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Before we get started, let me just say thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I know I’m sort of radioactive right now, with all that’s been going on, and I appreciate the risk you’re taking. And to show it, I want you to know that, for the first time in quite a while, I plan to answer absolutely any question you might have. Okay, whenever you’re ready.
Well, when it first happened, I hadn’t a clue of what was going on. Obviously I was in danger, and my first instinct was to get my wife out of the line of fire, as well as protecting myself. But I had no idea how big a deal it was going to become. Every time I hear some fool talk about “what really happened,” about “who was really behind it,” what I have a hard time controlling myself. How can he presume to know what it was like? I know that doesn’t sound polite. And, certainly, in this country a man has the right to speak his mind; but he should be discreet about when and how he exercises that right.
Forgive me for veering off topic, but I’d like to talk about something else. I can understand why everybody’s so fascinated with it, especially since they never caught the shooter. But truth be told, that wasn’t the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me. The worst experience I’ve ever gone through was my marriage falling apart. The shooting, the war before that: everything else pales in comparison.
If you’d asked me a year ago whether I regretted having the affair, I would have said no. When it first became an issue, I didn’t think much of it; I expected it would blow over once some other story came along. That’s one of the reasons I got so involved in civil rights issues; I thought it would help take people’s attention away from the bad things going on in my life. And of course I felt guilty for not doing anything about racism for the longest time. I had to act, even if it angered some important people.
How did I feel about losing some longtime friends? Well, I didn’t lose all of them. And, actually, I gained quite a few at the same time, more than I lost as a matter of fact. So if you look at it that way it was a net gain for me. Plus, it was the right thing to do. I had stood by for too long while those poor folks, who just wanted some fair and equal treatment, got treated like dirt, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I had to do something about it, and not just something symbolic, but something substantial, without second-guessing myself, and without paying too much attention to criticism. It was around this time that I started feeling the same way about Asia.
Ah, yes, pulling out of Asia, probably the most controversial thing I’ve ever done. Do I regret my decision? I’ve thought about that day and night ever since we drew up the final withdrawal plans, and I’m still convinced that we did the right thing. If we’d stayed there any longer we would only have gotten bogged down, more people would have hated us, and we wouldn’t have accomplished anything. I realize some fellows are still angry at me for not letting them get good returns on their investments. Nevertheless, I don’t regret doing it, and I don’t regret the crap everybody gave me for it. It simply had to be done.
What’s that, you say? “More plain-spoken than usual?” You know, I’ve been thinking about that lately, about how I got into the habit of speaking this way, rather than the way most people are familiar with, which I admit, seemed a little pompous. But you’re the first person who’s said anything about it to me so far. I’m not sure if nobody else noticed or they just didn’t want to seem rude. No, no, you’re not being rude. My point is, I guess it’s not that big a deal to people, including me. Many things have changed in the last six years. When you reflect on what really matters in life you start to value plain speaking.
Yes, we should get back to talking about the shooting. That’s when I started behaving differently. I started thinking less in pragmatic, and more in moral terms.
As I said before, while it was happening I didn’t have time to ponder what was going on. It wasn’t until Connally’s funeral a few days later that I had the opportunity to take it all in. In the first place, no one on my staff wanted me to go; they were too afraid of someone making another attempt to kill me. They were probably right, but I ignored their concerns. I looked at his widow and his children, I saw how utterly despondent they were, and I wondered what it would be like if it had been me lying in that coffin, if my family had to go through that ordeal. I realized how lucky I had been, in the Navy during the war, in Dallas, how short life could be. So, with that in mind, I decided I wanted to set the best example I could for my children, for my generation, for anyone who would pa attention to my words and my actions.
Anyway, back to the affair. You know, I’ve never really liked that word, “affair.” It always makes the thing sound so formal, so respectable, when it’s really a terrible matter. Why do we try to make adultery sound like something official, almost acceptable? Why are people so afraid to just say “he cheated on his wife” instead of “he had ‘an affair’ with another woman?” Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.
Well, it started fairly innocently, if “innocent” is an appropriate word to use in this context. When she was first hired she had a job that let her work pretty closely with me. I don’t know if my staff thought I would like her, that she was my type; I didn’t bother to ask. Anyway, one night when Jackie was out of town, the girl and I were both working late, we started talking, and the rest, I suppose, is history.
Anyway, that’s how I remember it happening; it was completely voluntary on both ends. But apparently she either has a different memory, or someone paid her to lie, because the next thing I knew the term “sexual harassment,” which I had never even heard before, was being flung in my face. In retrospect, I should have realized that things were changing in society. Women were becoming more independent, putting off marriage, demanding equal pay, and so on. So I guess it was bound to happen; sooner or later, female workers would accuse their bosses of taking advantage of them. It was one of those things everyone knew about but no one ever talked about. And now all of a sudden it’s out in the open.
When the thing became public I expected Jackie to act like she had through my other affairs (I believe I’ve said enough about those in other interviews). I expected her to be the suffering saint she had always been, stoical, maintaining the image. She would just nod her head for the cameras while I denied the accusations and called the girl a tramp, as politely as possible of course. I don’t know what made Jackie act differently; maybe this one was simply the last straw for her; maybe she looked at the feminist movement, heard its message, and decided she simply couldn’t take it anymore.
Anyway, once other people got hold of the story, it was all downhill from there. I suppose it’s ironic that, after I was almost killed, I started thinking less about my image, thinking that a little spontaneity would be my salvation. And yet it only wound up destroying me. Everything I worked so hard to build, everything I accomplished after the shooting, all will be forgotten because of one indiscretion. Now that Nixon’s taken my place, he can destroy everything, which I expect is just what he’ll do. So much for the New Frontier.
~Michael Purzycki is a junior at The George Washington University, majoring in political science. His story "Looking Back" was originally submitted for a creative writing class taught by Prof. Frederick Pollack, whom he would like to thank for his advice.
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