Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis died the night of May 19, 1994 at her Manhattan apartment. Cause of death was non-Hodgkins lymphoma, which had been made public a few months earlier. Her death came one month after the death of former president Richard Nixon (who JFK defeated for president in 1960). Jackie's death is particularly memorable for me because it coincided with the death of my father.
Dad sufferred from a rare degenerative disease of the brain known as supranuclear palsy for about 10 years - the same condition actor Dudley Moore sufferred from. On Mother's Day he was hospitalized for a mild heart attack and two weeks later I visited him and my mother for the weekend. (Up until this hospital stay my mother had taken care of my father at home.)
I heard the news about Jackie's death (at the age of 64) during the 11:00 news while packing for my trip and I read more about it the next morning while waiting to board my flight to Pittsburgh at Newark Airport. On the last day of my visit Mom, Dad and I watched some of her funeral from Dad's hospital room. The next day, May 24, Dad died unexpectedly, two months shy of his 70th birthday. I returned to Pittsburgh the following day to help my brother, sister and mother with funeral preparations.
Until today the biggest event to occur on my birthday was in 1967 when Mickey Mantle hit his 500th home run. And in 1981 I feared the pope might die on my birthday after being shot the day before (happily, he survived.) Then on May 14, 1998 two big pop culture events occurred: the final episode of Seinfeld and the death of Frank Sinatra.
I watched the disappointing one-hour finale (from a mostly dissatisfying last season) with my friends Matthew and Gary at Matthew's apartment on West 57th St. Although it was my birthday they were oblivious to the fact, so when our Chinese take-out arrived I felt odd saying "hey, it's my birthday, are you expecting me to contribute?", so I kept quiet. (A week earlier I figured I'd be spending this day with my boyfriend but that relationship suddenly unraveled during a rainy weekend out at Fire Island.) When I woke up the next morning is when I heard the news that Frank Sinatra had died the previous evening.
This episode of Seinfeld telecast delivered a 41.3 household rating/58 share making it the second highest rated show of the season (behind the Super Bowl). A powerhouse performance for sure, but it was 9% below the last episode of Cheers five years earlier.
Other shows that aired their final episodes on my birthday include Family Ties (1989);West Wing (2004); and Moonlighting (1990). However, only Family Ties had much of a ratings sendoff (20.8 rating/35 share).
In addition to Sinatra, some other notable deaths on May 14 were those of Billie Burke (Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz) in 1970; Hugh Beaumont (the father in Leave it to Beaver) in 1982; and 1940's va-va-voom actress Rita Hayworth in 1987.
It was a mild but sort of hazy day. Rather than take the bus home from school (7th grade at Sto-Rox Middle School) I walked because I stopped by Frank's barbershop for a haircut. When I got home I saw that morning's paper, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, on the hassock in the living room.
On the front page was a photo (now iconic) of an overwrought young girl kneeling over the body of a student shot dead the day before at Kent State University by the Ohio National Guard. The shootings occurred during an anti-war demonstration protesting the U.S. invasion of Cambodia at the end of April. Guardsmen opened fire on students, killing four (pictured) and wounding nine. Although it was in neighboring Ohio, I had never heard of the university.
Perhaps because I was just 12 at the time (and somewhat preoccupied by the onset of puberty) I don't recall there being much talk about this incident among schoolmates or teachers, and at home we usually didn't discuss news events at the dinner table. But the constant coverage of the Vietnam War was plenty worrisome for my parents since my brother Darrell was nearing draft age. (A lasting memory of the war was hearing the weekly casualty report on the radio while I was getting ready for school.)
Once the protest song Ohio by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young became popular during the summer the incident had more resonance with me. The song begins with the line: "Tin soldiers and Nixon's coming, we're finally on our own. This summer I hear the drumming. Four dead in Ohio." (The CD Steal This Record provides a collection of some other notable protest songs from the 1960's). By the time I turned 18 in 1975 the U.S. was out of Vietnam (the fall of South Vietnam to the Communists occurred two weeks before my birthday) and teen boys were no longer required to register for the draft.
What I remember most about the shootings at Columbine High School on April 20, 1999 is that I went the entire day without hearing anything about it. This was highly unusual because I always had the radio on in my office, but I spent this day mostly in meetings in a conference room (at ad agency Foote, Cone & Belding).
It wasn't until I got home and turned on the TV after 7:00 that I heard about it. It was reported that as many as 25 were dead, but since the school had been locked down until the next morning the true numbers weren't known. The following morning the death toll was revised downward to 15 (including the two student shooters).
Before Columbine there had been four even deadlier shootings. They occurred in a post office, two restaurants, and on a college campus. Columbine, however was the first to have such young targets - and the first to be communicated immediately to the outside world by victims on their cell phones.
