Memories of family life in 1968 have been limited, but the same has not been true for events impacting upon our own lives and those of others in this fate-filled year. Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated by James Earl Jones at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tenn., on April 4, 1968. Within the week, we saw from our backyard in Maryland the smoke of the fires destroying 14th Street in downtown Washington, D.C. Dark clouds rising over the nation’s Capital were not an experience anyone might expect, unless you had lived there in 1812 – 1814. What would come next?
I did not venture very much to that northwest section of the District, even though it was not far from the federal buildings where I had worked and visited during the last three years. We had a close friend, Francie Callan, Karen’s sorority sister, living in an apartment building on East Capital. She was recovering from a broken leg and unable to escape from her third-floor apartment, if the need should arise. No part of the District seemed to be safe if the rioters left their neighborhoods around 14th and U streets. We worried about her and others we knew who lived downtown. We expected Maryland would be safe. Our concerns lasted for more than the four days that the Capital was under attack.
Within a few weeks, the riots evolved into a more settled stage for the siege. A “March on Washington” resulted in the construction of “Resurrection City” located on the Mall around the Reflection Pool, near the Lincoln Memorial. The encampment lasted from Mothers’ Day in mid-May through the last days of June. Many of my physician friends from the PHS and the NIH provided health care to its residents, who, nevertheless, held them under suspicion, since they thought that really good doctors would have had nothing to do with such rabbles.
On the other hand, those six weeks in the early summer of 1968 had one advantage for us and other residents. Because of the previous riots and the resulting tent-city of displaced inhabitants, there were few tourists. This was the only time during our years in Washington that there were no parking problems around the Mall and its museums. Life continued in its usual, routine manner. It lasted until early June.
On June 5, 1968, Robert Kennedy was assassinated by Sirhan Sirhan at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. The Capital, once more, entered a period of shock and mourning, which lasted until late August. I vividly recall, from this period, an incident when I was severely criticized by friends, because I made use of “Sirhan Sirhan” as the topic for a charade game in which we were involved!
The meeting of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago changed the nature of the discussions of my friends and colleagues. But, interestingly, the nominations of Hubert Humphrey and Edmund Muskie as well as those of Nixon and Agnew did not result in the bitterness which developed later in national politics.
In the 1960s it was my observation that civil politicians and civil servants remained civilized. During the day, policy issues would be discussed with great fervor, even with anger. But the political “stupidity” of opponents was not held as a personal demonization, lacking any empathy for the dignity of the human person. As federal employees we never really knew much about the personal politics of those with whom we labored for the good of the nation.
In my later years as a bureaucrat, I had no problems drafting an official response that would be signed by a congressman to an inquiry from a constituent about the NIH. It was a spellbinding time to be a real civil servant and accomplish the mutual goals mandated by the Congressional and Executive branches of the federal government. The real challenge each fiscal year was to help in the construction of three budgetary requests: one for a reduced appropriation, one for a realistic allotment and one if there might be a blue-sky expansion, a seldom occurring event. The only blue skies were the ones brought by the Washington weather and not by federal funds.
During the previous and current administrations in Washington, the nature of Congress and the entire federal government has changed dramatically. If someone does not completely agree with your own position, that individual is now beyond redemption. All negative adjectives can currently be applied to these former-humans. I cannot see myself existing in such a climate of stupid calumny. I’m pleased that I was able to experience being a federal civil servant when they were, indeed, civil both at work, and at leisure.
I have commented in other reflections on the insurrection of January 6, 2021. The insurrections of the summer of 1968 provide me with sufficient memories of Washington on fire.