Unforgettable, That's What You Were: Part II

(Originally published 9/30/15)

Here is further material from an unsold book proposal of mine. Its working title was This ‘70s Book: Remembering the People, Events, Fashions, Fads, and Mores That Defined an Unforgettable Decade. Since shopping it around a long time ago, both Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme and Sara Jane Moore were released on parole. Moore is ninety-five. In a 2019 interview, Fromme asked and answered: “Was I in love with Charlie? Yeah, I still am.” Never understood the attraction.

 

Femme Near Fatales

No American President, save the inoffensive Gerald Ford, has been the subject of two assassination attempts, let alone within seventeen days of one another. And what makes this snippet of historical trivia even more bizarre is that both would-be assassins were women—but hardly ladies. On September 5, 1975, in Sacramento, California, the initial try on the life of the thirty-eighth president was the handiwork of Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, a slavish disciple of mass murderer and certifiable madman, Charles Manson. Hopelessly inept at currying favor with her by then incarcerated leader and fellow members of his freaky family, Fromme was promptly tackled by a Secret Service agent when she pointed her .45 Colt automatic at the Leader of the Free World. She was summarily charged with attempting to assassinate the President, despite the subsequent revelation that no bullets were in the gun’s firing chamber.   

Seventeen days later, on September 22, 1975, yet another deranged woman lay in wait of the President. In stark contrast to the hapless Fromme, Sara Jane Moore carried a loaded .38 Smith and Wesson on her person. And when the inoffensive Ford commenced delivering a characteristically charisma-free speech to an appreciative throng of supporters in front of the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco, Moore brandished her gun. In the crowd, and hanging on the President’s every word, stood a burly ex-marine named Oliver Sipple. He spotted Moore with gun in hand and reached for her arm, deflecting a fired shot. The bullet ricocheted off a nearby wall and superficially wounded a cab driver awaiting his next fare. Quite possibly, Sipple saved Ford’s life that day by altering the trajectory of the bullet. He may well have altered American history, too. Vice President Nelson Rockefeller would have assumed the top job. A bona fide hero, Sipple at once found himself in the media glare—his fifteen minutes of fame upon him with a vengeance. But, tragically, this man’s moment in the spotlight set in motion a chain of events that would augur his untimely demise.

Fromme Here to Eternity

Born on October 22, 1948, in Santa Monica, California, Lynette Fromme was a gifted dancer as a child and performed in an ensemble known as the Westchester Lariats. This talented troupe of kids was so highly regarded that they were booked on the squeaky-clean Lawrence Welk Show and displayed their varied talents on Pennsylvania Avenue for White House dignitaries. Unfortunately, little Lynette grew up and got subsumed by both 1960s radicalism and an unhealthy dose of madness. She landed in the clutches of the Manson family ensemble and eventually kept company with and moved in with the bloodthirsty brood. In the late-1960s, an elderly man named George Spahn was conned into allowing the Manson family to live in his mountain home. It was there that Lynette acquired the nickname “Squeaky,” courtesy of the sounds that emanated from her when the sightless, but still frisky Spahn ran his fingers up and down her legs. “Squeaky” was subsequently given a new nickname—this time by Manson himself. He dubbed her “Red” and assigned his protégé the not inconsiderable task of saving the California Redwoods. In fact, her ostensible reason for the attempt on President Ford’s life was to show the imprisoned Manson and other family members how committed she was to the environment.

Convicted in November 1975 for her crime, Fromme remains behind bars, but has not exactly been a model prisoner. She once hammered the head of a fellow inmate, Julienne Busic, a Croatian Nationalist sentenced for her role in a 1976 airplane hijacking. Fromme also escaped the brig in December 1987, desperately trying to reunite with Manson, whom she thought was dying of cancer. She was swiftly apprehended and returned to complete her sentence with a little something extra.

Moore Or Less

Sara Jane Moore crammed a lot of living into her life before entering the history books as a presidential assassin wannabe. Born in 1930, Moore married five times and had four children. Before she became a “revolutionary” and poster child for the counterculture, Moore dispensed tax advice as a CPA.

In 1972, she began drifting through the dark recesses of the underground. While there, the FBI propositioned Moore to obtain information on the Patty Hearst kidnapping, which she consented to do. However, life as an FBI mole didn’t sit too well with her radical brethren, who shunned Moore as the worst kind of turncoat.

In Moore’s increasingly warped mind, she attempted to return to the good graces of her motley former friends by shooting the President. She pleaded guilty to the attempted assassination of President Ford charge and is today serving a life sentence for the crime. Moore once said, “There comes a point when the only way you can make a statement is to pick up a gun.”

No Good Deed

Ironically, the villains in this story endure and the hero is no longer with us. Oliver Sipple, the man who courageously and selflessly deflected Sara Jane Moore’s arm and gunshot along with it, deserved a better fate in life than what befell him. The honorably discharged ex-marine and Vietnam War veteran lived in San Francisco when President Ford visited the city in September 1975. Sipple was also a gay man living surreptitiously in an overstuffed closet all too common in the 1970s.

When the man became a newsmaker by thwarting a possible presidential assassination, the media minions combed through his personal life. The San Francisco Chronicle revealed that Sipple contributed to gay causes and speculated that he himself was gay. Sipple’s saga was only beginning, as other newspapers followed suit and ran with the story.

Sipple sued The San Francisco Chronicle for revealing his secret life but lost the case because he was deemed a “public figure” and therefore questions about his character were reasoned newsworthy and fair game for media hounds. He remarked at the time, “My sexual orientation has nothing at all to do with saving the President’s life, just as the color of my eyes or my race has nothing to do with what happened in front of the St. Francis Hotel.” Nevertheless, Sipple’s devoutly religious mother shunned him after the revelation of her son’s “other life” became known. When she died in 1979, Sipple’s father informed his son, Oliver, that he was unwelcome at his own mother’s funeral.

Gay rights groups grumbled with justification that Sipple was never once invited to the White House nor suitably recognized for his courageous act. News reports of his sexuality were seen as the reason for the snub. Sipple received only a personal thank you note from the President. In 2001, ex-President Ford denied that Sipple’s homosexuality had anything to do with how he treated him. Ford said: “As far as I was concerned, I had done the right thing and the matter was ended. I didn’t learn until sometime later—I can’t remember when—he was gay. I don’t know where anyone got the crazy idea I was prejudiced and wanted to exclude gays.”

The snowballing series of events broke Sipple’s will. He turned to alcohol for succor, grew increasingly obese, and wallowed in depression. In 1989 at the age of forty-seven, Sipple was found dead in his apartment. It was determined he had been dead for two weeks. On his deathbed, Sipple weighed more than 300 lbs. Gerald and Betty Ford sent their condolences to surviving friends and family, but did not attend the service.