***
…In any regard, I woke up in Anchorage on the morning of June 6, 1968, and learned that Senator Robert F. Kennedy, had been assassinated the evening before only moments after learning that he was victorious in the California Presidential primary. America was mired in the Vietnam war at the time and Kennedy (RFK as he was known) seemed to many Americans to be a hopeful promise to extricating the nation from that war and then healing the divisive nation.
Kennedy’s body was returned to New York for a funeral mass and then transported by train from New York to Washington, DC on June 8, 1968. After the funeral mass in New York mourners – estimated to be somewhere between one and two million of them – lined the train track to view the funeral train from New York to Washington, DC. The journey, on June 8, took eight hours followed by burial at Arlington National Cemetery. As mentioned earlier, photographer Fusco documented the trip with over 1000 photographs from inside the train.
About those photos Fusco noted, “. . . when the train emerged from beneath the Hudson, and I saw hundreds of people on the platform watching the train come slowly through — it went very slowly — I just opened the window and began to shoot.” – excerpt from The Robert Kennedy funeral train. . . seems like times were simpler back then
***
A number of years ago I came across a book of images by the photographer, Paul Fusco. He had been the photographer assigned to accompany and document the last ride of Robert F Kennedy, as his body was carried from New York City to his final resting place in Arlington, VA beside his brother John. At some point early in the journey, Mr Fusco gazed out the window and realized in wonderment that thousands and thousands of people were lining the tracks to see off Bobby. Quickly grabbing his camera, he took image after image of mostly working class and poor Americans giving their final regards. The look of shock and grief on many of these faces is palpable and uniquely American. For many, Bobby Kennedy embodied a final hope for the working poor and for civil rights and equality. I found these images heartbreaking, haunting, and tragic.
This song finds its inspiration in them.
Funeral Train
Hop up Johnny, come look come see
Here come’s the train carrying Bobby Kennedy
Underneath a flag in a box of wood
There’s a slow train rolling through the neighborhood
Bells are ringing and the Woolworth’s closed
Cars pulling over by the side of the road
The whole town’s standing in the dust and weeds
Trying to get a view of Bobby Kennedy
How I wish that it would rain
The sun’s so hot, the sky’s ablaze
On the Funeral Train
Ever since the news come down that night
Mama’s in the kitchen sitting there crying
She held me so close that I couldn’t breath
I got so scared I cried myself to sleep
I dreamt I ran down deserted Main
I heard the wail but I could’t find the Funeral Train
And Summer’s almost gone
Before it had begun..
It’s disappearing down the track
And it’s never coming back…
Brother left the house at the crack of dawn
He’s barely said a word since Viet Nam
I saw him later on the train platform
Standing in the heat in his uniform
I saw his eyes fill up with pain
Raised his hand once last time
To salute the Funeral Train
Hop up Johnny, come run with me
There’s a slow train rolling towards the cemetery
Blacks and Whites running next to me
Waving bye bye to Bobby Kennedy
Waving bye bye to Bobby Kennedy
***
Dispatches from the Asylum 