He overheard a couple standing behind him absolving, “He deserved it, and I hope he’s dead, that damned communist.”
He wanted to hit these people! He wanted to make sense of this madness. He wanted answers. How could someone have fired four shots or more without anyone catching them? What had just happened? He needed a cigarette. His hands were shaking. He stared up at the stockade fence. He was convinced at least one of the shots had come from that area. He fumbled into his suit jacket and reached for a cigarette.
My God, the President has been shot in my hometown, he thought with a tear in his eye. He realized at that moment that the nightmare he had been having for weeks had come to life and he suddenly became light-headed. This is what his dreams had meant. The thirty-fifth President of the United States had been shot in Dallas and he had witnessed the entire horrible event.
CHAPTER
SIX
OF SECRETS, NEGOTIATIONS AND FIRSTS
“Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.”
John F. Kennedy60
Orville was still shaking as the crowds began to disperse. He lit another cigarette. Newsmen and police were swarming the area. People were standing with their mouths open. Some people were running. Others were crying. All Orville could think to do was to find his family. He began sprinting down Main Street hoping he would find his wife, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. He passed the old red courthouse and a few boutiques looking in the windows as he walked. The quiet was almost as deafening as the cheers were minutes ago. The whole city was stunned. It was as if a grimy, shameful pall had put its hands over the mouth of the shiny city.
The men and women who had lined the streets in droves were now huddled around radios and televisions. No one really knew what happened. Orville overheard a couple of women walking in front of him wailing, “They killed him.” He quickly walked past them and overheard a group of men describing the shots.
“I swear to God,” a small chunky man was saying, “I thought some yahoo was throwing firecrackers.”
“Ah, Virgil, who the hell would have firecrackers at a parade?” another man in the group said. Another one of the group, this one wearing a brown hunting hat said, “No boys, them were rifle shots. It’s hunting season you know, and some nut job just decided to shoot the president. He must have taken four or five shots. Wonder which building he was in?” he said while looking up at the tall buildings.
Virgil said, “I think he could have been in any of those buildings. Ever one of them has five or six stories. Hell, it would be like hiding in a deer blind.” The other men nodded their heads in agreement.
The last man in the group spoke slowly and somberly. He had a tear in his eye and seemed much older than the other four.
“All I know is that there hasn’t been a president killed in office since Garfield. And now here - in our city - the president has been shot. I think we may need to move further west, hell, even past Fort Worth. This city will never be the same. I hope our president makes it. I pray that he lives.”
The other four nodded their heads in agreement. Orville silently agreed with them as he walked towards Walgreens. He peered inside and saw Ella, Elaine, and his white-headed granddaughter seated in a booth. He breathed a loud sigh of relief, realizing he had been holding his breath most of the last hour. Gayle looked out the window and shouted, “Paw-Paw!” He could hear her through the thick window glass. He smiled as he entered the store, and surveyed the people inside. No one was talking. Everyone seemed to be whispering. He realized that Walgreens, like all the stores on Main St., had become individual wakes, all memorializing the fallen president.
Ella jumped up from the booth and hugged him. “Good Lord, Orville, I was scared for you. You’re alright! We kept hearing people talk about gunfire and war zones and the president being shot. Is it true?”
Orville nodded his head in affirmation. Ella could tell he had been crying. She kissed his cheek gently and pulled him into the booth.
“Paw-Paw,” Gayle exclaimed in her little girl voice, “I only saw the president drive by real fast. Did you seem him better? What did he look like? Did he wave at you? I wanted him to wave at me but there were too many people standing in the way” she said with a pout.
“Yes Darlin’, I saw him, and I waved at him for you,” Orville replied as she jumped into his lap.
As he patted her back he didn’t know if he could ever tell her about the glittery confetti that was once the President’s head. Or the blood all over the First Lady’s painfully beautiful pink dress. Or the sight of the governor screaming in pain while his wife cradled him. Or the parents fearing for their children’s lives, shielding them with their bodies. He put his palms to his face and tried to shake the memory. Gayle hugged him and looking over his shoulder saw the table jukeboxes. “It’s okay, Paw-Paw. Music will make you feel better. Can I play an Elvis record, Mama? Can I, Granny? Mama loves Elvis and Paw-Paw is sad,” Gayle begged.
