Mr. Hubert. That was the ad you were talking about?
Mr. Johnson. That is the ad I was talking about.
Mr. Hubert. Now go ahead.
Mr. Johnson. All right. As we sat there having a sandwich and a beer, a dentist from upstairs came walking through and stopped behind us. There were four or five of us, Charlie Busby—well, I have mentioned the names. And he heard us talking.
Mr. Hubert. Do you know the name of the dentist?
Mr. Johnson. At the moment; no, sir.
Mr. Hubert. You do know he was a dentist, though?
Mr. Johnson. Yes, sir; I will tell you why in a minute. As we sat talking about the ad that had appeared in the paper, the subsequent assassination of the President the day before, and that sort of thing, the dentist came—he may have been a technician—I think he is a dentist—I am positive he is a dentist, but anyway, he came walking through and stopped and stood behind us and overheard the conversation, and he said, “Hey, I know what you fellows are talking about.” And reached up in his smock pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me.
I was sitting in the middle of the conversation, so he handed it to me. I unfolded it and discovered it that it was the full-page ad that we were discussing, so I spread it out pretty neatly on the top of the bar as we sat there eating a sandwich and drinking a beer. While we were sitting discussing the ad and its merits and what would happen to it, and who the fellow was that had run the ad, I then heard somebody over my right shoulder say, “Jesus Christ, I have just been down to the Dallas Morning News office and there is no such bastard involved. There is no address in Dallas, and ain’t no such person.”
Mr. Hubert. Who made that statement?