Saturday, June 12, 2021

John Connally, circa January 1992, thought that the JFK assassination was a CONSPIRACY and that the Mob killed JFK

     I find that very convenient that former Texas Governor John Connally, who knew both how much his political ally and mentor Lyndon Johnson hated the Kennedys and the sub rosa war between the Kennedys and LBJ, would come out in 1992 and absolve LBJ, CIA, Hoover and everyone else in the JFK assassination, yet conveniently pin it on the Mob for the murder of John Kennedy. At the same time Connally was doing this, he was giving an interview with Texas native Dan Rather, the most fraudulent reporter in American history for his role in the JFK assassination cover up, and calling Oliver Stone's movie JFK "evil" because "simply because it leaves the impression that the federal government itself, and major elements of the government were involved in the assassination of an American president." (Connally to Dan Rather).

    John Connally SAID in 1992 that he thought the MOB killed JFK. I think that John Connally KNEW for decades that LYNDON JOHNSON murdered JFK because John Connally knew up close and personal how ruthless Lyndon Johnson was and what kind of dark deeds the man was capable of. It may be a case of cognitive dissonance where Connally was psychologically incapable of accepting obvious truths about the JFK assassination relating to Lyndon Johnson.

Enough people talked to John Connally over the years so that we know that he had deceptive public views of the JFK assassination, while harboring much different private views. John Connally refused to tell LBJ biographer Robert Caro about all the constant death threats that Lyndon Johnson would make in regards to Robert Kennedy.

LYNDON JOHNSON HAD A MURDEROUS ATTITUDE TOWARDS ROBERT KENNEDY 

"I'll cut his throat if it's the last thing I do." 

Robert Caro describes the LBJ-RFK relationship post 1960 Democratic convention, where RFK had moved heaven and earth attempting to keep LBJ off the 1960 Democratic ticket. Caro: 

John Connally, who during long days of conversation with this author was willing to answer almost any question put to him, no matter how delicate the topic, wouldn't answer when asked what Johnson said about Robert Kennedy. When the author pressed him, he finally said flatly: "I am not going to tell you what he said about him." During the months after the convention, when Johnson was closeted alone back in Texas with an old ally he would sometimes be asked about Robert Kennedy. He would reply with a gesture. Raising his big right hand, he would draw the side of it across the neck in a slowing, slitting movement. Sometimes that gesture would be his only reply; sometimes, as during a meeting with Ed Clark in Austin, he would say, as his hand moved across his neck, "I'll cut his throat if it's the last thing I do."  [Robert Caro, The Passage of Power, p. 140]

LBJ on John Connally: he could “leave more dead bodies in the field with less remorse than any politician I ever knew” 

https://www.history.com/news/the-other-victims-of-the-jfk-assassination

 

QUOTE

 

Born on a farm, John Connally earned both an undergraduate and law degree from the University of Texas prior to serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II. He got his political start as a legislative assistant to then-Representative Lyndon B. Johnson and later managed a number of LBJ’s campaigns, including his successful bid for the U.S. Senate in 1948. Connally could “leave more dead bodies in the field with less remorse than any politician I ever knew,” LBJ reportedly once said of his protege. Throughout most of the Eisenhower administration, Connally served as legal counsel to a wealthy oil magnate. He then worked for the Kennedy-Johnson ticket during the 1960 presidential campaign and became secretary of the Navy after their election. Less than a year later, he resigned in order to run for governor of Texas, which he won with 54 percent of the vote.

 

UNQUOTE


Account of Conversation With John and Nellie Connally During Car Ride From Los Angeles Airport to Beverly Hills Hotel, January, 1992

 By Michael Danzig

 June 12, 2021

 My name is Michael Danzig, I grew up on Long Island, New York, I graduated from The University of Wisconsin in Madison, Wisconsin in 1969. After, I lived in Amsterdam for five years, and worked with The Khamphalous Light Show Group at the Paradiso Club there, and toured all over Europe with groups such as Pink Floyd, and others. In 1974 I moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career in screenwriting, during which time I had numerous freelance writing jobs, but never achieved an onscreen credit. Subsequently, I taught high school history in the Los Angeles Unified School District for two decades. I am now retired. While I was writing, I supported myself driving a limousine for Dav-El Limousine Inc.

 The company had numerous show business accounts. I usually drove a town car, which gave me the opportunity, if the client was in a talkative mood to have conversations with some of society's most renowned personalities. Among the memories that stand out are Mick Jagger, who sat in the front seat, and shared a joint with me, as he talked about the coming video revolution in music. I had a lively political discussion with the great playwright, and former Marilyn Monroe husband, Arthur Miller. George Harrison was quite friendly, and we talked about the world situation, and American and English politics. Alexander Haig, former secretary of defense under Reagan, was mad that The Beverly Hills Hotel had not placed in his room his customarily offered bottle of his favorite Scotch. John Ehrlichman, of Watergate fame, was joking about being recognized in the hotel lobby. Deborah Harry, known as Blondie, who I drove to her concert at The Greek Theater, wore onstage a T-shirt I gave her that my girlfriend made with hearts on it to sing her hit, "Heart Of Glass." Sharon Stone, who I drove for a week, shared her dislike of a certain star with whom she shared the screen in one of her hit movies. Diane Sawyer, the highly accomplished newswoman, was so talkative and friendly she gave me a hundred and thirty dollar tip for a ride to the airport. Meryl Steep encouraged me to continue pursuing my quest to become a screenwriter, and gave me the advice to explore my own experience for material. Robin Williams sat in the back seat, and didn't say a word. Steven Spielberg handed me a thin manila envelope, probably with a three-page screen treatment in it, and asked me to put it in the trunk, although he had no luggage or briefcase. I also picked up Robert Wagner from The Santa Monica Airport the morning his wife Natalie Wood drowned, but that's a whole other story for another venue. There were many famous people, who I drove over the decade and a half I worked there, but none  so memorable or historic as the former governor of Texas and Treasury Secretary John Connally and his wife Nellie. I picked them up at the Los Angeles Airport, and took them to their hotel in Beverly Hills on the day they appeared on CNN on The Larry King Show. The Oliver Stone movie, "JFK" had opened the month before and had generated worldwide controversy.

