Adam Braver - November 22, 1963
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- Book:November 22, 1963
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- Year:2008
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November 22, 1963: summary, description and annotation
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November 22, 1963 chronicles the day of John F. Kennedys assassination. It begins that morning, with Jackie Kennedy in a Fort Worth hotel, about to leave for Dallas. Her airplane trip out of Dallas after the assassination forms the connecting arc for the book, which ends with Mrs. Kennedys return to the White House at 4 a.m. Interwoven throughout are stories of real people intimately connected with that day: a man who shares cigarettes with the First Lady outside the trauma room; a motorcycle policeman flanking the entourage; Abe Zabruder, who caught the assassination on film; the White House servants following Mrs. Kennedys orders to begin planning a funeral modeled on Lincolns; and the morticians overseeing President Kennedys autopsy. Adam Bravers brilliantly constructed historical fiction explores the intersection of stories and memories, and reveals how together, they have come to represent and mythologize that fateful day.
Adam Braver: author's other books
Who wrote November 22, 1963? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
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Table of Contents
FOR NAT
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DRESSING IN THE HOTEL TEXAS
Some Facts.
When she moved into the White House, Jackie was a size 12. When she left she was a size 8.
Coco Chanel used wool jersey for her suits, a fabric that previously had been reserved for mens underwear. She said it was the perfect material for creating both comfort and understatement.
Jackie demanded that her outfits have clean and compact lines. The material should be firm in body, always holding its shape.
Jackie also popularized the bouffant hairdo, the pillbox hat, and large buttons that resembled gold coins.
Historically, the pillbox hat was a military headdress. In 1962 Halston designed the pillbox hat for Jackie. Halston became a household name; he no longer was Roy Frowick from Des Moines.
The New York Times once asked Jackie if she really spent $30,000 in couture shops on a single trip to Paris. I couldnt spend that much, she answered, unless I wore sable underwear. Always the partisan, Pat Nixon responded by saying she preferred American designers, that they are the best in the world. Nixon added, I buy most of my clothes off the racks in different stores around Washington.
Pink.
Traditionally, white is a symbol of purity, while red connotes passion. When theyre combined into pink, the color indicates gentleness. It also tends to symbolize new birth.
The Suite in the Hotel Texas.
Wanting to make Jack and Jackies stay as memorable as possible, a group of Fort Worth patrons arranged to have a mini art exhibit hung in the presidential suite at the Hotel Texas. Van Gogh. Monet. Picasso. The patrons even went so far as to create an exhibit catalog. Because they didnt arrive until nearly midnight, neither Jack nor Jackie even noticed it. It didnt get their full attention until morning.
Readying for Dallas.
The staff told her it would be cool that day, but a Texans presumption of cold is still hot by any other standard. From the window of the suite at the Hotel Texas, the weather over Fort Worth seemed unassuming, with just a little bit of rain. Still, it was November, and the area was prone to tornados and other meteorological oddities. It occurred to her that maybe she should have packed something lighter. A fabric that breathes. Already hers looked too heavy for the climate. Dallas might be colder, which would make the outfit seem a little more practical. Glancing out at the shifting Texas sky, she found it hard to imagine that the weather could be predicted with such confidence. Yet there was no choice but to take them at their word. She had only the wool suit.
Simple.
She had kept a low profile over the past few months, since Patricks death. The grief had overwhelmed her in a way that she had never known before, consuming her to the point where the insides of her bones ached, and her thoughts, usually sharp and aware, were deadened, as though each neuron had been stepped on and flattened.
Nobody had pressured her to take this trip, but the Party people were thrilledtickets and donations for the Texas events skyrocketed when word leaked that the first lady would be coming out West too. The thought of returning to a normal life sounded good. She would work hard on the reelection. Focus her energies on the campaign. And she would travel lightly. Simply. Try to reduce the attention on her. No new clothes. Maybe one dress for cocktail parties, and a day dress and a coat. No maids. Only her secretary, Mary Gallagher, to help with the packing after each stop. And Jackie would even do her own hair.
It was all meant to be simple. A gradual reentry into the living.
Speaking Spanish.
Theyd been in Houston for a dinner before taking off later that evening for Fort Worth. It was an appreciation event for Congressman Albert Thomas, a showcase in front of more than three thousand attendees at the Sam Houston Coliseum, all ponying up money to encourage Thomas to seek another term. But Jacks people had discovered a free hour in the schedule, and, out of the more than one thousand solicitations, the president accepted an invitation from Paul Andow of the League of United Latin American Citizens.
At the event, Jack decided to take the backseat. He introduced Jackie to the crowd, where she delivered a speech in near-perfect Spanish, charming the audience with her quietly composed voice.
She felt confident on the podium. For a moment completely forgetting the loss. Finding her comfort in the anonymity of another language.
In the Bedroom of the Hotel Texas: Part One.
On the morning of November 22 at the Hotel Texas, Jackie decided to skip the scheduled 8:45 speech in the hotel parking lot, instead opting to meet up with Jack at the chamber of commerce breakfast in the ballroom. She was tired, and a feeling of uncertainty had come over her again. She just wanted some extra time. To gather herself, remind herself that everything would be okay.
She stood in front of the mirror, stroking her hip bone. She was not as delicate as people made her out to be. Her body was a structure made to withstand disaster. She was no pane of glass. Even at twenty-seven, when their first child, Arabella, died at birth, Jackie had relied on poise to see her through, standing firm at the funeral in Newport while others fell apart for her. But Patricks death had shown her the vulnerability of the world. And since his passing, even in the strongest of moments, shed been aware of the fragility of the ground where she walked. These days, for the most part, she could expect the feeling to pass. But every once in a while, she found that she needed to sit down. Put her feet up. She was afraid that a single step might shatter everything, splinter the world into millions of tiny fractures.
She glanced over at the matching pink skirt and jacket on a hanger before turning back to her reflection. Her body looked both young and tired. Ruined but with potential. Carefully, she laid the clothes across the dressing chair so they wouldnt wrinkle, smoothing the skirt with her hand. Stripped down to just her slip and bra, Jackie sat on the edge of the bed, still watching herself, like a paper doll undressed.
The Bubbletop.
There was a moment when the bubbletop was considered. In a brief conversation with Jackies press secretary, Pam Turnure, Jack had asked whether she thought they should put the transparent roof on the limousine. There was some discussion about Jackies strength for the upcoming trip, and about her keeping her mettle, but the real question came down to Jackies hair, and whether the wind might damage her hairdo. After some consideration, Pam looked up at him and said, Maybe we should use the bubbletop, and, as though there had been no consideration, he shot back immediately, Thats semisatisfactory. If youre going out to see the people, then they should be able to see you.
In the Bedroom of the Hotel Texas: Part Two.
From behind the bedroom door, Secret Service Agent Clint Hill knocked to inform Jackie that they would need to leave the suite in five minutes. The president was already in the ballroom and had sent up for her.
Jackie looked once at the pink suit, still wondering if it was too heavy for a Texas day. Either way, she figured, shed be out of it by dinner. The suit was a strangely enchanting shade of pink, without the usual candylike artifice. It looked alive to her in a botanical way, as though vines and stems should be connected to it. She buttoned her blouse and stepped into her skirt. The jacket fit freely and comfortably. From the closet she took out a hatbox with Halstons latest, a perfectly matching pillbox. She placed it on her head with ceremonial delicacy.
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