Letters to Jackie (15 page)

NEWARK NJ

DEC 2, 1963

Dear Mrs. Kennedy

How are you and your children. I truly hope you are fine. There so much I want to say to you and your family

I am hurt deeply hurt because of our great lost.

But oh how I thank God that he left you here to take care of Carolina and John Jr To lose their father was a great great lost but we thank God that they have you.

I pray that you will continue to be brave as you are lovely

We Negro love you and your children as we loved your husband and pray God that he will keep you well and safe

We also feel as God send your husband as our Moses came after almost a hundred years to open doors for us. doors that had never been opened before I am a witness to these things.

He was water in dry places. He was a shelter in the time of storm also a good servant for our Lord He wanted good for everybody

We know God choose him to do these things for my people The Negro opened his mouth and President Kennedy spoke the words for us.

If it had been in the Negro power President Kennedy would have
lived forever. We all loved him but God loved him best, you can truly believe he is in heaven along with your other three children.

Not only President Kennedy but you and your whole family gave us great joy Every day we got the paper to look for you, Carolina or John Jr. so we could see how the first family were getting along.

I realize we have a good man in President Johnson but the Negro of these days will always remember your husband as Our President from the smallest baby to the oldest grandmother

I hope you will find happiness as the year go on

Remember we are praying for you, your children and your inlaws we hope you will pray for us.

So again I say.

I am deeply hurt.

But we still have you. So we have a lot to be thankful for.

Sincerely yours,
Mrs. Marzell Swain

NOVEMBER 23, 1963
PINEHURST, NC

To The J. F. K. family.

Dear beloved one I know you are some what suprized shocked with the Last + Griefed to what What happen to such a great man husband father an Son an Father of our country—but in this Sadist moment of your Life you have my greatest symphy for every one an I know you are suprized to know I am a Negro woman but as I set here an try en put in to words my feeling I hope you Will feel a spot in your heart for me. This marning God spoke to me it said P. J. F. K. did for his Country what God did for his world they Killed our Lord an Father. An now they have Killed our Presentend an Father. We loved him but God loved him best. I feel our Lost is heaven gain how greater man is this to give up his life for his friends. Please dont say he is dead Lest say he is at the waiting room Wating for God to
say you have been ruler over a Few things but now you are ruler over many

When his daughter & Son walks through life People will Look on them an say there goes a great girl & boy and a sweet beloved wife but I Feel our Lost is heaven gain.

Please dry your tears dear ones an say I beloved one is heaven gain he isnt dead he is Just sleeping in heaven. I want to meet p. J. F. K. in that great day an help him sing

They Will be peace in the Valley[.] for me I am Praying for the family

Please tell the children to be Sweet an O Bey their mother an Father is waiting to welcome them home

your truly
Katherine Dowd Jackson
A Negro woman with a
Big White heart

My Dear Mrs. Kenndey.

Heres hoping you accept my letter. And In Doing so, May God For Ever bless you and Children.

To me, on T.V., Your husband was a God Sent Man. He warm, true and In my heart was and alway will be my Mr. President.

For it was he, As Mr. President strickly opon the way for the Negro.

The trouble to Day, is caused by so-Little Faith in God.

In the next Forty to Forty-Five Year A Negro from Louisiana will be come President of United States of American

Mr Johnson 2 to 1 over Mr. Goldwater.

Watch Mr Robert Kenndey Climb UP.

A Negro
Who beleave In God.

NEW HAVEN CONN
NOVE 28 1963

Dear MRS Jacklen

I am Riting you Be Cost I Dont no But I Field like as much as I think of our Presedent the more I am prest about it I am a colord lady But he seam clost to me as my own and he was apart of all Armericains I no tho all is a part of Him Mrs Kenedy to you and your to Children my love and prayers to all of the Rest family god be loving Child god it and he take it that when we be gin to think to our self we going along so well and all at once some thing run acrost our path and HURT US verry Bad so we must carry on till we are surtly God is with us be Cost if we trust God he we wont never Be a lone Present Dent was a nice sweet kind man a good leader and nothing seam to warry Him nothing. But a smile and a Hand shake now wish you and your faimly all the luck and to Caline and little Johnie all the love I have I am 74 years you no your Farther was my friend and Every thing to me to the world love for you