“No, Gayle, this isn’t the time,” Elaine said sternly.
“Here’s a dime, Gayle, play whatever you want,” the over-indulgent Ella said without making eye contact with her daughter-in-law. “Life goes on Elaine. She’s too young to understand.”
The coin clicked, the tabletop jukebox crackled and the only sounds within the store were those of Elvis singing, “Bossa Nova, Baby” and Gayle’s voice singing along with him.61
* * * * *
Abraham Zapruder was shaken. He could feel the sweat inside his hat’s headband and under the arms of his suit. He was sweating on the 22nd of November, one of the few cool months Texas has. The temperature was 73 degrees. Am I having a heart attack? he thought to himself, or is it just from standing on the four foot pergola? This wasn’t just the vertigo, no, it wasn’t the vertigo. There were gunshots coming from behind him. Was it from his building? Was it D. Harold Byrd’s building? There were people screaming. Everyone was running. He stopped for a moment and took inventory, something he was prone to do during times of crisis. “Always look for the silver lining,” his father had told him. He looked in front of him to Elm St. then began to walk towards his office. He had just watched his beloved president’s brains blown all over Elm Street. Poor Jackie no longer had a husband. Poor Caroline and John-John no longer had a father. Poor America no longer had a young, exciting president. Poor the World. He broke down in tears. Marilyn Sitzman came running up from behind him, pulling at his arm screaming, “Mr. Z., they killed him. He’s dead!”
*****
THERE WERE PEOPLE
SCREAMING.
EVERYONE WAS RUNNING.
HE STOPPED FOR A MOMENT
AND TOOK INVENTORY,
SOMETHING HE WAS PRONE TO
DO DURING TIMES OF CRISIS.
Policemen, motorcycle cops he thought, were swarming the area he walked through. One bumped his shoulder. He grimaced and looked behind him at Elm Street. The motorcade had sped away moments ago.
At that moment he stopped and all the fears and sympathy he had for the First Family dissipated into business. A Dallas Morning News reporter, Harry McCormick approached him on his way back to the Dal-Tex building.62
“Hey Mister, you have a movie camera there, did you get the president being shot on film?” McCormick asked. “If you did, you’ve hit the jackpot,” he continued, “and my company would pay lots of money to see it.” Abraham ignored him and kept walking, all the while thinking to himself, “My God, I have it all on film. I have it all on film.” He walked faster towards the Dal-Tex building with a purpose, McCormick chattering behind him. Maybe he had the killer on film. Maybe his film could be evidence. The money for this type of evidence would be priceless. For Abraham Zapruder, this film would be worth more than his company Jennifer Juniors would ever make.
Realizing this, Abraham’s first phone call was to his business partner and lawyer, Erwin Schwartz. At the same time, he told Lillian to call the Dallas Police Department.63 Minutes later, Abraham Zapruder�
�s office on the fourth floor was bombarded by all sorts of people. Two Dallas Police officers arrived, after receiving the call Zapruder asked his secretary Lillian Rogers to make, and demanded the film.
“Give us the film, it is evidence,” one announced to Zapruder.
Abraham refused to give it to them on advice from his attorney. The policemen ensconced themselves in his office. Five minutes later, Darwin Payne, a writer from the Dallas Times Herald arrived and tried to purchase the film.64
“It’s not for sale,” Zapruder tells him, “I don’t even know what it shows, and how did you know I had it?” he asked Payne.
“With all this going on today? I just happened to ask some of the bystanders questions at the Texas School Book Depository and some were your employees. They told me you had taken a movie.” Payne replied. “Will you grant an interview for the Dallas Times Herald?”65 Abraham was beside himself at this point. All he could think about was the horrific murder of his beloved president, then the money he could make from the film he just took, and where the hell is Erwin? Any other day he felt like this, he would have left the building and gone to sit on the bench outside his office building. If it was a really bad day like today, he would have walked to Dealey Plaza, planted his face into his hands and wept until the bad thoughts were out of his system. He didn’t have that luxury today. At that moment, the phone rang. It was Erwin Schwartz.
