It's Only Me- Chapter 13- A Little Background

It has occurred to me that I have left out an integral portion of my life prior to leaving home. My Mom's illness was undoubtedly a very large portion of some of my problems - from drug abuse to the lack of any relationship with my brother. This is all an important part of my narrative. No excuses are being offerred here. Anything I did do was of my own choosing. But the background is a very necessary part of understanding who I was and even who I am.

My Mom developed ulcers around the time that my parents had that "chart/demerit" thing going which caused conflict between my brother and I. Each week, as I've said- the one with the least demerits got to go to the store and pick out a prize while the other watched and sometimes wept. That someone was usually me.

Looking back I realize that this was all the result of my Mom's nerves. She simply couldn't handle 2 small boys and developed ulcers. The blame somehow got shifted to me and I paid quite a price emotionally while growing up. Even today I carry the big "G" for guilt; and it is one heavy fucking cross to bear.

When my Mom became sicker with collitis and cancer we were told repeatedly that "this was the end" and Mom wasn't going to make it. Imagine going to school while wondering if Mom is dead or alive. You don't learn much under those conditions.

My brother and I fought viciously, to the point of the neighbors calling the cops. Our fights even encompassed knives at times, taken from the kitchen. This was all a product of my Mom's illness.

Make no mistake, I bear her no ill will in any of this. She was a victim as well. But I found that each time I was told that she wasn't going to make it- I found myself wishing that she wouldn't. Then I wouldn't be living under that dark, depressing cloud of uncertainty. That's where the "Big G" comes from.

The only good part is that I spoke with my Mom extensively concerning these feelings in the days leading up to her death. I would call her from phone booths all over the world while sailing. The last calls were from Norfolk and she told me, "You know you will never be able to live until I die." Not a question- a statement. And my reply? "I know, Mom, I know." And she responded with, "And that's okay." And it is.

I just needed to add this and one other thing- the trips we took as a family.
From 1963 through 1970 we went by car to Mystic Seaport, Fire Island, Montauk Point, Philadelphia (when the bell was sitting outside and you could touch it)Florida, Washington DC twice, Virginia, Dairy Farms in New Jersey and Coal Mines in the Appalachians.

My hat is forever off to my parents for the efforts they went to and the expense of money we did not have to take us on these trips. The memories are truly priceless.
So at 21 I was an enigma. On the one hand I loved these people who rejected me. And on the other hand I hated them for the rejection.

With that said- I can now move on back to the story at hand.

Now let's see, where was I?

Dallas - The Day the Music Died

I was only 9 in November of 1963, and I saw the world in shades of black and white. Just like this photograph of President and Mrs. Kennedy. This still gives many of my early childhood memories a distant, sepia like feel, almost as if I were watching them, rather than being an actual participant. But that was all about to end on this Friday afternoon in late November.

I was in third grade, and a big supporter of President Kennedy. I participated in the President's Science Program, and even the Physical Fitness Program, at Public School 255 in Brooklyn, where I lived. I also had a picture of the President that had been sent to me by the White House. The space program alone was enough to capture the minds, and hearts, of every kid in the nation. It seemed that there was nothing beyond our reach. And then came Dallas.

My 3rd grade perception of Dallas was all tied up in the fact that it was in Texas. The Texas that I imagined was made up of dirt Main Streets, with raised wooden sidewalks, where everyone wore a gun on their hips. My perception of the world was about to grow larger.

My class had been visiting the Museum of the City of New York in Manhattan. We left the museum shortly before 2PM that afternoon to head back to Brooklyn. Whatever we had seen in the Museum that day is a complete blank to me now.

Stepping onto the bus I noticed that the bus driver was listening intently to his transistor radio. You could feel the tension in his body as he strained to hear the radio over the sound of 35 yelling 9 year old boys and girls. At some point I recall the teacher conferring with the bus driver and then turning to the class, all of whom were by this time seated and quiet. She spoke with an earnest quality, one that I had never before seen in my dealings with adults, as she said, "Class, the President has been shot in Dallas, Texas. We don't know yet whether he is going to live." The rest of the ride back to Brooklyn was uneventful, as 9 year olds we were not fully cognizant of the more serious implications involved in the assassination, beyond the fact that it was of historical importance.

