Remembering Assasinations: Colosio and JFK George Baker As any motorist who has traveled the back highways of Mexico will attest, rural Mexicans have a custom of putting a cross at the side in the road where a family member died in a car accident. In keeping with the spirit of this tradition, one of the steps that the Mexican Government took in the case of Luis Donaldo Colosio, the PRI presidential candidate from the border state of Sonora who died on March 23, 1994, was to build a bigger-than-life statue of the victim at the site of his assassination in the impoverished Lomas Taurinas barrio located in the back hills of Tijuana. For not having yet paid my respects to the Colosio family by visiting this statue (the Tijuana taxi driver told me it would take too long), I only imagine the scene: the text engraved on the base of the statue (a plaque would be recycled for its brass content) gives only his name and dates; possibly there is some quotation from his political career which was supposed to have ended in the year 2000 with his completion of six years as President of Mexico. One person, Mario Aburto, has been convicted of the crime, sentenced and imprisoned. Nevertheless, both the physical and intellectual authorship of the crime is in doubt. Most Mexicans who have heard of Colosio view him, with sympathy, as a victim of what Mexicans call "the System." Even so, it is inconceivable that there is an inscription at the site of the Colosio assassination that would dignify its perpetrator with an historical memory of his name. This point of view is not what prevails in Dallas. In a renovated neighborhood that once was the warehouse district, a street passes through that heads toward a nearby freeway. About 100 yards south from the street level of the warehouses- turned-botiques and tourist attractions, there is a functioning railroad line that runs east and west. The street, flanked by two grassy knolls, gradually drops beneath the underpass for motorists, one of whom, John F. Kennedy, was unconscious and dying by the time his car reached the bridge on November 22, 1963. Having parked one's car on the city streets, one approaches the edge of town looking for a monument, a bust of Kennedy or some architectural statement commensurate with the shock and grief that the nation experienced in the days following his assassination. At the site itself, however, the visitor finds, at the corner of a red brick building, only a plaque. The text, in embossed bronze letters, informs the visitor that the building was constructed in the 1880s by the founder of Dallas and was used for certain commercial purposes. The text gives additional details of the history of the ownership of the building. Suddenly, following this dry recital of information of interest only to real estate brokers, the text turns and says, "On November 22, 1963, from the sixth floor of this building Lee Harvey Oswald allegedly shot and killed President John F. Kennedy." The appearance of the word "allegedly" had captured the attention of visitors to such an extent that hundreds of them had taken out their car keys and had underscored the word on the bronze plaque, which, from a distance, appears to have a gash in the middle. The meaning now registers to the visitor what was printed on a small sign seen on the side of the building a moment earlier that reads "Sixth Floor Museum." Before even getting to the building itself, however, the visitor is greeted by a street vender with his cache of brochures and pamphlets and characteristic three-foot-square poster with photos of Kennedy and scenes from the time of the assassination. The street vender at one corner was an African-American in his early forties. He rushes into his version of the assassination, and, and the end of his pitch, offers the tourist a $5 pamphlet as a souvenir of his visit. "Up there," he nods, in the direction of the Sixth Floor Museum, "they give the Warren Commission version of Kennedy's assassination. Those of us down here on the street will tell you the way it really happened." Further down the sidewalk another street vender whose poster board of Kennedy photos also displays a sexy one of Marilyn Monroe. He tells a slightly different version of the same story: he points out the picket fence that borders the top of the grassy area and states that from behind that fence there were three men with rifles who also shot at Kennedy. He explains that the locations of several pieces of Kennedy's skull constituted incontrovertible proof that bullets were fired from several directions. One of the intriguing observations by this second vender took the form of a question: Why did the assassin wait until the Presidential car had turned the corner and had started its path out of town? Why didn't the assassin fire when the President was coming directly toward him and was possibly only 100 feet away in a direct line of fire? Answer: his turning the corner and heading toward the underpass put him into the line of fire of the three gunmen hiding behind the fence. Oddly, the vender said that in all his time selling pamphlets about the assassination, he had never bothered to go up to the Sixth Floor Museum, admission to which costs $15. Walking down the knoll to the sidewalk, to the street level that is gradually sinking as it approaches the underpass to the right, the visitor finds another small bronze plaque about one foot