 I had become fascinated with the assassination in 1975, when I watched the first public broadcast of the Zapruder film on Geraldo Rivera's show "Good Night, America." As a limo driver, there was plenty of dead time to read, and I consumed everything from Sylvia Meagher to Col. Fletcher L. Prouty to Anthony Summers, and David Lifton.

 Thus, when the Dav-El dispatcher, Gordon, handed me the job slip for a pick-up at the airport, and I read the name "Mr. and Mrs. John Connally" I almost collapsed in shock. This was to be my personal appointment with history: I would be transporting in a Lincoln Town Car the two people who were riding in the presidential limousine on November 22, 1963 with President John Kennedy when he was murdered. This was beyond belief, and my brain trembled with anxiety, as I drove to the LA Airport. The plane was on time, and our airport greeter brought the couple to the curb. I got out, and opened the doors for them, and put their luggage in the trunk.

 I took Motor Avenue to the hotel. This street is a special route from the airport to Beverly Hills, which most limo drivers know as a way to avoid traffic, and give the clients a nice drive. It's a beautiful winding, tree-lined road through the upper middle class suburb of Cheviot Hills. It connects the studios of MGM  in Culver City with those of 20th Century Fox in Beverly Hills. It was specially built in the 1920's by Louis B. Meyer, head of MGM, so he could conveniently drive to have lunch with Darrel B. Zanuck, who was chief of 20th Century Fox. I told the Connallys this story as we drove, and they laughed easily, and asked me some questions about the movie industry. They appeared quite friendly and informal, and since they mentioned they were going on The Larry King Show later I felt confident enough to ask them what they thought of the  JFK movie. 

 Connally said he didn't agree with the premise that an arm of the government had conspired to kill Kennedy, but that director Oliver Stone had gotten right the fact he was not hit by the same bullet as the president. I started throwing in some details from my reading, and they seemed open to a discussion. The book, "Double Cross" by Chuck Giancana had just come out, where he said his brother, Sam, the late Mafia crime boss of Chicago, admitted to him the mob's involvement in the killing of the president, and I asked Connally what he thought about it. I also reminded him that there was a recent item in the news concerning a man named Frank Ragano, the lawyer of the late mob boss of Florida, Santos Trafficante. He had stated to an author that Trafficante on his death bed had told him he had had a hand in the assassination, along with Carlos Marcello, Mafia boss of New Orleans. Connally said he had read about that, and his wife said she had, too.

 Connally then said that he had always told the public and the Warren Commission that he knew for sure Kennedy had been hit by the first shot (the neck shot), and that he, Connally, was hit by the second one, and that the third bullet was the kill shot that hit Kennedy in the head. His wife chimed in that's what she witnessed, and that they had never deviated from their testimony. I offered the observation that therefore "The Magic Bullet Theory" must be incorrect, and either Oswald didn't act alone or didn't pull the trigger at all. They both agreed with me, and maintained they believed the Warren Commission was wrong in their conclusion that Oswald acted alone.

 At that point, as we were driving through this most peaceful neighborhood one could imagine, and to this day, I recall vividly looking in the rearview mirror at John Connally's face as I got up the nerve to ask him the question on the whole world's mind for the last twenty-nine years; who do you think did it? And as I asked it, I realized I was asking the man who had been sitting two feet from the president when he was killed. Connally replied, "I think it was the mob. I think the Mafia killed him, and the recent information that just came out about Giancana and the other guy proves what I've always thought." I then gently prodded them about why the Warren Commission said it was Oswald alone. I remember Nellie Connally, who was the nicest person with the friendliest, cheerful smile say, as I looked at her face in the  mirror: "We don't know, we've been trying to figure that one out forever, but we only know what happened because we were there."

 I remember telling them a few more details about the mob because I had recently read the Giancana book, and I threw in facts about Ruby and his connections to known Chicago gangsters; he was said to have phone numbers in his book linked to them, as well a couple of Dallas mob operators. Then Nellie said, with a laugh, "You know more about this than we do. We should bring you on Larry King with us." And we all laughed about the idea of them bringing their driver on the show. 

 Then, as we turned onto Pico Boulevard in front of the entrance to the 20th Century Fox Studio lot, the subject abruptly changed back to the movie industry. I gave them my standard limo driver history of the old studio system, and how it had radically changed in the sixties, and the story of the creation of Century City as a real estate scam. We drove down Avenue Of The Stars and into Beverly Hills. I'm not sure if I dropped them off at The Beverly Hills Hotel or the Beverly Wilshire, but as I opened the door for them, they thanked me, and said they enjoyed the ride. I said I'd watch them on Larry King tonight, and they smiled and thanked me again, and disappeared into the hotel.

