One in particular, which he gave at the University of Cape Town on June 6, 1966, comes to mind as I’m about to cross the United States by train, in what is my first visit to the country: When I moved to Cape Town in mid-2013, RFK was also present, staring out of a book that contained the speeches he’d given in the wake of his brother’s death. RFK has a five o’clock shadow, and his rumpled suit looks stiff with sweat. Both men look exhausted: Chávez weakened by a month-long hunger strike, Kennedy probably by the intense pressure to declare his candidacy in the presidential elections. In the magazine I’m flicking through, there’s a picture of César Chávez with Bobby Kennedy, taken in early March 1968. Between Bakersfield and Hanford, we pass by Delano, where the 1965 grape strike brought the plight of migrant workers to national attention. We cross the San Joaquin valley, which is dotted with olive groves and cherry trees in bloom. There is no direct rail link from LA to Northern California, so I catch three Thruway Connecting Services to Sacramento. After Mandy drops us off, David and I grab a quick bite at Pho Café in Silver Lake, and at 1 a.m. I land in Los Angeles and meet up with Mandy Kahn and David Shook, who’ve just returned from a week in Seattle, armed with a box of poetry from AWP.
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