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I lived in New Jersey back then. I was in Mr. Gerrity's 2nd floor 8th grade English class. Someone came into the classroom and whispered something in his ear, and then quickly left. He turned to the class and asked if anyone had a radio.
I was the only one who had a transistor radio, which was very strange in itself. I'd never taken a radio to school before, and never took one to school after then, either. It just wasn't something I did. Especially with the size of portable radios back them. It was about the size of 3 hardcover books and that was small for those days.
Without saying why, Mr. Gerrity asked me to turn it on. I went to the wide waste-high window ledge and tried to tune it in. It didn't matter the station; they were all reporting the story that the President had been shot in Dallas, but his condition was not yet known. A short while later it was announced that he was dead. School did NOT let out early, but I don't remember much of the rest of the school day. I think everyone was just numb.
At home later, with no one else at home, I sat down in front of the TV and watched the steady news coverage late into the night. I was at the age where JFK was the first President I ever paid any attention to, him being the youngest to ever take office, the first catholic in office, probably the least frumpy ever elected. He had gotten us through the Cuban Missile Crisis for those 13 days in October of 1962, etc. It was all so sad. And then 5 years later dé·jà vu all over again, Bobby Kennedy was assassinated.
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