When I was trying to figure out how much time I needed to see the sights in Dallas the only attractions I could come up with were the baseball and football facilities and Fair Park (on my brother’s recommendation). The very next day I asked him, “Did we both forget about Dealey Plaza?”
In the interests of being a historian and gatherer of experiences I am very glad I did not forget. In the interest of avoiding a screaming case of the heebie jeebies I wish I had forgotten. Being in Dealey Plaza is like walking jauntily with a camera and a half consumed six pack through the middle of a slaughtered child’s funeral. It’s a profoundly bizarre experience. Starting with parking.
Follow Main Street through Dallas – unwittingly following the route of the President’s motorcade from Love Field – realize suddenly that you’re driving right through Dealey Plaza because you can’t make Kennedy’s right on Houston St due to one-way streets, double-back onto Elm and pull straight ahead into a parking lot which you realize is right on top of the f**king Grassy Knoll. My God. With a picket fence and everything. Replete with the slogan “9/11 was an Inside Job” magic markered in the sniper’s corner. Right. Ok. Pull yourself together, man.
Walk calmly towards the Texas Book Depository Building on the fatal corner of Houston and Elm. Call everyone you can think of who remembers that fateful day with the comment, “I’m standing right under the f**king window.” Dodge crowds of Red Hat Ladies and make your way up to the Sixth Floor, wend your way through large panels explaining Kennedy’s Greatness and Impact on History and hit the big black Zapruder panel behind which is the corner. Cripes. Look out the next available window and decide, “I could make that shot.” What a perfect position for a sniper. Half a block to do a head on shot, then the slow turn and finally an acceleration towards the triple underpass with even more time. At least 30 clean seconds to take a shot with a clear line of sight. Chilling.
Right, fair enough. Time for some fresh air. Until you see the “X” on the pavement marking the approximate spot the killing shot impacted – and you realize you’re standing precisely where Zapruder was standing at that moment in history – “Back and to the Left.”
Bugger off for downtown to get a sandwich and see the strangely sterile and meaningless cenotaph. Beat feet for Arkansas.
There are few places on Earth more closely studied. Therefore there are few places on Earth you can place yourself almost to the inch on spots where people stood decades ago and experienced history.
There’s only one place on Earth that you can stand in the footprints where those shadows of the past watched the United States lose her mind.
And all this amidst the perfectly normal traffic of a Friday afternoon. A deeply unsettling place.