The "I Know A Story - A Few Cents & A Suitcase: Paying Tribute To JFK" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading the weekly column in my Sunday News "Living Section" known as "I Know A Story."  It began by telling the readers of the column..."As we watched the shadow of Penn State University disappear in the background, Kathy and I sat on the bus, with my bulky blue suitcase overhead, headed to the grief-stricken capital of the United States, reeling from the shock of the president being killed.   As I lay my head back, I tried to recall where had happened over the past two days.  It was 1963. The country was full of hope, despite a Cold War with the Soviet Union, civil rights issues and a conflict in Vietnam.  At Penn State University, life was good that particular Friday afternoon as my friends and I were talking about an upcoming record hop.  Shortly after 2:00 PM we heard someone call out..."The President has been shot!"  Disbelief filled my mind.  Who would shoot our young, beloved John Fitzgerald  Kennedy?  We jumped up and padded down the corridor toward the TV lounge, joining the small crowd.  My heart was beating fast and I was feeling the way I might feel if this had been a relative or friend who had been injured.  Shocked coeds listen to Walter Cronkite on the black and white TV.  

Cronkite recounted the events in Dallas where President Kennedy had died from bullet wounds to the neck and head and Gov. John Connally had been seriously wounded while riding in the motorcade.  The West Halls Record Hop was cancelled.  Students gathered in small groups, but there was quietness throughout the campus as events were reported over television.  We learned that the shots had been fired by Lee Harvey Oswald, an unknown, who was arrested shortly afterward.  Later it was announced that the president's body would be flown back to Washington on Air Force One, where Lyndon B. Johnson would be sworn in as President.  JFK's body would first lie in repose in the White House for 24 hours and then in the capitol, where the public could pass by.  On Saturday, life went on, but not in the typical Penn State party fashion. On Sunday, we gathered in the tv lounge, we were all amazed to see Lee Harvey Oswald, who was being transferred from police headquarters to the county jail, shot at close range.  Never before had American viewers seen something like this on the screen.  The assailant was identified as Jack Ruby, a Texas nightclub owner.  Oswald died a few hours later from his wounds.  That evening at dinner with the girls on my floor, Kathy told the eight of us that there was a bus leaving from State College for Washington.  Kathy knew the price of the ticket and the taxi to the station.  There was a lot of excitement, and everyone wanted to go.  With our pooled money, we purchased round-trip tickets, leaving 50 cents between us.  The Capitol was about three-quarters of a mile from the bus station.  In near-freezing temperatures we walked.  When we finally got into the rotunda of the Capitol, I was impressed by the magnitude of the room and the historic paintings and photographs of national events.  While sobs and soft crying could be heard, the atmosphere was very solemn, but almost majestic.  Kathy and I approached the coffin while police politely reminded mourners to keep moving along as two lines abreast passed on either side of the casket.  For just a few seconds we were able to.view the polished mahogany casket, draped with the American flag, at close range.  As I passed the casket, I silently recited the Lord's Prayer.  We headed then to Pennsylvania Avenue to await the funeral procession.  It was reported that a million people lined the funeral route from the Capitol to St. Matthew's Cathedral.  After 21 hours of the President's body lying in State, the caisson, drawn by four horses, passed by with the clip-clop of their hooves, along with the stifle and sobs of the mourners.  Afterward we headed toward Union Station to catch our bus.  By the time we reached Harrisburg for the layover, we were ravenous, but broke.  We found a cafeteria nearby and I had an idea.  The cashier was an older man and I went to him and explained our situation.  He said we should get a tray.  Thankful, I told him we would send repayment. Arriving back Monday evening, we were given a hero's welcome, having had the unique and historic honor of paying homage to the 35th President of the United States.  When I finally received my weekly cash from home, I sent the money for our meal to the generous patriot in Harrisburg, somehow feeling that he did not expect it!" 

Photo of JFK speaking in Lancaster, PA

The author of this story lives in nearby Willow Street, Pennsylvania.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.