“Hurry Erwin, I need you here,” Abraham pleaded as he explained what was happening in his office.
“Tell Marilyn to put the film into the safe until I get there,” Schwartz told Zapruder, “Let no one touch it.” He hung up the telephone with a loud click.
Though his film would later prove to be the most compelling evidence, it wasn’t treated as such immediately after the assassination.
Around 1:15 P.M., Harry McCormick arrived with Orville Nix’s friend Forrest Sorrels of the Secret Service. McCormick had told Sorrels about Zapruder’s film and Sorrel’s interest was keen.66
“I can get you a copy sir,” Zapruder told Sorrels, “but on the advice of my attorney, I must retain the original.”
When Darwin Payne realized his competitor’s reporter was so heavily involved in Zapruder’s decision making, he protested loudly.
“Hey, Mr. Zapruder, what’s with this? I thought I was going to get the exclusive interview and purchase of the film!”
“I met him first, Payne,” McCormick replied. “The Dallas Morning News gets the story,” and smiled at his journalistic victory.
At that moment, Erwin Schwartz entered the offices overhearing the verbal scuttle between the competing newspaper reporters. Always the negotiator, he said, “Yes, Mr. Payne is it? Yes, Mr. McCormick here spoke with my partner and client first. As is the democratic way, we will work with him. Now, Mr. McCormick has suggested we take the film to the WFAA studios, which is co-owned by the Dallas Morning News and see if they can develop the film for Mr. Sorrels and the Secret Service.”
In the offices of Jennifer Juniors, the employees were hunched around a small television set, as was most of America. At 1:39 P.M., the most trusted newsman in the world, Walter Cronkite, puts on his dark-framed glasses and delivers the lines that are as iconic as they are anguished:
“From Dallas, Texas, the flash apparently official, President Kennedy died at 1:00 P.M. Central Standard Time. Two o’clock Eastern Standard Time, some thirty-eight minutes ago.” As his voice cracks with sorrow, he continues:
“Vice-President Lyndon Johnson has left the hospital in Dallas, but we do not know to where he has proceeded. Presumably he will be taking the oath of office shortly and become the thirty-sixth president of the United States.”67
As America heard this, a collective cry rose from each home, office, school, and city. Surely, this was the most heartbreaking day of this century.
Zapruder, Schwartz, McCormick, and Sorrels departed for the studio at about 1:45 P.M. in a car driven by police officers C.R. Osburn and Joe B. Jones.68 Payne was left behind to inform his editor he didn’t get the story.
The WFAA studios in Dallas were all aflutter. They were about to get the exclusive interview from a man who took a home movie of the assassination. The program director, Jay Watson, was making necessary phone calls and approval to break into regular programming for an on-air interview with Zapruder.69 In the photographic department, the WFAA chief photographer and Assistant News director Bert Shipp was frantically searching for older 8mm equipment to process the Zapruder film.70 The only equipment the studio had available was for 16mm film. In an effort to seal the deal for the exclusive interview, Shipp offered to call his friend Jack Harrison at Kodak about processing the film.
In the meantime, Zapruder was being readied for the interview. A man of large stature, Abraham Zapruder was visibly shaken, yet he enjoyed the attention he garnered so quickly. Dapper in his white shirt, dark suit and bowtie, he made an endearing, as well as believable witness. At one point during the interview, he explained to Jay Watson, who was doing double duty as a news anchor, that he heard shots coming from behind him.71 In no official record would he speak these words again.
*****
AT ONE POINT DURING THE INTERVIEW, HE EXPLAINED TO JAY WATSON, WHO WAS DOING DOUBLE DUTY AS A NEWS ANCHOR, THAT HE HEARD SHOTS COMING FROM BEHIND HIM. IN NO OFFICIAL RECORD WOULD HE SPEAK THESE WORDS AGAIN.
The parent network, ABC, carried the interview live as well. CBS’s Walter Cronkite may have broken the news of the president’s death, but now thanks to ABC, the world knew there was photographic evidence of the JFK Assassination. Even more stunning, the filmmaker believed shots may have come from behind him. During the interview, Erwin Schwartz held the precious undeveloped film while standing nearby. He realized he was holding history, fame, and fortune.