My name is Martha Ross

A
mong the tactics used to prevent African Americans, poor whites, and Native Americans from voting were poll taxes and literacy tests, the latter often selectively imposed on individuals who turned up to cast their ballots. The 24th Amendment, ratified in 1964, had prohibited use of the poll tax in federal elections. The Voting Rights Act of 1965 included a provision directing the Department of Justice to challenge the poll tax,s constitutionality. In 1966, the Supreme Court ruled in
Harper v. Virginia State Board of Elections
that state poll taxes violated the U.S. Constitution. At the time of President Kennedy’s death, however, these restrictive practices still remained common in many parts of the Deep South. Several of the following letters make reference to
these methods of political disenfranchisement as well as broader tensions over civil rights and desegregation.

THANKSGIVING DAY
1963

Our Dear First Lady,

I would not be so presumptuous but a heavy heart compels me to do so.

We are so thankful today for having known and admired our late President. His devotion to God and to his fellow man was an inspiration to us all.

This was my first time to buy a poll tax. I am not proud of my negligence. Our President made me aware of my responsibility as an American and the privilege I so long neglected.

I had planned to thank him by giving him my vote next year. In this day of thanks it is most appropriate to thank you, Mrs. Kennedy for your willingness in every undertaking and for sharing a great American with his country.

May God bless you and your children.

Mrs. American Citizen

FLORENCE, S.C.
JANUARY 17, 1964

Dear Mrs. Kennedy,

You were sweet and moving on television acknowledging the hundreds of thousands of letters you had received since President Kennedy died. It must be astonishing to you to realize that there are people whom you never met, who did not know your husband except at long distance, who wake up now and again at night and weep for their loss. It is almost unaccountable: President Kennedy was too young to be a father figure to people, like me, in their fifties, and too old to be identified as a son. But why, after all, should we try to analyze or explain the emotions that bound so many of us to him. There is comfort in the fact that human
personality can hold such strength, that worthiness can so shine forth, diverse people will pledge allegiance to it.

I want to tell you this little story. When your husband was the Democratic candidate for President, I was living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and was trying to help in his election. One of my chores was to drive people to the polls to register. Since I worked, Saturday was my house-cleaning, grocery-shopping day and by five o’clock, I was bushed and disheveled. But it was the last day for registration and when I got a call to pick up someone before the books closed, I poked some potatoes in the oven and took off. My destination was a small house on the edge of town in a “Negro section.” A neat, elderly woman, crippled with arthritis, sent one of her grandchildren to fetch her husband from the field where he was working. When he got to the car, he said that he wanted to wash up and change his clothes. I tried to be patient as I explained that he needn’t do this, that we didn’t have much time, and “Look at me—I’ve been working all day and I don’t mind going to the registration place like this.”

He was not happy to cut his preparations short, but compromised on some details, and we set off. On the way, he confided that he hadn’t voted since the last Roosevelt election. “Mr. Roosevelt put me on the WPA,” he said, “and I’ve been a Democrat ever since, but I haven’t felt the spirit move me to vote again until now.” Why now, I asked. “We need Mr. Kennedy,” he said simply.

We got to the registration place in time and there were, fortunately as it turned out, very few people on hand. He sat down and stared at the printed form which had been handed to him. “You sign your name here,” I pointed to a line. He picked up a pencil and carefully made an “X”. The registrar and I looked at each other. “Can you write your name?” she asked. He shook his head. “Can you read what you’re signing?” she pursued, though we both knew the answer. He sat with his head down. She turned to me. “I’m awfully sorry but you know registrants must be able to read and write.” We were both upset—and he was so ashamed.

On the way back I told him Mr. Kennedy would be proud to know that he wanted to help, and we talked about how his grandchildren were
doing in school and how important it was for them to stay on and get as much education as they could. He felt rejected then, and undoubtedly felt bereaved last November.

All this about us and nothing about the way your life has been changed, and the lives of your children. You and they so brightened our national scene. Why shouldn’t I say to you what I would say to a good friend: that I hope you will marry some day someone who will give you and the children love and companionship. There are many who care about you and want you to be happy again.

