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My journey to Dealey Plaza began twenty years earlier. It was a time of Cold War, nuclear fallout drills, Motown music, teen clubs on Friday nights, and we still believed in our leaders...
I was in seventh grade math class when the Principal announced over the school intercom that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. It was during the next period's shop class that he came on again and announced that the President was dead. School was dismissed for the day, and at home the family sat glued to the television for the rest of the weekend. Although my parents had never liked Kennedy, I knew that this was an historic event and was fascinated by the astounding course of events over the weekend and beyond. I had already had started a collection of newspapers detailing the emerging space program, from Yuri Gagarin's flight to Alan Shepard and John Glenn. Now I added the newspapers announcing the assasination, Oswald's murder, and the funeral coverage. Little did I know that this was the beginning of a collection to which I'm still adding today. As the summer of 1964 drew to a close, I eagerly awaited the publication of the Warren Report. Though only 13 years old, I wanted to read all the details about how this historic event happened, and I read the released paperback over the course of a few weeks. Like nearly everyone else I had no reason to doubt the conclusions of the Report, nor did I ever have access to the Volumes of testimony and exhibits upon which the conclusions were based.
A few years later, while in high school, I read the Life Magazine summarizing Josiah Thompson's Six Seconds in Dallas, and followed the limited coverage of Jim Garrison's attempt to solve the "conspiracy" in New Orleans. This prompted me to go to our local Library where I began browsing through the 26 Volumes of the full Warren Report. (By the time I was in college, these volumes would no longer be on the shelves of the local library). Even to a teenager it became evident that the testimony in the Volumes did not really support the conclusions of the paperback Warren Report. Everywhere I compared what was said in the conclusions with the supporting documentation in the 26 Volumes, I found major discrepancies. From then on I read everything about the assasination that appeared.
Like many teenagers coming of age in the late 60's, the pace of events, from Martin Luther King's and Robert Kennedy's assasination, the Chicago riots, the growing suspicion of what was going on in Vietnam--left me bewildered and confused as to what was happening to our country.
In college I attended one of the first viewings of the Zapruder film, then being brought from campus to campus by a group dedicated to letting people see for themselves what the government and Life magazine didn't want them to see. The impact of seeing the Zapruder film, and it's apparant evidence of a second shooter, led me back to the library (at the University this time), and to many hours of reading through the 26 Volumes. Over the ensuing years I followed the growing literature on the assasination, gathering a large collection of books and magazines. Like other interested students of the assasination, I was confused at the maze of conflicting theories and information, but increasingly convinced that the government had deliberately covered up what had really happened in Dallas.
By the time I graduated from college with a history degree, the years of protests, Kent State, the Pentagon Papers, the Watergate hearings, Nixon's resignation--I had little faith left in the integrity of our government and lost some interest in dwelling on the assasinations of the 60's--of course it was all a conspiracy of deep politics--what could be more self evident? Though I was aware of the renewal of interest in the assasinations during the House investigations of the 70's, I expected a whitewash and wasn't surprised when Blakey could declare the Warren Report accurate in all of it's substantive findings, except that it really was a conspiracy! Level two of the new cover story!! Years went by as my interest in the story waned, convinced that the government would never allow the true story of Dallas to ever see the light of day.
Penn Jones knew the Dallas scene, the players and shakers, had sources within the Police Department, and had connections with many of the witnesses, both known and as yet unknown. Yes, Penn Jones could go out on a limb at times, print astounding claims without naming sources--but his dedication to unearthing the truth, his humor in the midst of high tragedy, and his selfless giving to all who asked for his help, marked him and his little publication as unique. I became a subscriber and wrote to Penn Jones asking about acquiring all the back issues I could. He sent along dozens of back issues, all that he said were still available. With my interest renewed by this feisty editor from Texas, I soon caught up with the many recent books on the subject by people like Gary Shaw, Robert Groden, David Lifton, Anthony Summers, etc., etc.
