#november221963

[itsaustinlyons]

“It was November 22nd, 1963…” Of course I’m honoring @jfklibrary on the anniversary of his passing by wearing a Dallas shirt 😅 #jfk #johnfitzgeraldkennedy #november22nd #november221963 #november22nd1963 #dallas #dealeyplaza #dallastx #history #ripjfk #party105 #radio #longisland #fyp #explorepage (at Party 105 Fm Studios) https://www.instagram.com/p/CWlmcJllhdV/?utm_medium=tumblr

[socialsf]

"Begin To Be Now What You Will Be Hereafter" #JohnFKennedy #JFK #57years #November221963 #1pmCentralStandard #TheDayHistoryChanged #NeverForget #JFKAssassination #Tragedy #InMemory #ThisDayInHistory https://www.instagram.com/p/CH6dakkh_2r/?igshid=vfohwj5twhdz

[blingblinkyoftexas]

My parents saved all the papers for me... #NovemberBaby1963 #NewspaperHeadlines #November221963 #PresidentDeadConnallyShot #TheDallasTimesHerald #DallasTimesHerald #DallasTexas #UnitedStatesOfAmerica #Politics #InMemoriam #JFK #ASadDayInHistory #1963 #BlingBlinkyOfTexas #NewspaperCollector #DowntownDallas (at Downtown Dallas) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5KpOTknNcS/?igshid=1uz8gvfznj8hp

[tdogallen9]

Today on November 22, 1963, John F. Kennedy, 35th President of the United States, was assassinated at Dallas, Texas. The nation lost a great intelligent man and a wonderful human being. RIP, Mr. Kennedy. #johnfkennedy #jfk #jfkassassination #jfkinternationalairport #35thpresident #november221963 #november22 #neverforget #dallas #dallastexas

[emilyiannielli]

I will never talk politics again for the rest of my life with anyone because I was so devastated with the results of the 2016 election and the results and the coming implications. In all my 56 years of life the best president of my life I never even got to know because he was taken away from his family, his country, his presidency and from all of us who were alive. I was too young when he was inaugurated as a 2 day old as I was born on 1/18/1961 and he was inaugurated on 1/20/1961 and I was only 2 years old when he was assassinated on 11/22/1963 in Dallas, Texas and all I remember was my mom crying and crying in front of the tv as I tried to wipe her tears away. So if someone asks me who was my favorite president was in my lifetime spanning 56 years so far I say resoundingly John F. Kennedy who was our treasure and our tragedy all at the same time. I blame the fact that his limousine was not enclosed with the roof like Donald Trump's massive tank! #johnfkennedy #jfk #january201961 #november221963 #kennedys #kennedylibrary #assasination #leeharveyoswald #dallastexas #jackruby (at Washington, District of Columbia)

[fredcowie-blog]

Aldiss Huxley, pictured here (Brave New World) and C.S. Lewis (Chronicles of Narnia) picked a bad day to die, November 22, 1963. #novenber22 #november221963 #aldoushuxley #cslewis #jfk #kennedyassasination #fredcowie #lastchancelifecoach #helena #montana

[emilyiannielli]

As I reflect on my 56th birthday coming up on January 18, 1961 I remember my parents told me I was born during a 2-3 day blizzard that crippled the northeast including Washington DC. Dwight Eisenhower was still our president for 2 more days and on January 20, 1961 John F Kennedy was sworn in as our 35th President of the United States which parallels with my birthday as the 56th year anniversary of his inauguration so in some way I feel connected to John F Kennedy and when I celebrate my birthday he always comes to my mind since effectively he was my first president and I always feel sad about his unfortunate and tragic death that occurred on November 22, 1963 when I was 2 years old. I always read about him and I grew up learning a lot about him as my mom and dad both loved him and my dad read many books about him. I also remember on that very tragic day of November 22, 1963. I saw my mom in tears crying and crying as she swept me up from the tv and put me in my room to play with my toys as she shielded me from that very tragic and sad day. John F Kennedy was only 46 when he was assassinated in Dallas, Texas right in the motor pool next to his beautiful wife Jackie Kennedy who had to prepare for her husband's funeral, console her kids and depart the White House for good as Lyndon Baines Johnson was sworn in to be our next president. I always looked at John F Kennedy as a true American hero and one of our great presidents. I just wanted to share my feelings about this great man. #johnfkennedy #35thpresident #assassination #dallastexas #lyndonbainesjohnson #dwighteisenhower #jackiekennedy #jackiekennedyonassis #january201961 #november221963 #jfk #carolinekennedy #johnfkennedyjr (at Washington, District of Columbia)

