Tag Archives: politics

[November 24, 1963 cont.] Oswald dead, shot by Jack Ruby

Just two hours ago, at 11:21 CST, Presidential assassin Lee Harvey Oswald was shot by Jack Ruby, a local nightclub owner.  Oswald was being transferred from the Dallas police department, where he had been charged for the murder of the President and a local law enforcement officer, to a nearby county jail when the attack occurred.

Ruby was immediately subdued and arrested.  Oswald died just a few minutes ago.

It is hard to imagine the drama of this national crisis rising any higher. Our new UK correspondent, Jessica Holmes, is having similar trouble…]


By Jessica Holmes

I'm having a lot of difficulty putting my thoughts into words today. I'm not even an American, but the recent news knocked the wind out of me. It'd be silly to say, what with the world being the way it is, that I could never have imagined something like this. However, there's a difference between being able to imagine a horrible thing happening and actually believing that it may. We take normality for granted, that we go to sleep in a world unchanged from the world we woke up in.

Sadly, that's not how the world works. A horrible thing happened the other day.

I don't know what more I can say that hasn't already been said by people far more eloquent and knowledgeable than myself. I'll keep it simple: I liked President Kennedy, and to have him be gone so soon is a horrible thing. My thoughts are with his family and with the American people.


President Kennedy with UK Prime Minister Harold Macmillan in June 1963




[November 24, 1963] Mourning on two continents

[President Kennedy's body has been transported to the Capitol where it will remain in state pending his funeral tomorrow.  Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, West Germans have offered an outpouring of sorrow for their fallen fellow Berliner…]


by Cora Buhlert

Like most West Germans, news of the terrible events in Dallas reached me at home, just settling onto the sofa for an evening of TV. Like some ninety percent of West German television owners, I had my set tuned to the eight o'clock evening news tagesschau. But instead of the familiar tagesschau fanfare, the screen remained dark for a minute or two, something which has never happened before in the eleven years the program has been on the air. When the image finally returned, the visibly shaken news anchor Karl-Heinz Köpcke reported that John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas, and was rushed to hospital. By the end of the program, we knew that Kennedy had not survived.

John F. Kennedy was extremely popular in West Germany, not least because of his memorable visit to our country earlier this year. And so many West Germans spontaneously burst into tears. People called friends and family, rang their neighbours' doorbells and shouted the news from windows to random passers-by on the street. Theatres and cinemas interrupted their programming, dancehalls closed down (on a Friday evening, i.e. prime business time) and in less an hour, the entire country was in shock.

The shock and grief was nowhere greater than in West Berlin, where Kennedy had won the hearts of the population, when he proclaimed "Ich bin ein Berliner" earlier this year. The people of Berlin took him by his word and mourned him as one of their own.

The students of the two big West Berlin universities heard the news during a student dance at the Hilton Hotel and spontaneously took to the streets, joined by many other Berliners. Several thousand – overwhelmingly young – people marched to the Rathaus Schöneberg, West Berlin's city hall, bearing torches, flowers and placards. 

"Berlin has lost its best friend", West Berlin's mayor Willy Brandt proclaimed last night on the very spot in front of the Rathaus Schöneberg where John F. Kennedy held his now historic speech only five months ago, while the gathered mourners provisionally renamed the square in front of the city hall "John-F.-Kennedy Platz". By now, Willy Brandt has announced that the square will be named in honour of Kennedy for real on Monday. I'm sure it won't be the last John F. Kennedy street or square in West Germany.

By today, the soon to be John-F.-Kennedy Platz was drowning in flowers and thousands of mourning West Germans had signed one of the condolence books laid out around the country. In West Berlin and elsewhere, people placed candles in their windows in memory of John F. Kennedy. Reportedly, flickering candles have also spotted on the far side of the Berlin Wall.

For John F. Kennedy was not just a friend of Berlin, he was a friend of all of Germany. 




[November 23, 1963 cont.] After a fashion


by Gwyn Conaway

I'm hungry for answers, but more than anything, simply heartbroken. We will forever relive this day through Jackie Kennedy's watermelon pink Chanel suit. Make no mistake, our First Lady's ensemble will live forever. Rather than being the symbol of strength, compassion, and grace, as both Coco Chanel and Jackie Kennedy would have wanted, the suit has been transformed into a symbol of tragedy and death.

I am heartbroken, not because it is a beautiful piece of fashion tarnished by the fall of a great man. I am heartbroken because we will all experience today over and over in the decades to come. Fashion will lash out and redefine the watermelon pink suit as a symbol of the crumbling American Dream. Its visage will become sour, like rotten fruit, as our nation's loss fades away. More than that, I mourn for Jackie Kennedy, who will stand by as her suit is redefined in the years to come and see the ghosts of today rise anew. 