About 10 minutes into the trip the driver spoke with the teacher, who informed us that President Kennedy was indeed dead. We were also informed that a "lone nut" had done it.

Arriving back at school I remember being released to go home. It was right about 3 o'clock when we got there, so everyone was getting out of the building when we arrived. We would not return to school until after the following Monday, November 25th, when the President was buried.

I remember walking home from school that day and thinking that I was living through history. This was like Lincoln! This was something I would someday be telling my kids about. And I have...

Since this was a Friday, Uncle "I" would be coming over, as was his usual custom. We spent the the night in front of the TV, first watching the arrival of Air Force One at Bethesda Air Force base, outside of Washington, with Jackie Kennedy still in her blood smeared clothes stepping off the rear of the plane with Robert Kennedy, the President's brother.

The funeral would occupy the next four days, as tens of thousands of Americans poured into Washington to pass the President's casket as it lay in State in the Capitol beneath the Rotunda. Millions more watched on TV. I remember getting up several times during the night and turning the TV on, only to be confronted by the same image on each station. The casket laying on the bier, surrounded by one member of each of the Armed Forces posted at the corners of the casket, with rifles. I'm writing this now with no photo in front of me. Even at the distance of 47 years the memory of it is still crystal clear.

My family would not see John Kennedy's grave until about 6 weeks after the assassination. There were still crowds and a line to see the grave, which was nothing like it is today. This photo shows the grave at the time of our visit in January 1964. The President's son, Patrick, who had been stillborn that August, is interred to the right in the photo. The gravesite today is a concrete monument, which leaves you feeling disconnected, both from the man, and the events of his life and death. When I was there, the earth was still freshly turned, and the only thing separating the people from their fallen leader was a white picket fence.

"The Kennedy Detail" by Gerald Blaine

I am a big fan of the Kennedy assassination. It's the greatest parlor game to ever come down the pike and will doubtlessly entertain folks for generations to come. It seems as if there are a score of different theories floating about, all concerning either the identity of the assassins, or the "why" of the deed itself. These theories range from Big Oil, President Johnson, the CIA, the Mafia, or a combination of all of those, plus the military. But all of the books have one thing in common; they each float a hypothesis of what happened in Dallas on November 22nd, 1963. They each offer a theory, or put forth an explanation as to what happened, and why. This book does neither.

By leaving out certain facts, as well as by slanting certain information, the author seems more intent on exonerating the Secret Service for the loss of the "client", than he is about how, and why, they were simply left out of the loop. The explanations concerning the route change are not credible.

Most of the book seems to concern itself with Agent Clint Hill's role as the bodyguard for Mrs. Kennedy. The weeks, and sometimes even months, he was required to stay away from his own family, often seem exaggerated.

Still, there were portions of the book which offered a new and unique insight into some events. The planned Presidential trip to Frank Sinatra's home, arranged through the President's brother in law, Peter Lawford, was very interesting. I never knew who made the decision to move the President, absent Jackie, to Bing Crosby's house, after all the preparations that Mr. Sinatra had made, including pouring a helicopter pad and state of the art phone bank. The story of how this news was broken to Mr. Sinatra by 2 of the agents, accompanying Mr. Lawford, is very interesting. But, it also almost lead to Sam Giancana having Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. being killed, and that's the kind of "grit" lacking in this book.

Some of the stories of life at the Virginia retreats of both Glen Ora, and later on, Atoka, where Jackie liked to spend weekends horseback riding, are really good. John John learning to salute at Camp David just 2 weeks before his Dad's unexpected murder is a good example of all the things "right" in this book. As the agents in charge of the First Family's security, they had an unprecedented look at their daily lives.

Another chapter worth reading is the one concerning Mrs. Kennedy's miscarriage in August of 1963, just 12 weeks prior to her husbands death. After the baby dies, the author describes the Presidential couple as "growing closer", even as she takes off on a 2 month trip to Europe with Aristotle Onassis, who would later, of course, become her husband.