 And that was my brush with history.

 Interestingly enough, in 2008, while reading "JFK And The Unspeakable: Why He Died & Why It Matters" by James Douglass, I discovered that I had an additional two degrees of separation from the late president in another way. During the Cuban Missile Crisis, James Douglass describes the secret negotiations he uncovered between Khrushchev and Kennedy. The go-betweens were Norman Cousins, editor of The Saturday Review, and a distinguished author on international relations, and Father Felix Morlion, an advisor to Pope John XXIII. It so happens my father, David Danzig, who was a professor at Columbia University, and a specialist in intergroup relations, and an author of articles that appeared in Cousins' magazine and in "Commentary" had known both men quite well, and both had been to dinner at our house in Sands Point, NY in the late fifties and early sixties. Although I was only thirteen or so when I met them, I still remember both men very well. They were quite distinctive. It's hard to forget an imposing priest in a collar with a pronounced Italian accent discussing his conversations with the pope at the Vatican. So when I read these pages in Douglass' book, I thought back to meeting the Connallys, and realized I had had four meetings of people with two degrees of separation from one of the men who I admired most in history, John F. Kennedy. Two of those people had been with the late president in a tragic setting, and two in a triumphal setting. Then I remembered my ninth grade history class, and a debate I participated in about the 1960 presidential election. My classmate argued for Richard Nixon. Then I stood up in front of the class and gave my argument for why John Kennedy should be elected president. After I finished the whole class clapped. I had obliterated my opponent. 

 Now, thinking back all those years, and writing this testimony, which by the work of Robert Morrow will be placed in the historical files of the Kennedy assassination, it seems somehow for me the circle has been completed.

JFK researcher Michael Danzig was a limo driver at the time: John Connally, circa January 1992, thought the JFK assassination was a conspiracy and that the Mob killed JFK.

 Facebook post on 6/11/2021 - JFK Assassination Discussion Group | Facebook

 QUOTE

 I happened to drive the Connallys from the Los Angeles Airport to their hotel the day they went on Larry King, we discussed their upcoming interview and Connally told me he always thought it was a conspiracy, and he attributed it to the mob. When I asked why it was covered up, his wife laughed, and said, “You probably know more about it than we do, we should bring you on the show with us.”

 UNQUOTE

John Connally (in 1982 to Doug Thompson): "You know I was one of the ones who advised Kennedy to stay away from Texas," Connally said. "Lyndon (Johnson) was being a real asshole about the whole thing and insisted."

Web link:

https://www.opednews.com/populum/page.php?f=opedne_doug_tho_060330_is_deception_the_bes.htm

 March 29, 2006

Is deception the best way to serve one's country?

By Doug Thompson

The handwritten note lay in the bottom drawer of my old rolltop desk, one I bought for $50 in a junk store in Richmond, VA, 39 years ago. "Dear Doug & Amy," it read. "Thanks for dinner and for listening." The signature was a bold "John" and the letterhead on the note simply said "John B. Connally" and was dated July 14, 1982.

The handwritten note lay in the bottom drawer of my old rolltop desk, one I bought for $50 in a junk store in Richmond, VA, 39 years ago.


"Dear Doug & Amy," it read. "Thanks for dinner and for listening." The signature was a bold "John" and the letterhead on the note simply said "John B. Connally" and was dated July 14, 1982.

I met John Connally on a TWA flight from Kansas City to Albuquerque earlier that year. The former governor of Texas, the man who took one of the bullets from the assassination that killed President John F. Kenney, was headed to Santa Fe to buy a house.

The meeting wasn't an accident. The flight originated in Washington and I sat in the front row of the coach cabin. During a stop in Kansas City, I saw Connally get on the plane and settle into a first class seat so I walked off the plane and upgraded to a first class seat right ahead of the governor. I not only wanted to meet the man who was with Kennedy on that day in Dallas in 1963 but, as the communications director for the re-election campaign of Congressman Manuel Lujan of New Mexico, I thought he might be willing to help out on what was a tough campaign.

When the plane was in the air, I introduced myself and said I was working on Lujan's campaign. Connally's face lit up and he invited me to move to the empty seat next to him.

"How is Manuel? Is there anything I can do to help?"

By the time we landed in Albuquerque, Connally had agreed to do a fundraiser for Lujan. A month later, he flew back into New Mexico where Amy and I picked him up for the fundraiser. Afterwards, we took him to dinner.

Connolly was both gracious and charming and told us many stories about Texas politics. As the evening wore on and the multiple bourbon and branch waters took their effect, he started talking about November 22, 1963, in Dallas.

"You know I was one of the ones who advised Kennedy to stay away from Texas," Connally said. "Lyndon (Johnson) was being a real asshole about the whole thing and insisted."

Connally's mood darkened as he talked about Dallas. When the bullet hit him, he said he felt like he had been kicked in the ribs and couldn't breathe. He spoke kindly of Jackie Kennedy and said he admired both her bravery and composure.

I had to ask. Did he think Lee Harvey Oswald fired the gun that killed Kennedy?

"Absolutely not," Connally said. "I do not, for one second, believe the conclusions of the Warren Commission."

So why not speak out?