When I became aware of his books, the Forgive My Grief series, consisting of his early articles on the assasination while still an editor of a local Texas newspaper, I searched the used bookstores in vain for any copies. Already these privately published books had become very hard to get. As the twentieth anniversary of the assasination approached, I felt it was time for me to see Dallas and Dealey Plaza for the first time. Through The Continuing Inquiry I knew that Penn Jones always made an appearance at Dealey Plaza on November 22 to pay his respects and greet interested researchers and amateurs. I arrived on November 20th, planning to spend a couple of days exploring Dallas and Dealey Plaza before the events of the 22nd. On the 21st Dealey Plaza was quiet and empty in the morning. I wandered around the Book Depository and grassy knoll, amazed at how little the area had changed. There was the fence atop the grassy knoll, only a few slats then missing, cars parked in the railroad yard, Lee Bowers tower still watching over the scene. I stood behind the fence and peered down towards the road--was this the very view the shooter on the grassy knoll had? I crossed the railroad bridge over the triple underpass and realized for the first time how similar the other side of the Plaza was to the grassy knoll and pergolas we all know. Wandering back to the tracks around the Book Depository it became clear how easily one could have disappeared into the vast area surrounding the back of the Depository. In 1983, the Book Depository was not yet open to the public, though one could enter through the front door and peer into the lobby area. I stood on the steps and looked out over Dealey Plaza--perhaps Oswald's view that November afternoon twenty years ago?
The tree in front of the building was still there, looking not much different from the pictures taken in 1963. Crossing the road about where the first shots were fired, and looking back up to the sixth floor--yes, the tree obscured a view of the sixth-floor window. From the south side of Elm I stood where Mary Moorman shot her polaroid and the Babushka lady filmed her never seen footage.Crossing back to the north side of Elm I climbed the steps to the pergola and stood where Abraham Zapruder filmed, the scene before me so familiar.
A few people had begun to appear in Dealey Plaza, each silently absorbing the history and tragedy forever represented here. A newsstand in front of the Book Depository featured a supplement to the Dallas Morning News, with a large black and white photo of John Kennedy and a caption reading: NOV 22 TWENTY YEARS LATER. This picture and caption seemed a fitting image, with Dealey Plaza looming behind it.
To the south of Dealey Plaza rises a huge space-needle like tower, with an observation deck on top, the Reunion Tower, which I believe was built by the H.L. Hunt interests, as if to provide a spectacular view of what to some people represents a moment of great success. From here one does get a stunning view of the entire area, and it's easy to imagine the whole terrible day's activities unfolding before one's all encompassing view. From here I also saw the "official" Dallas memorial to JFK a couple of blocks from Dealey Plaza. Tomorrow there was to be a gathering of pro-Contra Reagan supporters here, alledgedly in remembrance of the great anti-communist fighter JFK. Their literature reeked of right-wing babble but they chose the correct spot for their demonstration. This "official" memorial consists of a large flat slab of stone with JFK's name on it, hidden by four huge surrounding walls--aptly symbolizing Dallas's desire to hide from the implications of that day so long ago.
I spent some quiet time there in Dealey Plaza before heading off to explore some of the other sites in Dallas. In a local bookstore I acquired an original Dallas Morning News for Nov 23, 1963, though I found none of Penn Jones' books. Unfamiliar with the bus system here, I decided to forgo visits to Oak Cliff or Parkland Hospital and retired to my hotel on Main street, several blocks from Dealey Plaza. On the long bus trip from south Florida I had collected many special editions of different cities' twentieth anniversary newspapers, and looked them over that night.
Early in the morning I walked once again to Dealey Plaza, and before too many people arrived, got down to some serious photography, at times trying to duplicate shots from the same position as many of the photographs so well known from that day. Today, more people began to appear as the noon hour approached. Penn and Elaine arrived, emerging from the parking lot behind the fence on the grassy knoll, but today surrounded by several colleagues and friends. I greeted Penn and his friends and watched as reporters and well wishers vied for his time. Other writers and researchers were there also, many being interviewed by reporters, and the crowd grew. At about 12:15 I stood with Penn and Elaine on the grass and they asked me how the rest of my day went yesterday. I told them I hadn't been able to locate the Forgive My Grief books, but that I hoped to someday. Penn asked Elaine to go to their car on the knoll and see if they had any in the trunk. Elaine returned with all four books, including the hardback, very scarce edition of Volume 1. With all this activity going on around him, and with the 12:30pm time approaching, Penn took the time to autograph the hardcover edition for me, inscribing it: Pray that I am wrong...Penn Jones...11/22/83. Minutes later the crowd fell silent, as all observed a minute of silence in honor of John F. Kennedy. Penn Jones stood with tears in his eyes, and I saw how very real this was for him. There weren't more than 100 people there that day, but Penn Jones appreciated every one of them. His burden is to know that all his efforts would probably be futile in his lifetime, but it still moved him to know that there are those who care. He hugged Elaine afterwards-said his goodbyes, and quietly left. This was a very emotional moment for him and he apologized for his quick exit, but he had nothing left for today. I felt extremely honored to have met and talked with this genuine hero.
