This article was printed in The Daily Cardinal Saturday, Nov. 23, 1963.
Noontime suddenly became a nightmare of incredulity.
Disbelief registered on dazed faces first and then anguish, as stunned students watched the life of John Fitzgerald Kennedy ebb away in a TV hour-glass.
It was 37 minutes of hell as commentators relayed confused reports, while the President of the United States lay mortally wounded in Dallas’ Parkland Hospital.
And then finality.
“He’s dead.”
Articulate expressions of grief filtered thru the gray glumness of the Madison campus by late afternoon, as solemn-faced students and administrators began to recover from the shock of President Kennedy’s assassination.
Pres. Fred Harvey Harrington issued the following statement: “All of us are profoundly shocked. This is the tragedy of our time. The University is in mourning.
“Classes and all social events on campuses have been cancelled for today and Saturday, and will be cancelled during the period of the national services and for memorial services which will be held on all campuses at an appropriate time. Classes will resume Monday unless the national services are scheduled then.”
William J. Campbell, Wisconsin Student Association president, dispatched a telegram to the President's wife, reflecting student sentiment.
“Dear Mrs. Kennedy:
On behalf of the students of the University of Wisconsin, I wish to express deepest sympathy over the death of the President. Surely the untimely death is as terrible a loss to the nation and to the world as it is to you and the President’s family.”
In the East Wing of Wisconsin’s Capital, the Governor’s executive secretary, Stanley Zuckerman, fought tears as he typed a statement by Gov. John W. Reynolds. It had been dictated moments before from Omaha where Reynolds is attending the Governors’ Conference.
“The people of Wisconsin will join the nation and the world today in mourning and death of President Kennedy.
“Our sense of shock at this senseless act is inexpressable.
“The sympathy of our people is extended to Mrs. Kennedy and the President’s daily and our prayers are with them at this moment.”
rain streaked the city and campus as the news of the assassination spread. Everybody seemed to know it at once, but no one could believe it.
White-faced scholars stood grimly before the Union’s three TV sets as the news was gradually spelled out in conflicting statements. They seemed transfixed as they stood watching until the unconfirmed reports were confirmed. And then they walked away, shaking their heads.
“There’s just nothing to say,” was the common reaction.
Dean of Student Affairs LeRoy Luberg said it eloquently for them. In a statement, Dean Luberg said:
“It seems incredibly that the courageous heart of our president is still, but we can be confident that his extraordinary qualities of mind and spirit are woven into the fabric of American life, forever.
“Each of us share the hurt and grief of Jacqueline Kennedy and the Kennedy family that have such enduring bonds of loyalty and affection.”
Richard Halverson, Union president, announced tat all activities scheduled for Saturday in the Union had been cancelled, in respect for the late President.
“Recognizing the need for students to have a place to go, the Union’s facilities will remain open, however,” Halverson stated.
Sunday’s university Symphony concert and the opening of the Salon of Art will be held as scheduled.
Whatever their political affiliation, hushed clusters of students mourned the loss of the young, vigorous, handsome leader, who ironically survived a rain of bullets in the South Pacific to be felled tragically by one shell from an assassin’s gun.
A strong thread of disgust for the uselessness of the act was woven into the emotional reactions of the saddened students.
“I think its’ a waste; a total waste,” freshman Marv Cohen commented. “The killing of the President accomplishes very little. The basic policy of the United States all continue. It’s just that one of our great leaders won’t continue with it.”
Oliver Bjorkstein, a junior, echoed this belief, stating, “I think that it has served no purpose. It’s no way to gain political ends. I think this will affect everyone, whether they liked his policies or not. It’s like losing your big brother.”
Joanne Olsen, a sophomore, couldn’t grasp the reality that the President was dead.
“It’s like something you read in a history book, but you don’t think can ever happen,” Joanne remarked.
“The man is irreplaceable,” senior Paul Berger lamented, as the shock of initial disbelief gave way to widespread grief.
Martha Peterson, Dean of Student Affairs, indicated that her reaction was “the same as everyone else’s.”
“I haven’t absorbed it yet,” she said.
The usual “Thank-God-it’s Friday” attitude vanished instantly when the first tangled accounts of the assassination electrified the campus. Although many students later confessed that they suspected momentarily that the rumor was a “joke,” TV sets and radios informed them otherwise.
Older students, remembering Orson Welles’ Invasion from Mars program, recalled their panic occasioned by its realistic hoax.
By nightfall, students were recovering their pose and wondering only as one freshman put it, “Where do we go from here? My professor didn’t even dismiss class when the reports came in. As he put it, “the show must go on.’”
It will go on, but without John Fitzgerald Kennedy, 35th President of the United States
