Corner to Corner
Diane Denish is a former lieutenant governor of New Mexico. She is a native of Hobbs and now lives in Albuquerque. Reach her at diane@dianedenish.com
Most people I talk to have never heard of a small museum in Dallas called the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza. I didn’t recognize the name either when a friend I was planning to visit mentioned it. “You know,” she said, “the Texas Book Depository?” Of course—the building forever linked to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.
The building, completed in 1903 to replace an earlier structure destroyed by fire, has always served as a warehouse or storage facility. In 1963, the Texas School Book Depository Company leased space there for textbooks. Among its temporary employees was a young man named Lee Harvey Oswald.
As we approach the 62nd anniversary of JFK’s assassination on November 22, my late-October visit proved to be perfectly timed. A building that became the symbol of a national tragedy now carries other lessons as well.
The museum is beautifully curated. It offers a thoughtful walk through Kennedy family history and major moments of the Kennedy presidency, including replays of some of JFK’s most inspirational speeches.
In his 1961 inaugural address, we hear a young president rooted in optimism and public service. In the Moon Speech, a commitment to science and adventure—“we go to the moon… not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard.” In his 1962 Peace Speech, a hope for a safer world. In his Civil Rights address, an aspiration for a nation where all people are truly free.
Each speech brims with hope and ambition, reminders of an agenda only partly realized before it was cut short by an assassin’s bullet.
The main portion of the museum chronicles the events leading up to November 22: the president’s warm welcome in Texas, the cheering crowds, the motorcade gliding toward Dealey Plaza—and then the shots that shattered the day and the nation.
Men and women of my generation can tell you exactly where we were when we heard the news. Most of us were school age. I was in the hallway of Houston Junior High in Hobbs, New Mexico. The announcement came over the intercom. The principal’s voice cracked. I remember freezing in place, tears welling, feeling frightened. Classes were dismissed; it seemed impossible for the day to continue.
During my visit, I noticed that at least two-thirds of the people viewing the exhibit were not yet born in 1963. Yet there they were, studying this pivotal moment in American history. One young woman whispered, “What a terrible day that must have been.”
She was right.
It was.
The world—regardless of age or political persuasion—was united in grief.
Just days after my visit, President Kennedy’s only grandson, Jack Schlossberg, announced he will run for the U.S. House—the same institution where his grandfather began his political career.
His message seems aimed squarely at the concerns of today’s voters: affordability, healthcare, education. He’ll be in a crowded primary, and criticism is already coming his way. He’s a social media presence with some impulsive posts, and it appears that the man he hopes to succeed, Jerry Nadler, has another preferred candidate. I don’t know whether Jack can win. But that’s not really the point.
What matters is whether he uses this moment to remind the country of the same things echoed throughout the Sixth Floor Museum: America has always found its way forward through leaders who challenge us to believe in something larger than ourselves. And, hope, aspiration, and a sense of vigor—vigah!—are qualities we still need in our candidates and in our politics. It would be a fitting tribute to his grandfather. America has always found its way forward through leaders who challenge us to believe in something larger than ourselves.
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