COUNTDOWN: 22 HOURS

Chicago, Illinois

All the pieces were in place. All Sam Giancana had to do was sit back and wait. If Jack Kennedy won, so would the Chicago Outfit, his sprawling crime syndicate.

Over the last year, Giancana had moved funds for the Kennedy campaign in the primaries and general election. How much? At this point, no one could really say.

But now he was using his muscle to ensure the rank and file in mob-controlled unions got to the polls and voted for Kennedy. In return, Giancana got a promise from Kennedy’s old man that when his kid won, the Justice Department would go easy on the Outfit.

Giancana was the key. Joseph Kennedy had used Frank Sinatra to reach out to the ruthless mob boss, and over time, Joe and Giancana came up with a plan to help JFK.

When Giancana and the other four members of the Outfit’s governing board voted on the agreement, Murray Humphreys was the only one to say no.

Humphreys was a fixer for the Outfit. According to the FBI, his role was to influence politicians, public officials, and union leaders to act on behalf of organized crime.

Still, despite his personal misgivings, Humphreys went along with the board’s decision. For two weeks in October, he stayed in a Hilton Hotel suite in Chicago, setting up a nationwide effort to swing votes to JFK.

Years later, his wife, Jeanne Humphreys, recalled details for investigative reporter Seymour Hersh. She remembered two big meetings between union officials and her husband. The first was in July—right before the Democratic National Convention. The second was in October.

“We were stuck there—two weeks at a time,” she said. “The people coming to the hotel were Teamsters from all over. The Chicago Outfit was coordinating the whole country…. They were coming in from everywhere, then fanning out across the country.”

The union bosses made a pilgrimage to the suite in July “to get instructions from Murray. When we went back in October, it was just a follow up, to see that everything went the right way.”

For Giancana, things couldn’t be better. The FBI was still out to shut down organized crime, but at the same time, the CIA had hired him to kill Cuban leader Fidel Castro. And he had a deal now with Kennedy’s father. Hell, he was even up close with one of Kennedy’s women, Judith Campbell. If everything went the way it should, legal harassment would cease. He’d have protection from people in the highest branches of government, which would give him total power in his world. He’d be untouchable.

COUNTDOWN: 21 HOURS

Tijuana, Mexico

On the most important day of his life, Richard Nixon ran for the border.

The vice president didn’t want to spend all day analyzing results from counties and precincts. That would drive him crazy. He had done everything possible—and more—to win this election.

Now he had a few hours to cut loose and relax a bit, like Dr. Hutschnecker always advised. When Nixon heard that his military aide, Don Hughes, had never driven along the Pacific Coast Highway, the vice president decided to do something about it.

Nixon jumped into a white convertible with Hughes and Secret Service officer Jack Sherwood, with Los Angeles police officer John DiBetta behind the wheel. Nixon told the trio that no one was allowed to talk about the election.

And off they went, heading south. Nixon felt alive, on the open road with the wind blowing in his face.

About 90 miles out, they stopped for gas in Oceanside, California. When the gas station attendant recognized him, Nixon told him, “I’m only out for a little ride. It was the only way I could get some rest.”

Nixon made a fifteen-minute stop to see his mother, Hannah, who lived nearby. Then they hit the open road again with no set destination. As they neared the Mexican border, Hughes said he had never been to Mexico, either. Nixon suggested they visit Tijuana, a raffish old party town just over the border.

Again, DiBetta followed the vice president’s lead. When they stopped at a booth manned by the border patrol, DiBetta asked an agent for the best Mexican restaurant in town. He sent them to a place run by a German called the Old Heidelberg.

And inside, they ordered tacos, enchiladas, and beer. News traveled fast, and soon the mayor of Tijuana joined the party. The border agent was right. The food was great and, more important, Nixon finally relaxed.

He remembered that no one at home knew where he was. He had Hughes call Bob Finch in Los Angeles to let him know.

With a Tijuana police car escorting them, DiBetta hurried back toward the border, and the United States. The U.S. immigration agent was stunned when a convertible with the vice president inside pulled up to the checkpoint.

