I was a reporter for the Wall Street Journal on 11/22/63. When I came back from lunch, the entire newsroom was in an uproar, with all of our wire service tickers ringing bells and spitting out roll after roll of print. People were standing around the tickers, some weeping openly. One asshole joked that Vaughan Meader, a comic who'd made a career doing JFK imitations, would be out of work. We practically lynched him. Then the NYSE announced it was closing, and most of us went home. The subway ride home was eerily quiet, with every passenger looking solumn.