In 1963 I was news director of WOLF Radio in Syracuse, New York. Five bells clanged on the UPI wire service machine. I knew that was a bulletin. Before I could get to the machine, another WOLF employee called and told me that shots had been fired in Dallas according to ABC Radio. I didn't know it but I was about to almost lose it when I had to tell my listeners that the President of the United States was dead. This is a 25 minute timeline of the events of November 22, 1963 through November 24th, the day the president was buried in Arlington, Cemetery. Much of what you will hear was the result of hours of phone calls to Dallas because WOLF had no national network and for many hours I had to go it alone. Ultimately a competing station allowed WOLF to pick up it network programming. In 1969 I had moved to WPOP in Hartford and decided to go through my old tapes to produce an anniversary program of what it was like on the day Kennedy died. This is the result of that effort.

I received this poem in the mail at one of the radio stations I worked at, probably WGSO, New Orleans, given the date on the poem. I had never heard of the author and I don’t think he’s the one who sent it to me.  I used it on the air several times, and I treasured the poem enough to make many copies of it and I filed them away. They have been lost for at least 20 or 25 years, maybe more. I had given up hope until last week, when I came across the original (no copies) in a box of memories stored in my closet. I thought you might enjoy it:

                                       The Christmas Mass
The snow was blowing out of doors
The drifts were piling high
And I could see pedestrians
As they were passing by.
The faces of my Irish friends
Came dimly through the glass
As they trudged along those icy streets
To worship at the Mass.

I thought a while, went back to bed
And cuddled safe and sound
As they plodded through those snowy streets
On sacred duty bound.
I envy them their strength of heart,
The faith that they renew
But on an icy cold Christmas morn
It’s good to be a Jew.