“Hello!” said Nixon, reaching out to shake the agent’s hand.

“Are you all citizens of the United States?” the official asked.

“Yes. I am,” Nixon replied. “I don’t know about that man in the back.”

As they headed north, Nixon asked to stop at one of his favorite places: the Mission San Juan Capistrano.

There were only a handful of other visitors. Nixon gave the men a tour of the old mission. They stopped inside the sanctuary and sat in silence.

Nixon would recall that for those few minutes, he had “an interlude of complete escape from the battles we had long fought together, and those still to come.”

When they finished praying, the men scurried back to the convertible and headed to Los Angeles.

Nixon asked them to make one more stop, at a roadside ice cream stand. With a pineapple milkshake in hand, the vice president was ready to face the rest of the day.

COUNTDOWN: 20 HOURS

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

Jack Kennedy felt good, surrounded by family. And he looked surprisingly calm and relaxed for someone waiting for the results of an election that could make him the most powerful man in the world.

But his brother Bobby was a different story. He was busy. At times, Jack would walk inside his brother’s house to watch him in action. He’d lean against the doorway as Bobby read through the teletype with the latest returns and rumors while telephones jangled.

This was Bobby’s war room, and he was in total command. Calls came in from political leaders all over the country. Bobby answered with a terse “How are things going?”

JFK paced. He talked to his father. They walked from one home to another, but the road always seemed to take them back to Bobby’s cottage.

Finally, Jack had enough. Everything was under control. He was tired. He decided to take a nap.

COUNTDOWN: 18 HOURS

Los Angeles, California

By the time Nixon returned from his road trip, his family and friends were waiting in the Ambassador Hotel’s Royal Suite. For one moment in time, the vice president had felt so carefree. Now, reality set in. Soon, the first polls would close on the East Coast. His heart hammered every time he thought about the results. His entourage was there for support—Pat and their two daughters; his mother, Hannah; and other family members. Nixon’s longtime friend Bebe Rebozo and others were there, too. The vice president was anxious. What would happen? He didn’t know. All he could do was wait.

COUNTDOWN: 17 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

New York City

It was election night—and the nation’s three television networks had brought out their big guns for election night coverage. Chet Huntley and David Brinkley were at the helm at NBC. Walter Cronkite was in the same role at CBS, and John Daly was the anchor for ABC.

The Huntley-Brinkley Report was the nation’s most popular nightly news program. At 7:30 p.m. EST, Huntley opened its election coverage by saying that it was okay to do a little “dial-twisting” to check out the other networks. “But we hope and trust you’ll be back.”

Cronkite was an old-school broadcaster in the sonorous tradition of Edward R. Murrow. Both NBC and CBS decided to cover the election results from the beginning until they had a winner. ABC News, on the other hand, ran episodes of Bugs Bunny and The Rifleman, and broke in periodically with news updates. Later in the night, when the race heated up, ABC covered the election like the other networks.

Since this was the first time the networks were using computers to project winners, each had its own system.

CBS had a brand-new IBM 7090; NBC had an RCA 501; ABC had a Remington Rand Univac. They all expected the technology would enable them to call the race early—maybe by 8:00 p.m., or even earlier.

COUNTDOWN: 16 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

New York City

It was 8:00 p.m., and polls closed in some states on the East Coast. Results trickled in. The early returns showed that Kennedy was in the lead. But CBS made a bold prediction: Its IBM 7090 computer projected that Nixon would win in an Electoral College landslide. ABC’s computer also predicted a Nixon victory. NBC said it was still too soon to tell.

Watching the election coverage at his brother Robert’s house, Jack Kennedy was stunned. What the hell was going on? He was quickly assuaged by his pollster, Lou Harris, that CBS was flat-out wrong, that there were still hours to go before anyone knew for sure. Kennedy exhaled, but would stay on edge for the rest of the night.

