My how I do love a good party, and getting out of this cramped bungalow will just put me on cloud 9. I feel like I’ve been on the horn all day long bashing ears, but once again I’ve been a ditz and let myself get behind the clock. I see that my John has already arranged for a driver to scoop me up. I just look a hot mess, so that man is merely going to have hang for a bit until this baby doll is ready to be eyeballed. ‘I don’t know what exactly I like to call this Daddy-O?’ I like to call him ‘my John,’… married or not. He obviously wants this sex pot after going through all this trouble to arrange for my Madison Avenue company. Calling him ‘my John,’ does make me feel like a little harlot since his square wife probably calls him ‘her John.’ Nonetheless, If I’d observed all the rules I’d never had gotten anywhere.
HONK! HONK! What? “Listen here Mickey Mouse, honk that horn again and you can go explain why you arrived without the prize. Ya dig?” The driver bowed his head in shame, rolled up his window, and I heard the car quietly idling as I slammed the door and made my way to the makeup mirror. We are all of us stars, and we deserve to twinkle.
At first glance of my reflection in the makeup mirror, it sure is hard to think of myself as Madison Avenue while looking like some skuzzy skirt, fuzzy faced girl that not even my mother could love? Regardless of my crazy lifestyle, I’m independent, and I choose how I make my bread. If I decide to go all the way with a married man, wives shouldn’t be such squares. Might keep ya man at home. We should all start to live before we get too old. Fear is stupid. So are regrets.
All the rush, rush, stress of this rendezvous while seeing this middle-aged mess staring back at me; I believe is going to require a martini and a couple of rainbows. I say to my reflection, ‘pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.’ As I mixed one of my signature cocktails: vodka on ice with an olive, then grabbed my trusty bottle of rainbows. Rainbows always stop my mind wandering and voices talking. This life is what you make it. No matter what you are going to mess up sometimes, it’s a universal truth. But the good thing is you get to decide how you are going to mess it up.
So many questions about nothing, and answers to questions forever unanswered have me drowning like the failures that will make a girl feel like a real misfit, now that’s irony if you know what I’m talking about. Losing a husband, a lover, and my sanity all in recent times have brought me to where I am now though. Oh well, here is to my John. I toast my reflection, wash it down with a couple of rainbows so I can cool it and put this face on. Sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together.
My favorite step to cleaning up this Dolly is to start with trusty old Vaseline. It keeps these 36-year-old wrinkles at bay while also taming down this cursed beard of mine, although most compliment me like I’m peachy. Oh, the lips, ruby red lips and the blowing of a simple kiss has opened a lot of doors for this skirt. I start with darker reds on the outer corners and lighter shades in the middle to add dimension. Then, I top things off by using highlighter on my cupid’s bow and bottom lip. A lot of work, I know, but that is the difference between taking me and most lasses. I can split a room, and get the class A gigs all the way up to a rendezvous with my John this evening. I don’t mind making jokes, but I don’t want to look like one.
‘My how time flies, oh well, my cocktail and rainbows allow me the leisure of eliminating the constant pressure of my fast pace, the thoughts of life’s heartbreaks while allowing me the comfort of living in the moment’ It’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. I dab a drop of coconut oil on my lids, massage my eyes, and take a deep breath before getting way out on these blue beauties. I use the Greta Garbo eyeshadow trick, then I mix a combination of black, brown, white and red eyeliners to make my soul catchers seductive. Take a little blush, dab it on my nose, contour my cheeks, and define this sometimes-untamable snout. Throw on some fake eyelashes, peak my eyebrows so my forehead won’t appear to be so gigantic, and this little lady is about ready to head the party, play my bit, and finally entertain my escort. I’m definitely a woman, and I enjoy it.
I mix another drink, pop another rainbow, and all those stupid regrets disappear along with all the pains, pesky voices, and indiscretions. I’ve already hit the bottle on my fuzzy duck so with my platinum pageboy locks pristinely styled, I’m about ready to bug out once I slip on this fab spring dress. It’s always a bit cumbersome zipping up the back with the bra sewed in, but once again if every lass cared so much about styling would I be so admired? All part of the profession, I suppose. I’m pretty, but I’m not beautiful. I sin, but I’m not the Devil. I’m good, but I’m not an angel.
