Investigative Classics is a weekly feature on noteworthy past examples of in-depth reporting.
At a time when thoughts of assassination come too easily to too many minds, it is worth recalling the horror barely suggested by that word.
Since John F. Kennedy’s murder, writers, artists and everyday Americans have tried to express the unutterable depth of that tragedy. One of the very first was a reporter for the UPI, Merriman Smith, who was covering the President’s trip to Dallas on Nov. 23, 1963. His next-day account – which begins with the president’s assassination and ends with his body’s return to Washington – is what people mean when they call journalism the first draft of history.
The final paragraph poignantly reports a fact that can only be stated and never explained; “As our helicopter circled in the balmy darkness for a landing on the White House south lawn, it seemed incredible that only six hours before, John Fitzgerald Kennedy had been a vibrant, smiling, waving and active man.”
One of the strongest parts of Smith’s 2,800 first-person account, which was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for National Reporting in 1964, records Lyndon Johnson’s actions on the plane back from Dallas after he was sworn into office, with Mrs. Kennedy, still wearing her blood-soaked outfit, by his side. Smith wrote:
Johnson came up to the table where Roberts and I were trying to record the history we had just witnessed.
“I'm going to make a short statement in a few minutes and give you copies of it,” he said. “Then when I get on the ground, I'll do it over again.”
It was the first public utterance of the new Chief Executive, brief and moving: “This is a sad time for all people. We have suffered a loss that cannot be weighed. For me it is a deep personal tragedy. I know the world shares the sorrow that Mrs. Kennedy and her family bear. I will do my best. That is all I can do. I ask for your help – and God's.”
When the plane was about 45 minutes from Washington, the new President got on a special radio-telephone and placed a call to Mrs. Rose Kennedy, the late President's mother.
“I wish to God there was something I could do,” he told her. “I just wanted you to know that.”
Thirty minutes out of Washington, Johnson put in a call for Nellie Connally, wife of the seriously wounded Texas Governor.
The new President said to the Governor's wife:
“We are praying for you, darling, and I know that everything is going to be all right, isn't it? Give him a hug and a kiss for me."
It was dark when Air Force One began to skim over the lights of the Washington area, lining up for a landing at Andrews Air Force Base. The plane touched down at 5:59 P.M. EST.
I thanked the stewards for rigging up the typewriter for me, pulled on my raincoat and started down the forward ramp. Roberts and I stood under a wing and watched the casket being lowered from the rear of the plane and borne by a complement of armed forces body bearers into a waiting hearse. We watched Mrs. Kennedy and the President's brother, Atty. Gen. Robert F. Kennedy, climb into the hearse beside the coffin.