"Because I love this country and we needed closure at the time. I will never speak out publicly about what I believe."


We took him back to catch a late flight to Texas. He shook my hand, kissed Amy on the cheek and walked up the ramp to the plane.

We saw Connally and his wife a couple of more times when they came to New Mexico but he sold his house a few years later as part of a bankruptcy settlement. He died in 1993 and, I believe, never spoke publicly about how he doubted the findings of the Warren Commission.

Connnally's note serves as yet another reminder that in our Democratic Republic, or what's left of it, few things are seldom as they seem. Like him, I never accepted the findings of the Warren Commission. Too many illogical conclusions.

John Kennedy's death, and the doubts that surround it to this day, marked the beginning of the end of America's idealism. The cynicism grew with the lies of Vietnam and the senseless deaths of too many thousands of young Americans in a war that never should have been fought. Doubts about the integrity of those we elect as our leaders festers today as this country finds itself embroiled in another senseless war based on too many lies.

John Connally felt he served his country best by concealing his doubts about the Warren Commission's whitewash but his silence may have contributed to the growing perception that our elected leaders can rewrite history to fit their political agendas.

Had Connally spoken out, as a high-ranking political figure with doubts about the "official" version of what happened, it might have sent a signal that Americans deserve the truth from their government, even when that truth hurts.

Originally published at and © Copyright 2006 by
Capitol Hill Blue

Robert Morrow: John Connally was NOT involved in the JFK assassination: 

Let's be logical here. Would you put yourself and your wife in a limo if you knew it was going to be a kill zone with bullets flying in it? I would not, no matter I how I hated Kennedy. Secondly, post assassination Connally was rejecting the linchpin of the magic bullet theory - that a shot hit him and JFK at the same time. That is like saying there were multiple shooters. Thirdly, and folks don't know this, but Connally and LBJ were not getting along at that time. LBJ was a neutered eunech as VP, a turd about to be flushed down the toilet by the Kennedys. Connally was the rising star to replace LBJ in Texas as the #1 politico.

          Connally went along with LBJ in getting JFK to Texas. Connally insisted on the change of venue from the Women's Pavilion (outdated) to the Trade Mart for luncheon but the Trade Mart was a modern, showy place worthy of a presidential luncheon

          And finally, if Connally were involved in JFK assassination, he would not be having dinner with a stranger Doug Thompson and telling him the Warren Commission was bullshit in 1982.

 Compare that behavior to GHW Bush at the Ford funeral in 2007 (my personal believe is that GHW Bush cover up the JFK assassination but was not directly involved):

1) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9Jw0pwTtus

 2) http://educationforum.ipbhost.com/index.php?showtopic=6467&st=30&gopid=247990&#entry247990

           [I do not believe John Connally was involved in the JFK assassination. I do believe he was manipulated by Lyndon Johnson to do certain things that made the JFK assassination possible. - Robert] 

My Encounter with the Connallys

By Al Navis, JFK researcher

https://www.lewrockwell.com/2015/05/no_author/when-i-met-two-jfk-assassination-survivors/

 At the 1992 version of ASK (The Assassination Symposium on John F. Kennedy), the final event of the weekend was to be ‘The Dealey Plaza Walk About’. That was to run from 2:00 until 4:00 p.m. and there were maybe ten of us ‘tour guides’ who would take groups of interested symposium attendees—as well as members of the general public who happened to find themselves there—on a tour of Dealey Plaza.

 It was perhaps 3:45 p.m. and all the other tour guides were either back at the hotel, on their way back or wrapping up their last group when I glanced up towards Old Elm Street. That part of Elm that ran right in front of the Texas School Book Depository Building and led to the parking lot which is behind the picket fence atop the infamous ‘Grassy Knoll’.

 A black Cadillac stretch limousine had pulled up and had parked. Getting out on the curbside was former Texas Governor John Connally wearing a white Stetson hat. Moments later, his wife Nellie also appeared. They had been invited by the ASK organizers for the 2:00 p.m. ‘walk about’ but hadn’t shown up. I hustled up the hill towards the Governor and his wife, held out my hand and introduced myself.

 The Governor apologized that his aide had written down the time of the ending of the event instead of the start and he wondered if it was too late. I explained that all the other guides as well as the organizers had already headed back to hotel but that I would be honoured to take them for a brief tour, until it got dark. While it was warm, and it was Texas, it was still the end of November and the thousands of birds that call Dealey Plaza home during the evenings were coming in to roost.

 As we strolled slowly across Old Elm and then around the east end of the triangular block and began walking down the gentle slope of Elm Street, I could see that the Governor seemed a bit ill-at-ease.

 “I guess,” I said, “That every time you come back to this place, the memories are not at all pleasant.”

 “Actually,” replied John Connally, “This is the first time that we’ve been here since…since…that day.”

 He hesitated and I could see that even 29 years later, the events of ‘that day’ were a part of John Connally’s daily life…and always would be.

 “Nellie and I didn’t live here,” he said. “Austin is where the Governor’s mansion is and then there were the years in Washington. Sometimes I’d have to be here in Dallas for a dinner or an event, but I never allowed the car to come anywhere near here.”

 Nellie Connally said, “Al, you don’t know how tough it was for me to get John to agree to come here today.”

 She squeezed his arm and they looked at each other and I could see genuine affection that only a combination of years together and crises weathered can produce.