Sincerely,
Mary F. Nies
(Mrs. Frederick J. Nies)

ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA
NOVEMBER
25, 1963

Dear Mrs. Kennedy,

A few weeks ago while the civil rights battle raged at its highest pitch and the emotions of most of the South were boiling, I made up my mind to write a letter of encouragement to our President. However, like so many other citizens, I am a procrastinator. The letter was never written.

Although I am not naive enough to believe that my letter would have reached a man so burdened with world and national problems, I did have hopes that some far-removed secretary would open it and at least add its contents to the favorable side of the ledger. Ever since President Kennedy’s death last Friday I have felt that, by failing to write, I let him down in a specific way. No matter how small a factor my letter would have been, it would have represented an effort to stand with my courageous leader, harassed and beleagured in his fight for justice. Multiply my procrastination by that of thousands in the Southland who must have sympathisized with his efforts, and our neglect takes on the proportions of tragedy—especially now. In a covert way we are guilty of desertion in the face of the enemy.

It’s too late to address a letter to John F. Kennedy, President of the United States. I can only join the remainder of our country in openly recognizing and honoring his greatness after its embodiment has passed from hearing. Nonetheless, I take some small comfort in the hope that, someplace, seated in the presence of his Chief, Mr. Kennedy is conscious of these words and that he will forgive me for failing to uphold my responsibilities as a citizen while he bore the crushing burden of the presidency. Further, in his memory, I pledge that no successor of his will ever again go lacking for my “drop in the bucket.”

Please accept my deepest sympathy in your grief and my solemn admiration for the noble courage you have exhibited during these terrible days.

Sincerely,
George T. Davis

P.S. A copy of the previously unwritten letter as it had formed in my mind is attached.

St. Petersburg, Florida

November 25, 1963

Dear President Kennedy:

I have little hope that this letter will come to your personal attention. Yet, its carbon copy will serve as a reminder to me that I have made this small effort to let my Chief of Sate know that, even in the section of my country where bigotry, hatred, and resentment are strong, there are some who understand, some who stand with him.

Born in Alabama and raised in Northwest Florida, I have come up a mute observer of the practice of “keeping the negro in his place.” I remember most vividly my own negro mammy and her unconditional love for me as though I were her own son. Her love remained steadfast in spite of her own hopeless situation, a houseservant for life, denied by her economic and social status the privilege of remaining at home to rear her
own children. I remember the ramshackle negro school in my hometown, its status quo taken for granted because it was a negro school. I remember a white bully’s knocking a negro down and kicking him while he was on the ground because the negro had dared to “sass” me. And I remember the election day when the news was grapevined through town that some “niggers” planned to attempt to vote. An almost illiterate white citizen came to the polls with his shotgun and let it be known that its double barrels would be directed at the first “nigger” who tried to enter the place of voting. No man, not even the high sheriff, challenged the right of this self-appointed guardian of white supremacy to deny citizens of the United States their Constitutional rights. Little did I realize then that my indignation toward these injustices was not something to be ashamed of. On the contrary, I had a sense of guilt about it, a feeling that I was disloyal for disapproving the status quo.

Your gallant fight, in the face of outraged, entrenched privilege has been a great inspiration to me. I can see now that what was needed even back then was some one of the privileged who would stand up and rock the boat. I thank God for a President now who has the courage to do just that.

I hear people cast accusations. The more prejudiced they are the wilder the accusations. Some say it’s for the negro vote. Some say it’s for personal power. Some have even hinted communism. But I know better. I know the burning sense of indignation toward injustice which drives you on. I know that, politically, there is a great deal more to lose than to gain. I know that the real gain cannot be envisioned by crass prejudice and that it can only be measured by the ideals set forth in our Constitution and, before that, by the God of brotherhood. It may be that you will be blocked, but the cause for which you fight can never be thwarted—because it is TRUTH. You have helped crack the shell and a little light has
appeared. Men have seen it and, no matter what the political tide brings, things can never be the same.

Thank you for risking your political neck for something which can bring you so much vexation and so little obvious reward. I just wanted you to know that you have one admirer, a son of the deep South, a registered Democrat whose ballot with be marked Kennedy and whose friends will know shy.

Sincerely,
George T. Davis