Bobby

I haven’t seen this film yet but look forward to it. I think it will be sad to watch. I know it will bring me back to that time in my life. 1968 was a difficult year for me. My life was in turmoil. I was suffering the throes of adolescent angst and engulfed in household filled with the same rage and unpredictability that the country was in. 1968 began the last year of my father’s active alcoholism. I was immersed in my own addiction to drugs and drinking. My sexuality was blooming and not in an acceptable way. I was trying to hold on to some semblance of sanity in a very insane and out of control environment. I was fighting to survive on many levels.

This all culminated by a physical breakdown in late May 1968. I had mononucleosis and was put to bed for the summer. I spent the first few weeks too sick to know where I was. I remember sleeping around the clock. I remember high fevers. I remember my grandmother coming to stay everyday with me while my parents went to work. I had never been so sick in my life, nor have I been since then.

I was in this state on June 5th, lying in bed my clock radio near my head on the night stand. The radio came on at the preset time and the voice of the commentator gradually permeated my consciousness. He was talking about the Kennedy assassination. It had occurred 4 ½ years ago. As I listened I wondered why they were talking about it now. Then I heard him say that Kennedy was in a coma. The commentator mentioned Robert Kennedy by name and the coming 1968 presidential election. I understood then it was not JFK they were talking about. I was shocked. I was a supporter, though too young to vote, of an RFK presidency. He was smart, well read, unafraid to express flowery idealism. I had recently seen him up close and personal as Marshall of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade on March 17th, 1968. I took a photo of him waving at us on the sidelines. He was smiling, his long hair falling in his face, his right hand pushing it back to the side.

This movie is supposed to be a snapshot of that day. Not just his assassination, but the people in the hotel that day. It’s a snapshot of their hope for the future and how hope died that day. That was my feeling too. Hope in leaders and in America did die for me that day. Not just because of Bobby Kennedy’s assassination, but because it was the last in a string of assassinations of people who were making a difference. I remember clearly the assassinations of JFK, Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr. and RFK. They were heroes, each of them, to me and my generation. They had a vision of the world and America that included peace, acceptance, and harmony. They were brave and put themselves on the line for their beliefs and paid the ultimate price for it. The lesson was clear. Don’t take the risk. Don’t care too much. As Dylan said, "Don’t follow leaders, watch your parking meters." Care too much about a leader and they will be killed. They will be taken away from you.

After RFK’s assassination there was a discernable shift in the attitude of my generation. There was an anger and bitterness there that eventually turned inward on itself. There was a war in Viet Nam that most of us disagreed with. In November 1968 Richard Nixon was elected president and the war Bobby would have ended escalated into a larger, more destructive war. There was no hope in sight for it’s ending, and in fact it went on for another 7 years.

The peace and love generation became a pissed off, hopeless mass of shiftlessness that took more and more drugs and dropped out in ever increasing numbers. Hope died and we became the cynics who money mongered in the 80's and who lead this nation now down a dangerous path. Never before had so many, dreamt so large and accomplished so little.

"We've had difficult times in the past. We will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; it is not the end of disorder."
~~Robert F. Kennedy, April 3rd 1968