 We continued down Elm Street until we were right below the concrete pedestal on which Abraham Zapruder and his secretary Marilyn Sitzman stood while filming the assassination. I pointed it out to the Connallys, pivoted and turned to face east, directly at the County Records Building. As I pointed up to the roof of that building, I said, “That is where the shooter was who shot you. The bullet entered your back and exited your chest.”

 Now I turned to face north and looked up at the sixth floor of the Book Depository and said, “The top floor of windows is the seventh, so the next floor down is the sixth. Way over on the east end is where the Warren Commission said that Lee Oswald was…but we all know he wasn’t. However someone was in that window.

 “The shooter who shot you a second time, was in the…”

 “A second time?” John Connally interrupted.

 “Yes sir,” I responded. “That shooter was on the same floor but in the far west window. While your wife was pulling you towards her, a bullet went through your right wrist and ended up in your left thigh.”

 When I said this, I saw Nellie Connally elbow her husband in the ribs gently and say,”See, John, I told you that I felt something hit you when I was pulled you over. Now I have proof.”

 “Mrs. Connally,” I said. “This isn’t proof, it’s just my take on who was where on that day. I looked at the wounds on both the Governor and the President as well as the spectator who was hit way down there by the underpass on Commerce Street. I just did what a ballistics person would do at any other shooting scene. Work backwards. Don’t let yourself be swayed by what other people have said happened. Work it out for yourself.”

 “For years,” said Nellie Connally, “I have believed that John was struck by two shots, but he has insisted that he felt only one.”

 I said, “I think that by the time the second shot hit, maybe two seconds after the first one, that the Governor was already in shock and that he wasn’t capable of feeling anything. He also would have had a loud rushing noise in his ears, so until he was down in your lap and the car was on its way to the hospital, he probably couldn’t hear anything either.”

The Governor was silent for a moment and then asked, “Al, how many shooters do you think were firing at us?”

 “Six,” I said.

 John Connally chuckled a bit and said, “That’s what shoots you conspiracy buffs down in the press. You always over-reach. How could that many people keep a secret for almost thirty years?”

 “Governor?” I asked, “Do you remember the armoured car robbery in Boston in the early fifties?”

 “Of course,” he said.

 “Imagine that you and I are just chatting about what we’ve done in our lives and I say that I was part of that armed robbery. Do you honestly think that anyone involved in that case would say anything to anyone even forty years after the fact?”

 “Probably not,” the Governor said after thinking for a few moments.

 “Well,” I said, “At the centre of this event, when you put aside all the theories, trajectories, reports, obfuscations, misdirections and even outright lies, there is one simple fact: a homicide occurred. John Kennedy was killed and the statute of limitations never runs out on murder. So why would anyone risk coming forward even thirty years later?”

 The Governor said nothing but I could see him formulating a reply. “So how many people who were involved, know everything?”

 “Everything?” I repeated. “Nobody. It wouldn’t be safe for anyone to know everything. The same way that covert operations use ‘cutouts’ and anonymous people to deliver messages and material, I can’t see anyone even wanting to know everything. That is except us!”

 The three of us laughed at that and I felt that if I could get John and Nellie Connally to laugh at a place where one of them was shot and both of them scarred forever, then I did my job.

 “How long have you been interested in the case?” Nellie Connally asked.

 “Early on,” I replied. “I guess I really became interested when I saw Jack Ruby shoot Lee Oswald on live television from ABC Buffalo, while I watched from Toronto.”

 “Toronto?” the Governor exclaimed. “You mean you are Canadian?”

 “Guilty, Governor Connally,” I said.

 “Then your early interest in the assassination is even more intresting,” said Nellie Connally.

 “So,” said the Governor, “You said that you thought there were six people involved. Where were they?”

 “I said that there were six people shooting at you,” I corrected, “And they were everywhere. My scenario has the first shot hitting the President in the throat fired from behind the picket fence. The second, third and fourth shots were almost simultaneous. One was the shot that hit you, fired from the roof of the Country Records Building. Another was from the co-called ‘Oswald window’ or ‘sniper’s nest’ which hit the President in the back. The third of these three shots was fired from the second floor window of the Dal-Tex Building, went through the limousine’s windshield and then hit the curbstone down by the triple underpass and Commerce Street. A fragment either of the bullet or the curbstone that it hit flew up and slightly wounded a spectator named James Tague. The next shot was the second shot that hit you in the wrist and ended up in your left thigh, fired from the west window on the sixth floor. The final shot is controversial. I believe that it was fired from this storm drain.”

 By then I had slowly walked the Connallys down Elm Street until we were at the base of the stairs that led up the ‘grassy knoll’. I moved them gently to the curb, without stepping into traffic.

 “In 1963,” I began, “This opening was a full eight inches high. Plenty of room for a person to fire a handgun and the shot was very close. When I first spoke to Bill and Gail Newman—who were just up Elm Street from here on that day—about eight years ago, I mentioned to Bill that I had heard a radio interview with him done on the afternoon of the assassination and that he had said the last shot ‘sounded different’. When I said this to him, I could see him replaying the assassination in his mind—as I’m sure that both you and Nellie, uh, sorry, Mrs. Connally…”

 “Al, ‘Nellie’ is just fine,” she interrupted. “And so is ‘John’. He hasn’t been ‘The Governor’ for a long time now!” She laughed.

 “I kinda liked being called ‘Governor’ again, dear,” said John Connally and smiled at his wife.

