A question for some of you older Dopers:
Where were you and what were you doing when you heard the news that John Kennedy was shot.
I was six years old and with my parents on the way to visit my sister in college. We stopped at a diner in South Jersey and were told the terrible news by our waitress (she had painted on eyebrows and a beehive hairdoo). The room remained silent for a long time.
I was nine years old and in third grade. Another teacher came in and told my teacher the news. At the time, I didn’t realize what an event it was. I remember TV being cancelled for several days, and my mother watching the transfer of Oswald on Sunday morning and screaming “My God! He’s been shot.”
I was at school, and the announcement was made over the PA. The teacher started crying, and so did I. We were sent home early, where I found my mom watching TV and crying.
I was in 1st grade.
No help here. I was only 3 months old.
In fourth grade. It was announced by our teacher (who had been called into conference, I guess to tell him what had happened.) Several kids wanted to “shoot the shooter”.
Not asked, but my stepmother refused to watch the ensuing news coverage, up to and including the funeral. Her first husband had died horribly (brain aneurysm) while she was watching, less than a year earlier, and I don’t think she could handle another widow’s pain.
I still wonder how much JFK’s death has changed our nation.
I wasn’t even a gleam in my parents’ eyes, but my dad has an anecdote that has always interested me.
He was working in a lab when the news came in. Everyone who could abandon their work, did, and went to the cafeteria. One guy went to a pay phone to call his son, and came back to report that his son’s immediate reaction had been, “Well, it’s about TIME somebody shot the sonuvabitch!”
I was 12 years old, in 7th grade. The announcement came over the PA system - first that the President had been shot, then that he was dead. They let us out early - since it was parochial school, most of us went to the church next door to pray.
At my house the TV was on almost continuously for the next 3 days watching the events through to the funeral and burial, and the coverage of Oswald’s murder.
I was in fourth grade. School was just getting out and our teacher was leading us downstairs to go home when another teacher, who had been my second grade teacher told us the President had been shot. I walked to my grandmother’s house with my younger brother and sister, which we did every day, and learned there that he had died. The next several days there was nothing but stories about the assassination and of course the funeral on tv. We were out of school several days between that and Thanksgiving, as I recall. I was nine years old.
One of my weirdest memories of this is the teenaged daughter of the people who lived next door to my grandmother standing on the front porch of her house and screaming and crying. We thought she’d lost her mind.
Seven years old, third grade, John Marshall Elementary School in San Diego. Some other kids must have gotten word somehow. I was sitting by myself at lunchtime and some asshole kid at the next table was holding up one hand, saying “Here’s President Kennedy” and making a bullet with the finger of his other hand: “Ssssh-bang!” I was offended and had no idea why he was doing this. When we returned to the classroom, the teacher told us the news and sent us home.
I was twenty-three; I had a house-to-house bread delivery route and learned it from a customer.
I was about 2 and a half, so I was probably in my playpen, or taking a nap.
I was in the fourth grade. The principal came over the intercom and announced that the president had been shot. I remember crying. I also remember thinking that it was so wrong to kill a president. I mean, you only got to be president by being the best man in the country, right??
I remember seeing his funeral on a black and white TV at my friend Patty Daly’s house.
I was in math class in high school when the PA system came on in the middle of the radio broadcast. A lot of the girls started crying. I was in shock. The guy next to me turned my direction and said “I always like Eisenhower best anyway.” I remember thinking “what an asshole you are”.
I was not quite nine, in third grade. My school was close enough to home so that I went home for lunch. When I returned the playground had a big group of kids, and we were hearing stories of how "the president had been shot while riding in his car. After returning to class the principal came around to our classes, one by one, to tell us about his death. Mrs. Huffman, my teacher, who was pregnant, looked terribly stricken, and Mr. Fernkopf, the principal, looked like he wanted to cry, although he didn’t. Up until a short time before, at my great-grandmother’s funeral, I hadn’t realized “grownups” cried, but I could tell by his face. The kid next to me kind of giggled, and I was shocked at his attitude, but now I realize it was only nerves.
I watched the funeral on television. That was when I learned about the custom of the riderless horse, for military funerals. My mother explained it to me, and pointed out the boots placed backwards in the stirrups.
I was in a public library, studying for exams. They came by and said the library was closing, the president had been shot. It didn’t sink in for about an hour, until I realized the significance of the tragedy.
I believe I was home for the afternoon from kindergarten. My mom was watching the soaps on CBS and ironing at the same time. The stories were interrupted to show live coverage of JFK on his ride, and then he got shot, so I saw it happen. That’s all I remember about it, though. I have no recollection of anyone’s reaction, as this was Canada, and I was five.
I was in 6th grade. During recess, an announcement came over the PA that the president had been shot.
After we got in, the teacher announced he had died. I don’t recall much of the reaction – mostly quiet shock, IIRC.
After school, I went to a cub scout meeting. Someone announced that they caught the shooter. By that time, all TV was preempted, so I watched a lot of the covereage.
I was also watching when Ruby shot Oswald.
This is my earliest memory. I was two years old and my mother was crying, and it really scared me. It wasn’t until I was a teen that I put the memory in context (Kennedy assasination). I asked her about it and she confirmed all the details that I remembered.
What Qadgop said, word for word. They played the National Anthem over the school PA and then sent everybody home.
Kindergarten in Cleveland Heights, probably home for the afternoon. My parents were pretty stoic, so I don’t remember much of their reaction. But I watched Jack Ruby get shot too.