A person’s character is shown through their actions in life, not where they sit on Sundays. – Navonne Johns
The man strode purposefully into the crowded room filled with the packrats of the mass media, waved to the flashing bulbs and camera eyes, and sat down before the tree of microphones.
“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow citizens of the United States. These are perilous times in which we live. Some of us are beginning to give up, to surrender, to lose faith in this great nation of ours. I cannot, and will not, stand idly aside and watch the American people lose hope in their dreams, in their lives. While this country admittedly has a multitude of problems and has suffered many disappointments, it has but one area with which to place the blame, and I say to you, that one area can only be the federal government, and ultimately the office of the President.
“No longer can the people be governed by men who would assert their masculinity by waging senseless wars. No more can special interest groups dictate the law of the land. No more can Americans be governed by men who would lie and deceive.
“Not since that fateful gunshot in Dallas in 1963 has this nation seen the kind of leadership that made it great, the kind of leadership exemplified by Washington… Jefferson… Lincoln… Franklin Roosevelt… and I submit humbly, my brother, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. America needs a President who can govern this country as it should be governed – with honesty, integrity, and strength.
“I can be that kind of President, and that is the reason I am speaking to you today: to ask for your help, to ask for your support, and to declare myself a candidate for the Democratic nomination for President. Thank you all, and God bless you.”
The announcement was, of course, not unexpected, and yet, for some reason, the long years of waiting for such a declaration had muted the response. A clamor arose as reporters hurled question after question after question upon the beleaguered, but beaming, candidate.
“Okay, fellows… and ladies. One more question. Yes, Miss Bryant?”
“Senator, in 1972, one of the explanations advanced for your non-candidacy was the danger of assassination, such as ended the life of your brothers. Do you now believe such a danger no longer exists?”
“Miss Bryant, I believe such a danger, as you describe it, not only does not exist, but, in fact, never did exist. I am not my brothers, nor do I fear the same fate. Okay? Thank you all very much.
“And my office will have something for you as soon as possible. Thank you.”
He left quickly through a side door, and, as he headed for his limousine, he struggled through a crowd which had accurately guess his point of eggression. A muffled shot, and the candidate’s head erupted as he dropped to the pavement. Pandemonium, hysteria prevailed. Most of the Senator’s aides huddled around him, doing nothing since there was nothing to do. Praying for his life while knowing without knowing it had already been extinguished. His blood flowed in one narrow, vital stream, like a mountain brooklet, over the edge of the sidewalk, into the gutter.
The remainder of the crowd concentrated its attention upon the old, somewhat disheveled, man who waved a pistol and had screamed as he pulled the trigger – “Murderer! Murderer!” Strangely it seemed, for apparently he was not identifying himself, but rather accusing the senator of such an act.
Half the group, which now could only be described as lynch mob, was trying to dismember the killer, and having some success, while the other half was valiantly attempting to rescue him for a more proper hearing.
Moments later, police reinforcements intervened, and rescued the aged assassin, whose bloody face had by now been so brutally beaten it had begun to resemble the dead candidate’s. They led the man away. Round-shouldered, meek, he seemed rather more like the victim of a crime than its perpetrator. He was crying, sobbing. Babbling.
“I did it for Mary Jo… I did it for my baby. Let’s see him get out of this… His money ain’t gonna help him now. Let’s see him get out of this. He had it comin’… I did it for Mary Jo.”
“We are interrupting our normal broadcasting at this time for an important news bulletin. At 12:15 this afternoon, Senator M. Kennedy was assassinated. Only moments after announcing his candidacy for the Democratic Presidential nomination at the Park Plaza hotel in New York, Senator Kennedy was shot by a small-caliber pistol, as he attempted to edge through a crowd of cheering supporters. The alleged assassin is Joseph Kopechne, age sixty-seven, of Lock Haven, Pennsylvania.
“Ironically, Mr. Kopechne is the father of the late Mary Jo Kopechne, who was fatally injured in an automobile driven by Senator Kennedy on Chappaquiddick Island, Massachusetts in 1969. We will be making further announcements whenever additional information is received. And now back to our regular programming.”
“Hey, guys and gals, this is Rockin’ Bobbie Boswick, your Boss DeeJay, back groovin’ again. That was some heavy number, huh? Yeah, man. And here’s another heavy number – KillZit Acne Fighter. Medicine made just for you by a registered, licensed pharmacist for his own kids. KillZit is so very important, so good for you and your face.
“And remember, cats and kittens, you are your face.
“So, you’ll never want to be without it.”
J. Edward Welch Jan. 20, 1972