COUNTDOWN: 15 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

New York City

More polls closed, and CBS and ABC reversed themselves. Broadcasters at the two networks said they had jumped the gun. Now they were predicting a Kennedy victory. NBC agreed that Kennedy was ahead in the popular vote.

Nixon had been mulling over the new projections for the last half hour and thought it was still too early to say anything. It was only a little after 9:00 p.m. in the eastern United States. People were still voting in states in the Midwest, West Coast, and parts of the South.

But some GOP officials were expressing their frustration at the earlier computer projections.

Leonard Hall, one of Nixon’s campaign managers, said, “I think we should put all of those electronic computers in the junk pile so far as election returns are concerned. This one is going down to the wire—a squeaker, a real close election.”

COUNTDOWN: 15 HOURS, 30 MINUTES

New York City

By 9:30 p.m. on the East Coast, all three networks had upped the odds of a Kennedy victory. Buoyed by their computers, the anchors proclaimed that JFK was on his way to a historic night.

In homes across the nation, families were gathered around their television sets. Kennedy supporters all over the nation cheered, while Nixon voters groaned. The networks would start calling states soon.

But Robert Kennedy was cautious. Yes, he and his advisers had gotten good reports from operatives in the field. The turnout, especially in big industrial cities, was heavier than expected. In fact, JFK was leading in New York and Pennsylvania.

But Bobby knew there were still a lot of votes to be cast and counted before any celebration started.

COUNTDOWN: 14 HOURS, 15 MINUTES

Los Angeles, California

Nixon had isolated himself in his fourth-floor suite at the Ambassador Hotel. With a pen in one hand and a yellow legal pad in front of him, he had been doing the math. He’d scribble down numbers every time a state was called. It would take 269 electoral votes to win. All night, the vice president had been watching the returns from seven key states: New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Illinois, Texas, and California. The vice president figured he had to win three of the seven to beat Kennedy. But then Nixon watched as Kennedy carried New York, with 45 electoral votes, and Pennsylvania, with 32 more. The numbers didn’t leave much room for error.

COUNTDOWN: 13 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

With 21 percent of the nation’s precincts having voted, Kennedy was 1 million votes ahead of Nixon. But it was the electoral votes that counted. By 11:00 p.m. big cities, like New York and Philadelphia, had given him large pluralities. That’s why he carried New York and Pennsylvania. JFK started to breathe easier. The television computers said he had 241 electoral votes. Indeed, everything looked like it was going according to plan.

In Hyannis Port, Charles Von Fremd, a CBS News correspondent, said JFK’s sister, Eunice Shriver, reported her brother was so happy that he was “smoking a big cigar.” And Ray Scherer, an NBC News correspondent, said Pierre Salinger, JFK’s press secretary, was optimistic, too, calling the returns from all over the country “very encouraging.” But just as the Democrats were ready to celebrate, Nixon showed signs of life. He had already landed Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, and Indiana for 25 electoral votes. Now he was the winner in four key states: Virginia, Oklahoma, Florida, and Kentucky, adding 40 more electoral votes to his column. And he suddenly showed surprising strength in New Jersey, Colorado, and Ohio. He now had 65 electoral votes. Kennedy was only slightly ahead in Michigan and Wisconsin, two union-heavy states he was supposed to win easily.

JFK was leading in Illinois and Texas—but not by as much as expected. No, even with Lyndon Johnson on the ticket, broadcasters said the Lone Star State was too close to call. In his suite at the Driskill Hotel in Austin, Johnson walked the floor wearing his brick-red long-john shirt, with a cup of hot chocolate in his hand and a walkie-talkie in his ear. His eyes never left the television set.

COUNTDOWN: 13 HOURS, 15 MINUTES

Hollywood, California

Frank Sinatra couldn’t relax. It was getting close to midnight on the East Coast. He knew most of the polls all over the country had either closed or were on the verge of closing. The election was too damn close to call, and that made him nervous. He had worked so hard for his friend Jack.

At the home of Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh, Sinatra and a gaggle of stars and other movie people gathered to watch the election unspool on television.

