JFK and Seattle: How the city mourned

Forty-six years ago today, with the nation's attention on Dallas, the president's assassination hit hard in the Northwest.

President Kennedy in Seatte, in 1961, with Sen. Warren Magnuson and UW President Charles Odegaard.

UW Special Collections, via HistoryLink.org

President Kennedy in Seatte, in 1961, with Sen. Warren Magnuson and UW President Charles Odegaard.

History, like politics, is local. So while the collective national memory of John F. Kennedy’s assassination in 1963 has been distilled to several seconds of color home movie footage of the motorcade in Dealey Plaza and Walter Cronkite choking up on CBS, a whole set of local memories is fading away.

November 22, 1963, was chilly and damp in Seattle, where the temperature had dipped to 39 degrees that morning. As elsewhere in the rest of the country, housewives (as they were unabashedly called then) were making preparations for Thanksgiving, now less than a week away. The Huskies and the Cougars were set to compete in their annual cross-state face-off (first dubbed “The Apple Cup” just one year earlier) at Husky Stadium the next day.

As the clock ticked toward 10:30 a.m. Pacific Time and JFK’s Lincoln came into sight of a sixth-floor window in the Texas School Book Depository, local deejay Mike Phillips held forth on music powerhouse KJR-AM, while dimming star Arthur Godfrey — who had first come to national attention describing FDR’s funeral procession 18 years earlier on radio — strummed his aging ukulele via CBS over on KIRO-AM. On television, it was "Movietime" on KOMO (actual movie now forgotten), the final moments of the game show "Concentration" on KING, a rerun of "The McCoys" on KIRO, and over on KCTS, eerily, something called “Julius Caesar, Part IV,” about another leader assassinated long before anyone had heard of Jack Kennedy.

JFK was no stranger to Seattle. He’d visited as a candidate in September 1960, giving a rousing speech at the old Civic Auditorium (since remodeled into the World’s Fair Opera House and now McCaw Hall) as Gov. Albert Rosellini and Sen. Henry “Scoop” Jackson looked on. As president, Kennedy took part in the UW Centennial in November 1961, and was due to return to Seattle for the closing ceremonies of the World’s Fair in October 1962. He made it as far west as Chicago on that trip, before heading back to the White House to nurse what his aides called a “bad cold” — which turned out to be more like a bad Cold War. The sneezes were a cover, so that JFK could prepare to address the nation regarding Soviet missiles in Cuba. As everyone knows, JFK may have sneezed, but it was Khrushchev who blinked.

Less than two months before his final trip to Dallas, Kennedy returned to the Northwest for the last time and gave what the Seattle Times described as a “plea for the preservation of public recreation areas in a speech before 20,000 persons, many of them wildly enthusiastic students” at Tacoma’s Cheney Stadium.

News of the shooting in Dallas spread rapidly throughout the Pacific Northwest, as radio reports and continuing TV coverage brought up-to-the-minute information to homes, businesses, and offices.

At City Hall, Acting Mayor Floyd C. Miller (Mayor Gordon Clinton was en route from a trade mission to Japan) ordered flags lowered to half-staff at 11:37 a.m., as soon as the president’s death was confirmed. Similar actions were taken at local schools, post offices, and other government buildings. A few blocks up the hill from City Hall at St. James Cathedral, the bells were rung for the president — the only Catholic to hold the office — as mourners gathered for an impromptu memorial.

In Olympia, Rosellini immediately proclaimed a period of mourning, while State Patrol Chief Roy Betlach put his entire force on alert and assigned guards to protect the governor and his wife. “We don’t know what to expect,” Betlach told the Seattle Times.

As the afternoon wore on, more and more programs and events were canceled. The University of Washington closed two hours early at 3 p.m., while UW President Charles Odegaard postponed the Apple Cup until the following Saturday and all Homecoming activities were suspended. The Ingraham-Franklin high school football game at Memorial Stadium was postponed. KCTS canceled all programming and went dark for the evening. The annual Chief Seattle Council’s Cub Scout Clamorama — set to begin Friday night at Seattle Center — was postponed to midweek.

