Major General Wehle raced home, changed from greens to blues, raced back and was confronted by Lieutenant Sam Bird, who reported that the Dallas coffin was marred. He advised the general that the family be notified.
The call to the seventeenth floor was made by Godfrey McHugh. He said, “Bob, the casket we have is cheap and thin, it’s really shabby. One handle is off, and the ornaments are in bad shape.”
“Get another,” Kennedy said.
“I’m not going to leave here.”
“I want you to.” McHugh refused; he was, he explained, a guard of honor. “But I know a place near here. It’s only a few blocks down Wisconsin. It’s Gawler’s.”
Kennedy had heard of Gawler’s. A friend of his had been buried from there recently. McHugh suggested a bronze or mahogany coffin. But Robert Kennedy was tenacious, too; both he and his sister-in-law had rejected a private funeral home on principle, and upon reflection he decided that the military ought to handle the whole thing. There was no reason to bring in an undertaker. This conversation, like all others, was being screened through Clint Hill, and the mafia was listening. Ken O’Donnell and Larry O’Brien huddled and agreed that Bob was in a daze. He was going through enough; he shouldn’t be asked to worry about this, too.
Ken cut in. “We’ll take care of it, Bob.”
Thus Gawler’s, which had been vetoed by the Kennedy family, became part of the Presidential funeral. The damaged coffin was largely responsible—largely, but not entirely, for the issue of whether or not it was to be closed had not been resolved, and should the coffin have been open during the lying in state, the special arts of the undertaker would have been essential. Quite apart from that, however, the Attorney General was in a dilemma. He could scarcely permit a state funeral to proceed with a battered casket. A subsequent examination revealed that the Lieutenant and the two Generals had exaggerated the extent of the damage to Oneal’s Britannia, and that the casket was neither cheap nor thin, but Kennedy could not have guessed that, nor could he have been expected to come down and make his own inspection. He had been right the first time; they must get another. And O’Donnell was also correct: the mafia must spare him the actual choice.
Dave Powers squiggled:
Around midnight Ken, Larry, and I picked out a coffin for our President
Dave omitted another Irishman. Muggsy O’Leary had been summoned from the morgue. In a night sated with sentiment the journey of this quartet was especially touching. Dave was naturally reminded of a story; it was about himself. “You know, the Irish always measure the importance of people by the number of friends who come to their wakes,” he said in the car. “All my life I’ve thought of my wake being held in a Boston three-decker tenement. I just assumed he’d live longer than me, and I’d be so proud to have the President of the United States at my wake. And now here I am, going to get a casket for him.”
Gawler’s selection room contained thirty-two coffins that night, each of them mounted on a velvet-skirted estrade which in turn stood upon thick, cream wall-to-wall carpeting. Flush overhead lights gleamed softly; a tape recorder provided appropriate background music. Joe Gawler led them in. According to O’Brien, “I said to the man at the display room, ‘Would you show us the plainest one you have in the middle price range?’ I don’t know why I asked him that, but I think it was because I wanted the coffin to represent the American people. Therefore I thought it should be plain. And that’s what we got. He said, ‘Here.’ He showed us several, and we took the one with the simplest interior. I never asked the price.” According to O’Donnell, “The coffin we chose was the second one we looked at. I know that Larry and I had both reached the same decision simultaneously—that that would be the one we would use. It was plain.”
Tampering with their moving account is a pity, but the Irish, as John Kennedy once noted wryly, are not noted for their accuracy, and the casket in which he was to be buried is obviously a matter of some historical interest. Undoubtedly O’Brien’s recollection of their intention is correct. Robert Kennedy was thinking along the same lines. He believes he spoke to O’Donnell about price while Ken was at the funeral parlor, and he has a clear memory of talking to a girl who told him, “You can get one for $500, one for $1,400, or one for $2,000.” She went on about waterproofing and optional equipment. Influenced by the Mitford book, he shied away from the high figure. He asked for the $1,400 coffin, and afterward he wondered whether he had been cheap; he thought how difficult such choices must be for everyone.
But all this is mysterious, because no one on Gawler’s staff recalls talking to the Attorney General about price or anything else. Moreover, the casket O’Donnell and O’Brien picked—it was immediately to the left as they entered the selection room—could hardly be called plain. Known to the trade as a Marsellus No. 710, it was constructed of hand-rubbed, five-hundred-year-old solid African mahogany upholstered in what the manufacturer described as “finest new pure white rayon.” Gawler believed his visitors wanted “something fitting and proper for the President of the United States,” which does not gibe with O’Brien’s impression that they had purchased an ordinary coffin. It was unusual, and it was very expensive. In 1961 Jessica Mitford had found that the average bill for casket and services in the United States was $708. Muggsy O’Leary thought the price mentioned in the selection room was $2,000. Even that was low. Gawler’s charged $2,460. In a subsequent decision, the most expensive vault in the establishment went with it. The total bill, as rendered and paid, was $3,160.
Joe Gawler and Joe Hagan, his chief assistant, supervised the loading of the coffin in a hearse, or, as Hagan preferred to call it, a “funeral coach.” The firm’s young cosmetician accompanied them to Bethesda. The two caskets, Oneal’s and Gawler’s, lay side by side for a while in the morgue anteroom; then Oneal’s was removed for storage and the undertakers, Irishmen, and George Thomas were admitted to the main room. The autopsy team had finished its work, a grueling, three-hour task, interrupted by the arrival of a fragment of skull which had been retrieved on Elm Street and flown east by federal agents. The nature of the two wounds and the presence of metal fragments in the President’s head had been verified; the metal from Oswald’s bullet was turned over to the FBI. Bethesda’s physicians anticipated that their findings would later be subjected to the most searching scrutiny. They had heard reports of Mac Perry’s medical briefing for the press, and to their dismay they had discovered that all evidence of what was being called an entrance wound in the throat had been removed by Perry’s tracheostomy. Unlike the physicians at Parkland, they had turned the President over and seen the smaller hole in the back of his neck. They were positive that Perry had seen an exit wound. The deleterious effects of confusion were already evident. Commander James J. Humes, Bethesda’s chief of pathology, telephoned Perry in Dallas shortly after midnight, and clinical photographs were taken to satisfy all the Texas doctors who had been in Trauma Room No. 1.
The cosmetician then went to work. In Hagan’s words, “He was really under the gun. There were about thirty-five people, led by General Wehle, breathing down our necks. We were worrying about skull leakage, which could be disastrous. We did not know whether the body would be viewed or not.” The application of cosmetics required nearly three hours. It was quite unnecessary, but that was not the undertakers’ fault. Neither McHugh nor Burkley, who were in constant touch with the tower suite, could guarantee that the coffin would be closed. McHugh told Hagan it was better to take the time and be on the safe side. “The family may change their minds at any time,” he said. Burkley had spoken to Mrs. Kennedy. He knew her wishes, “but,” he explained afterward, “I was determined that the body be fully dressed and that the face be just right in case people opened the coffin a thousand years hence.”