He remains an emblem - the man who shot out the lights illuminating the last vestiges of our innocence, the catalyst of an entirely new reality guided by irrationality, chance and intuition. Together with Chicago's Richard Speck and Smith and Hickock of Truman Capote's In Cold Blood, Charles Whitman ushered in the era of the Killer Kult, a uniquely American phenomena, aesthetically bracketed by Lee Harvey Oswald and would-be George Wallace assassin Arthur Bremer, who neatly summarized the Kult concept when he breathlessly inquired of arresting officers, "How much do you think I'll get for my memoirs?"īut in many ways Charles Whitman is more than just a trading card for morbid collectors of Americana. Lavergne (University of North Texas Press, $18.95, paper), a factually definitive (though suppositionally flawed) history of Charles Whitman's August First, 1966 UT "marksmanship display" - in combination with films like Raoul Walsh's 1949 White Heat and Richard Linklater's Slacker - Should further guide one towards something of what has been billed as "America's first mass murder:" an event leaving 16 dead, 31 wounded, and Charles Whitman's name smeared across a generation's newsprint. The publication of A Sniper in the Tower: The Charles Whitman Murders by Gary M.
".a concoction of lies, a dynamic that drives men to do things." "All it does is remind him of his limitations. this stupid idea 95% of the brain is unused. "Each individual has this absurd notion that he has this dormant potential.
How does one comprehend the incomprehensible? The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi is history, as is your ability to walk. Your eyes widen as you absorb the verdict. The next thing you see is a face, perhaps resembling your grandfather's - a kindly white-haired old guy. Blam Blam Blam! Your love interest collapses beside you, their stylish blonde "flip" or "crew" in sharp contrast to the pool of blood already inching away from the motionless form. The most advanced nutritional system on the planet generates the protein-rich essence which flushes a rosy glow the pair of you radiate as you languidly stroll hand-in-hand through the tree-shaded quadrangles of UT- the both of you on the cusp of your individualized American Dream. Imagine: It's a sunny Monday, the first of August, 1966 - and there you are, Young American, complete with your Homecoming King, or Queen.
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