While Zapruder was being interviewed, Forrest Sorrels told the two Dallas Police officers Osburn and Jones they would need to drive the trio to Kodak. Shipp had told Sorrels his friend Jack Harrison at Kodak would be able to develop the film.
Around 2:40 P.M., Zapruder, McCormick, Schwartz and Sorrels arrived at the Kodak Film Developing Plant near Love Field. Ironically, Air Force One was departing Love Field with the dead president’s body and the newly sworn in president, Lyndon Baines Johnson at the same time. It was as if twin scenarios were being born at the same time: one on celluloid, the other in veiled secrecy.
The three men entered the large Kodak processing plant and were quickly met by Kodak manager Phil Chamberlain.72 It was immediately developed, and as soon as it dried Chamberlain carefully ran the film through a viewer and the horrific murder was viewed for the first time by those in attendance. Chamberlain was aghast. Sorrels was dumbfounded. Zapruder broke into a sweat at the too-soon reliving of the president’s murder. Erwin Schwartz was abnormally speechless. Forrest’s walkie-talkie crackled and he excused himself from the viewing. He has been called back to the Dallas Police Department due to the arrest of Lee Harvey Oswald.73
Chamberlain, still shaken by what he has seen but realizing the importance of the six feet of film celluloid, refused to run it through the viewer again for fear of destruction. He regretfully told them that his plant had no facilities to make copies. He suggested Zapruder and Schwartz take it to another film processing lab, Jamieson Film Labs of Dallas.74
By this time, Zapruder was beyond flustered. The day had been like the Roller-Coaster at the Texas State Fair: up, down, and rickety. He had run the gamut of emotions from terror to thrill and desperately wanted copies of his film. Erwin agreed that this had to be done that day, so they drove to the Jamieson plant to have copies made. It was 4:30 P.M. but the normal tangle of traffic one would see on a Friday drive home was absent.
* * * * *
Due to the horrible events of the day, the Dallas Independent School District canceled all Friday night football games. Most of the larger companies in their glistening skyscrapers sent their employees home. Those same shiny skyscrapers held secrets from their employees and from the
city; secrets that would not be revealed for decades. Some of the buildings housed secrets more sinister than the others including the men who met at the Mercantile Bank75 as well as the Republic Bank Tower.76 The whole of Dallas seemed to have shut down with news of the assassination. Flags all over the city had already been lowered to half-mast. For five sets of eyes in one office building, solemn looks were shot to one another like a ritual in a fraternal pledge ceremony. The look conveyed the promise of silence in a noise that will last for over fifty years. One of the set of eyes looked up at a portrait of Lyndon Baines Johnson holding court in the boardroom. He seemed to be participating in the ritual as well.
* * * * *
Across town, the two shrewd business partners left the Jamieson Film Labs where copies of the valuable film were made and developed. They then returned to the Kodak Lab where print enlargements of specific frames were made. Zapruder and Erwin left the Kodak plant about 9:45 P.M. with three copies of the film and the original. They then drove to Sorrel’s office in downtown Dallas. There they gave him two copies: One was immediately dispatched to the FBI investigators in Washington D.C., the other kept by Sorrels.77 Abraham realized he hadn’t eaten at all that day and his stamina was depleted.
“I have to go home Erwin. I haven’t spoken with my wife at all today,” he told his friend.
“Be prepared, my friend, and prepare your family,” Erwin told Abraham. “This will be the first of many hectic days. You have history in your hands and the world will want a piece of it. Make no promises until you’ve spoken with me.”
Abraham nodded his head affirmatively and drove home.
The next day he sold the rights to his film to Richard Stolley of Life magazine for $150,000.00 plus royalties (or $979,500.00 plus royalties applying today’s Consumer Price Index).78 This was a considerable amount of money for twenty-six seconds of film, though the public was told it was only $25,000.00. It was only later that the secret sum of cash Zapruder was paid became known. Erwin Schwartz did his job well.
The Missing JFK Assassination Film Page 7