I wiggle into my pumps, see a rainbow sitting solo on my vanity, pop it before I lose it, make my way out the door, greet my driver who is oh so ready, to agitate the gravel, and burn rubber to the soiree and deliver me to my John. As I cozied up in the back of my chariot, I asked my driver, “What is your handle hot rod?”
“My name is Eddie mam.”
“Oh now, are you’re trying to make me feel like an old Sophie? Get with it, use apple butter, and call me MM for the evening. I like that handle because it’s a great way to clue you while I hope you can ice tonight’s affairs so we can make the scene without causing one.”
“You got it MM.”
“So, were you sent by Pat and Pam?”
“No, actually I was sent by the big man himself, with very similar directions for discretion, and to be on the stick.”
After a long ride from LA to Palm Springs, while humming along to the Fab Four, and other groovy tunes, we pulled into the drive of a quaint Spanish-style house. Amid a sea of black Cadillacs and Hot Rods surrounded by men smoking and roaming the grounds, Eddie pulled us up to the front steps, stabled the horse, quickly ran around to my door, opened it, and escorted me into the soiree. Obviously festivities were in full swing since if I’m not casually late, odds are I will not be showing at all. It’s better to arrive late that to arrive ugly.
As I entered the affair, it was as if the needle had stopped on side. Always feeling a bit uncomfortable with the eyeballs, often I want to cop a breeze as soon as I walk in. I had stashed a few rainbows in the pocket of my spring dress. One of the perks of having your bras sewn in is that I also always have a little pocket inserted. A girl can’t always carry a clutch, and I love to use my hands. As I make my way to the back of the room, I see Pat who had arranged for tonight’s rendezvous, along with her husband Peter, chatting it up with the distinguished host of the party Bing. Sometimes I’ve been to a party where no one spoke to me for a whole evening. The men, frightened by their wives or sweeties… the ladies would gang up in a corner and discuss my dangerous character.
“Hello my pretty. I hope everything is copasetic and everyone is having a blast?” I quaintly giggled to Pat.
Pat slurred back, “Well, Peter and a few of the other boys were outside smoking grass, and getting a bit far out while I’ve been a dork flaking on most of the useless banter I have encountered with all these simple lasses while the boys are being boys. You know how men can be when they get away from their wives, so I don’t want to be a pooper to Peter since he had to bring the old ball and chain; hence me getting righteous next to the Champaign all night.”
“Well you know what I say, “If I worried about other bitches, I’d be just like them… Another worried bitch.”
Peter creeped up behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, glass eyed, smiley, and mumbled, “I must admit that your John is on the make this evening, pretty lady. He’s been all theatrical like an actor all night long. With no ankle-biters, or feeling circled; he is in rare form little lady. I actually think he threw out his back toying with Bing’s new flip-top.”
“I must admit that his affinity for convertibles doesn’t touch home?” questioned Pat.
Bing chimed in, “Oh, come on now, with a life so sosh and proper with all the restrictions of family, and the weight of the world… when he gets the chance to peep a primo convertible with three on the tree and birth control seats… away from the East Coast… well, that can make any man act like a kid again, regardless of stature.”
Then from around the corner I saw him, tailored suit, beautiful hair, signature grin, with those beautiful blue eyes staring right into mine.
“Oh my God you are beyond beautiful. I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” said my suiter in that sexy distinct Boston accent, “I felt as though our first meeting in New York was much to brief, and with everyone cramped into my hotel room it was not the ideal situation for me to entertain guests while ultimately wanting to familiarize myself with such a fascinating woman such as yourself. Of course, while we were being eyeballed by the rest of the party.”
“Well, it’s an honor to have you here on my coast, big John. Solo no less, with the request of my company,” I sweetly stated, while fluttering my eyelashes in the way I know will make any man leave his main squeeze for the chance to hook me. Then, I saw my John wince in pain, so I acknowledged his discomfort, “So I hear my executive bull pulled his back out playing with hot rods?”
“Yes, I just love convertibles. The freedom of them touches home now like never before since I sometimes feel captive by the entire world. Do you feel that way from time to time?”
“Oh, gosh yes. It’s hard to maintain privacy when everyone wants to sing about you. I’ve been real gone more than a few times lately, Queen of the rumor mill, but I have you in front of me now. Since you can’t cut a rug with that poor, poor back of yours, and seeing as how the rag top has already gotten the best of you, I wouldn’t suggest any back seat bingo either. What do you say we cut out back to your room for the evening and allow me to do you the honorable service of tending to that party pooper back of yours?”
