Today’s gobbets: 26 June in history, 1963: John F Kennedy chuckles onstage in Berlin, and 1977: Elvis weeps offstage in Indianapolis.
My friend has been sending scandalously decadent food pics from their holiday in Europe; all the usual cheeseboards and flans and other gorgeous German things, She messaged from the station in Munich, I was scared there had been a bomb, because it was in the middle of the morning and nobody ever phones me before afternoon traffic, but she just wanted to show me the sumptuous Bienenstich, Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte , and pretzels in the bakery window. I asked if it feels a bit like 1939, when Nazi Germany invaded Poland. Are you scared on public transport? Are there handsome American soldiers everywhere? Are they talking about World War 111 there, the Germans? She said no, they are having a lovely summer, and everyone had a giggle at Mister Trump saying FUCK ALL so loud on the TV the other day, and anyway Ve don’t talk about ze war. I’m sure they’re going to keep out of it like Italy did last time and surrender the minute the starting gun goes off and everyone is expected to jump into the fray. Then my friend showed me a video of some beer with happy summery Germans singing. Enormous beers.
How very different the laughing presidents and kings of today seem, compared to those who once stood at the crossroads of history, doughnuts in hand, figuratively. Take John F. Kennedy, for example. Everyone remembers his iconic Ich bin ein Berliner speech, delivered on a balmy June day in 1963, to a crowd that has since been immortalized as cold-warrior fervent and toastmasters of solidarity. But there’s one persistent myth, puffier than a jam-filled Berliner doughnut, that demands a deflating. The legend goes: JFK made a monumental linguistic blunder by saying Ich bin ein Berliner and unwittingly declared himself a doughnut. Yes, a jelly-filled confection, a Berliner to those outside the capital’s dialectical reach, sending Germans into fits of laughter at America’s expense. The poor president didn’t realize he’d inadvertently joined the pastry parade instead of the citizenry.
But, as it turns out, this slice of historical confectionery humor is just a sweet fiction. Grammatically and historically, JFK’s phrase was spot-on. The indefinite article ein is used in German not when merely stating origin (where it’s omitted), but when speaking figuratively or symbolically. And Berliners themselves, true Berliners, don’t call their doughnuts Berliners. They call them Pfannkuchen, pancakes. So JFK wasn’t exactly ordering a dozen doughnuts on live international radio.
As for the laughter, that wasn’t at JFK’s expense either. It bubbled up a moment after the phrase, prompted by the president’s own playful jab at his interpreter’s work: “I appreciate my interpreter translating my German.” A little self-aware wit, delivered with the charm that probably explains why that speech remains one of the most stirring Cold War addresses ever given. So, the crowd chuckled, appreciated the moment, and went on to enjoy the summer streets, probably eyeing their Pfannkuchen and the refreshing local beer. Meanwhile the radio charts played a different tune from another American who’d made his mark on Germany.
Elvis Presley, the King himself was no stranger to the German public, having served in the U.S. Army stationed at Bad Nauheim from 1958 to 1960, where he charmed the locals with more than just his gyrating hips. By 1963, Elvis was still topping the German charts, no small feat in a Europe about to be swept away by the Beatles and the British Invasion. In fact, five months after JFK’s so-called doughnut speech, Elvis’s “(You’re the) Devil in Disguise” snagged the #1 spot on the German BRAVO and Musikmarkt charts. Picture it: the Berliners, sipping beer and munching pastries, with Elvis crooning his bittersweet message somewhere in the background. The perfect soundtrack to Cold War summer vibes.
But the summer of 1963 would darken quickly. On November 22, the world froze as news came that President Kennedy had been shot. Elvis, far from just a distant celebrity, was deeply shaken. According to Joe Esposito, his road manager and close friend, Elvis was watching TV when the tragic news broke. He was stunned into silence, muttering, “Oh my God, I can’t believe it,” before retreating into a rare solemn quiet.
That day, Elvis canceled rehearsals and spent hours glued to the screen, watching the coverage unfold. The loss wasn’t just political for him, it was personal, an emotional rupture felt by millions worldwide. The impact of JFK’s assassination, coupled with the later murders of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy in 1968, shaped a more somber, reflective Elvis.
And so came “If I Can Dream,” the haunting anthem of hope from his 1968 Comeback Special, a musical elegy not just to a turbulent decade, but to the ideals embodied by leaders who dreamed of peace and understanding. “There must be peace and understanding sometime…” he sang, channeling the collective yearning for a better world. Elvis wasn’t a political firebrand, nor a public activist, but through this song, he gave voice to a quiet sorrow and a fierce hope. It was his tribute to those lost leaders, his acknowledgment of the fractures in America’s soul, and his own wish for unity.
Yet, in an irony as bittersweet as a jelly doughnut, “If I Can Dream” was never part of Elvis’s live concert repertoire after 1968. When he took the stage for his final performance on June 26, 1977, in Indianapolis. The performance came exactly 14 years to the day after JFK’s Berlin speech, and the setlist favored Vegas show tunes and gospel ballads. The closing song was the familiar “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” not a stirring plea for peace and understanding.
Less than a month later, Elvis was found dead in his Graceland bathroom, at the young age of 42. The dreamy idealism of “If I Can Dream” had given way to the harsher realities of fame, addiction, and personal demons. A tragic end to a life that had soared like a rocket but burned too bright, too fast.
So what does all this have to do with doughnuts? Maybe nothing, except that both presidents and pop kings can be misunderstood, mythologized, and occasionally conflated with pastries. And perhaps it’s a reminder that behind every iconic phrase or hit song lies a messy, human story—full of laughter, loss, and dreams both realized and deferred.
As Elvis sang:
“There must be peace and understanding sometime…
Strong winds of promise that will blow away the doubt and fear someday.”
Whether you’re a Berliner, a fan of American rock ’n’ roll, or just someone who enjoys a good doughnut, those words still echo. The laughter and the sorrow, the pastry jokes and the political speeches all remind us how history and culture swirl together like the perfect glaze on a jelly-filled treat.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s a dream worth holding onto.
It’s colder than a witch’s wotsit in Bathurst, I think pancakes are a damned good idea.
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