by Lisa Pease
“You’ll never get served at this end of the bar,” the girl told them. “I’ve been waiting up at the other end, I know.” The girl offered to bring them drinks. But Hansen told the girl essentially, watch this, got the attention of the bartender, and ordered drinks. The girl walked away for a bit and then returned with their drinks a few minutes later and offered a toast to “our next President,” without naming whom she had in mind. Hansen noticed three dark-haired men sitting against a wall nearby and wondered why they were lurking there, in the dark.29
Around 11:15 P.M., Murphy moved Cesar from the eastern pantry door to the western one, nearest where Kennedy would soon be speaking. Cesar’s job was to make sure no one without the appropriate credentials got into the pantry. But a number of people who had no business being there would enter the pantry under Cesar’s watch.
By 11:30 P.M., the crowd in the Embassy Room was getting restless. It was very hot, and by now, the victory was obvious. They started chanting “We want Kennedy!” and occasionally, “We want Chavez!”
Cesar Chavez was the charismatic founder of what became the United Farm Workers (UFW). Earlier in the year, Chavez had conducted what would be the first of many “hunger strikes” to draw attention to the plight of the immigrant farmworkers in the pesticide-polluted grape fields. He had broken his 25-day water-only fast by accepting bread from Robert Kennedy, who had come to his side to support what Chavez was fighting for.
Kennedy had first encountered Chavez in conjunction with Kennedy’s work on the Migratory Labor Subcommittee of the Senate Labor Committee. He had flown to California to attend some hearings on a strike Chavez had organized.
When a local sheriff who had arrested some lawfully picketing farmworkers spoke, Kennedy let the sheriff have it with both barrels. “This is the most interesting concept … How can you go arrest somebody if they haven’t violated the law? … Can I suggest during the luncheon period that the sheriff and district attorney read the Constitution of the United States?”30
Kennedy hadn’t endeared himself to law enforcement with his comments, but the farmworkers loved him, and by day’s end, the feeling was mutual. Kennedy defended the farmworkers against the charge that they were Communists, telling the press they were simply struggling for their rights.
“Robert didn’t come to us and tell us what was good for us,” Dolores Huerta, Chavez’s lieutenant and the farmworker’s chief negotiator, explained later. “He came to us and asked two questions … ‘What do you want? And how can I help?’ That’s why we loved him.”31
Chavez had been both grateful and protective. “He shouldn’t go too far,” he had warned Huerta, “because it’s only going to hurt him.”32 Chavez and Huerta were both at the hotel that night to share the upcoming victory with their beloved ally.
On and off, the crowd in the Embassy Room launched into what had become the unofficial campaign song, a Woody Guthrie classic, slightly altered:
This man is your man. This man is my man.
From California to the New York Island.
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This man is Robert Kennedy.
Let us stop the fighting, start reuniting
Increase our labors, to help our neighbors.
This nation needs now a man who leads now
That man is Robert Kennedy.
He walks with all men.
He talks with all men. In times of crisis he is the right man.
For peace in our land, for peace in all lands
The man is Robert Kennedy.
At some point during the celebration, a copy of these lyrics would end up in the pocket of a short, dark, curly-haired, olive-skinned young immigrant who was about to become infamous.
Upstairs, Kennedy talked briefly to Budd Schulberg, the screenwriter whose film On the Waterfront had won him an Academy Award. After the Watts riots in 1965, Schulberg had formed the Watts Writer’s Workshop and the Douglas House Theater.
“I think you touched a nerve,” Kennedy told Schulberg. “I think that workshop idea of yours is a kind of throwback to the Federal Theater and Writers Project of the New Deal. … We have to encourage not just mechanical skills … but creative talent. … on a national scale … I’ll do what I can,”33 Kennedy continued but was interrupted by the Speaker of the California Assembly, Jesse Unruh. Kennedy’s victory was clear, and his margin was substantial. It was time to go down to speak to the crowd. As he left the room, Pete Hamill remembered the mood was light, “almost giddy.”34
When Kennedy and his aides left his suite and proceeded to the elevator, Michael Wayne followed. Kennedy asked if the elevator opened to the lobby. He had nearly been mauled by crowds recently and hoped to avoid wading through them. Uno Timanson of the Ambassador Hotel’s staff took Kennedy instead to the freight elevator, which opened into the kitchen area. Wayne and the press went down in a second elevator nearby.
