I’ve been posting a lot of late, regarding Downtown Phoenix, and it’s sordid past.
If you’ve been reading this blog you know I’ve an interest in political crime, like the JFK and other assassinations. I always wanted to visit downtown Dallas.
I was in the 6th Grade in 1963. It took until November 22, 1992 for me to go to the crime scene. A little cold, by case investigation standards.
I was privileged in being able to walk around the entire scene, take photos, and even casually interview a couple witnesses, who had returned there for the 29th Anniversary of the Assassination.
At Noon, about 300 of us stood in silence to honor the Country’s loss. Penn Jones, Jr. (an assassination researcher and author of Forgive My Grief) spoke. I was maybe ten feet from him, directly adjacent to the spot where Abe Zapruder stood when he took his historic film..
I visited the Sixth Floor Museum, recounting the ‘official’, Warren Commission Report version of the shooting. And just a block up the street, The Conspiracy Museum, lending credence to the ‘conspiracy theories’ surrounding the JFK and other assassinations.
I didn’t have enough ready cash to take the ‘conspiracy bus’, a tour from the second museum to Oswald’s boarding house, and past the homes of (in)famous witnesses, and to where Officer Tippit was killed.
The day wore on. But it was still an amazing, yet sobering day.
It got to be after 5:00 PM, and I noticed two things. I was very tired from walking around all day, and downtown Dallas, like downtown Phoenix, rolled up her sidewalks.
One block off Dealy Plaza, and there wasn’t a person to be seen.
I quickly felt like Earl Holliman in the first Twilight Zone episode “Where is Everybody?”.
It was pretty frightening. The streets were empty, no people, no cars.
It was like Old Phoenix. But much farther away.
Eventually I found a cab and made it back to my hotel.
And I flew out the next day. From Love Field.
Next time, I’m not going alone.