SIRHAN SIRHAN: 'MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE'?

Sirhan Sirhan joined a conservationist suit, as noted in December, to preserve the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, where Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated. Why? Because he and his lawyers believe that bullets still lodged in the hotel walls would prove he was not Kennedy's assassin. (Sirhan, below, in 1997.)

Now comes news that he may have a case, according to a new book, "Nemesis," which revives the theory that he was a patsy. British journalist John Hiscock writes in today's Los Angeles Times:

Ever since he was seized with a .22-caliber revolver in his hand in the pantry of the Ambassador Hotel in June 1968, Sirhan Sirhan has maintained he was hypnotized into shooting Sen. Robert F. Kennedy.

The contention was discounted by the jury, which, after deliberating for 16-1/2 hours, found him "alone and not in concert with anyone else" guilty of murder in the first degree. Almost everyone who studied the case subsequently agreed.

But nearly 40 years later, the story refuses to die. In recent months, several people have emerged to suggest that Sirhan may have been telling the truth; that he may have been hypnotized into becoming a "Manchurian Candidate"-style assassin.

The author of the book, Peter Evans, "using CIA documents and interviews," Hiscock writes, "claims to have identified the hypnotist as Dr. William Joseph Bryan, who had worked on CIA mind-control programs and who was later found dead in a Las Vegas hotel room in mysterious circumstances."

Believers in the theory, who include journalist Dominick Dunne and actor Robert Vaughn, who was a good friend of Kennedy, are asking to have the case re-opened. Evans and Sirhan's attorney, Lawrence Teeter, maintain that Sirhan was set up either to be arrested or, "preferably, shot to death by police while the real assassin escaped." Both admit that "Sirhan fired some shots before he was wrestled down," but they contend that "none of them hit Kennedy." (Above, police officers examine bullet holes in a doorjamb at the crime scene.)

There have been plenty of theories about the bullets that killed Robert Kennedy, just as there were about the bullets that killed John Kennedy. Have a look at the list of trial exhibits kept in the California State Archive. It mentions roughly three dozen involving bullets, casings, ballistics, gun powder traces, Sirhan's gun, and so on. There's no mention of hypnosis, at least not on that list.

January 31, 2005 3:16 AM |

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Me Elsewhere

'WILD SIDE' STILL ROCKS 

Nelson Algren was one of the great American authors of the 20th century, it is no exaggeration to say, and among the most neglected. Consider his underrated classic, "A Walk on the Wild Side." The title -- popularized and co-opted as an idiomatic phrase by Hollywood and Madison Avenue (institutions Algren loathed) -- is familiar to most anyone who speaks English or knows Lou Reed's lyrics. But the novel itself? Hardly.

BUSTER KEATON REVISITED 
Buster Keaton: Tempest in a Flat Hat is not a biography. "This book is merely a fan's notes," Edward McPherson writes in the introduction, although his publisher ignores the disclaimer and calls it a biography on the cover. In fact, the book is a bit of both, a difficult combination to bring off unless you're David Thomson, who set the standard with Rosebud, his penetrating rumination on the life and career of Orson Welles, which was nothing if not a distillation of every obsessive thought he ever had about the myth and the man and all his movies.
LAUREN BACALL, STILL SALTY AT 80 
When Lauren Bacall writes that her singing voice ranges "somewhere between B minus sharp and outer space," she's being candid and funny. It's not every stage star with two Tony Awards for best actress in a musical whose vocal talent offers so little promise. (OK, Harvey Fierstein excepted.) Still less would one admit it.
THE STARS ACCORDING TO BOGDANOVICH 
Peter Bogdanovich's superb collection of movie-star profiles and interviews -- a sequel to Who the Devil Made It, his interviews of top film directors -- begins with an affectionate tale about Orson Welles that reminds us just how intimate the author's connection to Hollywood's greatest has been. But contrary to what we've come to expect from dime-a-dozen celebrities and celebrity interviews not worth two cents, the tale avoids bromidic egotism and journalistic platitudes.
SAMMY'S WHITE DREAMS 
Four decades ago Lenny Bruce sentenced Sammy Davis Jr. to "30 years in Biloxi," stripping him of "his Jewish star" and "his religious statue of Elizabeth Taylor." Now we have two new biographies of Davis that spring him from ridicule, if not from doubts about his legacy, and restore a measure of dignity to a black entertainer whose huge fame and success never overcame his devout wish -- indeed his lifelong effort -- to be white.
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