Film producer Bill Goetz and director and screenwriter Billy Wilder were there, with comedian Milton Berle and other Hollywood Democrats who had worked for Kennedy.

The Kennedy compound took calls that evening from Henry Fonda in New York, and Sammy Davis Jr., who was performing that night at the Huntington Hartford Theatre in Hollywood. He interrupted his act several times to update the audience on the election returns.

COUNTDOWN: 12 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

Austin, Texas

At the Driskill Hotel, the crowd let out a loud cheer. The Texas Election Bureau had just given the state—with 24 electoral votes—to the Kennedy-Johnson ticket. A reporter asked Johnson about his plans.

“Going out and get some scrambled eggs and a glass of milk,” he replied.

Nationally, Kennedy led Nixon by somewhere around 2 million votes. Despite the Democratic gains, Nixon’s team said their chances were improving. And even though Texas had gone into the Democrat’s column, the margin was smaller than expected.

The new returns gave Republicans some hope.

COUNTDOWN: 12 HOURS, 30 MINUTES

Los Angeles, California

Nixon was making a comeback. It was 12:15 a.m. on the East Coast, and returns coming in from the West gave Nixon a boost. By winning Colorado, Washington, Oregon, Arizona, Idaho, and Utah, the vice president added 33 electoral votes to his column. Nixon also cut into Kennedy’s popular vote advantage in California—a must-win for Nixon.

In the Midwest, Nixon grabbed Iowa and its 10 electoral votes, and now had 108 electoral votes. He was ahead in Wisconsin, and making it close in Michigan, where Kennedy had been favored because of the union vote.

Meanwhile, Kennedy was leading in Minnesota.

Yes, the odds were still in Kennedy’s favor. But it still wasn’t a sure thing. In state after state, the TV anchors said the race continued to tighten.

COUNTDOWN: 11 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

Tension grew in the Kennedy camp. They were no longer dreaming of a landslide. Now they didn’t know if they’d win. Watching the returns in Bobby’s cottage, Sargent Shriver was tense. Nixon was making gains in Illinois. Not a good thing, since Shriver was Illinois campaign manager for his brother-in-law.

Then the returns showed Nixon surging. Shriver was devastated. He thought that might cost JFK the race. He didn’t want to face anyone.

So Shriver went back to his bedroom and almost cried himself to sleep.

Shriver wasn’t the only one concerned about Illinois. So was Kennedy. A few hours earlier, Chicago mayor Richard Daley had called JFK with an update. Maybe it was more of a prediction. When he got off the phone, Kennedy told his friend Ben Bradlee that Daley had boasted, “With a little luck and the help of a few close friends, you’re going to carry Illinois.”

Kennedy didn’t doubt Daley. But when Nixon captured Ohio and its 25 electoral votes, bringing the vice president’s total to 133, JFK started to feel anxious.

Back in California, Nixon press secretary Herb Klein felt confident the vice president would carry Illinois. He was getting positive reports from operatives in the field.

But something strange was happening. The polls in Illinois had been closed for hours, but many Chicago precincts hadn’t reported any results at all. What was going on?

COUNTDOWN: 10 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

Los Angeles, California

When Nixon won Wisconsin, he now had 145 electoral votes. California was still in play. So was Illinois. If he added those two states, Nixon would have a total of 204 electoral votes. And the popular vote margins were closing in many places. The campaigns realized the importance of the small states. Maybe Nixon visiting all fifty states hadn’t been such a bad idea?

When Kennedy captured Delaware, Louisiana, and West Virginia, the place of his decisive victory over Humphrey in the Democratic presidential primary, it brought his total to 262 electoral votes. Kennedy was so close to victory, but the margins in key states like Michigan had made the outcome uncertain.

COUNTDOWN: 10 HOURS

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

By 2:45 a.m., they had all came in. Tens of thousands of votes from Chicago, delivered en masse—very suspicious. At least to Nixon campaign manager Leonard Hall. It meant that Mayor Daley and the Chicago machine were heavily involved in the returns. Not a good sign.