“That sounds lovely, my dear. Would you be a little starlet and lay dead here for a minute while I make way first by proclaiming I need to pile up Z’s to the guests. Based on my busy itinerary tomorrow, compiled with this salty strained back, it will not raise any eyebrows as we slip away. Eddie will pretend to take you home, but he will instead pull around to the back of the Villa. You can pop out, enter through the service entrance, we can tune out the rest of the world, and finally be alone together.”
“That sounds lovely,” I said quickly while immediately beggining to flake off everyone on the opposite side of the room, as my John was doing on the other. I grabbed another glass of bubbly, popped a couple more rainbows, and could almost immediately feel a mixture of bliss, passion, and indiscretion illuminating from inside my soul and loins. As it was starting to get a bit late now, I could feel the effects of my pretty rainbows, and bubbly taking hold of my senses. I was glad to make a quick entry and exit as I knew my head was starting to bob. When I get a bit too loose I can be a little chatty Cathy. I’m around way too many eyes and ears to be this floaty, while the thought of touching my John was all but consuming me.
I said my farewells, jumped in the ride with Eddie, who quickly pulled around to the back of Villa. There was my prince waiting by the service entrance. Men were still attentively smoking on the lawn and attending to the cars, but it was as if no one dare look at us. Two iconic rainbows in the dark, but oddly invisible to those on patrol. “What is up with those nosebleeds on patrol?” I asked. “I can’t believe they don’t even look in our direction.”
“That is kind of a big tickle. Isn’t it?” my suitor said as he brushed off the question and directed me towards our secret hide out in the confines of his bedroom for the evening.
“I have to make a call really quick love. Would go take off that gorgeous suit of yours? Strip down a bit so I can get to that stubborn back, I’d be more than happy to give it a girl scout effort to alleviate your discomfort, sir.”
My John grinned, and nodded. He needed to freshen up with a shower after being in the pool and playing with Hot Rods all day anyhow. As I heard the shower start running, I called my dear friend and masseur Ralph Roberts for advice on how to handle my John’s back. Although I pride myself on using every inch of this body for the pleasure of men, I wanted to get some professional information about how to tend to my stallion and insure I didn’t screw up this golden opportunity. All a girl really wants from a guy is for him to prove to her that they are not all the same.
When I chatted with Ralph all he did till I got him to cool it was give me the same 20 questions, while constantly criticizing me. ‘Are you ok,’ ‘I can barely understand you, you’re slurring too much,’ and so on. He started wearing on my nerves. His concerns were killing the vibe I had going, so I hung up the phone, decided to wing it, and just go with what feels good. Sometimes you just have to throw on a crown, and remind them who they’re dealing with.
I slipped my little belongings out of my bra pocket, and since I had a few rainbows left; I shoved a round dream right down my pretty little throat. The mix of rainbows and bubbly had me melting into the bed. Then the bathroom door opened! Like a Prince in boxer briefs surrounded by a glow of steam expelling from his shower, my John was staring at me with the intent of a powerful decisive man. Unexpectedly, I began to giggle. “What’s the tickle,” he asked.
“I feel like I’m riding on a rainbow and the sight of you standing like a stallion, surrounded by steam, and dripping wet makes me giggly. If you can make a woman laugh, you can make her do anything.”
“Anything you say?”
“Of course, anything. I am here upon your request, aren’t I?” I began to twirl my legs in the air, flirting with every bit of my sexuality as the object of my inflamed desire jumped on top of me; quickly spreading my legs like a horny school boy. “Your back doesn’t seem as bad as you first let on, my dear.”
“Well, my sister gave me a nice little pain pill, and I can’t feel a thing except your beautiful body beneath me now,” he said with a grin from ear-to-ear.
“You certainly are on the make, aren’t you,” I asked as I felt his hands slipping behind my back, working their way towards my dress zipper, and the sweet wet kisses he was performing all over my neck while also sucking on my earlobes; immediately attacking all my erogenous zones.
I don’t know what made me do what I did next, perhaps it’s the girl in me. Fear is stupid. So are regrets. So, it just came out. Obviously trapped in my subconscious but hopped up on the bubbly and rainbows tend to make this girl reveal her true feelings. If I’d observed all the rules I’d never have got anywhere.
“So, you have four children,” I said as I focused my attention on his earlobes and erotic zones as he had shifted to diligently trying to get me naked.
