Deaths of Princess Diana (Aug. 30, 1997) & JFK Jr. (July 17, 1999)

It was Saturday night of Labor Day weekend and I was out at my summer share in Fire Island Pines. As my housemates and I were finishing dinner we became playful (as a group of eight gay men can easily do after a marvelous dinner and a few glasses of wine) and for some reason we were inspired to try on some campy hats & feather boas that happened to be lying around (having a gay old time - literally). Eventually we got around to clearing the table and loading the dishwasher and then decided to go out to Sip’n Twirl, a dance bar in the harbor. It was well past midnight when we finally got our asses in gear and left the house. We were walking along the rickety boardwalk called Fire Island Boulevard when an acquaintance of one of our housemates walked by and said rather dismissively, “Oh, I guess you’re going down to join the rest of the queens sobbing over Diana”. We didn’t know what he was talking about (our house didn’t have a TV) so he told us of the recent news bulletin reporting Diana’s death in Paris. Stunned, we returned home instead of continuing to the bar/club. Since we didn’t have a TV in the house it was actually somewhat of a relief because we weren’t immersed in the news coverage that dominated the rest of the weekend.

Two summers later, during a weekend in mid-July when I was again out at FIP, another tragedy occurred, this time to a member of U.S. “royalty” of sorts. It was just past noon on a torrid Saturday afternoon (the temperature approached 100 back in Manhattan) and I was slathering on the #8 lotion when one of my housemates returned from a beach walk and told us that he had heard that a private plane piloted by John Kennedy Jr. was missing. He hadn't been heard from since the plane left for Martha’s Vineyard yesterday evening in a thick haze (his wife & sister in-law were passengers). Again, since we had no TV we weren’t able to keep current (to this day we still don’t have a TV but we now have wireless for our laptops). That weekend the annual Fire Island Dance Festival (a benefit for Dancers Responding to AIDS) was being held and the tragedy put somewhat of a damper on the event as John-John’s fate was in the back of many of our minds, especially since the stage overlooked Long Island’s Great South Bay which served as a subtle reminder.

OJ Freeway Chase (June 17, 1994)

It was a warm & muggy Friday evening and I had just returned to my apartment in the West Village after completing a 5-mile run along the Hudson River. Before showering I turned on the TV to check the score of the NBA Finals game between the Knicks & Houston Rockets, but instead what appeared on the screen was a white SUV speeding along a highway. I soon learned that the white Bronco was carrying OJ Simpson on LA’s 405 freeway and it was being pursued by a phalanx of LAPD police cruisers. Seems OJ didn't show up to turn himself in as agreed (he was the prime suspect in the murder of his wife & her male friend earlier that week) and was now in the back of the vehicle holding a gun to his head threatening to shoot himself. The chase was so mesmerizing I couldn’t pull myself away to take a shower or even go to the grocery store to get dinner. I watched for at least 2 hours waiting for the moment when, befitting this perfect Greek tragedy, OJ was going to end it all. What sticks with me was the circus-like atmosphere as cars pulled over on the freeway and crowds lined the road and overpasses cheering (or jeering) as he drove by. And when the Bronco finally pulled into the driveway of OJ’s home another weird thing happened. An eyewitness claiming to be across the street from OJ’s house was interviewed on the phone by ABC News’ Peter Jennings but he turned out to be a crank caller who made an inane comment about his allegiance to Howard Stern.

Fast forward 16 months to October 3,1995, the day of the verdict in OJ’s murder trial. I was eating lunch in my office (at ad agency Foote, Cone & Belding) and turned on the radio to hear live coverage of the jury’s verdict. I had decided not to watch the coverage on TV in the conference room with others because I didn’t want to see which co-workers might be happy if he was found innocent of the charges. When I heard the not-guilty verdict I got up and closed the door to my office and sat for a while with my eyes closed trying to process the jury's decision before continuing with the rest of my day.

President Kennedy Assassinated (Nov. 22, 1963)

I was in the first grade at Fenton Elementary School in the Pittsburgh suburb of McKees Rocks. It was Friday afternoon and I had walked back to school after having lunch at home. My classmates & I waited for our teacher, Mrs. Follie, to arrive but for some unknown reason we waited an unusually long time for her (this was too good to be true!). Finally, she walked in and told us the news that President Kennedy had been shot and that we could go home. Although I was aware this was an awful event I don't recall feeling any strong emotions (hey, I was just 6 years old!). However, befitting the event, it was an overcast afternoon which added to the somberness of the walk home. While waiting for my father to return from work, I remember sitting on the sofa in the living room and paging through my mother's December issue of Good Housekeeping that had arrived earlier that afternoon. On the cover was a little girl holding a large Santa lollipop. Although its festive nature was incongruous with that day's tragedy, it was a nice escape for a young child.

Just two days later the nation witnessed the shooting death of accused assassin Lee Harvey Oswald on live TV. It was just after noon and my family was eating Sunday lunch. The TV was on in the background in the living room because my father, a football fanatic, insisted on watching the NFL game that was being broadcast. The telecast was interrupted by coverage of Oswald being brought into police headquarters in Dallas. As he was being walked in, surrounded by detectives, a man named Jack Ruby jumped out of the crowd and shot Oswald in the stomach. I didn’t see it because my seat at the dinner table was obstructed by a wall that blocked my view into the living room. But I heard the commotion and saw the reaction of my parents. This was very likely the most shocking event ever seen on live TV until 9/11 when millions saw the 2nd plane (United Flight 175) crash into the 2nd tower of the World Trade Center.

Because of these events, for a long time I viewed Dallas (and Texas in general) as an evil place, not unlike enemy territory such as Red China, and it took a long time for me to shake this feeling.