While I was originally asked to reply to a
comment I made about Robert Kennedy's death, I eventually made the following long comment.
I realized very soon that the original diary was gone and that my heart-felt comments would been unseen. Consequently, I am reposting this same comment as a new diary.
It took an enormous amount of anquish to write this diary. I am trying to make certain the most people possible see the result of all these people.
The real story is on the flip.
I had been working in the Assembly campaign of a Rialto, CA Democrat and running a college volunteeer operation for Hubert Humphery, known widely as 'the Happy Warrior', truly the man that got Social Security passed.
Earlier in the season I was in Delano with a march with Cesar Chavez and the Farmworkers Union. I heard Bobby Kennedy, this paragon of wealth and prestige, talk from the back of a simple truck then join the march in the boiling sun.
It's hot in the Central Valley that time of year. It isn't easy to walk miles in the heat. We stopped at field after field to talk to workers...true braceros. In the beginning I stayed back. Then one of Cesar's people told me to go into the fields too, even tho I didn't speak fluent Mexican....which is different than Spanish. I grew up in the Mexican ghetto in Fontana, Ca so I wasn't at a total loss but still...I was intimidated.
I saw Bobbie, Mr. Kennedy, in the fields talking to people who could not understand his language but truly understood his heart. So could I do less?
I came back energized, this college kid with great ambitions, and joined the fledgling (sp) Kennedy Campaign as a College Coordinator. We knew, if you heard him speak from the heart as he always did [he had NO stump speech], that you would know he had the heart of the nation in his hand. It was his legacy to do so even though it meant going against many of his establishment contacts.
I worked for my Assembly Incumbent, John P Quimby...God Bless His Soul..... and Bobbie Kennedy.
On that night I was first in Rialto with Assemblyman Quimby, as we knew we had it whipped and Mr.Quimby liked a good party and fine whisky.
Then I drove around 50 miles to the Hotel to join the throngs of young people drawn to this man of honesty and deliverance. We partied and watched the vote totals....slow in those days.
And after his eloquent speech, because in those days the race for the nomination wasn't over even after the California Primary on June 5th, we celebrated and braced for the next race. Many of us were ready to move to the next state...if there was one I don't remember.
Then the horror began to spread in the ballroom. Whispers...then shouts...and screams that Bobbie had been shot. It took people of strength to keep the crowd under control.
And eventually we got the word. Bobby was shot. Unbelievable. I remember a person half my age now, but seemingly old then, saying, "The Bastards got another one." Then, "Bobbie is dead." Sorrow beyond comprehension.
The sorrow was unending. The emptiness beyond my ability to descibe. After the horror sunk in and the reality was real...I left and drove home.
I drove to my mother's house. Walked in and woke her up very, very late at night and said, "Bobby Kennedy is dead."
Her instant reaction without thought on awakening was: "Damn, they got another one."
It was a horror I can't forget to this day.
I wound up in Chicago as a result. And I was from a place,a bad-ass Mexican ghetto that knew how to fight, and when they came for us with tear gas and billy clubs...I'm proud to say I stood and fought...hand to hand. It was the beginning of the end of VN and the Beginning of the Dark Ages in other ways....and most ran and threw things and some of us stood and fought and bled those days.
And we did it knowing that if Bobby were there he'd have been in the convention hall...with his fathers power....but he would have also, somehow, been in the streets with us. With Cesar...with all the people who needed a spokesman who was willing to sacrifice it all.
This is the first time I've written of this. It's taken a few beers and shot of good whiskey. My old man would appreciate that...I have a hunch Bobbie would too.
You asked this is my answer.