OT: - Where were you on November 22, 1963 | Page 4 | The Boneyard

OT: Where were you on November 22, 1963

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I was sitting in an 8th grade classroom, Our Lady of Mount Carmel parochial school, when a nun came in and informed us that the President had been shot. She turned on an overhead TV so we could watch the coverage. I can't recall when I heard that he had passed away. Perhaps it was then and there, or maybe when I arrived home. Naturally we were all stunned. We would sit through the funeral procession seen live on TV (Monday) in several days, but not before witnessing (also on live TV) Jack Ruby kill Lee Harvey Oswald a few days after the assassination (Sunday). I recall my normally very passive uncle screaming at the black and white TV set, his pleasure that Oswald was shot and further exclaiming that if he had been there he would have done it himself! Obviously this was an incredibly dark time for the nation. A few months later The Beatles would arrive on our shores and bring a much needed distraction and perhaps hope to a nation that was reeling. The Beatles were (are) great in their own rite, but I always felt their timing couldn't have been better. The assassinations that would come later in the decade would spawn music of a much different darker and deeper nature.
 
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I was a senior in High School. An announcement came over the PA telling everyone to return to homerooms. From there we were told what had happened and that as soon as the busses arrived we would be going home and that walkers could leave. I left with a friend who lived nearby so we could watch the news on his TV. Saw Walter Cronkite announce his death. I had no way of knowing at that time the the fraternity I would join in college the next year had its coming out day on campus that day.
 
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Less than 25% of today's U.S. population was alive when President Kennedy was killed in 1963. Everyone seems to remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news.

I was two weeks shy of my third birthday. I couldn't comprehend what happened, but I remember my parents and older brother and sister were glued to the TV all weekend. Years later they all said I was a pain that weekend. I wanted to play.
I was 19 year old sailor on board the USS The Sullivan’s DD537 on sea detail entering Norfolk Harbor. I was in the combat information center and relayed the news from the radio room to the bridge. It took me a few tries to convince the OOD that it was real.
 
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If you’ve never been to Dealey Plaza in Dallas, I strongly recommend it. The area is much smaller than it appears on TV. And I’d expected the Texas Book Depository building to be long gone. But it’s still there, and the sixth floor has been turned into a museum. They’ve recreated Oswald’s sniper’s nest in one corner of the floor, and it’s really eerie to see.
 
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Less than 25% of today's U.S. population was alive when President Kennedy was killed in 1963. Everyone seems to remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news.

I was two weeks shy of my third birthday. I couldn't comprehend what happened, but I remember my parents and older brother and sister were glued to the TV all weekend. Years later they all said I was a pain that weekend. I wanted to play.
I was not in school yet [too young], and the TV was on and I was the first one to see it. I called to my mom saying something terrible happened in Texas... I believe it was my earlest memory.
 
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I was in the eighth grade in Dallas, Texas. My father was a State Trooper stationed in the Dallas area. He practiced for three weeks driving the motorcade route. His car was 13th behind the President. As he was preparing to leave for Love Field, he asked me if I wanted to ride with him in his empty car. After leaving home he got a call on the radio that everything changed he was no longer in the motorcade. Time 07:30 in the morning. He pulled to the curb, let me out and I took a city bus home. He proceeded to the office, picked up a Sergeant and two other patrolmen. They then proceeded to Stemmons Freeway past Baylor Medical center, Methodist Hospital and UT Med Center to Parkland Hospital, the county indigent hospital, where they secured the Emergency Room. My father then took his car to the top of the off ramp on Stemmons to secure the off ramp and await further instructions. Time 08:20. I’m not sure the President had landed yet in Dallas.
I had returned home, was watching cartoons with my brothers on our black and white TV. A portion of the motorcade was televised up until it got to Dealey Plaza downtown. To the left was WFAA television and to the right was the school book depository. For some reason the route turned right then an immediate left. A camera rolled out on the TV station patio would have captured everything. There was no camera there.
After the shots were fired the President in his convertible limousine sped away to Stemmons Freeway, taking the exit at my father’s off ramp then down to the Emergency Room of Parkland Hospital. As I was preparing to go to school, television programming was interrupted with news of the shooting. Shortly thereafter a family that were eyewitnesses on the “grassy knoll” were interviewed. Ironically the entire family was killed in less than a year in a one car crash.
I walked into my English class and started to tell the teacher that the President had been shot in downtown Dallas and she shut me up. At that point they didn’t know. Five minutes later the principal made the announcement over the PA. It was later that the President was pronounced dead.
My question, what did someone suddenly know at 07:30 in the morning? My father stayed at the hospital for six weeks guarding the governor who was injured in the shooting.

Kennedy was warned not to go to Texas.
 

msf22b

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I was on a 3-day pass from the West Point Band,
sitting in the Surrey Deli on Union Tpke. Queens (long gone);
eating a Pastrami Sandwich; when the news came over the radio.

I immediately went home to watch Walter Cronkite deliver the tragic report and pass or not, I drove back to West Point and reported.

The next day in a miserable downpour, we had a funereal service on the parade field.

I'll never forget
We were not included in the Washington services (much to my disappointment); the equally wonderful Marine and Army Field Bands
handled the responsibilities.
 
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I grew up in a college town in the Midwest, a Democratic isle in a Republican sea.

Eighth grade Social Studies (civics), first class after lunch. The Principal connected a live account from Dallas over the public address system a few minutes after class started.

A faceless voice, crackling, stated the incomprehensible: President Kennedy had been shot and killed while riding in a motorcade through Dallas.

The Principal came on and announced school was cancelled for the rest of the day.

Everyone filed out in silence. Some cried. Mostly, faces were blank, uncomprehending.

Outside a storm was brewing. Little did we know how big the storm was.

The '60s, which began with such promise, had gotten real. Viet Nam protests, racial unrest, pot, Nixon, and so much else was to follow.

I think of that day often.
 

Bliss

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I was on my way home for lunch and learned of JFK's death there. Watched the action on my 17" B&W tv.
 

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