Kennedy and his entourage walked through the kitchen into the pantry. There, Michael Wayne got Kennedy to stop and sign one of the two posters he was carrying.35 Kennedy proceeded into the Embassy Ballroom to make his acceptance speech, with his entourage following closely behind.
It was midnight, in more ways than anyone could have known at the time.
“We want Kennedy! We want Kennedy!” The crowd’s chants were deafening as Kennedy tried to get a word in. “Thank you very much,” he said for the third time as he waited for the crowd to calm down. His wife Ethel stood next to him on the stand. He began by congratulating Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher Don Drysdale, who had just completed his sixth straight shut-out. “I hope we have as good fortune in our campaign,” Kennedy said, a comment whose irony would only be evident after the fact. Drysdale’s run would end in his next game. Kennedy’s run would end in the next room.
Serrano returned to the Embassy Room after hearing rumbles of “He’s here!” But the room was so thick with people, and it was so hot inside that Serrano took to the southwestern fire escape a second time and sat about halfway down the steps. She reveled in the moment. She had worked very hard on his campaign.
Serrano had originally met Robert Kennedy in D.C. in 1965. He had stepped on her foot in an elevator by mistake and she had shoved him away. She’d kept a copy of the speech he had given that night, a copy he had provided to her.36
As she rested there, two young men and a young woman came up the stairs. “Excuse me,” the girl said as the trio walked past her and up into the back of the ballroom. The two men could have been Mexicans, Serrano thought. In the darkness of night, they both appeared to have dark hair—one with straight hair and the other with curly hair. The taller one was maybe 5’7”, a little overweight, with straight hair and wearing a gold sweater. The curly-haired guy was a few inches shorter than his companion, and seemed “borracho,” she thought. Not drunk. Just messy…something. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he just didn’t seem to fit in with the upbeat, well-dressed crowd.
The girl was in her mid-twenties, had light skin, was about 5’6” tall, and had a good figure. Her dark hair was done up in a bouffant, and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup. She had a funny, turned-up nose. The girl wore black shoes and a white dress with dark polka dots.37
In the same southwest corner of the ballroom where the trio entered the Embassy Ballroom, Mary Whalen and her friend Felicia Messuri, both married to NBC executives, noticed a 6’ tall, heavy-set, swarthy man in his forties in a maroon coat. He held something to his face that looked like a leather-covered small transistor or radio. Messuri thought his manner indicated a “sense of urgency.”38
Kennedy thanked all who had helped on his campaign, joking with the crowd by calling his brother-in-law Steve Smith, who was running his campaign, “ruthless.” Kennedy also expressed his gratitude “to my dog Freckles, who’s been maligned.”39
“And—I’m not doing this in the order of importance, but I also,” Kennedy broke and chuckled as he realized what he’d just done, “wan
t to thank my wife Ethel.” The crowd went wild. “Her patience during this whole effort is,” he said, turning from the crowd to say to her face, quietly and sincerely, “fantastic.” She acknowledged his thanks with a beaming smile.
He thanked Chavez, Huerta, and Paul Schrade, the western regional director of the UAW. He thanked the students and others who had worked so hard on his campaign. He acknowledged the support of the African-American community, particularly Rafer Johnson, a former Olympic decathlon champion, and Roosevelt “Rosey” Grier, a former Los Angeles Rams defensive tackle, both of whom were serving as unofficial bodyguards. After the thank yous, he turned to the crisis facing the nation: the deep divide between those with the power and those without it.
“What I think is quite clear, is that we can work together, in the last analysis. And that what has been going on within the United States over the period of the last three years—the divisions … whether it’s between blacks and whites, between the poor and the more affluent, or between age groups or on the war in Vietnam, that we can start to work together. We are a great country, an unselfish country, and a compassionate country, and I intend to make that my basis for running …. The country wants to move in a different direction. We want to deal with our own problems within our own country, and we want peace in Vietnam.” A loud cheer burst out.
