Remembering President Kennedy in Cecil County in Nov. 1963

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Governor Carvel, President Kennedy, and Governor Tawes prepare to cut the ribbon — (Cheeseman Photo)

On Nov. 14, 1963, more than 5,000 people gathered at the Mason Dixon Line to watch President John F. Kennedy, Maryland Governor J. Millard Tawes and  Delaware Governor Elbert N Carvel dedicate the Northeastern Expressway, the area’s first modern-day toll road.  A helicopter brought the nation’s leader to the famous old line where a speakers stand was set-up for the ceremony.  The Delaware National Guard played “Hail to the Chief” while the president walked to the stand to offer remarks.

After snipping the ribbon and unveiling a marker on the state line, the president shook hands while returning to the helicopter.  At the door of the craft, he waved to the crowd before disappearing inside.  While the bird faded into the eastern horizon, the area was bathed in a dramatic sunset as people headed back to their cars on this chilly Thursday afternoon, the Morning News reported.  The chopper’s flight took him to the Wilmington Airport where he climbed aboard a DC 8 for a trip to New York.  Our 35th president’s 62 minutes visit to the region was over.

As traffic began zipping along the superhighway for a fast trip through the county, people realized that the dream of many years was a reality. For years plans had been underway to provide a second thoroughfare to absorb some of the increased traffic on Pulaski Highway (Route 40). Economic development experts talked with great excitement about the opportunities the new road would bring to the county. Motorists were excited for they could rush along without one traffic light halting a journey between Baltimore and Wilmington, papers noted. On Route 40, which ran parallel to the new Interstate and had served as the main route for auto travel along the northeast corridor, service stations, motels, and restaurants reported that business was off nearly half the weekend after the fast road opened.

There was such optimism in the nation as the morning of November 22, 1963, dawned on the Chesapeake Bay.  At 7:00 a.m. on that quiet morning in Elkton, Patrolman Jerry Secor signed on duty, noting the weather in the police blotter.  It was mild on this Friday, but a thick fog blanketed the town.  On this Friday shift, things were subdued as he responded to three unremarkable calls, duly chronicling them in the official record book.

Then abruptly at 1:30 p.m. everything changed in the Eastern Shore town, the nation, and the town.  Officer Secor, in a careful hand, dutifully penned an entry in the Elkton Police docket:  “1:30 p.m.  President Kennedy shot and killed in Dallas Texas.”  For the remainder of that heartbreaking day, there is something about the unsettling quiet reflected in the complaint log as a deep dark, sadness penetrates the town and no calls come in for the remainder of the overnight shift.  Law-breaking had apparently come to a standstill as everyone — late-night regulars in Elkton’s noisy bars, teens out looking for a little mischief, and other wayward types —  stayed glued to television sets, trying to comprehend the terrible event in Texas.

Two operators worked the Armstrong Phone Company Switchboard in Rising Sun. Periodically lights on the board flickered on indicating someone had picked up one of the old hand crank telephones to make a call so the operators answered “number please.”  The call volume was routine as they juggled cords and plugs on the last day of the work week as the lunch hour rolled around. But in a flash the entire board lit up, alarming the operators. Something similar happened when one of the women activated the fire siren for people would call to see where the fire was.
 
But this time it was different for everyone on the network, it seemed, picked up receivers at exactly the same time. Answering as many calls as they could, they heard upset people saying did you hear the news, the president has been shot or connect me with so and so as callers reached out to talk about the unfolding tragedy. Sometime after newscasters announced the president had died, an erie silence settled over the telephone network as people headed home to be with family at this sad time and to monitor the newscasts.
 
Since it was the middle of the workday many people first received news from the radio. At Elkton’s top 40 AM Station, WSER, the mid-day disc jockey worked the turntable playing the hits of ’63 when a network flash interrupted his entertaining mid-day routine.  Once the first flash got everyone’s attention, listeners huddled near receivers at home, work, and in cars to hear the latest.  As the hours unfolded the network kept up a steady stream of bulletins and flashes.
 
Les Coleman had opened Cecil’s first station but was working as a sales representative at WDOV in Dover that day.  When he checked with the Dover station, they told him that they were going to pull all commercial programming.  Les recalled in a conversation a few years ago that his job that afternoon was to call advertisers and let them know what the station was doing.

At Stanley’s Newsstand the morning papers had all been sold so it was time to get ready for the afternoon arrivals from Wilmington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia. However, the daily routine was disrupted too, as people sought whatever news they could get. Phil Stanley worked for his father in the family business, and he recalled that the Baltimore News American issued a special. As darkness closed in on Cecil County, the teenager stood outside the movie theater and A & P near the corner of North Street and Railroad Avenue hawking newspapers.

By the time the last light of Nov. 22 gave to way to the night his newspapers were all gone. There was one late paper that carried the racing results and it came by train. That paper, too, which was the last one circulated each day had news of the assassination in the regular edition.  It too sold out.

In the schools, the children were generally informed about the tragedy shortly before dismissal.  Of course, the children were all talking about the news, trying to comprehend the meaning of it all.

The county’s weatherman, H. Wirt Bouchelle, recorded Friday’s meteorological conditions, confirming the observations of the police. The temperature climbed to an unseasonably high of 63 degrees F. while sinking back to 40 overnight. There was no precipitation that gloomy day in Cecil County.

Throughout the county, it was particularly quiet as that unusually dark night got underway, perhaps not unlike the evening of 9/11, as people rushed home to learn more details of the tragedy in Dallas from broadcasters and peer out at the stillness of the night, the sky and roads void of activity.  Activities throughout the county quickly ground to a near halt as bewilderment and disbelief paralyzed Cecil and the nation.

Practically everyone recalled that only eight days earlier that President Kennedy had visited the county to open the northeastern expressway. In 1964 I-95 was officially renamed the John F. Kennedy Memorial Highway.

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(NOTE:  Be sure to click on the links to hear some interesting audio from Wilmington Radio Station, WDEL’s broadcasts in Nov. 1963.  The audio is courtesy of www.oldwilmington.net, a fascinating site containing photographs, ephemera, sounds, and much more about Wilmington Delaware.  We’ve mentioned them before and thank them for permission to use a partial segment of their audio.  Check out the website for it contains more audio and lots of other things we find fascinating.)

Also see

Singerly Officer Recalls Fire Company Working a Presidential Detail

Fifty Years Ago Cecil County Joined the Nation in Expressing Shock and Sadness at News of the Assassination of President Kennedy.


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