Page 6
November
As our campus celebrates its fifteenth birthday, it is a time of great
excitement. Everyone at Capitol can look with pride at how far the school has
come in such a short time. And, along with this sense of accomplishment, there is
a real enthusiasm for the future, an anticipation of great things to come.
Yet, as November wanes and the cold, silent winter approaches, we are again
reminded of that awful day eighteen years ago. And, as always, its memory
serves to illustrate how quickly such enthusiasm can turn to despair, how brutally
all our anticipation and hopes can be dashed. When John Fitzgerald Kennedy,
35th President of the United States, became the victim of an assassin's bullet, the
entire world fell to mourning. It mourned the senseless death of a man in the
prime of his life; it mourned the loss of a wise and dedicated leader of his people; it
mourned for the wife and two children he left behind; it mourned because of all he
had done, and all he had planned to do. As one reporter put it, on November 22,
1963 "the future was betrayed."
Much has been written over the years about "the Kennedy style." His wit,
elegance, youthful good looks, and exuberance combined to make John Kennedy
one of the most charismatic presidents of all time. His innate charm captivated
people, and his rapport with the press seemed almost magical. His storybook rise
to power, which ultimately made him the first Catholic president and the
youngest man ever elected to the office, is the stuff of which legends are made.
And yet we should not let this mystique overshadow the many accomplishments
of Kennedy's thousand days in office. His was an administration of great vision, of
high ideals, yet cynics maintained that it was his personality, not his program,
that made him popular. Ted Sorensen, a member of JFK's "Irish mafia ' and
author of a book about Kennedy, feels that such criticism is unjustified. "In
emphasizing the youthful promise left unfulfilled, his detractors overlook the
promises he kept. But what mattered most to him, and what in my opinion will
matter most to history, was the substance--the strength of his ideas and ideals, his
courage and judgment," writes Sorensen.
Kennedy believed in an active presidency, and act he did. In stark contrast to
his predecessor, Dwight Eisenhower, his strategy was to keep moving, looking
for any openings, hoping to make the breaks fall his way. Within a few months of
assuming office, he set the tone of his administration by enthusiastically
plunging himself into the midst of two "races." In May of 1961 he fanned the fires
of the "space race" by pledging that U.S. astronauts would be on the moon by
1940. Later in the year, before a meeting of the United Nations General
Assembly, he challenged the Soviets to a "peace race." In effect, these
commitments symbolized the "New Frontier" that Kennedy was striving to
establish. He was off and running, and he expected the American people to join
him.
Volume 15, N 0.5 c.c. reader November 23, 1981
Published biweekly by the students of the Capitol Campus of The
Pennsylvania State University in Middletown, Pennsylvania.
The C.C. Reader has the following four-fold purpose: (1) To keep students
informed about their campus community; (2) To provide editorial comment on
issues facing the campus community; (3) To serve as a forum for student poetry,
photographs, graphics, cartoons, and other creative endeavors; (4) To serve as a
learning mechanism for all students interested in the journalistic process. This
includes reporting, editing, layout, typesetting, and paste-up.
Film Critic-- Rick Morrison Music Critic --Eugene T. McGoveni
Photography Editor--Mark W. Clauser Darkroom Technician- , Steve Myers
Sports Editors--Darrell Reider, Kevin Spiegel Cartoonist--Joe Horvath
Executive Consultant—Matthew Smith
Staff--Kathy Kern, Gary Pellett, Neil Gussman, Judymarie E. Gallela, Yvonne
Harhigh, Bonnie Futch
Faculty Advisor—Monica O'Reilly
The opinions expressed in this paper are those of the authors and are not
necessarily the opinions of the students, faculty, staff, or administration of The
Pennsylvania State University.
The C.C. Reader welcomes letters from readers. Letters intended for
publication should indicate the writer's college affiliation, if any. All letters must
be signed by the writer. Unsigned letters cannot be printed. However, a writer's
name may be withheld upon request. Letters should be legible (preferably
typewritten, double spaced) and any material that is libelous or does not conform
to the standards of good taste will be edited and/or rejected.
Pennsylvania State University
Capitol Campus
Middletown, Pa. 17057
Office—W-129
Phone--(717) 944-4970
Co-Editors in Chief
David J. Caruso
William J. Neil
Circulation 2,500
Memories
Under JFK, a series of aggressive domestic measures were implemented. The
Alliance for Progress, the Peace Corps, the Trade Expansion Act, the
Food-for-Peace program, and a revamped Foreign Aid Agency, coupled with his
ardent support for the unification of Europe, showed the genuine concern he had
for people abroad. At home, the vast number of programs were the most started
by any administration since the days of Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal. The
Mental Health and Mental Retardation Acts, the Manpower Development and
Retraining Act, the Higher Education and Medical Education Acts, the Tax
Reduction Act, the Community Health Facilities Act, and the Civil Rights Act all
were initiated by Kennedy and, though some weren't signed until after his death,
all are rightly credited to him.