Unfortunately, as with all previous shooting rampages in this country, after an initial outpouring of grief and recriminations, life returned to normal, i.e. a feckless Congress unwilling to buck the NRA and draw up legislation to protect its citizens. And eight years later, 32 students and faculty were mowed down at Virginia Tech (pictured). Even that much carnage couldn't change a thing. And the beat goes on ...
U.S. Gun Carnage: A Tragic Roll Call
32 murdered at Virginia Tech/April 16, 2007
24 murdered at Luby's cafeteria in Killeen, TX/Oct. 16, 1991
21 murdered at McDonald's in San Ysidro, CA/July 18, 1984
16 murdered in Austin, TX/Univ. of TX campus/Aug. 1, 1966
14 murdered at Edmonds, OK post office/Aug. 20, 1986
13 murdered at Columbine HS/Littleton, CO/April 20, 1999
13 murdered at Ft. Hood, TX military base/Nov. 5, 2009
10 murdered in rural Alabama/March 10, 2009
10 murdered in Jacksonville, FL/June 18, 1990
9 murdered in Red Lake, MN by teen boy/March 21, 2005
My mother, Mary, was 19 in the spring of 1945 and had a war-related job in downtown Pittsburgh working for the American Bureau of Shipping. The Bureau was located on the 32nd floor of the Grant Building, the 2nd tallest building in Pittsburgh (it had been the tallest until the 44-story Gulf Building opened in 1933). Mom's job, her first out of high school, was as a typist who prepared shipping certificates that were attached to crates of munitions being shipped to various European destinations (she was under strict orders not to discuss her work). In smoky Pittsburgh of the 1940's this was a great place to be working, and the Grant Building was one of the city's premiere business addresses.
April 12 was Thursday and she and her friend/co-worker Willa left work and walked down to Joseph Horne department store where they got on the streetcar for the 20-30 minute trip to their neighborhood of Chartiers City. Shortly after arriving at their stop they bumped into a neighbor, Mrs. Frankel, who told them the news that President Roosevelt had died a short time ago. FDR died of a stroke in the middle of the afternoon while having his portrait painted in Warms Springs, Georgia.
The president was only 63 and just three months into his unprecedented 4th term. Shortly after the news was reported on the radio paperboys were on the streets selling an "extra" edition of the paper with the breaking news. Mom said it was difficult to imagine life without him; after all, her formative years had been lived entirely under FDR's presidency. And Harry Truman's countrified persona couldn't have been more different from that of the more worldly FDR with his trademark monocle and cigarette holder.
One month later the war ended in Europe and Mom was without a job. However, she said it was all done in a very nice way and everyone who was let go was given a bonus. With part of hers Mom bought a pair of earrings she had been admiring for some time at a jewelry store in the lobby of the Grant Building. They had three small clusters, each with a different colored gemstone surrounded by rhinestones. They cost $5 (about $65 in today's dollars). And she still has them.
(To further immerse yourself in FDR's legacy you may want to consider the book FDR or the PBS video American Experience: FDR).
Ours was one of the first families in the neighborhood to get a color TV. It was a Magnavox and it was delivered at the beginning of the week. Today was Thursday, April 4, 1968 and I had just come in from playing in the backyard where I'd been having fun rolling around inside the TV's shipping box. (I was 10 years old at the time.) Now I was lying on the living room floor ready to watch The Flying Nun in living color for the first time.
However, shortly after it came on a news bulletin interrupted to report that civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr. had been shot and killed while standing on the balcony of his motel room in Memphis. He was just 39 years old.
The next day, looking from our side porch, we could see smoke rising in the distance (about 10 miles away). It was from rioting in a predominantly black neighborhood in Pittsburgh known as the Hill District. (Riots had broken out across the country as a result of MLK's assassination.) Since we lived in a predominantly white community I didn't realize Pittsburgh had many black residents, at least not enough to have their own neighborhood.
Tuesday, April 9, was King's funeral in Atlanta and our schools were closed because of concerns that there might be trouble. I didn't watch the funeral but occasionally would catch a glimpse of the funeral procession on TV when I'd walk through the living room. For the most part I spent the day outside playing because the weather was nice & warm. This was my first exposure to the tumult of 1968 that was just getting underway.
(There are countless books and videos about the accomplishments of and controversies surrounding King, including an autobiography, the 1978 NBC mini-series King and the acclaimed PBS documentary from 2004 Citizen King.)
Hale-Bopp was one of the brightest comets to streak across the skies in the 20th century. And unlike Kohoutek, a much hyped comet that turned out to be a big dud in the winter of 1973-74, H-B lived up to its hype. A survey conducted by Sky & Telescope Magazine reported that 69% of Americans had seen it during the winter & spring months of 1997. (The photo to the right was taken in the lower Hudson River Valley).
I was thrilled to catch a glimpse of Hale-Bopp, especially since star gazing in Manhattan can be a frustrating experience due to the glare from the city's lights. It was Wednesday evening at around 7:30 and I was doing my thrice-weekly 5-mile jog along the Hudson River in lower Manhattan. In the Battery Park City neighborhood I noticed a man pointing his telescope across the river in the direction of Jersey City.
