Channeling Bobby Kennedy 2019 - From The Archives The Night When The World Came Down Upon Peter Paul Markin’s Head-With Roy Lichtenstein’s 1968 Time Magazine Cover Of Bobby Kennedy In Mind

The Night When The World Came Down Upon Peter Paul Markin’s Head-With Roy Lichtenstein’s 1968 Time Magazine Cover Of Bobby Kennedy In Mind

By Bart Webber (with the ghost hand of Sam Lowell on his shoulder)

The ghost of the late sorely lamented Peter Paul Markin has hovered over this publication long after his early, too early demise back in the 1970s (and in its sister publications as well as a quick recent glance indicated starkly to me upon investigation). Maybe it because we have begun reaching a milestone, 50^th anniversary commemorations of various youth-defining events, maybe arbitrary, maybe as the late scientist Steven Jay Gould was fond of saying mere man-made constructs and no more but which has infested a number of us older writers some of who knew Markin personally and others who have been influenced by the hairy tales of his existence. (The younger writers mostly, as one told me, could give a fuck about an old junkie has been who didn’t have sense enough to not try some crazy scheme to get rich quick in the cocaine trade against the growing Columbian cartels so what could he expect.) Almost every event during this commemoration period had Markin’s imprint on it. (We always called him Scribe but I will stick with his surname here.)

Therefore it does not take much to flicker a flame if something going back to those days jumpstarts renewed thoughts of Markin. That happened one afternoon recently when Si Lannon was on assignment to do an article on the Cezanne Portraits exhibition at the National Gallery and as is his wont (and Sam Lowell’s too especially if Laura Perkins is along) he runs up to the National Portrait Gallery to see what is up there. Not much since the last time he was there except on a wall on the first floor under the title Remembrance there was Roy Lichtenstein’s famous Time magazine cover of Robert Kennedy done in the spring of 1968 shortly before his assassination in California after his primary victory over Eugene in June of that year. Si was so shaken by that picture that he immediately called me and I thereafter called a few other guys and the mere mention of that cover got us back to Markin square one.

See Markin, beyond being the guy who in our circle named the fresh breeze coming through the land for what would be called by others the Generation of ’68 and which we thanks to Markin we were card-carrying members was also far and away the most political of us all. Saw that any dreams of that newer world he was always hassling us about was going to require serious changes in the political winds. Moreover Markin had from I don’t remember how early on but as long as I had known him tied his fate to becoming some kind of politician, some kind of mover and shaker in that newer world. As for me I could have given a damn about politics then since I was starting up my printing business and, truth, was busy trying to get into my girlfriend’s pants. Not Markin though he had spent that whole spring working his ass off for Robert Kennedy, had gone up and down the East Coast trying to recruit resistant students not only to vote for Bobby but get out on the trail. That student resistance factored in by the fact that Bobby had not gotten into the presidential contest until after Lyndon Baines Johnson the sitting President and odds on favored in 1968 to win the election decided after the debacle of Vietnam, of Tet, not to run and the previously “Clean for Gene” crowd was reluctant to go with Bobby. Saw him as an interloper.       

Here is the beauty, maybe treachery now that I think about the matter, of that bloody bastard Markin before Lyndon blew himself up and Bobby entered the fray he was sitting on his freaking hands perfectly willing to      

give Johnson a pass as vile as Vietnam was against the expected contest against Richard Nixon. Didn’t think whatever lukewarm and ill-formed sympathy he had for McCarthy’s anti-war positions he could beat Nixon (or anybody else he once mentioned after the New Hampshire primary upended politics for good that year with McCarthy’s better than expected showing-wasn’t Bobby-like ruthless enough). Two minutes after Bobby announced he called up some Bobby operatives he knew from the Boston mayor’s fight in 1967 and was on his way.     

When Bobby went down I think, and this is only speculation on my part since I didn’t see him much after he went into the Army and then afterward headed out to California to start “a new life,” something went out of Markin, some sense that the whole thing had been a mirage and that he was doomed. He always thought of himself as doomed, spoke of it sometimes when he was depressed, or things were tough at home. So as the ghost of Bobby Kennedy showed up on that Lichtenstein cover know this the ghost of Markin is right there too.    