An entertaining book if you're a Kennedy fan, but a disappointment if you are an assassination buff, the book is worth reading nonetheless. Each perspective is a piece of the larger puzzle that marks the so-called era of "Camelot" in Washington. The lack of candor on the author's part concerning the numerous affairs that the President was having, right under the very nose of the Secret Service, either serves to highlight their incompetence, which I do not believe to be the case, or else it points to the conclusion that this book is less than forthcoming in all of the details relevant to the assassination.

At times this book seems to be a refutation of "The Echo From Dealey Plaza", which I reviewed here a few years ago. That book concerns itself with Abraham Bolden and his removal as the first African-American member of the White House Detail. That removal was the result of his having complained of both complacecy on the part of his fellow agents, as well as his allegations of drinking and drug use by agents on duty. Mr. Blaine seems to deliberately go out of his way to discredit him, leaving the reader to wonder why, while at the same time, lending creedence to Mr. Bolden's account.

For a better read concerning the President's assassination, you can do no better than Russ Baker's "Family of Secrets", which I also reviewed here about 2 years ago. That book is the last word on the Kennedy assassination, tying together all of the conflicting data with documentation of all the purported facts. That book then goes on to tie the Bay of Pigs, along with President's murder, to the Watergate Affair and beyond.

But one fact remains; the Kennedy assassination still remains one of the best unsolved mysteries of my lifetime. And I hope it stays that way.

"Hellhound On His Trail" by Hampton Sides

This is a gripping book, thoroughly researched and adamant in it's conclusion. Just one flaw. It doesn't wash clean. When all the assembled evidence is gathered and analyzed, the reader is still left with several glaring questions; where did an escaped convict get the money to buy a car, travel about using only cash for a year, seemingly stalking Dr. King, meticulously planning his murder using maps to mark his intended locations, only to leave those maps behind in an Atlanta rooming house, along with a $20 bill that would wind up being sequentially matched to the bills that James Earl Ray possessed?

Now, on with the review. If you have ever seen Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece "North by Northwest", then you will understand the way that the various Intelligence organizations operated in the 1950's and 60's. The setting up of identities for ficticious persons, while having non-descript real people carrying out seemingly unrelated "tasks" was the preferred way to accomplish anything of note, without fear of the entire "chain" of seemingly unrelated events being discovered. Moreover, if it were discovered, it would seem to make no sense. This was the rationale behind the Kennedy Assassination, and most probably, given the painstaking research of this book, the same thing that drove the plot to kill Martin Luther King.

What makes this book so remarkable is that even as it sets out to prove that one lone man killed Martin Luther King, it fails. Along the way there are so many glaring holes in the tale that one has to agree with the New York Times editorial of July 1968, which basically said that if you believe this you're nuts.

This is a very well written, and gripping read, even if you don't buy the conclusion. Mr. Sides has written an accounting of James Earl Ray's 21,000 plus mile journey that rivals any work of fiction. The FBI, headed by J. Edgar Hoover, a man known well for his distatse of the slain Dr. King, is tasked with heading the Investigation, against his will. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, along with New Scotland Yard, are prominently on display in their role to capture the assassin.

Some of the best portions of this book concern the American government and it's reaction to the assassination. Coming, as it did, within 5 years of President Kennedy's murder in Dallas, the country's leadership, under LBJ, was hard pressed to bring this case to a quick close. With many of the nation's cities already in flames, including Washington DC, and the Poor Peoples March set to begin in about 4 weeks, time was of the essence. It was also a Presidential election year.

Absent from this account is any mention of the deal that James Earl Ray made in accepting a 99 year prison sentence in lieu of a trial. This had to do with his father's escape from a mid-western prison some years earlier. James Earl Ray was offered a trial- but his father would be returned to prison. This is a rather important piece of the puzzle, that is left out of the book by the author.