 “Well Billy Newman said that when he thought about it now, the last shot did sound different. I asked him if it was more of a ‘boom’ while the others were more of a ‘crack’ and he said that was it exactly! I asked him if it could have been fired by a handgun instead of a high-powered rifle, from underground instead of from a window and from down to his right, instead of behind him? Newman looked at me and nodded.”

 “Why so many people?” asked Nellie Connally.

 “If each shooter fired only once, he didn’t need to re-acquire his target and re-aim. It was just pull the trigger and then get the hell outta here. I bet that the gunman who fired the first shot that hit you was already off the roof and down the stairs before the limousine went under the triple underpass. By the time anybody would have thought to look, the shooters were all long gone. Each one in a different direction. I also believe that they didn’t even know where the other shooting locations were either.”

 During our little stroll a few people had recognized the Connallys and had come over, some asking for autographs, but most just watching from a distance.

 In all, I spent perhaps thirty to forty minutes with the Connallys and when it was over and I walked them back to their limousine, John Connally shook my hand and said. “Son, you’ve given me a lot to think about today and I thank you for that.”

 Nellie Connally also shook my hand and gently kissed my cheek. “Thank you, Al,” was all she whispered.

 They got into the limousine which during our tour had turned around so the it was now heading east on Old Elm. As the limousine slowly pulled away I thought about my little brush with history. The first time the Connallys had been back in Dealey Plaza since the assassination. I wondered if any of my fellow researchers would believe me when I got back to the Hyatt Reunion Hotel, but some attendees had seen me with the Connallys and others had come up for autographs.

 When I got back to the hotel, a few of the researchers had already heard that the Connallys had finally arrived and that I had been their tour guide and I got some good-natured ribbing. When I got back to Toronto a few days later, I roughly wrote down most of the conversation that we shared as best as I could remember it.

 But it wasn’t until 14 years later, with the help of those notes, that I finally put together this little narrative.

  Alan Page, a JFK researcher, once ran into John Connolly on the back side of the Texas School Book Depository

Alan Page:  interview with Connally. Late 70’s early 1980’s - He was waiting for his limo on the back stoop of the Texas School Book depository. He had been going through JFK research materials in the building. As Alan stepped out of the TSBD on the back side he ran into John Connally, the former governor of Texas, who was waiting for his ride to pick him up. Alan says he remarked to Connally, “Interesting stuff, huh?”

According to Page, Connally’s reply was, “Well, I am a public person so I have a  public opinion. But I also have a personal opinion.” Page continued, “Then he gave me a strange look almost like a wink as he got into his limo.”

[Robert Morrow interview with Alan Page on 7-21-15]

John Connally Called the movie JFK “evil” in an interview with Dan Rather, circa 1992

John Connally Calls JFK Movie Evil : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

John Connally:

QUOTE

I think it’s a fascinating piece of propaganda. And basically I think because it tends to leave in the minds, particularly of young people, that the CIA, the FBI, the military, the Warren Commission, and Johnson were involved in a conspiracy. I think it is an evil film. Simply because it leaves the impression that the federal government itself, and major elements of the government were involved in the assassination of an American president. Now I think that is evil because I don’t think that happened, I don’t think  it could have happened.

UNQUOTE

 

JFK Researcher Pat Speer on what John Connally believed:

http://educationforum.ipbhost.com/index.php?showtopic=21898 

PAT SPEER ON WHAT JOHN CONNALLY BELIEVED:

While it would be most convenient for your position, David, to believe Nellie was the only obstacle between big John and the single-bullet theory, this is a puff of smoke burped out by those refusing to look at the record.

1. Connally's initial belief was that the first two shots--the ones he was later told were fired by Oswald using a bolt-action rifle--were extremely close together--and were fired by an automatic weapon.

2. At the request of the Warren Commission, he studied the Zapruder film, and came to believe Kennedy was hit before going behind the sign, while he was hit just after coming out from behind the sign.

3. He trusted his doctor Robert Shaw, who told him the bullet hitting him had not hit Kennedy first.

So it wasn't just Nellie that told him the SBT was incorrect--it was everything he trusted...his ears, his eyes, his doctor, AND his wife.

PAT SPEER CONTINUES:

John Connally's final words on the subject: (From In History's Shadow, 1993) "I happen to support the major findings of the Warren Commission. I believe there were errors, including the so-called “magic bullet.” My ear and my body told me that I was not wounded in three places by a bullet that hit President Kennedy. I remain convinced that he was hit twice, and I once, by three separate shots.”

As far as his comments in 1966 (and then 1967), David, context is everything. As detailed on my website, the release of Epstein's and Lane's books, when coupled with Connally's appearance in Life magazine, completely flipped out the Johnson Administration. Arlen Specter was brought out to defend the SBT, Boswell was forced to pretend the back wound was a neck wound, Connally was dragged back out to say that Mark Lane was a scavenger, and that the SBT was possible. And Hoover was forced to pretend he accepted the SBT. 

It's all there in chapter 10, in a section entitled "The Boswell Incident".