[analogguyinadigitalage]

Meeker's Tale...by Scott Connors

Meeker’s Tale…by Scott Connors [Thousands of books and stories have been written about November 22, 1963. This one differs in that it was bequeathed to me by my dying father on his death bed. My father was a pilot, and on November 22, 1963 he was paid five thousand dollars to fly to Dallas, pick up a passenger and fly him to parts unknown. When my father died, he had no worldly possessions, but he had this story, and he left it to me to write so the world might know the truth.]           Meeker downed the last of his coffee, his half eaten eggs lay on the plate congealing. He stubbed out his cigarette in the eggs, put some cash on the table, folded his newspaper and walked out of the diner to destiny. The rain had stopped and the sun had come out. Meeker checked his watch, he had some time to kill before he had to be at the book depository so he strolled around Dealey Plaza. He had been here before and checked every angle and every approach and departure route. He had photographed the entire area, he had been in several of the buildings, on the rooftops, in the basements, in the parking lots, railroad yards, and even in the sewer at one point. Meeker had surveilled it all and he had come up with the perfect sniper’s nest, the ideal location to hit his target. Everything had been set in motion and like a train that had left the station there was no turning back now.           Meeker was a contractor and the best in the game. He had never worked for the FBI, CIA, or any governmental agency in any official capacity. He was not a member of the Mafia. He had no particular political leanings. But being a contractor, he had many contacts in both the government and the underworld. Money was what motivated Meeker. He sold his services to the highest bidder and in doing so, he held a vast network of resources. People in the know knew how to get in touch with Meeker if his services were needed Looking over the stockade fence from the rail yard towards Elm St. Meeker watched the traffic flow by. Earlier, this had been his choice from where to fire from, it was secluded and he could be in a car and gone in a matter of seconds. But Meeker was a perfectionist and after looking at this area from every conceivable angle he had changed his mind and his plan. The Texas School Book Depository would suit his needs better. The building itself provided the advantages; it was easily accessible, had several entrances and exits, gave him the height he needed, temporary employees were used so a strange face wouldn’t draw unwanted attention, and the most important advantage, he had a contact who already worked there. Meeker never met the man, but they had a mutual friend. Meeker knew the man only as Lee and their mutual friend had told him that earlier in the year Lee had made an assassination attempt on the life of General Edwin Walker. Meeker contacted their mutual friend and had him make some overtures to Lee. As the old saying goes, money talks and all Lee had to do to earn a quick five thousand dollars was to order a quality rifle through the mail and bring it to the sixth floor on November 22nd. Lee took the bait as Meeker knew he would and their mutual friend had been the go between so Lee would never know who Meeker was and Meeker would never know who Lee was, well until later that is.           Meeker lit a Lucky Strike and walked up Elm towards the book depository. He walked around the back of the depository and looked to make sure the package he had left there a few days ago was still there tucked between the dumpster and the loading dock. He checked the doors and police presence which was non-existent, the heavy police contingent would come later when the President’s motorcade rolled by on the way to the Dallas Trade Mart. He walked down Houston and turned onto Main where the crowds were five deep on each side of the street. The temperature was in the mid-sixties according to Hertz sign atop the Texas School Book Depository. Walking back towards what would become the sniper’s nest of the century he glanced up at the façade of the building, several windows were open while others were closed, perfect cover. Meeker passed a cop who didn’t give him a second glance, just another guy going to work. Meeker learned long ago the key to surviving in this trade is to blend in, act like you belong there. People see what they want to see. Ten people would walk by a homeless person in the street and “not see him” but look right at him, it was imperative to appear to belong to whatever environment you were in and today he was just an average Joe going to work even though the President was coming to town.           