CAPE TIMES
Wednesday, June 8, 1966
THREE THOUSAND AT AIRPORT
Cape Town's great welcome to the Kennedys
Cape Times Reporter
Put together,
the airport receptions for Vera Lynn, Harold Macmillan and Marlene Dietrich
would not have come near to equaling this one. From the moment the tousled
Kennedy’s mop appeared in the doorway of the chartered Viscount to
the Senator’s departure for the city in a long black car, it was a
near riot.
Robert Kennedy and his wife
Ethel, ably supported by a squad of thick-set South African policeman, had
to fight their way into Cape Town through a mob of some 3,000 people who
had turned out to greet them– and never have I seen two people enjoying
a fight more.
While they fought for survival
with one hand, the other was constantly pumping the hands of White and Coloured
well–wishers, and those disarming Kennedy smiles never faded.
At a distance it was at times difficult to
pick out the Kennedys in the seething mass of students that surrounded-and
nearly flattened-them in the airport terminal. They look so much like a
pair of undergraduates themselves – except that they dress better.
Aircraft delayed
We had thought, after a seemingly-endless
wait at the airport, that the reception was going to be a huge flop; an
anticlimax to the big build-up that had preceded the long journey to Cape
Town from New York. Soon after 2 p.m., the scheduled time of arrival, it
was announced that the Kennedy aircraft was not expected till 4 p.m.
A resounding groan went up from the phalanx
of students that had descended on the airport. Huge posters proclaiming
“Welcome Bobby”, “Hi from UCT”, and simply “Hi!”
were unhitched, rolled up and taken away in what appeared to be a mass withdrawal.
Not even the arrival of two of South Africa’s new hush-hush Buccaneer
jets and the high-speed activities of two Mirage fighters could hold them.
Posters restored
But when the great moment arrived most of
them were back again. The posters were restored, and some new ones appeared-probably
relics of the Rag. One said “Ban the Bomb;” another “Vote
for Our Man Flint;” and on a third was scrawled: “Eat more eggs.”
The Viscount, which had just circled around
Robben Island at the request of the Kennedys, “just let them know
we’ve arrived,” pulled up on the tarmac, and spilled the 30-member
Press corps – some wielding big TV cameras above their heads-down
the gangway, Mrs. Helen Suzman, Progressive Party MP for Houghton, and Mr.
Colin Eglin, Cape Western Chairman of the party, followed with the Kennedy
aides and Mr. Argus Tressidor, cultural attache at the United States
Embassy in Pretoria.
White Flash
Then there was a sudden white flash at the
head of the gangway: it was the famous Kennedy smile, and it sent off a
roar that must have carried to the distant Hottentots-Holland Mountains.
On the tarmac, Senator Kennedy was greeted
by the American Consul-General, Mr. L.D. Watrous, Mr. Charles Diamond, chairman
of the Students’ Representative Council at UCT, Mr. John Daniel, vice-president
of the National Union of South African Students (Nusas) and other student
representatives–then he walked over to the crew of the Viscount, shook
hands with each of them, thanked them and congratulated Captain Beamish
on his handling of the aircraft.
Mass of humanity
After this the Kennedys disappeared in a seething
mass of humanity. Flash bulbs popped, movie cameras whirred, a celebrant
student shouted, “Hi, Mr. Kennedy, there’s a call for you over
here from a guy called Goldwater.” It was bedlam.
Tank-like members of the Security Branch,
called in by the American Consulate in Cape Town to provide protection for
the visitors, rubbed shoulders with girls in campus dress and wearing large
paper poster saying simply “Hi!”
There were screams, shouts, cheers from the
heaving mob.
In the centre of the tightly packed concourse
some students raised Senator Kennedy shoulder high to enable him to address
the crowd.
‘Good of Government’
“My wife and I are delighted to be here,”
he said, “I want to say how much we appreciate that you kids skipped
school to come and welcome us.” (Roar from the crowd.)
“It was also very good of the Government
to have arranged this little reception.” (An even bigger roar.)
“Over the past six months I have travelled
around the world, to Latin America and through Asia, and what I think unites
us all, no matter what our problems may be, is the young people. They want
to establish a safe life and existence, and a safe future, whether in South
Africa, in the USA or in Asia.
“We must move ahead. My brother, the
President, had a favourite saying. It comes from Dante. It is: ‘The
hottest places in Hell are reserved for those who, in times of crisis, preserve
their neutrality’.” (Resounding applause.)
On human tide
The students burst into singing “For
He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” and then the youthful senator, a few
flecks of grey showing, at close quarters, in his mop of ginger-brown hair,
was swept along on a human tide to the leading car in the waiting motorcade
outside. Besieged by autograph hunters, he climbed to the roof of the car
and began signing scores of autograph books, cigarette packets and pieces
of paper thrust at him. Someone reminded the senator he was running late
and was expected at a mayoral reception in the City Hall in 10 minutes.
“Only five more,” he yelled to the autograph hunters.
That job done, he looked around for Ethel,
“Pity me,” he exclaimed. “I’ve lost my wife and
I’ve got nine children at home.”
Ethel emerged from the mob–and two motorcycle
traffic cops and two traffic control vehicles with flashing blue turret
lights leading the way, the motorcade moved off. It was escorted –
unofficially–part of the way by two young motorcyclists who wove in
and out of the cars, waving their flags at occupants.
Near Langa, the lead cars pulled up, and there
was a hurried consultation at the roadside around the Kennedy car. Then
we moved on again, till we reached Roeland Street. Halfway down we suddenly
swung into a side street and into the heart of District Six. We wove through
back-alleys into Constitution Street, and then down Hanover Street. A few
people here and there waved-but Senator Kennedy went unrecognized.
Coloured Group
Promptly at 5p.m., we pulled up outside the
City Hall, where a group of Coloured people was waiting on the pavement.
Senator Kennedy stepped out and smilingly greeted as many of the group as
he could. Bending low, he chucked a little Coloured boy under the chin,
patted him on the head and said: “And how are you, young feller?”
The boy beat a hasty, and somewhat frightened, retreat.
On the steps of the City Hall the senator
turned to the crowd and said: “We are very pleased to be in South
Africa and to see this beautiful city. We bring greetings from the people
of the United States to the people of South Africa. You are going to work
out your problems here, and we are going to work out ours.” (Applause.)
Sweeping back that dominating fringe from
his forehead and buttoning his light grey suit jacket, one of America’s
most ambitious and tireless young men disappeared inside the City Hall to
meet the Mayor and members of the City Council.
Robert Kennedy had arrived in Cape Town.