. High) Ft. Myers, Florida
