Edition: U.S. / Global

In America; Perchance to Dream

Published: May 22, 1994

Camelot? No, there was no Camelot.

And yet . . .

From the vantage point of 1994, amid the overwhelming clamor of narcissism, cynicism, crime and the twisted tales of afternoon television, it's not that easy to recall the extraordinary innocence that prevailed among so many Americans in the early-1960's.

I think of the time from 1960-63 as the pre-Sixties, a prelude to the hyped-up, psychedelic years that gave the decade its identity. It was a cool and relatively quiet transitional period that had stronger ties of kinship to the 1950's than to the tumultuous era that lay ahead. The President throughout 1960 was Dwight Eisenhower.

President Kennedy took office on Jan. 20, 1961, a time when Jack Benny and Red Skelton were still major prime-time television attractions and dreamy songs like "Where the Boys Are" and "Moon River" were big hits. Who knew that coming around the next corner were miniskirts and Vietnam, the riots, the Beatles, a so-called sexual revolution, hippies, the Black Panthers, and what seemed for awhile like the assassination du jour?

One of the benefits of innocence is the belief that it's safe to dream. Dreams blossomed everywhere in the early 60's, and they had about them a blissful, idealistic quality, especially among the young. That as much as anything made it a perfect time for John and Jacqueline Kennedy. Young, beautiful, brilliant, rich, the Kennedys both encouraged and embodied the dreams of that era. Youngsters joined the Peace Corps, or went to teach among the poor in Appalachia, or headed south to march in protests for civil rights. Everything seemed possible, given enough time, enough effort, enough good will. Bad things could be made good, and good things wonderful.

Robert Frost, at the inauguration, spoke of "A golden age of poetry and power/ Of which this noonday's the beginning hour."

Americans were eager to believe. Camelot, at that moment, did not seem out of the question. The Kennedys were a fairy-tale couple, the perfect stand-ins for royalty. And what else is royalty for, if not to embody the hopes and aspirations, the dreams and fantasies, of the simple folk?

How deep was the innocence? A Gallup Poll in 1961 showed that nearly all teen-aged girls believed they would be married (for keeps) by age 22, and most wanted four children. Eventually all families would be as wonderful as the Kennedys, who, with the adorable Caroline and John-John, were even more perfect than the television sitcom families.

How widespread were the dreams? Despite the atrocious racial prejudice of the era, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. could stir the nation with his profoundly moving expression of his dream for his people, delivered just three months before President Kennedy was killed.

The capacity to dream seemed infinite. And for so many Americans there was no better place to project those dreams than onto the First Family, Exhibit A in the attempt to prove that fairy tales came true.

It was astonishing, really. Jack and Jackie had limitless self-confidence and never seemed to get upset over anything. They could handle it all, and with elan -- from the threat of nuclear war to the challenge of raising two young children in the world's brightest spotlight.

And then, of course, on Nov. 22, 1963, it looked as if it had all collapsed in a heap. The assassination was a cruel breach of faith and the damage to the nation's psyche was enormous. In fairy tales you don't kill off the hero. But nothing dies harder than a dream in America. So there was Jackie in the immediate aftermath, grief-stricken but as dignified and perfect as ever, providing a focus for the nation's sorrow even as she organized the rituals for our collective grief.

The country could not let her go. She moved out of the White House but she remained the First Lady, still charged with the safekeeping of the fantasies and dreams of so many. She carried out that charge for the rest of her life.

Was that brief period in the early-60's Camelot? Perhaps not. But it's the closest we'll ever come. And the fact that for more than 30 years we thought of Jackie as ever young and invulnerable is evidence that we held onto a dream of something like Camelot right up until the end.