I glanced over my shoulder and was stunned to see a slash of light not far above the horizon. It seemed to be holding still in the sky and had the classic comet's tail. I stopped running to gaze at it further and then detected a slight, jerky horizontal motion. It was a very Zen moment. (My sighting occurred one day after the comet's closest approach to the sun, aka "perihelion".)
A week before my sighting the comet figured prominently in a mass suicide carried out by members of a religious cult known as Heaven's Gate. 39 members, mostly young adults, and the cult's elderly leader Do (pronounced "doe") committed the act in a rented mansion in an affluent suburb of San Diego. A videotape made shortly before the suicides indicated that a spaceship following behind H-B would pick up their souls. It was done in a very orderly manner and the victims were dressed in a similar fashion, which included wearing the identical Nike sneakers.
This was also an interesting time in my life (perhaps the comet had something to do with it). With my 40th birthday looming in May an ex-boyfriend from 10 years earlier reappeared. "David the Israeli", as I referred to him, was now living in Chicago (not far from Wrigley Field) and suggested I consider moving there as well. (I attached "the Israeli" to his name because there was a multitude of Davids in my life at the time, i.e. my roommate, boss and a number of co-workers, so to avoid confusion they each had their own descriptor.) At the last minute he joined me and my friend Tom when we went to San Francisco on vacation in March. (That's me with David on Lombard St. I'm the tall one.) Then at the end of April I visited him in Chicago (my first time there).
It was a whirlwind six weeks but, alas, it didn't work out this time either as the same dispiriting patterns re-emerged (his, of course). And no appearance from a comet was going to magically change him. Speaking of comets, if you'd like to learn even more about them the book The Greatest Comets talks about famous ones through history.
February 22, 1987 was an unusually social Sunday for me. I spent the early part of the afternoon at a brunch in the West Village at the apartment of my friend Marc, a fellow I dated briefly the previous year. (We met when he walked up behind me at Uncle Charlie's bar and snapped the back of my suspenders).
After brunch a group of us went to a mid-afternoon tea dance at a club in Chelsea called Tracks. From there I taxied down to SoHo to attend a 5th anniversary celebration for GMHC (Gay Men's Health Crisis) held at the Puck Building. That was followed by dinner at Taste of Tokyo and then a brief visit to the club Palladium on 14th St.
I didn't get home until late and when I sat down to watch the 11:00 news I was shocked to learn of Andy Warhol's death. He died from complications after having simple gallbladder surgery. He was just 58. (Somewhat overlooked was the death on the same day of talk show host David Susskind.)
I felt somewhat of a connection to Warhol because, like me, he grew up in Pittsburgh and was of Slovakian parentage (my maternal grandmother was born in Slovakia). 7 years after his death, while I was in Pittsburgh to attend my father's funeral, I visited the newly opened Andy Warhol Museum (pictured, left) with my brother, his fiance and my two young nephews. It was ironic that the museum (at the time the only one in the U.S. devoted to one artist) was here because Warhol apparently was ashamed of his Pittsburgh roots.
(Many books are available about Warhol's life and his body of work. One in particular that got a lot of press when it was published in the early '90's was The Andy Warhol Diaries.)
I had spent much of February 8, 2007 at a meeting discussing a joint Nielsen-Arbitron project I was consulting on. The meeting concluded mid-afternoon and I walked to the gym (Crunch Fitness) to do a cardio workout on the elliptical. Upon arriving I noticed most of those using the various cardio machines had their TVs tuned to CNN. It turned out news had just been reported that tabloid mainstay Anna Nicole Smith had been found dead in her hotel room in Hollywood, Florida.
I was disturbed that this news warranted non-stop coverage and that most around me were transfixed by it. I couldn't care less and instead watched an uplifting episode of Oprah about The Secret, a new way of positive thinking that was sweeping the nation.
I heard the news of Walt Disney's death on the car radio as my family and I were driving home after doing grocery and Christmas shopping. He was only 65 years old but since I was just 9 that seemed pretty old to me. You might think a young child would be disturbed by this news, especially coming so close to Christmas, but I don't recall being upset. Perhaps it was because I was excited by the weather forecast for the next day predicting a snowstorm for the Pittsburgh area. Alas, it didn't materialize but further east the Mid-Atlantic states got a good amount of snow.
3 days after Disney's death my attention shifted to Dr. Seuss whose animated holiday special How the Grinch Stole Christmas aired for the very first time on CBS. Like A Charlie Brown Christmas (which had its first telecast the year before) The Grinch would also become a holiday classic for the ages.
(The book Walt Disney: Triumph of the American Imagination by Neal Gabler is one of a number of in-depth biographies of Disney, but Gabler has the distinction of being the first writer to be given complete access to the Disney archives.)