“Yes, I do,” he said as I felt his ass clinch, and I immediately knew that my mishap into pillow talk may not be a wise decision this early in the game although a girl knows her limits but a wise girl knows she has none.
“I was pregnant once, but just for a while. I miscarried, and it was a horrible experience emotionally. Hiding it from the world. My husband… Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ruin the moment?” I better just shut my mouth, my world was spinning from the mix of rainbows, liquor, adrenalin, estrogen. My whole body felt like it was on fire with the core centering around my loins and traveling through every inch of my body til I felt that high I always strive to attain. Melting on my rainbow, being touched, forgetting the past, and about to make love… ‘what a rush’ In all honesty, I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.
I grabbed him by his beautiful wet hair with one hand, as my other hand assisted him in pulling down my dress. Although oddly notorious for my panties, I prefer not to wear them unless absolutely necessary, so it only took the shake of a lamb’s tail to show my stud his prize. This body is meant to be seen, not all covered up.
I could feel him aroused through his cotton briefs, so I relieved him of his constraints as he wiggled them down his legs, and kicked them onto the floor. Quickly my knight perched up to his knees, positioned between my legs spread exposing every inch of my naked body. He surveyed me like a general would examine a battle plan, and then once again let the weight of his body fall upon mine while simultaneously I felt our bodies become one as he penetrated me, kissed me as if our mouths had become an erotic dance of sexuality in itself, riding high on my rainbow I continued to sink into the bed, eyes rolling in the back of my head, and allowing him to use my body at his will. Suddenly, before I knew it, he jumped off me, made his way to the bathroom where I heard him release and moan like a man who had just satisfied himself. Sex is part of nature, I go along with nature.
Several minutes passed as I laid naked, waiting for my lover to return to my warm embrace. My eyes struggled to stay open amid my mix of intoxication, emotions, and my body melting from the bubbly rainbows. When the bathroom opened again, there he was, fully clothed and looking as put together as the first time I laid eyes on him at the party.
“I have to go, dear. I have a long itinerary tomorrow, and I have people waiting on me to exit this gala. It’s been quite a long day,” he said adjusting his tie in the mirror without even glancing back my way.
“I was under the impression you were staying the night here, John,” I said with a slight mix of seduction and disgust in my voice.
“Dear, the President cannot stay at Bing Crosby’s house, especially under the same roof, on the same night as Marilyn Monroe. Do you realize what that would do to both of our lives professionally, and privately? I do have a wife, four children, my image for this great nation, and I have all those secret service gentlemen you see roaming the yard that want to catch some shut eye before tomorrow. It’s hotel time starlet.”
There I was, glamour lost, back to good old Norma Jeane Baker. Constantly abandoned, used, and disgraced. Now even by the most powerful man in the world. I grabbed the sheets, rolled myself into a cocoon, buried my head in the pillow, and didn’t say another word as I heard the bedroom door quietly open and close without him even saying goodbye to me. Just like a candle in the wind, he was gone.
I let some time pass before I tried to contact John, but reaching the President through the channels of the White House can be quite frustrating. My infatuation continued to grow and grow. I know he would love me. I’d tamed and married both the world’s greatest athlete and playwright. John just needs more time with the real me, so I called and called, ate my rainbows to keep me sane, control those pesky voices in my head, and keep me from going back to those “clinics” all my “so called” friends are always trying to admit me into. They think I am crazy… but trust me. I’m 100 percent there.
Eventually I had to call Jackie and let her know that I had slept with her husband, and she quaintly said, “that’s great… I’ll move out and you’ll have all the problems,” then immediately hung up on me. Soon after that call apparently, John convinced his brother Bobby to come, and convince me to stop calling the White House, stirring up trouble for the family. Well, that backfired quickly! Bobby easily found his way into my bed as well. Now, my dilemma grew stronger and stronger as I was in love with two men. Brothers, both married, and both part of the most powerful family in the world. Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world.
I continued to sink back into depression. Torn, heartbroken, and obsessed: all the rainbows in the world couldn’t seem to tame my insecurities, and quiet the voices in my head that constantly consumed my sanity when life consistently tortures my soul. I felt like a piece of meat being passed around by a couple of brothers, but Bobby continued to make efforts to see me, make love to me, and even promised to leave his wife for me. Then, I finally got my chance to shine, to show them both why I am still the starlet blonde bombshell of the world. We are all stars and we deserve to twinkle.