[November 23, 1963 cont.] Give sorrow words


by Lorelei Marcus

It was around 11:30 AM, just before lunch. The PA system crackled to life and every head turned from their desks towards the speaker. It was my 10th grade English class.

“The President has been shot!” said the tinny voice. We had just been wrapping up our unit on Shakespeare’s Macbeth, all about the death of a nation's leader, but I didn’t really have the chance to appreciate the synchronicity at the time.

My teacher wheeled in a portable TV. I looked to my left at my good friend Cecilia. She was German, and only just moved here a couple years ago. She was shaking real bad, a sharp contrast to the cold stillness I’d been shocked into. I didn’t, couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In fact I’d expected the class to erupt into a sea of whispers, but all that was there was a faint crackle and Walter Cronkite's strong voice repeating over and over.

“In Dallas Texas this morning President Kennedy was assassinated at 1:30 Eastern Time, 10:30 Western Time. Three shots were fired-”

The school couldn’t let us out early, but they might as well have. The rest of my classes were a hazy tear-filled blur, punctuated by the continuous drone of Cronkite’s voice. When I was walking home that day across the softball field, I saw the football coach, one of the toughest men I know, with a wet handkerchief blanketing his face. Even the trees seemed to be weeping as their leaves crackled in the autumn wind.

Even in the fall it doesn’t get cold in Southern California. Yet under a pile of blankets in the living room, snuggled up to my parents with a cup of cocoa, I couldn’t ease the chilling squeeze on my heart. Even writing this now it’s like a subtle blizzard is raging inside me. If the President was shot, how can we say any of us are safe?

November 22nd, 1963 will always be a day to remember. Everything’s changed, I’ve changed. We’ve found now that Lee Harvey Oswald was responsible for this… horrendous act. He’ll be put in jail for life, where he belongs.

Even so, I think I would trade a lot to have my dad come in and tell me it was all a misunderstanding. During the live coverage, Cronkite kept saying “The president is dead… but not officially.” I think he was hoping so too.

Instead, he and we were left with loss. A loss to Jackie, a loss to the nation, a loss to the world. At this point, I think the only thing left to do is grieve, quietly and together.

And try to understand. Oswald, a U.S. Marine, started an innocent flower, but the serpent was beneath it. MacBeth's motives were plain and old as humanity. But Oswald's..

Why?




[November 23, 1963] President Kennedy returns to D.C. one last time

[Early this morning, the body of our slain President was flown back to Washington D.C.  Now he lies in state in the East Wing of the White House, where he will remain until 24 hours have passed.  Then will come the funeral.

Where do we go from there?]


by Jason Sacks

Camelot is over. A titan no longer walks the earth.

John F. Kennedy is dead.

Will our country — will our world? — ever be the same?

President Kennedy represented the dreams of all us. Manifested in his success and the shimmering images of his family, we saw the dreams of a perfected post-war world. In watching JFK and his family, we became participants in a triumphant America reaching its full potential, spreading our secular gospel of capitalism and freedom throughout the world.

For all of us born during or after the War, Kennedy represented everything our parents fought for, everything we aspired to as a nation, and everything the world dreamed of becoming.

And now he is gone.

Will America survive?

Of course we will. Our country is more than a single man, no matter how influential or important he is.

But JFK’s savage assassination, in front of his beloved wife Jackie, our country has lost some of its innocence. We will always feel his loss. After all, when we lose a titan, we lose a lot of what makes America its greatest self.

President Johnson is a great American, a man who I’m sure will help America transcend its weaknesses and become a more perfected version of itself.

But we will never be the same again.

Goodbye, President Kennedy. Goodbye, Camelot. We will always miss you.




[November 22, 1963 cont.] Highest indictment for Presidential assassin

[Lee Harvey Oswald, who shot and killed President Kennedy this afternoon, has been charged with murder of a President.

In other news, Erica Frank offers her thoughts on today's events:]


by Erica Frank

My cousin has a job with a restaurant supply company. While making deliveries yesterday, a woman told him, "The president's been shot and taken to the hospital." He tried to absorb that and finish out his workday, but during his next delivery, he looked at a school nearby – and saw the flag at half-mast. That's how he knew.

He says he knows several other people told him in the afternoon, as he finished his route, but he doesn't remember the details. He only remembers the shock of seeing that flag.

I was at work all day in the records department, so I heard nothing until I went home. I'm still trying to get caught up on the news.