Meanwhile, Sargent Shriver heard someone rapping on his bedroom door, then a voice: The votes in Illinois had changed. JFK was in the lead.

Shriver got up from the bed, washed his face, and headed back to the war room.

COUNTDOWN: 9 HOURS, 30 MINUTES

Los Angeles, California

The broadcasters had just received another batch of election returns. The ballots had been coming in fast and furious for hours.

The vice president tried to analyze the numbers, looking for trends, but his mind was groggy. It had been a grueling, demanding campaign. He’d had only a few hours of sleep in the last forty-eight.

There in his suite, it became clear to Nixon that, without a miracle, Kennedy would be the next president of the United States.

He had campaigned so damn hard. Nixon really wanted this. But reality set in.

He knew what he had to do. But first, he would talk to his wife and daughters.

When Nixon tapped on the door to his daughters’ hotel room, Tricia and Julie were in bed, but Tricia was still awake. There was too much excitement for her to sleep. When Nixon informed her that he might have lost, she started to cry.

Then Nixon faced his wife. He said he wasn’t going to concede defeat, but he wanted to go down to the ballroom to update his supporters. He’d just tell them the truth.

Pat was upset with her husband. With all the uncertainty surrounding the race, it was still too early to say anything less than uplifting. “I simply cannot bring myself to stand there with you while you concede the election to Kennedy,” he recounted her saying in Six Crises.

But in the end, she couldn’t let her husband face his supporters alone.

Now it was time—12:15 a.m. in Los Angeles and 3:15 in Hyannis Port. Nixon and wife headed to the grand ballroom of the Ambassador Hotel, where one thousand people were talking, drinking, and watching the results on the national newscasts.

Pat almost lost her composure when they entered the ballroom to the cheers of the GOP faithful. They stood arm in arm before the crowd, grinning to the chants of “We want Nixon! We want Nixon!” But Pat’s eyes were beginning to glisten.

With his wife by his side—and millions of Americans watching at home—Nixon took the podium. Her husband needed her support, so Pat stood firm. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying.

“If the present trend continues, Senator Kennedy will be the next president of the United States,” Nixon told his supporters.

There was a collective gasp in the ballroom. They couldn’t believe it. How could this happen? As the crowd shouted, “No,” Pat began to sob.

Pat Nixon hadn’t cried during her husband’s nationally televised address in 1952, when he denied allegations that he’d used an $18,000 political contribution for personal expenses—a claim that nearly led Eisenhower to boot him off the ticket. She had remained calm in 1958 when rioters booed and spat in her face on a trip to Lima, Peru, and Caracas, Venezuela, during one of her husband’s goodwill tours. She hadn’t cried then.

Richard and Pat Nixon telling supporters if the present trend continues, Kennedy will win

(Copyright © Lawrence Schiller, All Rights Reserved)

But this was too much.

The couple scurried up four flights of stairs to their suite. Fourteen years of public life had brought them almost to the top of the world. Almost.

The pundits were perplexed by the speech. Huntley told Brinkley he wasn’t sure if Nixon had just made a concession speech or not.

On CBS, Cronkite said the same thing, adding that Nixon “came as close as a man can, but did not actually concede.”

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

In the command center in Robert Kennedy’s house, JFK’s advisers were confused, then angry. Nixon didn’t concede.

Press secretary Pierre Salinger urged Kennedy to seize the moment. Hold a news conference at the Hyannis National Guard Armory, where hundreds of journalists were waiting.

But Kennedy said no. He understood why Nixon issued that statement. The vice president had just won Wisconsin and continued to cut into Kennedy’s lead in several key states, including Illinois. Nixon needed to take a break, hit the reset button, then make a decision when his head was clearer.

Kennedy said under the same circumstances he wouldn’t have conceded the race.

He was disturbed by something else. Why did Nixon have Pat stand by his side? It was apparent that she was breaking down. It was a low-class thing to do, he said.

As he started to leave, Salinger tried to convince him to go to the Armory and make an on-air appearance.

JFK refused and said he was going to bed.

