Maybe he’d been away too long. Perhaps it was time to leave the memories behind and go back to Coney Island
Friday, January 21, 1961
Yeruchum Freed had lost this battle.
He’d tried. Tried so hard. Spoke about bitul zeman, the waste of time, the nonsense and the silliness and the lack of modesty. But somehow, some way, the boarders of the Freed Hotel had, for once, prevailed, and an RCA Victor wooden console television set was given pride of place in the parlor.
Today, on this day of days, the boarders huddled around the television set, listening to the newscaster speaking about the historic events that had led to this moment, eagerly waiting to hear the clipped, odd-sounding Bostonian tones of their new president.
Snow had fallen the night before in the nation’s capital and a chill wind was blowing. Though many of the women seated on the portico in front of the Capitol building were wrapped in their minks, the president-elect and those standing next to him were bareheaded and dressed only in suits and ties.
Hundreds of thousands of Americans watching the inauguration in person on Washington’s snow-covered streets had shivered their way through an interminable speech by a cardinal. Famed poet Robert Frost then recited a poem. And, finally, it was time for John Fitzgerald Kennedy, 35th president of the United States, to take his oath of office.
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