I was a junior in high school on November 22, 1963. I was on stage, dressed in a ballgown being photographed for the yearbook with a fellow student/actor. We were preparing to present the play Anastasia that weekend. The photo in the yearbook captured forever my expression when the camera shutter clicked as the front office turned on the intercom without warning and the school heard the sound of a reporter screaming "the president's been shot, the president's been shot" It was a rough couple of days and even though Broadway shut down our drama teacher decided to go ahead with the play (about assassination no less). Here's the kicker though. We played to standing room only audiences for three performances. The 24/7 news was so relentlessly sad that people needed a break and everything else was shut down. Imagine a serious drama about a Russian family being assassinated and the audience found things to laugh at. People can only take so much grief I guess.