Nobody worried, since the candidate was among friends, with a busboy reaching for his hand as a cluster of reporters, photographers, and aides trailed behind. In the pushing of the crowd, Bobby got separated from ex-FBI agent Bill Barry, his devoted and solitary bodyguard, who was helping Kennedy’s pregnant wife Ethel off the podium. The shortest route was the way he’d come in, through the waiters’ swinging doors and into the kitchen and pantry. Aides decided to skip the reception and go directly to the press conference, where reporters were eager to file their stories. So my thanks to all of you, and on to Chicago, and let’s win there.” Giving a thumbs-up, then flashing the V-for-victory sign, he turned to leave for a reception on a lower level followed by a press conference.īut plans had changed. whether it’s between Blacks and whites, between the poor and the more affluent, or between age groups, or over the war in Vietnam.” The crowd loved it, shouting “Bobby Power!” He ended on another light note, saying that “Mayor Yorty has just sent me a message that we’ve been here too long already. His valedictory speech began with a nod to Don Drysdale, the Los Angeles Dodgers ace “who pitched his sixth straight shutout tonight, and I hope that we have as good fortune in our campaign.” (Bobby was one of the few men in America who actually didn’t know who the future Hall of Famer was.) Then he got serious: “I think we can end the divisions within the United States. Legions of restless believers were there singing “This Land Is Your Land,” the Woody Guthrie ballad that Bobby had promised to make America’s anthem. Both were doable, he told himself, as aides pressed him to head down to the ballroom. He still was all of those, but had found a voice and two uncomplicated motivations of his own: to end the war and end poverty. At the start he hadn’t been sure whether he was running as Joe Kennedy’s son, Jack’s brother, or President Lyndon Johnson’s avowed enemy. Sitting on the floor of his hotel room, arms around his knees, he lit a victory cigar and contemplated. “I’m going to chase Herbert’s ass all over the country,” Bobby vowed.īefore he went anywhere, Bobby took a quiet moment. The only one who could deny him the nomination was Vice President Hubert Humphrey, or, as the comedian and mock presidential candidate Pat Paulsen had dubbed him earlier that evening, Herbert Humphrey. But he knew the threat was over from McCarthy, whose defining and sole issue was opposing the Vietnam War.
Nobody, least of all Bobby, minimized the obstacles remaining. The candidate would head overseas next, showing his gravitas by meeting with the Pope and foreign leaders. A full-page ad in The New York Times would feature photos of AFL-CIO boss George Meany and segregationist Governor Lester Maddox of Georgia - both staunchly anti-Bobby - asking rhetorically whether insiders like them should be allowed to pick the next president. There’d be a single-minded press in his adopted state of New York. Battle plans were being charted that very night for the campaign ahead.
#Rfk assassination busboy photo free#
The dream - “make room for the next leader of the free world,” he’d tease as he sprinted from hotel showers wrapped in a towel - seemed less distant following the win in California and another that day in South Dakota. 7, 1965.įor the first time since he’d jumped in late to the race, Bobby believed he could do it.
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