Brian R. McEnany et al
In the interests of adding to your information about past inaugural parades, I canvassed my class mates (’62) and a few others for their memories. I hope this will find its way into Gray Matter after your editing. If you have any questions, please contact me. The classmates who assisted me are listed at the end of the article.
See Picture at the bottom of this article to see the "Pass in Review".
It was late in the evening the night before the Inauguration and the barracks at West Point were a blaze of light. Cadets poured out of their rooms in the darkness, formed into companies, and marched down to the train station. The 35th president of the United States was to be inaugurated at noon on January 20, 1961, and the Corps of Cadets would march in his parade.
For several days prior, the Corps had practiced marching in battalion mass on Thayer Road toward the Hotel. For those of us who only remember platoons on line, marching in battalion mass was a new and different experience.
When the cadets arrived at the train station, they picked up boxes of sandwiches, fruit juice and candy before boarding the passenger cars. The officers and some of the upper class cadets had sleepers that made their ride easier. The rest of the cadets jostled one another for seats in the Pullman cars. Remembering trips to Philadelphia, some climbed into the luggage racks and lay down while others stretched across the seats below.
Not all the Corps was aboard that night. A number of cadets remained behind. There were Corps squad wrestling, swimming and basketball meets and games scheduled. More important, a few cadets, being declared "Deficient/Turned Out" in "Solids, Fluids and Juice", were confined to quarters to study for their make-up exams. Wind and snow had struck the Academy and drifts up to three feet deep blocked movement in Central Area. Trying to get from one place to another across Diagonal Walk caused some of the cadets to end up face-first in the fluffy stuff. Official word was combat boots and athletic parka over class uniform. No uniform flag covered that mixture of clothes, but it kept us warm. Over the next few days, the snow storm caused many of the athletic events to be cancelled leaving lots of time for practice, studying, and brown boy time.
The snow storm continued throughout the night. The train hurtled south and it was cold in the cars because the steam lines were broken or frozen. Most of us huddled in our seats under our overcoats. The rhythmic pounding of the wheels soon caused most of us to fall asleep and we probably didn’t realize it was so cold until morning anyway. At one point, the train lurched as it struck a snow drift on the tracks. Those in the luggage racks reached up and braced themselves against the roof of the car, and didn’t miss a snore.
Several hours later, the train entered Union Station in Washington where snow drifts lined the tracks. Washington had been inundated by snowstorm that blanketed the Capitol under six inches of snow. Thousands of military and civilians crews were hard at work clearing the parade route. It was dreary, with the temperature around freezing for most of the day. Three-inch high headlines in the Washington Post announced, “Snow Blankets Inauguration.”
Box lunches were soon consumed and we made sure we all had our parade equipment before leaving the train. It was a struggle to get dressed in the aisle of the Pullman. Overcoats, white cross-belts, cartridge boxes, rifles, full dress gray, uniform caps and gloves was the parade uniform. We climbed aboard buses that took us from Union Station to the assembly area.
The snow had stopped falling, but slush was piled high along the curbs and in the streets where we had to assemble. Meanwhile, the officers and cadet staff were getting last minute instructions from the Inaugural committee -- location for the formation of the Corps; time to be present; and expected release points. Then came the decision -- the Corps will not march in overshoes during the parade.
The buses deposited us within sight of the Capitol on New Jersey Ave between the Longworth Building and the Cannon Office Building. After milling around to find our respective battalions, the inevitable command came, “If you are taller than the man in front of you, move up”. Each battalion mass was sixteen across and many more deep.
While we waited in the cold, the Inauguration ceremony began on the east front of the Capitol. Heavy overcoats adorned those who sat and watched the ceremony. Marion Anderson sang the National Anthem. Dwight David Eisenhower saw his term end. Harry Truman was there. Herbert Hoover’s plane never made it because of the snowstorm the day before. Mrs. Roosevelt sat and listened. The new president’s address became a classic, but none of his words were heard by the waiting cadets.
After standing for what seemed to be hours in the slushy street, our shoes were soaked and the grumbling began. One of the companies started chanting. A number of girls hung out of the windows in nearby office buildings -- perhaps a few became dates at Inaugural balls that evening. After a long, long, long time someone passed the word-- they just announced that the president and his party "JUST SAT DOWN FOR LUNCH". If the election was held right then, it is possible that JFK would not have gotten our vote.