Kennedy was a decorated World War II Navy vet, and that branch of the service, well represented on Puget Sound, made elaborate tributes. On Saturday, as Kennedy lay in state in the White House, single gun salutes were fired every half hour at Pier 91 downtown, Sand Point Naval Air Station (now Magnuson Park) on Lake Washington, and at the Bremerton Navy Yard. The Army cannon near Fort Lawton’s flagpole also was fired every 30 minutes for the deceased commander-in-chief. A Seattle Youth Symphony concert went ahead as planned Saturday night at the same Opera House where Kennedy had spoken three years earlier, with Dvorak’s “New World Symphony” dedicated to the slain president.

Like the rest of the nation, Seattleites watched Sunday’s proceedings in Washington, D.C., and Dallas — procession of Kennedy’s casket to Congress, Oswald’s mortal wounding on television, leaving deserted the streets and few establishments that remained open that weekend. Those who ventured out did so mostly to attend the masses and memorials held at St. James Cathedral, Seattle University, Bikur Cholim Synagogue, University Presbyterian, St. Mark’s Cathedral, Plymouth Congregational Church, and Greek Orthodox Church, among others.

On Monday, declared a National Day of Mourning by President Johnson, schools and government offices and most businesses closed for the day, as Kennedy’s procession and funeral were shown on television. One exception was Boeing, where 60,000 workers paused only during the burial at Arlington National Cemetery, but then returned to their work, deemed vital to America’s defense. A memorial service was held downtown in the Veterans Memorial Plaza of the old Public Safety Building, and six F-102 fighters in a cross formation flew over a ceremony at Paine Field.

As Tuesday, Nov. 26, dawned, Seattle and the nation began the long slow process of getting back to normal. The following Saturday, the Huskies did their small part — since not only history and politics, but sports is local, too — by beating the Cougars 16-0 in Montlake to take the Apple Cup.


About the Author

Feliks Banel is a communications consultant and Emmy-nominated writer/producer. He's producer and host of This NOT Just In for KUOW 94.9 FM; producer and reporter for the SEATTLE CHANNEL; and editor of the I STILL Love Radio blog.

His work has appeared in Seattle Magazine, seattlepi.com and other publications and websites. Feliks is also heard occasionally as a news analyst on KOMO Newsradio and KIRO FM discussing local history and culture.

He can be reached via feliksbanel@yahoo.com.

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Comments:

Posted Sun, Nov 22, 1:25 p.m. Inappropriate

Thanks for this bit of history. It is particularly interesting to me, as it relates to my parents and grandparents but happened well before I was alive.

My mother was 13 years old at the time, and lived with her family in Auburn. She idolized Kennedy and was also deeply hurt by the assassination. My grandparents too were lifelong Democrats due to their Depression-era experiences in the Dakotas and FDR's farm programs.

Friends of my grandparents owned a store in Auburn. They were on the far right of the political spectrum, and they decorated the store and played festive music on the occasion of Kennedy's assassination. My grandparents were so offended by this that they broke off the friendship.

Posted Mon, Nov 23, 6:29 a.m. Inappropriate

One thing young people can't remember about Kennedy is that he was fun. After discovering how out-of-shape the Army was, he demanded that we be fit enough to walk 20 miles in a day, and for a few weekends it seemed like half of America was out trying to meet that goal.

Kennedy brought a feeling of vigor to politics at a time when most politicians were visibly unfit. No wonder we missed him. Even the moments when we thought we were all gonna die!

Posted Mon, Nov 23, 9:20 a.m. Inappropriate

Among the poetic tributes worth recalling from those awful days was one from essayist and storyteller E.B. White, in the New Yorker of Nov. 30, 1963:
"When we think of him, he is without a hat, standing in the wind and the weather. He was impatient of topcoats and hats, preferring to be exposed, and he was young enough and tough enough to confront and to enjoy the cold and the wind of these times, whether the winds of nature or the winds of political circumstance and national danger. He died of exposure, but in a way that he would have settled for -- in the line of duty, and with his friends and enemies all around, supporting him and shooting at him. It can be said of him, as of few men in a like position, that he did not fear the weather, and did not trim his sails, but instead challenged the wind itself, to improve its direction and to cause it to blow more softly and more kindly over the world and its people."

Posted Mon, Nov 23, 10:14 a.m. Inappropriate

I'll never forget those days. My grandfather died the day after Kennedy, which brought a double darkness to our home. The day JFK was killed, I remember coming into my 4th grade class and watching our teacher, Mrs. Huber, gather the girls to her ample bosom as everyone wept.

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