He walked around to the back of the depository, pulling his package from its hiding place, he removed the tool belt, strapped it on, stripped off his windbreaker revealing his Bell Telephone shirt, and stuffed the windbreaker back in the bag and proceeded towards the front of the building looking like a telephone repairman. He had used this ruse a dozen times or more and no one ever questioned him. He climbed the front steps of the depository, made his way across the first floor like he owned the place. At the northeast corner of the building he found the stairs and made his climb to the sixth floor. Once there he went to the southwest corner where Lee was supposed to have put the rifle loaded and ready to go. Meeker got to the corner window, the floor was deserted, he put his gloves on and pushed some boxes back, slid in behind them and moved them back into place so he was concealed from anyone’s view who might be approaching him. The rifle was on the floor between two boxes, he picked it up and examined it. “What the fuck?” he muttered to himself. Lee was supposed to order a quality rifle and here he held this piece of shit Italian made Mannlicher-Carcano. He checked to make sure the rifle was loaded, then peered through the scope. He figured he’d had to make at least three shots to get one good one after having to adjust the scope. Fucking dimwit Lee, he should’ve known better than to trust some idiot he had never met, but live and learn.           Checking his surroundings one more time to make sure his position was fully covered and masked by the boxes around him, Meeker settled in and glanced out the window. The motorcade had just turned from Main onto Houston. Meeker readied the rifle. He would take his shot as his target was coming towards him on Houston that would provide the majority of the target’s body. He was hoping for a clean head shot, but a shot through the heart would do the trick and he may have to make a lower shot due the shitty rifle he was using. The big limo had just made the corner onto Houston and his target came into view. He looked through the scope and saw the pink pill box hat, moved the scope a little to the left and saw JFK. His mind slowed and it was as everything had gone into slow motion. Meeker remembered meeting his employer and being hired for this job.           An airline ticket appeared in his mailbox one day with a note attached and instructions to fly to the designated city and go to a designated hotel room at a designated time for a possible job. This was not unusual in Meeker’s line of work. He didn’t necessarily work a 9-5 job and there was a vast underground network of people who knew how to hire guys like him. So when notes or airline or train tickets mysteriously showed up Meeker would go for a meeting and decide if he would take the job after meeting his prospective employer. He remembered that day, the hotel was four star and the room was a suite, the door unlocked. He walked into the semi-dark suite, all the curtains drawn. Meeker looked around and sat in one of the two chairs facing each other next to a small table with a lighted lamp on it. He waited. These things tended to be power plays, the employer wanting to make the prospective employee wait to show who held the power. Meeker had waited in coffee shops, diners, railroad stations, cheap rooming houses and waiting in a four star hotel suite wasn’t so bad. The door to the adjoining room, cracked open and his prospective employer walked in.           Smiling Jack Kennedy was taller than he’d imagined him. Perfect haircut, teeth white, suit perfectly pressed, and that Boston-Irish accent. He reached out and shook Meeker’s hand like he was courting voters. He motioned for Meeker to sit.           “Uh have a uh seat and thank you for coming today, Mr.? I don’t believe I know your name.”           Meeker sat. “Well maybe it’s better that way sir.” Both men laughed, an uneasy tension hanging in the air.           JFK smiled, “Mr. X will have to do. It’s a bit cloak and dagger, but I uh guess uh it’ll serve us for now.”           “Sir I’m not sure if I’m in the right place, you see I’m an –“ Kennedy cut him off with the wave of a hand.           “Mr. X I know exactly what you do. You come highly recommended from an old friend of my father and he assures me you are the best at what you do and that is why you are here.”           Meeker wondered why in the hell the President of the United States was in a room with him because most certainly these matters were taken care of at a much lower level for reasons of plausible deniability. Meeker shifted in his chair, he knew whatever this job was it would be a life changer. Kennedy stood and moved his chair closer to Meeker, his usual loud “Ask not” voice lowered to a whisper.           “Should you decide to accept this assignment, there is a half a million dollars in that case beside the couch. Upon successful completion of the assignment an additional half a million will be deposited into an account of your choosing anywhere in the world. Should you choose not to accept this assignment, well then this will remain our little secret, but then I’ll have to hire someone else and you’ll always be looking over your shoulder. If I’ve learned one thing in politics it is that it’s better to be on the inside looking out rather than be on the outside looking in.” Meeker listened. JFK laid out the “assignment” as he kept referring to it and the further he went, the more Meeker was astounded and astonished. He realized he was in way too deep to back out.           Back in the book depository Meeker sprung back to life like waking from a dream. Fuck! The motorcade was off Houston and onto Elm now heading away from him. He raised the rifle, slipped it through the window and aimed at his target. The limo rolled away from him gently descending down the slope of Elm St towards the underpass. He sighted his scope on the target, the pink pill box hat. His mind raced, but his heart beating normally, just another job. In that split second he thought of smiling Jack and his Boston Brahmin accent, that smug fucker. People thought Joe Kennedy was a ruthless opportunist, but this guy took the cake. This guy who for the past few months realizing the political capital his wife played in his presidency had brought them here. This guy who broke Secret Service and Presidential protocol by allowing and insisting that she exit Air Force One in the proceeding months so the crowds could see her first and so Meeker could get a shot if he decided to exercise his assignment on one of those trips. That was the other thing smiling Jack insisted on when they met that he not know when the shot was coming knowing it would make for better political reaction. This guy was something else but Meeker had to give him some credit. He pictured Kennedy at his wife’s funeral after she had been slain in public by some nut, holding his two young children’s hands consumed in grief. What voter Democrat or Republican wouldn’t vote for that guy? What world leader wouldn’t fear and respect for that guy? What woman wouldn’t want to fuck that guy? With one bullet smiling Jack would raise his political capital, eliminate the need for keeping his affairs a secret and his pussy quotient would go through the ceiling. He would be shoe in for re-election in ’64. And the best part was he had engineered the perfect murder.           Meeker pulled the trigger and the first bullet went astray. He ejected the shell and racked another into the rifle, his scope clear on the center of smiling Jack’s back as he squeezed the trigger and in that instant the world changed. The train left the station. Kennedy’s hand rose to his throat, Meeker ejected the second shell and rammed another one home. He aimed, fired and saw a rose colored red mist rise into the air as JFK’s head exploded. Meeker set the rifle down, made his way to the stairs, walked down assuming his telephone repairman role, exited the building, waked to the rear, retrieved his windbreaker, hopped in a cab and was gone. The cab took him to the airport where he had arranged for a small plane to be waiting, he wasn’t about to trust smiling Jack with his getaway. He boarded the plane and as it rose into the clear blue Dallas sky Meeker ceased to exist. Where he was going they’d know him by a different name and where he was going a half a million dollars was plenty to last a lifetime. He knew Kennedy would have arranged to have another contractor waiting at the bank and when Meeker showed to get the rest of the money he’d be killed. So he said fuck it, he’d screw big Jack and the whole Kennedy machine and forfeit a half a million in the bargain. Weeks and months later sitting on a beach looking out into the ocean Meeker would smile as he read and re-read the accounts of the assassination and how poor Lee ended up being blamed for the whole thing. He especially smiled when he read Lee used the term patsy, he certainly was and that was Lee’s own doing. But Lee was stupid, all he had to do was sit tight and stay in the building, but he freaked and ran. Lesson one, act like you belong. And Lee belonged there, he worked there for Christ sake all he had to do was get rid of the rifle. Instead he freaked and ran. Once the police took an attendance of the depository employees and he was the only one missing and then they found the rifle well the rest as they say is history. He often wondered as did a lot of people how different the world would be if he had hit the pink pill box hat? He liked to think the world was a better place because of him.