The parade was supposed to begin at 1:30 and the Presidential luncheon ran long causing us to wait even longer in the cold and snow than we would have done otherwise. The old army command of "Smoke if you've got 'em" was given, and packs of cigarettes emerged from the little pockets inside the long overcoats. People who had never considered smoking were soon puffing away in order to stay warm and to distract them from the agony in their toes. Standing there for several hours waiting for the parade to start was probably the coldest time we ever remembered as cadets.
Finally, the band started to play somewhere in front of us. The U.S. Army always marches first, and it wasn’t long before we were brought to attention and given, "Right Shoulder Arms, Forward March". There was a loud, collective groan as we began to march, painfully at first, with sore feet and stiff, cold legs - it would take us almost thirty minutes before our toes returned to normal.
The color guard marched before us, flags snapping in the light breeze that swept over the parade route. By the time we turned on Pennsylvania Ave, we were warm and pumped up. We "gazed around" at the assembled spectators along the route, and talked all the way until we reached the Treasury Building. Some file closers near the curb had to slog through slush up to their ankles most of the way.
No parade is perfect and everyone wanted to make sure that our ranks were straight when we passed the reviewing stand. After we made the left turn by the Treasury building, we saw the white reviewing stand with the new president and his wife ahead on the left. All of us fell silent, stood tall, and dressed our ranks. Thirty inches all around, eyes front, gloved hands aligned on the steel butt plates of our M-1s. We covered down on the man in front. Listen for the beat of the drum, but the echoes of more than one band could be heard. Then, the company guidons in the front rank rose and “Ready, Eyes Left” rang out. We all saw the new president standing there with Jackie by his side. He acknowledged the salutes of the brigade staff as they passed. Then “Ready Front” and it was over.
After we passed the reviewing stand, it was a long march before we reached our release point. Crowds lined the back streets and clapped as the gray formations swung past. Finally, “Battalion Halt, Order Arms, Dismissed!” Rifles were quickly stored and most of us headed for the evening’s excitement a bit tired.
Some had invitations to attend one or more of the inaugural balls. One attended a party in Georgetown, where Robert McNamara was the guest of honor, and spoke with him at length without dreaming how much the he and the new President would affect our lives in the next few years. Others tried to find streets in the District called Glebe Road. Many skipped the dances for something less wholesome or went across the river to Alexandria. A few visited their parents or girlfriends. Two visited an uncle, an Army colonel stationed at the Pentagon. They arrived at his door in Arlington looking like death warmed over with their beards beginning to show in soaking wet uniforms. The Colonel opened the door and looked at them like a tactical officer, and in a most critical voice said, “J---s Ch---t, you look terrible, come in and shave and shine your shoes and then we’ll talk.”
It was most likely around midnight or 1 A.M when we returned to Union Station from all parts of the darkened city. First Call was blown and then Attention. The tactical officers walked through the long, gray ranks in front of the train, and then came the command “One Step Forward, March.” We gripped hands and staggered forward, hoping that no one fell. A sleepy and cold Corps of Cadets boarded the train and immediately fell asleep. The train ride back was warm - they had fixed the broken lines between the cars by this time. No one remembered much about that portion of the trip.
At the train station below the Plain, we filed out and returned to our rooms, staggering up the hill past snow drifts that still blocked some of the roads. The Corp had done its best to honor our new president. We would see him again at graduation in June 1962.
Later we learned what happened to the brigade of midshipmen following us. They didn't suffer like we did, because someone, recognizing the delicacy of the middies, had insisted on low overshoes for the parade. Apparently they had not considered the "Eyes left" command in front of the reviewing stand. At the command, middies started stepping on the heels of their classmates, inflicting "flat tires" on the middies in front of them, causing a domino effect. After they passed, the street in front of the reviewing stand was littered with hundreds of low overshoes. At least one account in the newspaper talked about policemen having to pick up overshoes along the parade route.
Many thanks to the twenty or so classmates and friends who responded to my call for help in crafting this article. Dave Phillips, Win Ward, Dick Kent, Steve Ellis, Tom Culver, Pete Hall (63), JJ Kelly, Dan Teed, Bill Ross, Dan Wick ,Lee Taylor, Paul Schott, AZ Miller, Johnny Walker, Gus Zenker, Ed Sprague, Russ DeVries, Larry Waters