“My thanks to all of you, and now it’s on to Chicago and let’s win there.” He flashed a victory sign and brushed the hair from his forehead.
The crowd cheered for a long time, whistling and hooting, waving hats, and chanting.
Just steps away in the pantry, Vincent DiPierro, an 18-year-old waiter and political junkie,40 waited. DiPierro had not been scheduled to work that night, but his father, Angelo DiPierro, the senior Maître d’Hotel, had told him of Kennedy’s appearance. Vince had arrived shortly before midnight in the hopes of shaking the Senator’s hand.
In the pantry, Vince noticed a person who looked “sick,” a short, Hispanic-looking young man with curly hair holding his hand to his stomach. But Vince’s attention was momentarily diverted by a dark-haired, attractive girl with a good figure and a funny nose in a white dress with black polka dots. The curly-haired man said something to the girl as he stood on a tray rack, and she smiled. Vince thought the girl seemed to be “holding” him.
To thunderous cheers of “We want Bobby,” Kennedy started to exit the stage to his right but was called to the left since his next destination, as decided by Fred Dutton during his speech, was the Colonial Room, where the newsmen of the printed press were working. The quickest way from either side of the stage to the Colonial Room was through the pantry. But by exiting to the back of the stage instead of the right, Kennedy was not following his unofficial bodyguard, former FBI man Bill Barry, who was waiting stage right. Barry had planned to walk in front of Kennedy to protect him. But Kennedy was now far ahead of him, unprotected from the front, as Barry pushed through the crowd, trying to catch up.
Karl Uecker, a hotel maître d’, grabbed Kennedy’s right wrist and led him east toward the pantry. As they passed through the swinging double doors at the west end of the pantry, Ace guard Cesar took hold of Kennedy’s right elbow, guiding him forward.
Reporters Richard Drew and Boris Yaro were at the door as Kennedy entered. Yaro raised his camera. “Hey, Boris, you missed him,” Drew said as Kennedy walked by. Drew and Yaro followed Kennedy into the pantry.
Cesar pushed people away with his free right hand if they got too close. Rosey Grier walked behind them, with Ethel and Paul Schrade trailing Grier. Taped to the wall was a hand-lettered sign that said “THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING.”41 The tiny room at that moment held, by the LAPD’s count, 77 people.
At the eastern end of the room stood several people, including Michael Wayne; a girl in a polka-dot dress; a short, olive-skinned curly-haired man; and a teenage volunteer named Lisa Urso, who focused her attention on Kennedy as he approached.42
Kennedy’s progress through the room was slow. He kept breaking from Uecker and Cesar to shake hands with many of the staff in the room, including Vince DiPierro, Martin Patrusky, and busboy Jesus Perez. Kennedy passed the large ice-making machine to his right, stopped again, and shook the hand of busboy Juan Romero. The room’s three steam tables were lined up ahead and to Kennedy’s left, along the northern side of the little room.
Vince DiPierro saw the young man who had been talking to the girl in the polka dot dress climb down from the tray rack at the east end of the ice machine, on the south side of the room, and cross north toward the Senator.
Uecker reclaimed Kennedy’s right hand and turned to go. As Kennedy turned to follow Uecker, Romero noticed a young man approaching Kennedy. One of the waiters nearby, Martin Patrusky, saw a smile on the young man’s face as he crossed the room. Urso saw the man from behind as he moved between her and Kennedy. As the young man moved his arm across his body, her first thought was that he was reaching out to shake Kennedy’s hand.
Then she realized he was reaching for a gun.
Photographer Yaro saw two men standing next to the Senator move off to the right as the shooting began.
Richard Lubic, a TV producer, was an arm’s length from the Senator when he saw an arm with a gun point at Kennedy’s head. He didn’t see a face, only a hand with a gun.
Frank Burns, a personal advisor to Speaker Unruh who was behind Kennedy with his eyes fixed on his back as the shooting started, focused on an arm and a gun to his right that was close to the Senator.
Uecker heard a pop and saw what looked like little bits of paper falling. Burns and Romero felt searing sensations on their cheeks. Urso and Vince DiPierro saw the flash of the first shot.
