Bobby’s gone, but we must keep the fire
Robert F. Kennedy was killed in 1968; our mission is to find the key to mercy and peace
Who would be a leader in this wicked world? — Francis Urquhart, “House of Cards”
U.S. Sen. Robert F. Kennedy died at 1:44 a.m., June 6, 1968.
He was surrounded by his family, including Mrs. John F. Kennedy. He was 42 years old. Today, we commemorate the 50th anniversary of his death.
In the spring of 1968, on his way to Los Angeles, Kennedy stopped in Albuquerque for a gigantic rally at UNM’s long-gone Zimmerman Field. Ten thousand people heard RFK offer comebacks to the two hand-held signs. One said, “Bobby Kennedy For President of Planned Parenthood;” Kennedy just laughed. The other sign asked, “So Who Wants a Ruthless President?” Kennedy responded, “I’d comment on that, but Mr. Nixon isn’t here to defend himself.”
RFK was in the process of transforming his life when he died, after the murder of President Kennedy. Both died heroic deaths, because they lived heroic lives. They were tightly bonded brothers. They were also different men. The late photographer, Art Shay, who photographed the Kenned-Nixon debate in Chicago, said, “JFK was conscious of himself, but not too conscious.” Bobby lost himself in events. Neither brother confused celebrity with importance. Both brothers had an existential quality and defined themselves in action.
Robert Kennedy, in his grief after the death of JFK, was radicalized in sorrow and became a passionate advocate for the poor, for children, for AfricanAmericans, Hispanics, for civil rights and the white working class. His potential to be a unifying leader and coalition builder was strong. If he were alive today, Kennedy’s leadership would be felt. Such a leader seems nowhere in sight in America now.
One remembers his fierce opposition to the Vietnam War; Kennedy based his 1968 campaign around being a critic of the war. During the campaign, with his aides fearful of the risks RFK would take with crowds, Kennedy said, “Which of these brave men dying in Vietnam might have written a symphony, which of them might have written a beautiful poem or might have cured cancer? Which of them might have played in a World Series or given us the gift of laughter on the stage, or helped build a bridge or a university? Which of them might have taught a child to read? It is our responsibility to let those men live.” RFK, like his father and brothers, saw the futility of war.
In 1968, a year not unlike 2018, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was also killed. In his book “the Promise and the Dream,” author David Margolick tells the “untold story” of Dr. King and Robert Kennedy and reveals a then-developing “progressive alliance” between the two. Apparently, such a possible alliance scared the right wing at the time.
RFK’s life was lived in two acts. The first contained the joys of family, public service, devotion to his older brother and living every day to the fullest.
The second act was borne out of bereavement and was transformative for him after the death of President Kennedy.
As we remember the life and the passing of Robert F. Kennedy, we see not despair and lost possibilities, but inspiration and new chances for a gentler, more merciful and peaceful world.