Where Were You?

That’s the question of this day – actually, the question of this month, as the 50-year anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy is observed.

In order to answer the question, of course, you have to be a certain age, which I am, so here’s my story. I attended a fancy New England prep school, one of many in that part of the country. For today’s discussion, though, it’s significant. It was the Choate School, then an all-male institution, which JFK also attended, in his case, in the 1930s. I was there a generation later.

On the day of the President’s killing, I had taken a math exam which I didn’t do especially well on – fortunately, because of the news of the day, it seemed they weren’t graded quite as strictly as usual. We were all glued to the TV sets in the housemasters’ apartments, watching events unfold. It hit especially hard, as we knew President Kennedy had used the same sidewalks, sat in the same classrooms, and crossed the same athletic fields we did on a daily basis.

When JFK was at the school, according to historical records, he was a bit of a troublemaker. His older brother Joe, who would die later in World War II, was a top athlete and scholar at the time, and as the story goes, the younger Kennedy compensated for his second-fiddle status with pranks, one of which was blowing up a toilet seat with a firecrcacker. At a chapel service, which was required for students, the headmaster denounced the “muckers,” as he called them, who pulled it off. Kennedy adopted the name for his group, forming the Muckers Club.

The mood on campus was somber in the days following the news of his death, especially those daily chapel services. As a U.S. Senator, Kennedy had addressed students from the same pulpit from which the headmaster had excoriated the muckers.

This was the most significant shared American moment since Pearl Harbor – the only one since that time for which people could say they remembered where they were at the exact moment they heard the dreadful news. It’s difficult to think of another one quite like it since then. But it was only the emergence of electronic media that had made such moments possible.

Personally, I’m distressed that exploration of the events of November 22, 1963 has been turned into a hobby. I don’t think there is now or ever will be a set of facts that will completely convince some people that there wasn’t a conspiracy to kill the President. And even if that turns out to be true, by the time it’s revealed, the shock value will have greatly diminished.

What is going to happen is that this event will officially fade into history after this. The 51^st anniversary just won’t be the same, nor will the 75^th, though I may not be around to make a judgment about that one. The beat, as Sonny Bono reminded us later in the 1960s, goes on.

The Missiles of October

I hope the creators of the movie don’t mind my borrowing the title for this post, but I’m too lazy to think of anything clever, and of course, now you know what this is about.

Today marks the 50th anniversary of the start of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Being now old enough to play the “I was there” game, this is what I remember about it.

In those days, I was a student at one of those fancy New England prep schools, at which I received a great education, partly because TV wasn’t really an option. The television was in the housemaster’s quarters, and only rarely were we allowed to watch. Certain exceptions were made occasionally, though, for stuff like “The Andy Griffith Show.”

But the days in question were unusual. There was one night -- October 22 -- when we were required to watch TV. We all assembled in the various housemasters’ apartments around the school to hear JFK deliver his now-famous address to the nation, warning the Russians not to station missiles in Cuba. You can find this easily on YouTube, but here’s an especially memorable line:

“It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear attack launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.”

Yes, that gets your attention! Sounds like something Harrison Ford might say, and probably has said, in one of his movies. But this was no movie. Nowadays, people who worry about the end of the world are considered one beer short of a six-pack, as they say – but for a few days, we actually had to consider it a real possibility.

I don’t remember much else about the experience at school. The headmaster was a minister, and there were daily chapel services we were required to attend, and the sermons at that time, as you can expect, were pretty heavy. And as President Kennedy actually had attended the school himself as a student, his address had a special meaning for us.

Since I’m able to write this, the world did not end. The Russian boats turned around. While the President got kudos for standing up to the Soviets, we all know now that there was a backroom deal: our own missiles in Turkey, which upset the Russians, had to go away. Even so, those are the times when you really appreciate a President with a brain.

As for movies, well, we needed some lightening up, and Stanley Kubrick gave us “Dr. Strangelove” a few years later. As I recall, it wasn’t until 1974, though, that “The Missiles of October” was shown on TV, and by then I was old enough to decide for myself what to watch. All I can tell you is, no actor has ever done as good a JFK as Bill Devane.