Tears, triumph and tragedy

Former reporter recalls difficult day on the campaign trail with Robert F. Kennedy

By Marilynn Hehr Sterling of Kimball

When writing today, Marilynn prefers to use her vintage Royal typewriter rather than a computer. She used a similar typewriter for the story she wrote on Robert F. Kennedy several decades ago.  Photo by Chuck Sterling

It’s been 58 years this month since the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy on June 5, 1968, in Los Angeles.

The event lives in infamy for me because I had crossed paths with the presidential candidate not long before his death.

Since then I’ve become a mother of three, grandmother of eight, and a resident of Minnesota. But back in 1968, I was an eager, young reporter in Indiana working on my third daily newspaper, having come from two Canadian dailies.

It was the first week of May, primary election time in the Hoosier state. President Lyndon Johnson had announced he wouldn’t run again. New York Senator Kennedy, the 42-year-old brother of slain President John F. Kennedy, and Sen. Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota were on the Democratic ballot along with Indiana Gov. Roger Branigin.

Reporting for The Times of Hammond, Ind., a Democratic stronghold located across the state line from Chicago, I was assigned to cover Kennedy’s arrival in Gary, Ind., and his motorcade into Hammond, where he would hold a press conference at the Howard Johnson Motel.

It was probably the biggest story of my career – and it turned out to be the most difficult.

The day was very warm, and the long line of cars moved slowly as Kennedy acknowledged the adoring crowds of people lining both sides of the several-mile route through Hammond’s neighborhoods.

It was too much for my boyfriend’s 1963 Oldsmobile convertible. It overheated and stalled.

I had to abandon it on the side of the road and walk the rest of the way to the motel and scheduled press conference.

I was wearing a pink dress and white high-heels, not exactly walking attire. By the time I hiked the half mile through tall weeds in the roadside ditch, I was a mess. My pantyhose were snagged and I was covered with dust.

Worse than that, I saw the other reporters leaving. The news conference was over.

One of Kennedy’s aides was just closing the door to the motel when I reached for it. I began to imagine all kinds of angry responses my editor would have when I told him I’d missed the press briefing.

Probably due to the hike, the heat and the fear of facing him empty-handed, my eyes began to fill with tears. My feminine instincts and adrenaline kicked in, and I banged on the door.

Marilynn Hehr Sterling of Kimball, Minn., still carries this 1967 press card from The Hammond (Ind.) Times in her wallet.

The aide opened it a crack and, after seeing my tears and listening to my sad story, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me inside, then took me upstairs to Kennedy’s suite.

I spent a few minutes questioning the soft-spoken RFK, who fidgeted, rubbing his sleeveless forearms throughout.

The cooled-down car came back to life, and I tapped out my story on a vintage typewriter at The Times, the only area newspaper to carry a one-on-one interview with the senator. My editor was most impressed with my tenaciousness.

Kennedy won the Indiana primary, then traveled to California to campaign in its upcoming election.

I awoke the morning of June 5 to the words “shooting” and “Kennedy” blaring from my clock radio. Half awake, I wondered why the 1963 assassination of JFK was being replayed. I gradually grasped the stunning news that Robert Kennedy had been shot by Sirhan Sirhan after winning the California vote.

The man who I had interviewed only a month earlier, who might have become the 37th president of the United States, died later that day.