With that he said good night and headed out the door for the short walk home. It was a chilly, clear night with stars stretched across the black sky. Kennedy walked through his front door, then quietly up the stairs to his bedroom. Jackie was already asleep. Jack kissed her on her brow. She awakened and he smiled at her. “It looks like we’re in,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she said, “is it really set?”

“I think so,” Kennedy said. “Now, you’d better go back to sleep.”

Moments later, he joined her.

COUNTDOWN: 7 HOURS, 45 MINUTES

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

By 5:00 a.m., Kennedy’s national popular vote margin continued to slip, falling below 1 million. But while the popular vote tightened, JFK continued picking up electoral votes.

David Brinkley, like the other broadcasters, was dragging a little. None of them were used to covering a live news event for so many hours.

Robert Kennedy was tired, too. He had been working the phones day and night. This campaign would be a template for others to follow in the future. He knew he needed to get some rest. He told his father he’d be back in a little while. But the old man wasn’t going anywhere. Joe had waited a lifetime for this. No bed for him. Not yet.

After what felt like hours, the Associated Press called Michigan for Kennedy. Joe knew that his son had surpassed the magic number: 269 electoral votes. He could go home now. His work was done.

COUNTDOWN: 5 HOURS, 26 MINUTES

New York City

Many morning newspapers had headlines declaring Kennedy the winner. Others said JFK was ahead, but the race was still too close to call.

Ballots were still being counted in a number of states, including California and Illinois. Kennedy was ahead in both.

And then, at 7:19 a.m., Brinkley announced that the NBC Victory Desk had projected that Kennedy would win California. As a result, “Senator Kennedy was elected president of the United States.”

COUNTDOWN: 3 HOURS, 15 MINUTES

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

It was 9:30 a.m. when Ted Sorensen walked into Kennedy’s bedroom and found JFK sitting at the edge of his bed in his white pajamas.

Nixon hadn’t conceded yet, but that didn’t matter. Kennedy had carried California, putting him well over 269 electoral votes, well over the threshold for the presidency, Sorensen said.

A few minutes later, Pierre Salinger interrupted Kennedy’s bath to give him the same news. The three men talked for a while about the returns. Sorensen wanted to know when to schedule a press conference and claim victory. Kennedy said he wouldn’t do anything until Nixon spoke.

“Well, that may be a long time, because Nixon claims he is not going to get up until 9 a.m. Pacific coast time, which would be noon [here],” Sorensen said.

Kennedy shrugged. “It’s up to him; he can get up anytime he wants.”

When his advisers left, Kennedy got ready. He shaved and put on his clothes. By 10:00 a.m., he came downstairs for breakfast with his family, then wandered into his yard with his daughter, Caroline.

She tried to keep up, then reached out her arms. “Piggyback!” she said. Kennedy laughed, picked her up, and carried her inside.

A few minutes later, he walked toward Bobby’s cottage.

It was over, he thought. And it was starting. With each step, he felt more alive than he had in years.

COUNTDOWN: 1 HOUR

Los Angeles, California

Buckling into his seat on the chartered Boeing 707, Nixon was despondent. How could he have lost to Kennedy? He’d been Eisenhower’s vice president for eight years. The country was at peace and the economy was in good shape and getting better. So, what happened? There were just too many things that didn’t add up.

Nixon had rested well. The fog that engulfed him had lifted. And even though he was depressed because he lost, Nixon had regained his composure.

After breakfast, the family checked out of the hotel, waving goodbye to the reporters who were still there.

Nixon handed his press secretary a copy of a telegram he planned to send to Kennedy. Nixon still hadn’t conceded the race. He still had too many questions.

Kennedy’s popular vote lead continued to drop as the remaining vote counts trickled in. Hell, Nixon had received 49.6 percent of the national popular vote—and there were still many more votes to be counted in key states.

The networks said JFK won California, but Nixon wondered how they’d reached that conclusion. Election officials still hadn’t counted more than 230,000 absentee ballots. And Nixon was still cutting into JFK’s lead in Illinois and other states.

