That pretty much says it all. That was my experience. Utter disbelief at the gawping masses. Sadly I moved amongst them equally guilty; my only solace being that I’d made a point of realising how moronic man can be a couple of days earlier as I joined the gaupers at Luther Kings assassination spot. I think this is what the film Im making will be about. Our obsession with how we would much rather be somewhere else. From 'mans' need to go to the moon, to my need to visit deserts or stand where James Dean once died. We lash dried flowers to lamposts where a family member or friend met their demise like there was still something of them present on that spot: as if they continue to linger like a mist where they fell. The plaza in Dallas is about as sacred to anything as a car park in Filey. It's just another place.
I decided to NOT photograph myself with a big cross in the road over my shoulder or do a ‘look where I am’ shot.
Briefly here’s what happened. Kennedy was making his way in his car as part of a large entourage. He was being followed by security guards and then press. As he rounded the corner and headed down hill a photographer in one of the cars behind Kennedy heard a gun shot from a window somewhere high up in the Book Depository Building. He saw two guys leaning out of a window and they were looking up at the window above them. His eye line followed theirs and he saw a rifle barrel withdrawing from the window. This was (supposedly) Oswald.
Meanwhile in the street Kennedy had been shot. People down there heard gun shots come from the fenced area up on the grassy knoll. Some people ran to that location to see the person who had done it.
The book depository (what ever one of those is!) is now a museum. For $13 you can take a lift to the 6th Floor and be guided around large displays documenting Kennedy’s successes and actions, the assassination itself, the investigation and the worlds reaction.
The pinnacle of your visit is the corner of the room which is behind glass. There they have positioned boxes as Oswald had positioned them to make best his sniping position and to hide him from anyone approaching from behind. It’s really really eerie. After you have satisfied your inner need to be someplace where something historically horrible happened you can go and marvel at the bullet which killed Kennedy and the rifle from which is supposedly was fired. You can paw at the glass protecting the suit as worn by the guy who was standing next to Oswald when Jack Ruby shot him or maybe read garbled overly opinionated statements by buffoons who just happened to be there; and once you’ve had your fill, why not pop down the gift shot and buy Jackie Onassis masks moulded into her shocked expression as she witnessed her husband being killed?
It really is grotesque and I think extremely disrespectful. It seems that now so much time has passed this ‘event’ is something which we love to experience over and over. It has all the drama and mystery of any good book and now it has no meaning. Its just another Eiffel Tower or a Madam Tussaud’s you can have your photo taken at.
After I’d lapped up just about all I could, I went off to find the exterior of Ewing Oil from Dallas. That done I sampled the food from someplace called ‘Taco Bell’ (never again) and then headed off to the Zoo. The Zoo closes at 4pm in Dallas (most places to go in America don’t make it past 4pm) and I’d arrived at 3pm – so after voicing my opinion about their closing at 4, I u-turned and came home to write this. That was Day 9.
Tomorrow at 3 or 4 am I am taking a 550 mile drive to a small town in Texas called Marfa. It’s off the tourist map and I am really excited about it. From now until LA it is pure desert and baroness and I can’t wait!