Documenting Kennedy

by Hayden C.

I have many photographs in my brick house in Washington, D.C. Some of the pictures are of my wife Linda, some are of my son Peter, and some are of my daughter Molly. These pictures represent the most important people in my life, my family.

The Kennedys' house on P St. NW

“I love this one,” said my six year old daughter, as she pointed to a photograph of her mother.

“You're right, Molly,” I said. “That’s one of my favorite pictures. I think that she looks like Jacqueline Kennedy in this picture.”

“Who is that?”

“She’s the First Lady of the United States. Do you want to hear something interesting, Molly? She used to live right down the street.”

“Really?!” screamed Molly with excitement. “Can we walk down the street and look at the house?”

“In a moment. I need to get my camera. Stay right here.”

I walked up the stairs to grab my camera off my bedside table. I slipped on my shoes, grabbed a sweater, and got ready to walk down the streets of Georgetown. As I walked down the stairs, I saw my lovely daughter waiting for me, just like I had asked her to. How did I get this lucky? I asked myself.

But before we could walk out the door, my wife Linda stopped me.

“Quinn, we have to talk. Now.”

“Okay… I bet I know what this is about.”

“I overheard you telling Molly that you are going to walk down and see the Kennedys’ old house, but before you do that you need to do some research on... what we were talking about earlier.”

“Yes, Linda. I will keep on looking for a job. Please do not worry, dear.”

“It’s hard for me not to, so good.” She was starting to sound frustrated.

Molly and I walked down the street, in front of the Kennedys’ house. The old brick house was astonishing. 2808 P Street. I could visualize the President of the United States sitting in the front window drinking his morning coffee. But I could also see something strange: an older woman sitting in the front window of the house next door. I realized we needed to start walking back to our house, because this was getting bazaar. And Molly, being a six year old girl, was getting bored. But before I could take a step, the older woman was outside of her house, calling me over to her front stoop.

“How long have you been standing there?” asked the older woman.

“Only a couple minutes,” I said. “I just wanted to show my daughter Molly where the president used to live. She has recently sparked an interest in Jacqueline Kennedy.”

“This is my mother,” said Molly, as she pulled the photograph she had been admiring earlier out of her pocket. “My father thinks that she looks like Jacqueline Kennedy. Does she?”

“Why yes, she does actually. As you both already know, she used to live right next door. And I still remember exactly what she looks like. Did you take that?” the older woman asked as she pointed to me.

“Yes. I did. I have always had an interest in photography,” I said modestly.

“Well, you're certainly very talented,” she said. “Are you going to interview for the position at the White House? There was an article in the paper this morning,” she joked.

“I actually didn't see that, but allow me to introduce myself. Quinn Mathews.”

“Well, Quinn Mathews, I hope you look into that position. I would love to have another famous person living on my street,” she said with sarcasm.

And just like that, the door had slammed shut, and the older woman was back inside her house. And Molly, she was ready to go home. We started to walk back up the street, but all I could think about was that job. It would be perfect for me. I would have to talk to my wife, of course, but she would be thrilled, since all she had been talking about was me getting a job. But the old lady was joking. Could I actually do something like this? I didn’t know. But I wanted to.

“Sorry we took so long, dear; something interesting happened. Let’s talk later, after the kids are asleep.”

“Okay…” she said. She sounded worried.

Finally, when the kids were asleep, I sat down with my wife to talk about the opportunity.

“Well, Quinn, it may be a little bit out of reach,” she said sarcastically. “But you should go for it if you want it. You really need this job, and we need the money. And Quinn, you are too invested in spending time with the family. ”

“Yes, yes, I realize.”

“When’s the interview?” she asked.

“I looked in the Post when I got home today, and I got the phone number. So all I have to do is contact the head and schedule a date. Shall I see if there is anything available for tomorrow?”

“Go for it, Quinn.”

“Okay, I'll call the office tonight.”

The next day I caught the seven-thirty bus downtown. I was ready. I had some old photographs of Molly and Peter to show the interviewer. But I was so nervous. When I reached the White House, I met with a nice woman named Susan. The first thing that she did was look at my book of work, and she looked impressed.

“Mr. Mathews, you are without a question the most talented of our candidates. I think this would be perfect for you. But this job is not something to take lightly. You need to understand that this is a very important, time consuming job that you will need to be one hundred percent invested in. The pictures that you take are crucial in shaping what the public thinks of Mr. Kennedy.”

My heart was pounding. I could not believe that this was happening. I didn't know that it would be this easy. It was almost kind of scary, how someone could just walk into the White House and get a job this important!

“Okay,” was all that I could say.

“Come here tomorrow, and we will get you started.”

When I got home, my wife was thrilled, especially when she heard the salary.

Two years later

A lot had happened in two years. My children were growing up, but the biggest change was that I spent every day with President Kennedy and his family. I got to the White House, had to go through massive amounts of security, checked my schedule, then saw what I had to do. It was truly a long day. I did not think that my family knew how stressful and hard my job was. Sometimes they could be so inconsiderate.

“Quinn, I know that you love your job, but it’s time to take a step back and think about the family.”

“I have had this job for two years. Why is this coming up now?”

“Because, Quinn, it has come to a point where it needs to stop. You need to find a balance between your job and this family! I feel like you are not the same person anymore!” Now she was screaming.

“Please, calm down, Linda. We can talk about this rationally when you are not all worked up. But I need you to realize that this job has changed my life and yours. And it’s not something that I take lightly. It is so important to me.”

“How about Peter and Molly, are they still important to you? Am I still important to you?” At this point she was walking up the stairs.

I sat down on the living room couch, but before I could get comfortable, I heard footsteps coming down the staircase.

“Linda! Like I told you before, I think that we should talk about this tomorrow!” But it was not Linda. It was Molly. “Hello, dear. I’m sorry. I thought that you were your mother. What are you doing up this late?”

“I heard you and Mom fighting. And... I just wanted to talk to you. I never see you anymore.”

“Molly, dear, you do see me. Maybe not as much as before, but you still do see me.”

“You don’t understand.” And just like that, she was already walking up the stairs, like her mother.

Before I knew it, I was in Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Texas, with the Kennedys. As I was walking along the road with the marching band, trying to get a good shot of Mr. Kennedy, I thought back to the first day of my job. That day, I didn't get into a private car heading to airport; I was getting on the public bus. That day, I wasn't excited; I was nervous. That day, I was horrified that I had to leave my children. That day, I didn't know that I would be vacationing in Cape Cod with the president. It made me think how lucky I was to have such a wonderful family, and I realized that I wouldn't sacrifice my relationship with them for anything. So I made the decision: after President Kennedy made his speech today in Dallas, I would tell him I could no longer work for him.

I knew what I needed to do. But I didn't know that I wouldn't get to do it.

Because President Kennedy was about to be shot.