Michael Danzig email to Robert Morrow
on June 13, 2021
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.
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