The Fire This Time-The Cold Civil War Cometh-Who Will Go Down In The Mud (And Win) Against The Trump Machine-Channeling Bobby Kennedy, 1968-The Times Call For A Street Fighter-Bernie Sanders’ Time Has Come        

By Frank Jackman

Last year well before the presidential candidates as least publicly started putting their eggs in their respective baskets I made a big deal, a big splash out of commemorating the 50^th anniversary of the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, our beloved Bobby who I have shed more than one cyber-tear over just saying his name (and some misty moments off computer). Like many past events in this publication that death required some commentary as a watershed moment not just for me personally but as a point where things could have gone the other way in a perhaps dramatic fashion. So beyond a tear for my (and Bobby’s) youthful idealism gone awry it was also a “what might have been” moment. History in the conditional is always problematic but there you have it.  

A great part of why I, a senior in college who had basically completed his course work, worked like seven dervishes as a youth organizer all along the Eastern part of the country for Bobby was that I feared for the fate of the country if one Richard Milhous Nixon had been elected POTUS (Twitter speak). That prospect in the wake of the disastrous Goldwater campaign in 1964 against Lyndon Baines Johnson which had opened the floodgates to get the Republican back somewhere off the edge of the cliff made Nixon and his henchmen the “chosen” choice early on. As it turned out my “prophecy” turned out to be correct as Nixon’s presidency brought us to the brink of the breakdown of republican rule (small “r” let’s be clear).         

Bobby Kennedy’s assassination and the subsequent Nixon victory over Humbert H. Humphrey also had personal consequences since I had projected, not without reason, that if Bobby had gone on to be nominated by the Democrats (which seemed more certain after the fateful California primary victory over tough opponent Senator Eugene McCarthy, the Irish poet-politician) and finished off Nixon’s so crooked he needed a corkscrew for his valet to fit him into his pants every morning I would be in line for a political job most likely in Washington which would have gone a long way toward my childhood dream of being a political make and shaker in the traditional sense. Without a doubt part of that whirling dervish Spring of 1968 was the threat of the draft hanging over my head without some kind of political pull. (I have come to realize through many, many conversations with the male segment of my “Generation of ‘68” that every guy had that Vietnam War decision with no good choices hanging over his head one way or another).

The lasting memory though was of fear for the fate of the country for a man who truly believed in a modern-day version of the “divine right of kings,” that he was above the law. You can see where this is leading. As I have written and others like my old friend Seth Garth from my growing up Acre neighborhood in North Adamsville I was drafted, was trained as an 11 Bravo, an infantryman, at a time when the only place that skill was needed just then was in Vietnam. After much anguish and confusion, I would refuse the orders to go and wound up in an Army stockade and a long legal battle to get my freedom. The long and short of that experience was that my personal political perspective changed from concern over becoming a maker and shaker to being concerned more about issues like war and peace, social justice and being a thorn in the side of whatever government was in power. From the outside. I have kept that perspective for the past fifty years being involved in many issue campaigns, some successful others like the struggle against the endless wars and bloated military budgets not so.       

Back to Bobby Kennedy. Everybody knows what trouble, serious trouble, what I have called in the title to this piece and elsewhere for the past few years “the cold civil war” we are in now (this predated the Trump presidency which has only put the push toward hot civil war on steroids). Now when another POTUS, Donald J. Trump, really believes in the modern-day version of the “divine right of kings” and has upped the ante some old-time feelings have reemerged. In other words, conditions (although I would not have called it cold civil war then) looked very much like what drove me to “seek a newer world” Bobby Kennedy’s camp.

Naturally, or maybe not so naturally, but out of necessity that means at this time “stooping” (and I used that expression in a jovial way) to get involved in presidential politics, to get “down in the mud,” to join what will be come 2020 an old-fashioned take no prisoners “street fight.” To be part of what was called in the early stages of Senator McCarthy’s seemingly quixotic challenge to a sitting president a “children’s crusade.” To support someone who can speak to the better angels of our natures and WIN. That candidate for many reasons, but mainly because he has been down in the mud many times and can keep pace with the treacherous stuff that will come out of the Trump campaign is Bernie Sanders.       

Bernie is no Bobby from looks to style. Also as far as I know he never had nor now has that ruthlessness Bobby had combined with that that “seek a newer world” drive which I have always loved in a politician (and with Jack and Bobby Irish politicians, those who wrote the book on ruthlessness and vision). But Bernie has the kids eating out of his hand and that is exactly what we need right now. So for better or worse I am with Bernie, willing to work like seven dervishes to get him over the finish line. Channeling Bobby Kennedy every misty-eyed moment.