Some people feel they have inside information, though. The John Birch Society is already saying that that yesterday's murder was part of a Russian communist plot. It seems awfully quick for them to say they have answers, especially since they've been spreading such vile lies about him.


Propaganda poster put up across Dallas by the John Birch Society on Nov. 21

I can understand wanting closure in such a terrible time, but with a crime of this magnitude, it is important that we find the truth of the matter rather than jumping to conclusions.




[November 22, 1963 cont.] Ripples down under

[Science fiction author, David Rome wired us his reaction to today's news:]


by David Rome

This is the day never to be forgotten. I am returned from England where I had been writing science fiction and comics, and am staying for a short time at my parents' home in Sydney while I wonder about my future survival in the dying pulp market.

On This Day, for no reason at all, I suddenly feel an impulse to turn on the TV set – and the news is coming through in these dreadful moments.

The world psyche perhaps, somehow influencing us all.

A day of loss which I believe will only intensify as the years go on.

Vale JFK. God help the world.




[November 22, 1963 cont.] Murder charge for Lee Harvey Oswald

[The name of President Kennedy's assassin is now known to the world: Lee Harvey Oswald, once a Marine, a defector to the Soviet Union.  We also know the name of the Dallas police officer that he killed: J.D. Tippit.  Oswald was just formally charged for the policeman's murder, and we understand more charges will be forthcoming,

In other news, Texas Governor John Connally, injured in the same attack that claimed the President, is in serious but stable condition.

We now bring you the first of the reports from the Journey's correspondents…]


by Victoria Lucas

I do not think I shall ever forget these 4 words: "Texas School Book Depository." 

I hardly know what they mean.  It's a building.  The building in which the shooter hid to kill.  I can't say it, can't write the name of the man he killed.

My mother called me at work to tell me that he had been taken to the hospital, but we have no radio and of course no TV at work.  No news except what is brought to us from outside.  People with car radios, with a portable radio brought to work somewhere else. 

My mother called back.  He is dead.  Our president is dead.  Johnson has been sworn in.  I can't really take it in.  I'm crying.  People who come into my office have wet faces. 

What can I say?  I feel as if my own life has been taken away from me, and I don't know why.  Why am I writing you today?  I know no one else to write.  I guess I just want to let you know how it is here in Tucson, Arizona, hearing the news. 

My mother says that when I get home tonight I will see nothing else on the television.  There will be nothing else on except repeated footage from the assassination.  Yes, assassination.  And how the government is in transition.  Just as now there is nothing else to talk about.

He is dead.

He Is Dead.




[November 22, 1963] President Kennedy has been assassinated


by Gideon Marcus

We interrupt the Journey's normal publication schedule to bring you breaking news.

According to several television, radio, and wire services, John F. Kennedy was shot twice, at around 12:30 p.m., CST, as his motorcade traveled through Dealey Plaza in Dallas.  The gravely injured President was rushed to Parkland Memorial Hospital where he was pronounced dead of his wounds shortly thereafter.  Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson was sworn in as Kennedy's successor one hour later. 

At about the same time, President Kennedy's assailant was apprehended by local law enforcement, but not before the killer slew a Dallas police officer. 

We will have more details on this event as they come in.  In addition, several of the Journey staff will be submitting observations on the events: their impact on themselves and those around them.  We welcome yours as well.

Please stay tuned.  Be strong.  We are all in this crisis together. 

Together, we will get through it.




[July 28, 1963] Africa: From End to End A Beautiful Garden; A Swan Dive into Vogue’s New Grand Tour

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]


by Gwyn Conaway


Seydou Keïta, a Malian photographer, is known for his portraiture, particularly of women that simultaneously become a part of their environment and assume command of it.

The newest Vogue offers a refreshing departure from the traditional venues of Paris, London, and New York.  Its pages have let me peek into the lives of people in places I’d never thought much about. For this summer’s Vogue embarks on a grand tour of Africa. It offers glimpses of Nigeria and Uganda, worlds wholly different from and beyond our own.  Much like when Alice follows the White Rabbit to Wonderland, I’ve found myself both in awe of this new adventure and questioning my place within it.

The words of Mary Roblee Henry struck a lasting chord with me when she wrote “Africa, in fact, has everything – except a frame of reference.” As of fifty years ago, the African continent, with the exception of the Empire of Ethiopia, was entirely colonized by Europe. As a result, our American eyes have always seen Africa as an extension of our own desire for adventure, not a continent with its own rich point of view.