Important 2003 Interview by Larry King of Nellie Connally

JFK Files Assassination Hoax starring Nellie Connally - YouTube

YouTube video entitled “JFK Files Assassination Hoax starring Nellie Connally”

The Connallys went on Larry King Live in January, 1992, which was at the peak of the controversy about Oliver Stone’s movie JFK. Nellie later went on Larry King Live alone in 2003

The Connallys on "Larry King" 1992 - YouTube

John Connally bio - Texas State Historical Association:

https://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/entries/connally-john-bowden-jr 

CONNALLY, JOHN BOWDEN, JR. (1917–1993).John Bowden Connally, Jr., thirty-eighth governor of the state of Texas, was born on a farm near Floresville, Texas, on February 27, 1917, one of eight children of John Bowden and Lela (Wright) Connally, Sr. He attended Harlandale High School in San Antonio, graduated from Floresville High School, and entered the University of Texas in 1933. He was elected president of the UT Student Association for 1938–39 and received his law degree from the UT law school in 1941. Connally passed the state bar examination in 1938 and began his career in government and politics in 1939 as secretary (legislative assistant) to Representative Lyndon B. Johnson, Connally's "mentor, friend and benefactor." It was the beginning of a close personal relationship that was storied but often stormy, and lasted until Johnson's death in 1973. Connally met Idanell (Nellie) Brill of Austin at UT and they were married on December 21, 1940. They had four children. Their eldest, Kathleen, eloped in 1958 at age sixteen and the same year died of an apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Connally was commissioned in the United States Naval Reserve in 1941. As a fighter director aboard aircraft carriers, he went through nine major air-sea battles in the Pacific Theater. Aboard the USS Essex he endured fifty-two consecutive hours of Japanese kamikaze attacks in April 1945. He attained the rank of lieutenant commander and came home a hero. After returning to civilian life, Connally headed an investors' group of war veterans that owned and operated Austin radio station KVET (1946–49). He also joined an influential Austin law firm and during this period served as campaign manager in LBJ's 1946 reelection to Congress and successful 1948 Senate race. He then served as LBJ's aide until 1951, when he became Sid W. Richardson's legal counsel, a position he held until Richardson's death in 1959. Connally earned a reputation both as "Lyndon's boy" and as a "political mastermind" and expert strategist. His political credo was "Fight hard and rough, but when the battle is over, forget and dismiss." Connally managed five of LBJ's major political campaigns, including reelection to the United States House of Representatives in 1946, the 1941 and 1948 races for the United States Senate, the unsuccessful bid for the Democratic presidential nomination in 1960, and the election to the presidency in 1964. In LBJ's pivotal 1948 Senate race against former governor Coke R. Stevenson, Connally, as LBJ's campaign manager, was publicly linked to the suspicious late report of 200 votes in Box 13 from Jim Wells County, which had provided LBJ's eighty-seven-vote margin of victory. Connally denied any tie to vote fraud, but acknowledged that he had learned a lesson in managing LBJ's unsuccessful 1941 race for the Senate, when Johnson's seemingly decisive 5,000-vote lead had been whittled away by late election returns from East Texas. LBJ lost the 1941 race by 1,311 votes. In 1948 Connally instructed South Texas campaign operatives to understate their early returns in the vote canvassing because, he claimed, "we had been bitten once. It would not happen again."

Connally also ably assisted in various political turf skirmishes, including fights to control the state Democratic party. In these he was a field operative or grass-roots political ally of both LBJ and Speaker of the House Sam Rayburn, who considered themselves leaders of the state party's "moderate conservative wing." One major struggle for party control was fought in 1952–56 against the "right-wing Shivercrats," led by Governor Allan Shivers, who bolted in 1952 and led a "Democrats for Eisenhower" move that helped the Republican presidential candidate carry Texas. A second, and longer-running, feud that extended through Connally's tenure as governor was with liberal senator Ralph Yarbrough. Divisions between liberal and conservative-moderate Democrats became a personal feud between Lyndon Johnson and Yarbrough, and Connally found himself embroiled in the feud because of his close ties to Johnson.

A poster from John Connally, Jr.'s campaign for reelection
A poster from John Connally, Jr.'s campaign for reelection. Image courtesy of the Texas State Library and Archives Commission. Image available on the Internet and included in accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107.

Connally served as secretary of the navy in 1961 in the cabinet of Democrat President John F. Kennedy. He won his first political race as a candidate for governor the next year. He was tall, handsome, personable, and articulate; his speech reflected his debate, drama, and declamation training in high school and college. He was also well-schooled in politics and government and had profited from his experience as Sid Richardson's legal counsel. Connally entered the race against a large field of candidates, including Governor Price Daniel, Sr., who was seeking a fourth term. A poll showed that Connally had only 4 percent of the votes at the outset. But in addition to wealthy backers such as the oilman Richardson, he had a strong grass-roots network of politically astute supporters. Connally won a 1962 runoff by 26,000 votes. The next year he survived serious gunshot wounds inflicted in the Kennedy assassination. He speculated that both he and JFK might have been the assassin's targets. He was reelected by a 3-to-1 vote margin in 1964 and won a third term in 1966 with 72 percent of the vote.

