Potus Geeks Photo: The Assassination of RFK
It was 45 years ago today, on June 6, 1968 at 1:44 a.m. that Senator Robert Kennedy died. He was mortally wounded in the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel in the early hours of the previous day following his victory speech after winning the California Democratic Primary.
The teenage busboy shown kneeling beside Senator Kennedy is Juan Romero. In an LA Times interview given in 2010, Mr. Romero visited Arlington National Cemetery where Senator Kennedy is buried. Mr. Romero now works as a construction worker in San Jose. He told reporter Steve Lopez that he has been haunted for decades by the events of June 5, 1968. Here is an excerpt from that story, which can be found here:
Romero's family moved to California from Mexico when he was 10. He lived in projects for a while and might have gotten caught up in the gang life except that his stepfather yanked him out of that world and helped get him a job at the Ambassador Hotel.
When Kennedy called for room service a few nights before the California primary, Romero paid off another busboy for the privilege of delivering his food. Even though he was just 17, Romero knew that RFK was a man of empathy who had walked with Cesar Chavez, and he felt more accepted as an immigrant -- more American -- just knowing that Kennedy might become president.
When Kennedy shook Romero's hand, in the presidential suite, Juan was transformed. In that firm grip, he felt appreciated, he felt whole, he felt like a man. Two nights later, when Kennedy won the primary, Juan raced to the Ambassador pantry and shook RFK's hand again as the candidate went to deliver his victory speech.
After the speech, Romero pressed through the crowd again, his pride swelling. Once more, he shook Kennedy's hand. And then came the gunshot. Four and a half years after the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and two months after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., Bobby lay dying from an assassin's bullet.
He was shot while holding Romero's hand.
At Arlington on Saturday, Romero, now 60, walked slowly. His chest was tight and his shoulders stiff as he made his way toward the simple, small white cross that marks RFK's grave. He had wept the night before as he anticipated this moment, telling me how he had refused to wash Kennedy's dried blood off his hand.
