Strangers in Dallas, embroiled in the death of a president

           

                       

            Date: Saturday, November 23, 2013 9:07 PM

            San  Diego Union-Tribune,           

        

            Date:             Saturday, November 23, 2013 9:07 PM

            San  Diego Union-Tribune,           

By Laura Walcher

Veteran San Diego publicist Laura Walcher and her husband, Bob, were

living in Dallas at the time of the Kennedy assassination and had their

own encounter with the celebrated Zapruder film. The following is an

essay Laura Walcher wrote about her experience.

Here’s how it went: WFAA-TV broadcast engineer Bob Walcher took a roll

of film from a colleague at the station, who had collected it from a

distraught Abraham Zapruder. He stashed it in his pocket, waiting for

processing, to see what it might or might not contain, given the chaotic

newsroom situation. But the film was 8 mm; the station could only

process 16 mm! Staff made a frantic call to the local commercial film

processor for help — another hour crawled by before the lab could stop

the run and put it on the development schedule. At the network, Walter

Cronkite had announced the president had been shot. The president, he

now said, has died.

Meanwhile, across town, in Neiman Marcus’ cafe, along with a packed

house of diners, shoppers, and newshounds, I’d been rooted to the

blaring television set. Coverage began calmly enough, the crowd at the

scene cheering the beginning of the motorcade, close-ups of President

Kennedy smiling, waving, Jacqueline serenely by his side, the perfectly

beautiful companion, sunny, charming in her signature chapeau.

Back then, in Dallas, the Kennedys may have been the most optimistic

people on earth. Or those in the greatest denial, because too much of

the city didn’t want them, didn’t respect them. The city did not love

their president.

I did. I managed to convince my squirming toddlers in tow — Billy, 5,

and Jean, 3 — how exciting our outing was; that we were going to watch

the motorcade, that they were going to see a great American president,

one they’d remember all their lives.

Now, I stood in that packed cafe, shockingly riveted by the first news

of the shooting, gasping, awaiting the next report. When the final news

came that the president had died, every person I could see leapt up,

arms raised with screams, shouts, and cheers of glee.

Alone, enfolding my tiny children who had, of course, no understanding,

I also screamed, bursting into tears of grief and rage, unable to

believe the sight of the cafe crowd celebrating the death of President

Kennedy.

A mile from home, I’d stashed Jean into her stroller, with big-boy Billy

running along. We’d gone just for the walk, sunny day, using the

shopping center as our destination, knowing the president was coming to

town, happy to be able to watch the event.

Now we raced back, as fast as I could move with children in a stroller,

to watch in horror the rest of the story unfold — to wait, wait, wait,

for Bob to get home, to seek some understanding, to wish it all away.

It had been hard to be happy in Dallas, to say the least. To begin with,

we were Northerners, New Yorkers, Jewish. Those traits, in themselves,

were enough to draw the disdain of some neighbors. Far worse, the

appalling bigotry we encountered, pervasive and ugly toward Dallas’

African-American citizens. I needn’t repeat how they were treated, what

they were called there, then, but it was highly insulting, highly unkind.

The unfolding of events continued to batter us: the hunt for, the arrest

of, Lee Harvey Oswald, the debate about who he was, murdered before he

could reveal anything about himself — so sad, so tragic, so infuriating.

No Zapruder film was needed as witness to Lee Harvey Oswald’s death.

Nearly all the media were there. Nearly. Yet in the midst of the

tumbling events, Bob, with the WFAA staff, had inexplicably been sent to

cover a routine church service, a nonevent, wholly interrupting the days

and nights that were otherwise consumed with the president’s fate — and

taking one more potential eyewitness off the scene.

Maybe Oswald had compatriots. And maybe he didn’t. It’s still hard to

know, absolutely, for sure, the truth of the man, the truth of the deed,

despite the immense number of investigative reports, books, films, and

continuing emerging “facts.”

Today, I’m told that Dallas is a “better” city, Yet, our country is

still threatened by a polarized populace, a divisive mood that sadly

resonates: could it lead to some other cafe full of Americans cheering

for the death of an American president?

Dallas may indeed be a different city. But I might never know, at least

first hand; I don’t even want to be there to change planes.

Walcher is Principal PR Counsel to J. Walcher Communications.

© Copyright 2013 The San Diego Union-Tribune, LLC. An MLIM LLC Company.

All rights reserved.

WHAT NOW? OFF MY DESK, 2013

Presidio Sentinel San Diego, November, 2013

By Laura Walcher

If you’re not grumpy about the state of things lately, you’re

just not paying attention.

Item:  The shut and open case.  The Tea-imposed financial

hostage crises is over, and we’re good with that, tho’ we lost $24.6 billion, to say nothing of wasted time, attention,

and our good moods. “A ‘quixotic’ adventure,”  “a fools’ errand,”  - and, “no economic rationale,” say our pundits, saying the least.

Repentant, Remorseful, Rueful, Republicans? 

Hmm. Don’t think so. 

Item:  Calcutta in India is among the most polluted cities in the world, but instead of outlawing cars on the road, among the chief contributors to bad air, they have outlawed bikes. Why not outlaw cars?  “Politics!” 

Item:  Traffic laws have long managed street safety in American society:  the light turns red, you stop; green, you go.  Stop sign?  Stop.  Look around.  Safe?  Move on.

Givens? Any of us who drive or walk unquestionably subject ourselves to these practices. Not only will we live longer, we’ll maintain a safe and civil society.

Why, then, do cyclists by the dozens - flying through every kind of traffic signal - arrogantly consider themselves exempt?  Great minds want to know.

Governor Brown recently signed legislation requiring California drivers to give bicyclists a 3-ft. buffer zone when passing. Not a word, though, about how easily bikers can endanger themselves  - and us - by disobeying traffic laws. 

The S. D. County Bicycle Coalition (sdcbc.org) gives us  “lessons in sharing the road.” Now, for instance you’ll begin to see “Sharrows” – “Shared Lane Markings,” to indicate a lane too narrow for cyclists to ride side-by-side with cars.  When you see a bicycle painting in the middle of a lane, you know that the bike has a right.

We’ll soon have bike sharing fleets in every community, so be prepared – indeed, brace yourselves - for many more cyclists on the road.

Item:  What’s “popular”?  I dunno.  What kids think is popular, for instance, is music I probably never heard – and there’s a good chance will ever hear again.  This is due to our entirely fragmented world of entertainment. You can tell this is true; except perhaps for the Star Spangled Banner (and I’m not too sure about that),  just try singing anything in unison in a multi-generational crowd.  Adam Sternbergh, a New York Times’ writer, nails it:  “”Thanks to today’s ubiquitous media choices, rather than sharing our experiences, we are all relegated to ‘our own individual cocoon.’ “

Item: The ironies of life:  here at home, we’ve recently been turned down for new credit cards.  Why?  We don’t maintain enough

debt.

Item:  This column is getting me grayer) – but I have lots of company. From earliest B.C. days, gray-heads have somewhat yielded to hundreds of reversals, from oils and cat-blood, vinegar and salts, black powders, and numerous other “solutions” – but by the mid=1600’s most figured out that just wearing a black wig does the trick. Today, getting “rid” of it is comparatively easy.

Don’t thank me, wig-makers, for building your business.

Enough already: Fast Company ran a list of how to buy happiness.

The “purchases” – i.e. money, lifestyle upgrades, community

support, etc., are all myths, they say.  It’s much more productive –

and successful - just to be happy. 

I’m in.  ###