Readers Remember

When I was 8 years old, we lived in the same apartment building as Robert F. Kennedy and his family.

When he was assassinated, the funeral was held at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City.

We lived on the 23rd floor and I went to the elevator intending to go down to the park. Instead, the elevator traveled up to the 38th floor, where the Kennedys had their apartment. The doors flew open and in walked Ethel Kennedy and her entourage on their way to the funeral.

She was dressed in all black with a black veil covering her face. I walked right up to her in the elevator and said, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Kennedy, everything is going to be OK.”

I reached up and stroked her arm and noticed a single tear rolling down her face, but she still managed to smile at me and utter, “Thank you, little girl, I know it will.”

In those few seconds it felt like it was just she and I, until the doors opened and a million and one flashes went off as she was led to the limo.

LESLIE K. SIEGEL

Glendale

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I began that day in 1968 walking precincts, urging people to vote for Robert Kennedy. I went to the Ambassador Hotel that evening, to await the results. In the ballroom, people sang and chanted. We heard that he had won and waited for his victory speech. Instead, there was silence. Then someone announced Robert Kennedy had been shot.

SYBIL LEWIS-BROWN

Carson

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In 200 words or less, send us your memories or eyewitness accounts of the 20th century. Write to Century, Los Angeles Times, Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053, or e-mail century@latimes.com. Letters may be edited for space.