Ask anyone about the trial of James Earl Ray - they'll tell you he was found guilty. In reality he accepted the sentence without trial. He then immediatley recanted his statement. So, there never was a trial, not until shortly before Mr. Ray's death in 1998, at which time he was attempting to prove his innocence. Even the King family asserts that James Earl Ray was not the killer. Here is a link to the letter that James Earl Ray wrote from prison concerning these facts;

http://www.catyoga.com/pages.htm

Whatever your view concerning the King assassination, this book is non-stop action and suspense. And that is a hard thing for an author to accomplish when the ending is already so well known.

"We Seven" by The Mercury Astronauts

If you were over 5 or 6 years old in 1960 you will remember the first Mercury flights that presaged our landing on the Moon in 1969. Theses were 1 man capsules designed solely to test whether man could break through the atmosphere, orbit the earth, perform various mechanical jobs outside the capsule and return safely. These were all the same elements required to land on the Moon.

The Russians had already beat us with the first man in space by some 6 months. We were bound and determined to catch up and pass them in the “Space Race.” The ultimate goal was a manned landing on the surface of the Moon before the end of the decade.

7 men were deemed qualified to undertake the rigorous training that would be required to perform these initial missions. They would work closely with the engineers and scientists who would develop the capsules and the gear required for them.

I remember the first blast off from Cape Canaveral, later Kennedy Space Center, by Alan B. Shepard in April of 1961. I was in 1st grade and on split sessions. So I got to watch the event on TV before heading off to school in the afternoon. That first flight was 15 minutes up and back down, just enough time to punch through the atmosphere and splash down in the Pacific Ocean. There the capsule and Shepard were both retrieved by an aircraft carrier. It was all so dramatic and scary. It was the unknown. And we got to watch it live.

The charm of this book is the telling of the story by the 7 men who lived it. They worked together to perfect the mission they would be tasked to perform. The stories they relate here are both anecdotal and scientific in nature. One moment you are learning about spacecraft attitude adjustments and the next you are reading about weightlessness and its’ effects on the human nervous system.

Everything had to be designed specifically for the mission. This was new ground being broken and there were no real rules.

The book is written in such a way that each astronaut takes his turn writing about a particular subject. This gives the reader a good overview of the subject from 7 different perspectives. The book traces the story of the 7 men from the selection process and on through to each of their individual flights.

It’s hard to write a book about such a complex subject and still have it remain “readable.” And these guys do a great job of it. Scott Carpenter, Gordon Cooper, John Glenn, Virgil Grissom, Wally Schirra, Alan Shepard and Deke Slayton were 7 men whose extraordinary courage changed history. And now they have given us a superb, inside look at the work behind those achievements.

The Echo From Dealey Plaza

This is one of the most fascinating books I have read about the “Camelot” era in America. It is told by Abraham Bolden, the first African American on the Secret Service, appointed by President Eisenhower in 1959 after having served on the Illinois State Police. He met JFK during the President Elects visit to Chicago-the city where Mr Bolden was assigned by the Secret Service- a chance meeting with the newly elected President, while guarding a washroom on the lower level of McCormick Plaza, led him to be selected as the first African American to serve on the White House Detail.

What he observed- between 1961 and up to 6 months prior to the Presidents assassination in November of 1963 compelled Mr Bolden to approach his superiors with his concerns for the Presidents safety. After being removed from the White House Detail he was given routine counterfeiting cases to work out of Chicago. When the President was killed in Dallas Mr Bolden again approached his superiors. This act propelled Mr Bolden on a journey that took him through the courts for a bribery that never occurred. Convicted on the testimony of gangsters he went to prison and on to an Institution where he was given heavy doses of unspecified drugs and subjected to enormous psychological tortures. Newly married at the time of his ordeal- his faith in his God and family sustained him throughout. He emerges amazingly unscathed spiritually and in response to an e-mail by this author had the following to say-

“What we must come to understand is the unity of all peoples of the world in God's creative justice. We must cultivate the spirit of unity through love of the principles upon which our great Constitution of America was founded. We must come to understand that the reason that the Infinite Creative Consciousness gave us hands was so that we could reach out to one another in brotherhood and compassion and together solve the riddles of life.”

This is an interesting and thought provoking book about the “powers that be” both in the 1960’s as well as now. And the story of one mans faith and how it sustained him through 2 decades of struggle- and prison- here in America.