Everyone outside Nixon’s inner circle was pushing him to concede defeat. But why should he? Why the hurry? This might end up being the closest race in U.S. history. It was clear already that certain states were ripe for a recount.

On the flight back to Washington, D.C., Nixon’s campaign manager, Leonard Hall, told the vice president the Democrats stole the election. They had received reports of voter fraud in a number of key states, including Illinois, Texas, and Missouri. He pressed Nixon to do something about it, maybe even contest the election.

Nixon took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to make a hasty decision on something that would divide the nation. No, he’d have to think about that, talk it over with GOP leaders. He didn’t want to be a sore loser.

Nixon didn’t know what the next phase of his life would look like. He was only forty-seven years old. Did he have a future in politics? Maybe he’d practice law again. After being vice president, though, that seemed like a big step down. He had a lot of decisions to make.

But before Nixon could move forward, he still had something painful to do. He had put it off for too long.

COUNTDOWN: 1 MINUTE

Hyannis Port, Massachusetts

It was early morning and the television networks had returned to their regular schedules, but if there was any election-related news, they cut into a program with updates.

Jack Kennedy had been taking walks around the compound, talking to family and close advisers. A squad of Secret Service agents had been dispatched to protect Kennedy and his family; they spread out across the compound.

When JFK returned to Bobby’s cottage, one of the televisions was tuned to a game show called Play Your Hunch, hosted by entertainer Merv Griffin. No one in the house was watching.

And then, it happened.

At 12:45 p.m., the network interrupted the show with a bulletin. A hush fell over the room. Herb Klein, Nixon’s press secretary, was there, holding a piece of paper.

Klein said he had a telegram that Nixon had sent to Jack’s home. Then he read the message:

I want to repeat through this wire congratulations and best wishes I extended to you on television Tuesday night. I know you will have the united support of all Americans as you lead the nation in the cause of peace and freedom in the next four years.

And with that, the election was over. Cheers erupted in the room. After a long, bitter campaign, John Fitzgerald Kennedy was the president-elect.

Kennedy was appalled that Klein had announced the concession, and not Nixon. “He went out the way he came in,” Kennedy said. “No class.”

Kennedy planned to make a victory statement. But first, he rounded up his immediate family—his wife, parents, brothers and sisters and their spouses—to pose for photographers clustered at the compound. He knew this was a historic moment.

Then it was time for Jack Kennedy to address the nation. He took a motorcade to the Hyannis National Guard Armory. Inside, he moved to a makeshift platform, where hundreds of journalists and photographers from around the world were waiting.

Kennedy read telegrams he had received from Nixon and President Eisenhower, congratulating him on his victory. And then he made a pledge to the American people:

“I ask for your help in this effort and can assure you that every degree of mind and spirit that I possess will be devoted to the long-range interests of the United States and to the cause of freedom around the world,” Kennedy said.

With his very pregnant wife standing beside him, JFK ended with a typical grace note. “So now my wife and I prepare for a new administration—and for a new baby.”

Jack had done it. He had fulfilled his father’s dream of putting a Kennedy in the White House. When he’d announced his candidacy in January, his critics said he was too young. Too inexperienced. He was a Roman Catholic, no less.

But with his younger brother’s brilliant campaign strategy, and his father’s money and unscrupulous connections, Kennedy had captured the Democratic presidential nomination and then the White House.

Jack Kennedy was a gifted communicator, able to articulate his vision for America. He believed in big government—federal aid for students so they could go to college, medical care for the elderly so they wouldn’t struggle in their later years, and civil rights for all Americans. He delivered speeches that inspired a generation of young Americans to engage in their communities. He made being a politician cool, with his perennial suntan, sunglasses, and stylish wardrobe.

And to get himself to the end, he’d had to find ways to keep voters focused on all of that, and to hide his flaws from the public. That in itself took a lot of work, a lot of lies, a lot of people protecting him.

Now perhaps he could relax a little. Kennedy was glad. The election was over.

Maybe.