Marchesa Sieuwke Bisleti on her farm Marula in the Kenyan highlands with two leopard cubs. She wears a grass green linen Serengeti shirt, khaki slacks, and earthy brown leather boots.

In addition to touring Nigeria and Uganda, this issue of Vogue documents the daily life of Marchesa Sieuwke Bisleti in Kenya, where she cares for many exotic animals on her farm, Marula. Western women in their 30s crave her practical elegance. She embodies the windswept beauty of a woman who has seen adventure and now lives comfortably within that frame of mind.

As romantic as this notion is, our sense of adventure may be a double-edged sword. On one hand, wearing bush jackets, Gurkha shorts, and khaki freesuits gives us a taste of discovering those distant, ancient, untouched places. On the other hand, it revives imperialist sentiments just as the continent Churchill once called “from end to end one beautiful garden” gains its independence.


Above: Abubakar Tafawa Balewa on leave with his children on his farm in northern Nigeria. Below: Finance Minister Okotie-Eboh and his wife, both wearing Iro skirts. Okotie-Eboh was also an Itsekiri chief near the Benin River.

After devouring every page of Vogue, I turned to current events. I needed more than Western fantasies to quench my curiosity. Luckily, Queen Elizabeth II has been busy on the continent, working closely with the soon-to-be Federal Republic of Nigeria to recall the British protectorate.

I was struck by the big personalities of Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and Finance Minister Festus Okotie-Eboh. How had I never paid attention to Nigerian politics before! Although, in the picture above, Tafawa Balewa is sitting in a casual setting, far from the pomp and circumstance of the capitol, he still exudes authority, as if he belongs to the country as much as it belongs to him. Perhaps the simple, large, billowing shapes of his agbada emphasize his assumption of power.

Okotie-Eboh, however, truly uses Nigerian fashion and tradition to make a grand statement. He and his wife in the image above are breathtaking, adorned in many yards of traditional Nigerian textiles, peacock feathers, and coral beads. While part of me is giddy for Okotie-Eboh’s bold choices, I’m also concerned for the burgeoning republic’s image. Do his people see the grandeur as a statement of pride, or do they see indulgence and excess? This is a question I have no answer to for the moment, but leaves me feeling uneasy for the future.


Nigerian women standing for a portrait. Note that the woman in the center is wearing an English dress suit while the ladies on either side are wearing the traditional iro (skirt), buba (shirt), and gele (headwrap)

Beyond Nigeria’s politicians, her people possess a breathtaking strength of character. More so than in any fashion line or runway show, Nigerians’ personal power and charisma is interwoven into their textiles and fashion. In the clamour to define the modern Nigerian identity, traditional and European aesthetics are caught in a fiery dance for domination. 

The younger generation in particular is visually torn between their new independence and the allure of western style. Men here combined sports jackets of the finest linens and tweeds with their white or brightly colored, airy agbadas and Oxford brogues. Girls wear western polka dotted blouses with their iros and beaded jewelry.



Photography by J.D. ‘Okhai Ojeikere

Photographers like J.D. ‘Okhai Ojeikere and Seydou Keïta explore this in their portraiture. One moment, Ojeikere will photograph wealthy Nigerians dressed head-to-toe as fashionable young British women, donning pumps, sundresses, and pearl earrings. The next, he’ll snap a photo of two men leaning against an enviable Rambler Ambassador parked on rich Nigerian red earth roads, one in a dress shirt and tie, the other in a traditional agbada, with a backdrop of Coca Cola trucks, stressing the country’s identity crisis.


Sade Thomas-Fahm sources local Nigerian textiles to create her own take on European fashions.

Considering the events in Nigeria right now, I was shocked to learn how difficult it has been for these artists to blaze their creative trails. Take Sade Thomas-Fahm, for example. She’s an up-and-coming fashion designer from Nigeria, and the first woman to open her own boutique in the country. Her designs combine tradition and modernism, reinventing British silhouettes with Nigerian textiles. Although it’s a perfect marriage, the public is a hard sell. It seems to me that the European influence over the African continent will be strong for many years to come.

Circling back to Mary Roblee Henry, I now find myself wary of style icons such as Marchesa Sieuwke Bisleti after exploring some of Africa’s “missing” frame of reference (which I now know is not so much “missing” as covered by a veil of European colonialism). Although I can’t help but feel the call to adventure, the romance of bush jackets and Gurkha shorts comes with a dash of bitterness now. Instead, I think I’ll find my practical elegance elsewhere, and look to lift up the voices of those like Sade Thomas-Fahm.

Now there is a true adventure.

Special Thanks to Nigerian Nostalgia Project for images from their archives.