It was May 19, 1962 on that magical night, I serenaded John while Bobby and both their wives watched me sing Happy Birthday to the President 10 days before his forty-fifth birthday. I brought down the house, the whole world talked, and I knew I had made an impression on the entire family in front of 15,000 people at Madison Square Garden, and televised across the globe. At the after party, I could feel the heat between Bobby and me, so I made the choice to accept the brother that loved me. I successfully rekindled our relationship and for three months all I had was Bobby on the brain. A girl doesn’t need anyone who doesn’t need her.
Eventually, I became weary of being the other woman, and told Bobby to leave his wife or I was going to tell the whole world about both affairs, and plenty of other Kennedy secrets Bobby had shared with me during pillow talk. Including his ongoing investigation of Jimmy Hoffa. Then once again, it was radio silence. No one at the White House would take my calls and Bobby’s staff at the Department of Justice gave me the same run around. I was torn, hurt, confused. Don’t these boys know? I don’t stop when I’m tired. I only stop when I’m done.
I restore myself when I’m alone, so I retreated to my bungalow, evaluating my situation, while eating rainbows like candy to suppress all my emotions. On August 5th after weeks of neglect, my Bobby called me. I was so excited to hear his voice, and I started doing pirouettes as I heard his charming voice say my name. Bobby told me he had talked with Peter Lawford who was married to his sister Pat whom originally arranged for John and my initial encounter at Bing’s Villa. They wanted to come over to talk to me, along with my psychiatrist Dr. Ralph Greenson to discuss our future together, but situations like this must be dealt with the upmost delicacy. I agreed. I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.
Not even 5 minutes had passed when I heard a knock at the door, I dared not even try to doll up. I wondered if Bobby and the family had gotten word that last night I was in Lake Tahoe at Frank Sinatra’s lodge being courted by Sam Giancana who was under investigation with Jimmy Hoffa over some gangster stuff. I thought he was a sweetie pie, and Bobby was ignoring me, so it should be of little concern if her really loves me. I instructed my maid Eunice to open the door, I cinched my robe, and invited in my guests back to my bedroom.
“Hello, boys,” I said trying to jump into the character of light hearted damsel.
“I sent the maid away to pick up some more champagne if you don’t mind,” Peter queried.
“Well, she should know I have plenty in this little party fridge by my bar, a girl can never have to much Dom, but none the worries. Three handsome, educated gentlemen, and little old me. Sounds like a match made in Heaven.”
“Where is that bubbly then,” asked my Bobby.
I skipped over to the wet bar and grabbed a bottle of Dom, four glasses and asked Bobby to do me the honors. As I looked at the three gentlemen all looking stiff sitting on my bed, I noticed Ralph looking very uncomfortable. “Doc, is there something on your mind?”
“Marilyn, I brought you this special rainbow that will help clear your mind so we can discuss matters while allowing you to think clearly and understand what needs to be done to clear up these affairs and make everyone happy,” said my loving Doc with an odd sense of fear in his voice.
“Whatever will loosen up the mood, boys,” as I grabbed the flute of bubbly and popped the tiny pill much different than the blue and red rainbows I was so accustom to. I looked into Bobby’s eyes and saw a determination I could only decipher as the look of a man who was about to make a very serious decision, and my heart fluttered at the prospect of finally breaking free from the chains secrecy that had trapped us from falling truly in love.
Suddenly, the room began to spin uncontrollably. “Boys, I don’t feel pretty all of a sudden.”
As if rehearsed from a movie, Peter and Bobby both grabbed one of my arms and laid me on my bed while Ralph reached into his jacket pocket exposing a syringe. The drug I had been given was taking total control of my ability to move, and Bobby tilted my head back as Peter began forcing rainbows down my throat. Tears began running down my face, as my body tried to shiver but was catatonic from the rainbows, and my world began to turn white.
I felt my robe being opened, and saw the hazy image of my trusted loving psychiatrist Ralph standing over me. “I’m sorry Marilyn, this is the only way to fix things, and all the trouble you’ve already put into motion. I love you,” said Ralph as I felt the needle penetrate my skin, under my armpit. I felt the sweet release of pain as the rainbows now ran from the center of my being through my heart, pumping through every inch of my body. Fear is stupid. So are regrets.