Kennedy threw up his hands, staggered, and twisted left.
Booker Griffin, publicity director for the Negro Industrial Economic Union, had entered the pantry at the eastern end just before the first shot. He heard two sounds that he didn’t think of as shots until he saw a man with a gun. When he saw Kennedy throw up his hands, Griffin ran forward to help him.
Uecker felt Kennedy slip from his grip as he heard what he realized was a second shot. He turned back in time to see Kennedy throw up his hands and twist to his left.
Richard Drew thought someone lowered Kennedy to the ground. Dun Gifford, an administrative assistant to Robert’s brother Edward, thought Kennedy fell unaided to the ground. Cesar reported that he had grabbed the Senator as they both fell. Cesar’s clip-on tie lay on the ground next to Kennedy’s outstretched hand, as if Kennedy had somehow pulled it off.
Roger Mudd said he was with Ethel at that moment. “And we heard these shots. It was like Hades—this screaming that was going on. It was absolutely unworldly. It was awful. You weren’t prepared for it. … Jim Wilson, one of the TV cameramen, was absolutely going out of his mind. He was so frustrated, so frozen.”43
Several besides Kennedy were hit by stray bullets. Schrade, who was just behind Kennedy, was shot in the forehead and collapsed to the ground. William Weisel, a 30-year-old ABC associate director, took a bullet in his abdomen. Nineteen-year-old Ira Goldstein was hit in his left hip. Seventeen-year-old Irwin Stroll received a bullet in his left shin. Elizabeth Evans was struck in the head.
Juan Romero knelt down to help Kennedy. A bystander handed Romero a rosary,44 which Romero pressed into Kennedy’s hand, wrapping it around his right thumb so it wouldn’t slip off. Both DiPierro and Romero heard Kennedy ask, “Is everybody okay?”45
After the shots stopped, Lubic saw that the guard to his left was holding a gun that was pointed at the floor.46
From the Embassy Room, the shots sounded like little more than balloons popping. Suddenly, screams shattered the celebration. People near the pantry door snapped to attention at emerging news. Necks craned and strained, looking in the direction of the pantry. Within seconds, a strange mixture of stunned silence and sporadic screaming ensued.
George Green had just entered the pantry from the west end when he heard popping sounds. He saw
a girl in a polka dot dress and a tall, thin man running away from him. He noticed them because they seemed to be the only ones intent on getting out of the pantry, while everyone else was trying to get in.
Evan Freed, a freelance press photographer, was at the east end of the pantry when the shooting began. As people tried to leave the pantry, he found himself pinned at the east end. He also saw a girl that he thought was wearing a polka dot dress and a tall, dark-haired male companion run through a door to his right, out of the pantry. The door to his right led north into the main kitchen.
Ace guard Jack Merritt was near the front doors to the Embassy Ballroom, just outside the east end of the pantry when someone yelled that Kennedy had been shot. He drew his gun and ran into the pantry just in time to see a girl in a white dress with dark polka dots accompanied by two men, a tall, dark-haired man and a “short” male, run out of the pantry through a northern exit, into the main kitchen.
From the kitchen there were a number of ways out. One could go downstairs and out the building. One could cut through the lobby, behind or into the Embassy Room or into the Gold Room which connected with the Embassy Room. One could also reenter the pantry at the west end, and from there, enter the Embassy Room, and exit out the southwestern fire escape door. While traveling from the west end of the pantry to the southwestern fire escape exit himself, to ask the guard at the bottom of the fire escape to call an ambulance, 13-year-old Ronald Panda noticed a girl in a white dress with black polka dots and a ruffled collar in the Embassy Room. He wouldn’t have seen her if she was behind him. Clearly, she was in front of him.
On the fire escape steps, Serrano heard what she thought were six backfires from a car. She looked around for the car making this noise. Seconds later, two of the three people who had passed her earlier came running down the stairs. The girl in the polka dot dress came first, followed closely by the man in the gold sweater. They nearly stepped on Serrano. The girl was shouting, excitedly, “We shot him! We shot him!”