square placed in the grass. The text informs the visitor that an official body--possibly a state historical commission--had "designated this site as having interest for the history of the United States of America." Kennedy's name does not appear. (A parallel here exists in Mexico: at the Hill of the Bells in the colonial city of Queretaro, the site where Emperor Maximilian and two of his generals were shot by a government firing squad--the pleas of President Abraham Lincoln and others to spare their lives were ignored--there is no public plaque or statute that mentions their names at all.) What could explain the understatement in Dallas about the Kennedy assassination? For some visitors, it was entirely appropriate that Oswald's name should be connected to the assassination only as a matter of speculation. "He was never tried and convicted by a court of law. Hence, it can never be said that he was guilty of the assassination." For others, the architectural monument known as the Open Tomb in the next block is sufficient. Consider the contrast in the Mexican case: where, in the United States, the murder of Kennedy provoked tears and widespread mourning, in Mexico the murder of Colosio provoked fear: "If they can kill the PRI candidate in broad daylight, then individual guarntees mean nothing." One Mexican woman in her forties recalls the days that Kennedy and Colosio were shot: "The day Kennedy died my mother and grandmother and I were in McAllen, Texas. We were headed back to Mexico when they closed the border. "I was just a little girl. I recall people running, crying. I remember Grandmother saying to me, anxiously, 'They just have to let us cross the border. I have not made sopa [lunch] for your abuelito [grandfather].' The thought that someone could just go up and kill the president of the United States seemed inconceivable. When Colosio died we became fearful. I was brought back to my childhood memory of the day Kennedy died: it was unheard of--that someone could kill the PRI presidential candidate. You could immediately see that his death was the work of the System. Some of us thought, 'If the PRI candidate can be killed, no one is safe. Now is the time when we've got to emmigrate from Mexico.'" As to the authorship of the crime, for most middle- and upper-class Mexicans the fact that Aburto was tried and convicted of murder proves nothing. Speculation arose almost at once as to the existence of other gunmen. There was also speculation that Aburto himself was a substitute figure; the real assassin had either escaped or had been murdered by the intellectual authors of the crime in order to silence his secrets (Mexicans regard the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald in this light.) As in the case of Kennedy, in the case of Colosio there was speculation that the government itself was somehow involved in the assassination. In Mexico there were jokes to this effect, but Americans found no humor in the idea of CIA's possible complicity in the death of Kennedy. (One jewel of Mexican black humor from this period tells of how the president was awakened from his nap on the afternoon of Colosio's assassination by an agitated staff assistant who said: "Mr. President, wake up, Colosio's been shot!" The president replies in surprise, "Have I slept that long?" as if the hour of the assassination had been known by him in advance.) The way the two assassinations are treated respectively in the United States and Mexico points to a central difference between the two civil societies: In the United States there will always be a subculture that doubts the truth of the public record; but in Mexico the concept itself of a public record does not exist. The real facts of Mexican history are the ones that are apoken at private dinner parties among friends. The facts that are written serve mainly to justify the actions of the State. The statue of Colosio in Tijuana serves less to remind citizens of a fallen leader, one who, allegedly, had a vision of political reform, than it does to validate the process itself of presidential elections, a process that, for more than sixty years, uniformly has produced presidents from the same political party. After the Colosio assassination, Mexicans expected--and received--another president-apparent fingered by the incumbent president and his advisors. It was little comfort that an official ceremony of voting would take place on August 23 of that year would be a vote of social peace, a repudiation of the direct-action philosophy of the Zapatista uprising in Chiapas that had begun on January 1, the first day of NAFTA. But aside from his remaining family and friends, no one in Mexico mourns the death of Colosio (his widow, Diana Laura, died of cancer six months later). Certainly no one mourns the death of the Colosio in the sense that Americans past the age of fifty continue to mourn the death of Kennedy. The surprise in Dallas is that the city fathers have not taken steps to help civic pilgrims to the site of Kennedy's death with their thirty-year-old grief. In that sense, for American sensibilities, the Mexican statues and busts of the smiling, curly-haired Colosio in Tijuana, Mexico City and elsewhere make good emotional sense, despite the fact that there is little political reality behind them. XX George Baker 1770 St. James Place, Ste 406 Houston, TX 77056-3405 Tel (713) 627-9390 Fax (713) 627-9391