In the four years following Kennedy's inauguration, the country's economy
experienced its longest and strongest expansion in modern history. Throughout
the presidential campaign of 1960, with the rate of economic growth at less than
three percent, Richard Nixon had derided Kennedy's economic principles as being
unsound. By 1964, the economic growth rate had. risen to nearly six percent.
There was a record rise in labor income, and some 2.5 million more jobs had been
provided. The projected recession had simply not materialized.
In addition, Kennedy presided over major improvements in such areas as
pollution prevention, Social Security, family farm assistance, and housing and
urban renewal. He took strong measures to avert a disastrous nationwide rail
strike, and he forced Big Steel to rescind its excessive price increases. Granted,
JFK was not perfect; like all of us, he had his share of faults. Still, even his
harshest critics must give him credit for the things he accomplished. And when
reviewing the long list of achievements, one thing must always be kept in mind:
Kennedy did all of it in less than one full term.
And yet, beyond all these tangible accomplishments, there is something of
which John Kennedy was most proud. It was the thing that he worked hardest
for, the thing that he devoted the most time to. To him, it was his most crucial
task as Chief Executive. Namely, he kept the country out of a deadly nuclear
confrontation with the Soviet Union.
"I do not hold out any magic hopes for a sudden thaw or a certain timetable,"
Kennedy had said shortly after his inauguration, referring to increasing Cold War
tension. He made it clear that, while Americans did not want war, we would be
always ready for war if others provoked it. During the missile crisis of 1962, with
the United States and the Soviet Union faced with their first direct nuclear
confrontation, Kennedy agonized over what to do in response to the Soviet
missiles in Cuba. In a nuclear war, there could be no winner; thus, it was not a
rational alternative. Sorensen, in recalling those pressure-packed days, writes,
"Now, war loomed large on the horizon. Weakness would only insure it, and
strength was not certain to avoid it. A single misstep on the President's part could
extinguish the lights of civilization, but even all the right steps could turn out
wrong." Kennedy's eventual decision to set up a naval blockade proved successful,
as Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev backed down and removed the missiles.
Throughout this ordeal, and earlier during the Berlin crisis, Kennedy
expressed deep concern for the safety and well-being of children. The fact that it
was the children of the world who would bearthe burden of death and devastation
in the event of a nuclear holocaust weighed heavily on his mind. When faced with
such vital decisions, his mind always came back to the children, including those as
yet unborn. "If it weren't for them," he once said, "for those who haven't even
lived yet, these decisions would be easier." To Kennedy himself, his finest and
proudest hour came in July of 1963, when he announced to the American people
the conclusion of the nuclear Test Ban Treaty. After months of arduous
negotiations, an agreement had finally been hammered out in Moscow banning all
nuclear tests in the atmosphere, under water, and in outer space. "Now, for the
first time in many years, the path of peace may be open," he declared, buoyed by
this latest victory. Things were clearly looking up.
And then, just four months later, he was dead.
The man dubbed "the one authentic hero of the post-war world" by The
London Times was cut down in a savage act of infamy. The man whose youth and
vigor symbolized the start of a new era in America was denied the chance to turn
his grand vision into reality. The man who firmly believed in the principles of
freedom, equality, and brotherhood--and who worked so tirelessly to achieve
them--was martyred in the sunlit streets of Dallas.
There is no denying that the memory of John Kennedy lives on in 1981, nearly
two decades after his death. Schools, libraries, streets, and stadiums across the
land bear his name as lasting memorials. He is mentioned, along with names like
Washington, Lincoln, and Roosevelt, as one of the greatest presidents of all time.
And while all these accolades are tremendous, they are not enough. We must
always keep in mind the dream John Kennedy had for mankind, a dream that is
best revealed in the concluding words of the speech he was to have given at the
Dallas Trade Mart on that fateful day in 1963:
"We in this country, in this generation, are—by destiny rather than choice—the
watchmen on the walls of world freedom. We ask therefore that we may be
worthy of our power and responsibility—that we may exercise our strength
with wisdom and restraint--and that we may achieve in our time and for all
time the ancient vision of 'peace on earth, good will toward men.' That must
always be our goal•-and the righteousness of our cause must always underlie
our strength.
To make his dream a reality is the greatest tribute we could give to the
memory of John Fitzgerald Kennedy.
Editorial/
--Dave Caruso
Monday, November