I wasn’t done yet! Norma Jeane didn’t go from foster homes, to the world’s most fabulous woman by just giving up, much less allowing someone to kill me off! I made one last effort and grabbed the knife next to my bedside, and lunged at Bobby. Two large body guards stormed into the room, grabbed me and forced me face down on my bed. “Please, oh God please Bobby. I love you,” I mumbled through the pillow as I felt my beloved Doc instructing the two guards to spread my ass cheeks so he could feed crushed rainbows into my most of privates. As I laid there gasping for my last breaths, I heard Bobby rummaging around for my diary. I heard, “Got it!”
With my last breath I spit out the rainbows those bastards had shoved into my mouth, turned to Bobby and said, “Jimmy, Frank, and my new beau Sam along with the rest of your enemies are going to find out about this Bobby! Sam told me he loved me last night. I curse you bastard!” A girl knows her limits, but a wise girl knows she has none.
I blacked out, but my subconscious and flashes of reality felt me being passed around like a rag doll, while the room was being cleaned and set up. Those bastards were making it look like I killed myself. Wrapping me up in my bed, planting bottles, and rummaging through all my precious belongings. Three of closest confidants: a lover, a doctor and a best friend. What’s a girl to do?
Eunice, the housekeeper, arrived back at the Bungalow, and knew immediately that something had gone tragically wrong as my Maltese Terrier was incessantly barking. Upon busting into my room Eunice froze in terror, seeing me lying across the bed with my head hanging over the edge. She immediately called the ambulance in hopes of saving me. I so love Eunice.
When the Ambulance attendants arrived, the first threw me on the ground, and began to give me a close chest massage. I was naked on the ground, still breathing shallowly, and trying to cling to life with rainbows illuminating my body into a radiance that paled me to my onlookers. I had rainbows shoved down my throat, jammed into my heart, and violently inserted into my beautiful million-dollar ass by the same confidants who use to joke and smack my beautiful behind, kiss my lips, and protect me from harm.
The Ambulance attendees got me breathing again and were getting the resuscitation equipment and stretcher from the Ambulance when my trusted Doc once again conveniently showed up on the scene.
“I’m her doctor,” proclaimed Greenson, “give her positive pressure.”
“I’ve got a machine that is doing a great job of that. Why take it off her,” questioned one of the paramedics.
At that point Greenson removed my breathing tube, inserted a smaller tube, and blew fake life into my lungs while pushing my abdomen in the wrong place. Greenson grabbed another humongous syringe, tried to thrust it through my chest, but seemingly… purposely… botched the job. It was brutal as I felt my rib break, but I was way beyond the point of feeling any pain at this point. Sweetie if you’re going to be two faced, at least make one of them pretty.
Shadows, and catatonic rainbows filled my being, while my Doc lifted my head I opened my eyes one last time. I forced up enough strength to raise my head high, with my chin up I released my last breath, and smiled. Many stories would be told of the night I committed suicide, but always remember one of my favorite personal quotations, “The nicest thing for me is sleep, then at least I can dream.” For all of you living and reading my story of love lost, and the ambitions that killed a young starlet who just longed for affection in a cold world, “Keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly keep smiling, because life is a beautiful thing and there is so much to smile about.”
THIS STORY IS BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS & CONSPIRACY THEORIES
by Michael S. Brown
Norma Jeane Mortenson (or Baker) aka Marilyn Monroe died on August 5, 1962 in her Brentwood, California bungalow. Her death was ruled as an overdose of the sleeping pill Nembutal. John F. Kennedy, was assassinated on Friday, November 22, 1963 at 12:30 p.m Central Standard Time in Dallas, Texas while riding in a convertible in Dealey Plaza. On June 5, 1968, presidential candidate Robert (Bobby) F. Kennedy was fatally shot at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, shortly after winning the California presidential primaries in the 1968 election, and died the next day while hospitalized. On March 12, 1964, Teamsters leader Jimmy Hoffa was sentenced to prison for jury tampering. He served just four years of his 13-year sentence, as President Richard Nixon issued a pardon in 1971. On July 30, 1975, Hoffa disappeared. He was never seen again and pronounced legally dead in 1982. On the night of June 19, 1975, a gunman entered Sam Giancana’s basement kitchen and shot him in the back of the head as he was frying sausage and peppers. After Giancana fell to the ground, the gunman turned him over and shot him six more times in the face and neck.