Connally had grown up on his family's South Texas cotton farm in the hard-scrabble status of "a barefoot boy of mule-plowed furrows." His accomplishments as governor "epitomized the big man of Texas" and "personified the Texas establishment as the Texas establishment wanted to see itself." He considered himself "a conservative who believed in active government." He had a vision of moving Texas into a dynamic era and entered the governorship saying that his administration should emphasize one of three crucial issues of the day: education, race relations, or poverty. He chose to be "an education governor" both because he believed that the most enduring way to address social problems was through education and because he "had a farm boy's dream to become the governor of the intellectuals and of the cultivated." Connally effectively used his political skills to increase taxes substantially in order to finance higher teachers' salaries, better libraries, research, and new doctoral programs. He considered this the crowning achievement of his administration. He promoted programs to reshape and reform state government, to develop the state's tourism industry (including his endorsement of liquor by the drink and pari-mutuel betting), to establish a state fine arts commission and a state historical commission (see TEXAS COMMISSION ON THE ARTSand TEXAS HISTORICAL COMMISSION), and to establish the University of Texas Institute of Texan Cultures, which was initiated as part of HemisFair '68, a state-supported world's fair at San Antonio.

Portrait of John Connally as the Secretary of Treasury during the presidency of Richard Nixon
Portrait of John Connally as the Secretary of Treasury during the presidency of Richard Nixon. Image available on the Internet. Image available on the Internet and included in accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107.

After leaving the governor's office in 1969 Connally joined Vinson and Elkins, a large law firm in Houston named for William Ashton Vinson and James A. Elkins, both early principals in the firm. The same year, he was named a member of President Richard M. Nixon's foreign-intelligence advisory board and assumed a favored position among Nixon's advisors (it was said that "If Connally is not for a matter, the President won't do it"). In 1971 he became Nixon's secretary of the treasury and earned a reputation as "a tough American statesman." He sought to address the nation's growing trade deficit and inflation by such mechanisms as currency devaluation and a price freeze. In 1972 he spearheaded a Democrats for Nixon organization that helped the Republican president carry Texas. Connally switched parties from Democrat to Republican in 1973, three months after LBJ's death. In the wake of the bribery-related resignation of Vice President Spiro Agnew in October 1973, Nixon passed word that he would name Connally to fill the vacancy. This would have put Connally in a strong position to run for president in 1976. Nixon and Connally had privately mused about starting a new Whig-type party in the tradition of Henry Clay and Daniel Webster. But Democrats and Republicans alike in the Senate erupted in a "firestorm of protest." Warnings went up that if Nixon pursued the appointment, some powerful Senate Democrats "would be determined to destroy Connally." This was during the height of the Watergate scandal, which ultimately forced Nixon to resign. Nixon named House minority leader Gerald Ford vice president but said that he intended to support Connally for the 1976 GOP nomination. In the aftermath, Connally rejoined Vinson and Elkins but soon confronted a criminal prosecution for alleged bribery and conspiracy in a "milk-price" scandal. He was acquitted after a trial in federal court.

Connally's aborted effort to win the GOP's presidential nomination in 1980 was short-lived. He was hurt in part by a "wheeler-dealer" identification reminiscent of LBJ, and a press criticism that he was a political "chameleon." He was also damaged by a 1977 bank partnership he entered into with two Arab sheiks and an ill-advised or misunderstood speech he delivered to the National Press Club in Washington, D.C. in 1979, that was interpreted as having anti-Semitic overtones. Connally raised and spent $11 million on the fourteen-month campaign but dropped out of the primaries, having gained the binding commitment of only one GOP convention delegate. He felt himself to be a victim of the Watergate scandal. After he lost his bid for the presidential nomination in 1980, he left politics and government.

John Connally's grave in the Texas State Cemetery
John Connally's grave in the Texas State Cemetery. Image available on the Internet. Image available on the Internet and included in accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107.

In February 1982 Connally, a man of some wealth, took mandatory retirement from Vinson and Elkins. In 1981 he went into the business of real estate development with his former political protégé, Ben Barnes. In the partnership Connally was the "intimidating Olympian eminence," and Barnes was the "sometimes overpowering salesman and legman." Both had superb business and political contacts in the state and nation "and saw no reason why the values of their political life could not work equally well in their business life." The partners "conducted business," however, "as if they were campaigning for higher office." They signed personal notes on loans bearing short-term interest at 18 percent and by June 1983 had sixteen major projects under way totaling $231 million. It was a boom time in the Texas petroleum industry, with world oil prices ranging up to thirty-seven dollars a barrel. When the oil price collapsed, the state's economy collapsed. Connally and Barnes were out on a limb that broke and took them with it, along with many other wealthy Texans and most of the state's major financial institutions (see BANKS AND BANKING). The fiasco led Connally to acknowledge that "we were moving too far too fast and paying dearly for it." He declared bankruptcy, and he and Nellie held a globally publicized auction of their holdings and expensive personal belongings to apply the proceeds to their debt. The positions Connally held in law and business had taken him to the high echelons of corporate America. He was a director of the Coastal Corporation, Kaiser Tech, Kaiser Aluminum, Methodist Hospital of Houston, and Maxxam, Incorporated. He had earlier served on the boards of the New York Central Railroad, U.S. Trust, Pan American Airways, the Andrew Mellon Foundation, Greyhound Corporation, Ford Motor Company, Signal Companies, First City Bank Corporation, Superior Oil Company, Falkenbridge Nickel, and American General Insurance. He was a member of the State Bar of Texas, and the American, Houston, and District of Columbia Bar associations. Connally died on June 15, 1993, at the Methodist Hospital of Houston, where he was being treated for pulmonary fibrosis. He was buried in the State Cemetery in Austin. He was survived by his wife, a daughter, Sharon C. Ammann, and two sons, John Bowden III and Mark.



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