Minutes later it began to rain, as it had twenty years ago. More than one person that day felt the powerful symbolism of that cleansing rain, like tears washing away the loss. A young man carried a large portrait of JFK mounted on an easel and set it beside Elm St. on the wet grass. Before the people hiding from the rain could rush down to see the portrait, I managed to get a photo of it, with Elm St. and the grassy knoll in the backround. Somehow, only for that instant, no people were in the photos' range. The portrait appears all alone, in a seemingly deserted Dealey Plaza, with the wet sidewalk and street adding an air of pathos to the empty scene. An instant later a crowd surrounded the portrait.
More and more people arrived, filling the Plaza, talking and remembering, crying and contemplating. Soon, a large black limousine with an antennae on the back hood pulled up and stopped along the curb on Elm St. Who could this be--some said it might be Jim Garrison, others speculated that it might be one of the surviving Kennedys. As the back window rolled down, and the reporters and spectators rushed down to the curb, I could see the head of Larry Flynt, publisher of Hustler magazine peering out the window. Despite his main occupation as a porn publisher, Flynt had recently financed some very good investigative pieces, and was at the time very interested in the story of JFK's assasination. He stayed only a few minutes, later telling reporters he only wanted to pay his respects.
I wandered around downtown Dallas the rest of the afternoon, wishing I had prepared more for this visit. Where was the old Carousel Club? The pawn shop Ruby visited? The hotel where Clint Murchison, Lyndon Johnson, and, according to Penn Jones, J. Edgar Hoover and Richard Nixon partied the night before their common enemy was to be eliminated? Perhaps on another visit I would see more of where our modern history began. But now it was time to leave. Back at home, life went on. Shortly before Christmas a card arrived from Texas. It was a Christmas card from Penn and Elaine inviting me out to Texas and their farm. They thanked me for my interest, said they enjoyed our conversations, and promised that if I came we all would "drink and talk all night." I was pleased and honored that they would take the time to remember my visit--I was not a writer, or anyone of particular importance to the story--but to Penn Jones everyone matters. And his courtesy and genuiness are something I will always remember. And of course I will always regret that I had neither the time or finances to make that visit to Penn Jones' farm.
My interest in the events in Dallas, and their connection to our continuing political difficulties, remains strong, though mixed with a heavy dose of cynicism. Yet I feel a visit to Dealey Plaza is a journey everyone must make if they care about what happened to our country that day. Our country changed on November 22, 1963, and the change began there in Dealey Plaza. From it flowed the Gulf of Tonkin, the Lorraine Motel, the Ambassador Hotel, Chicago, Kent State, Watergate, Iran-Contra, the continuing drug epidemics, a CIA and National Security establishment unhindered by laws or true oversight, and an ever growing cynical population. Yet here in Dealey Plaza, all remains much as it was before the nightmare.
Now, in 1996, it's been 13 years since my visit. The Continuing Inquiry is long gone, and Penn Jones is reported to be in ill health. The search for truth continues nevertheless, inspired by the tremendous early efforts of such pioneers as Penn Jones. Now, along with my many old issues of The Continuing Inquiry, are added years of Jerry Rose's The Third Decade (now The Fourth Decade), issues of Probe Magazine, and many other periodicals that continue to inform and investigate. With the coming of the Internet we've seen such fine additions as the Fair Play Web site, a high quality production that demonstrates the best of what the Web can be. And yet, nothing can compare with the impact of strolling through Dealey Plaza--where it all began.
Robert Petit-Clerc
Phoenix, 1996
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