The Ghost of Inauguration Past
It was 17 degrees on January 20, 1961, the day John F. Kennedy was inaugurated. There had been snow the night before and six to ten inches still lay on the sidewalks on Pennsylvania Avenue as work crews shoveled away. Along with several of my buddies from our Boy Scout troop in Arlington, Virginia, I reported for duty as an usher for the inauguration at 7 am.
It was a clear sunny day, but bitterly cold. I remember all of us stomping our feet in the snow on the sidewalks trying to get them warm. It would be at least three hours before anyone showed up that needed to be ushered to their seats. I can’t imagine what we did all that time. Being Boy Scouts, we probably contemplated building a fire. It was one of our merit badges: Fire-building. But that didn’t happen. Maybe we helped shovel snow? Can’t remember.
When the new, young President and his lovely wife eventually rode by at about noon, in an open convertible, he had created a bit of a sensation by going hatless. In the inaugural parade that followed there were college and high school bands from across the country, military units marching in formation, floats (one that looked like a submarine and which shot out 8-inch Styrofoam Polaris missiles), and foreign heads of state. Late in the day, at the very end of the parade, came the state governors one by one, each in a open convertible of their own.
By that time, maybe 4 in the afternoon, shadows were lengthening and the stands were empty. We were bored and decided to have some fun at the expense of the governors. Noting their names on the side of their cars. We would do a 1-2-3 then, in unison, shout out their first name, “Ted!” “Ralph!” They would jerk in our direction, hoping for friendly face, but seeing a gaggle of laughing adolescents.
https://www.postalley.org/2025/01/20/the-ghost-of-inauguration-past/
Yet the annoying orange thought it was too cold to be outside.