Subject: Re: Mac Wallace news conference coverage Date: Sat, 30 May 1998 09:43:12 -0700 From: Clint Bradford Organization: Star-Telegram Usenet server Newsgroups: startext.jfk Other Dallas Morning News coverage: JFK enthusiasts swarm plaza For visitors on birth date, park synonymous with assassination 05/30/98 By Frank Trejo / The Dallas Morning News Like many of the 2.2 million visitors who throng to Dealey Plaza each year, Susan Dineen came looking for answers. Ms. Dineen, who lives in Chicago, has always been fascinated by the assassination of President John F. Kennedy as he rode through the streets of downtown Dallas on Nov. 22, 1963. Like most people, she didn't learn anything new on her recent trip. "But it means a lot to me to be able to come here, to see for myself ... and to picnic on the grassy knoll," Ms. Dineen said as she unwrapped a hamburger. Dealey Plaza, a three-acre park touted at its inception as Dallas' "front door," now serves a distinctly different role. It's become a magnet for those who wish to engage in somber reflection on a national tragedy, for vacationers spilling over from the West End and for those convinced that Lee Harvey Oswald was not the lone assassin. Each comes to pay tribute to Kennedy, who would have turned 81 Friday. "It's a sociological phenomenon," said Robert Groden, a longtime Kennedy assassination researcher. "It's Mecca for people like me. ..." Matt Lambert of Atlanta, who was at the plaza with friends Christopher Durben of Dallas and David Brown of New York, expressed disappointment at the number of vendors and people expounding various theories. "Everyone's out trying to make a buck," Mr. Lambert said. "But I guess some people want that kind of stuff, or else they wouldn't be here." Mr. Durben said he was disappointed that the site is "the most important thing in Dallas." Established in the mid-1930s, the park was developed from several blocks of Dallas founder John Neely Bryan's original land grant. It was designed as Dallas' primary entrance from the west. Located just beyond the triple underpass, where Elm, Main and Commerce streets converge, the park was the first thing many visitors saw in Dallas. In 1935, Jim Dan Sullivan, president of the Dallas Park Board, announced that the park would be named in honor of George Bannerman Dealey, the legendary founder and publisher of The Dallas Morning News. "In that way, the city can have Dealey Plaza constantly as a reminder of the good Mr. Dealey is doing and has done in the years he has lived and worked among us," Mr. Sullivan said. Mr. Dealey initially resisted, writing that he thought the park should not be named after a living person. He suggested that it could be named Centennial Plaza or Trinity Plaza. But he eventually accepted, and a statue of him now stands in the park. Today, at any time of day or night, the curious can be seen walking through Dealey Plaza. They usually point to the sixth-floor window of the county administration building, formerly the Texas School Book Depository, from which many think Oswald fired. Or they look down Elm Street, where shots hit the president; or to the grassy knoll, from which others think the real killer fired at the motorcade. "It's very touristic here," said Natalie de Geest, a Belgian visiting Dallas with her husband, Luc Van Rompaey, and their two small children. The family drove from Memphis, Tenn., where they have lived for two years, to see Dallas as part of their vacation. "It's a very big and clean city," Mr. Van Rompaey said. "This is the first place we've seen here. It's a very historic site." Larry Ross, who was selling hot dogs and soft drinks on a recent weekend, said he thought some people have come to view the area as "sacred ground." "I heard someone complaining the other day because some people were over there on the grassy knoll sunbathing," he said. As Ms. Dineen of Chicago and her friends looked on, a replica of the slain president's limousine zipped by, accompanied by sound-effects gunshots. On the corner, Mr. Ross did a brisk soft drink business as the sun burned brighter and hotter. Vendors touted their versions - books, videos and photos - of what happened on that day more than 34 years ago. And a staff member from The Conspiracy Museum soon had a crowd gathered around him. With the fervor of a street preacher, John Nagel shouted to the crowd: "What happened here changed history. ... What happened here remains a part of our lives today!" He stood just inches from a plaque embedded in the grass that denotes the area, including Dealey Plaza and surrounding buildings, as a National Historic Landmark District. The plaque reads simply: "This site possesses national significance in commemorating the history of the United States of America." Up on the grassy knoll, behind a graffiti-marked picket fence, a man wearing a Florida Gators gimme cap bent his arms as if aiming a rifle down at Elm Street, at a blue X scrawled on the pavement.