The RFK Assassination

---

---

"Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live."

Robert F. Kennedy

---

Today is the 50th anniversary of the fatal shooting of Sen. Robert F. Kennedy in Los Angeles after he had declared victory in the California presidential primary.

He didn't die immediately. He lingered for about 24 hours.

I have written on this blog before about my memories of that event. What I am thinking about today is the aftermath — when his body was brought back to New York for the funeral, then carried by train to Washington where he was buried next to his brother in Arlington Cemetery.

I remember watching the funeral service on TV — and seeing Sen. Edward Kennedy's moving eulogy to his brother. I remember the stoic demeanor of Kennedy's widow, Ethel. In the context of what had occurred in the preceding days, it was heart–breaking.

But I suppose my dominant memory is of the train making its way from New York to Washington. It is a distance of only about 200 miles — ordinarily a four–hour trip by train, historian Theodore White observed, but more than doubled by the crowds that came out to pay their respects. It seemed as if nearly everyone who lived between those two cities came out and stood beside the railroad tracks until the train carrying Kennedy's body went by.

At first, the crowds were mostly small groups, but as the train proceeded, the crowds grew larger, standing three, four, five rows deep, sometimes more. Every segment of the American population was represented — young, old, black, white, affluent, poor. Sometimes they spilled onto the tracks, forcing the train to slow down even more. My memory is that a handful of people may have been killed after being struck by the train.

There have been museum exhibits recently that sought to capture that experience for those who have no memory of that time, but the sensation is incomplete without knowledge of the signs that were always present during Kennedy's life — and followed him to his grave.

---

---

When Kennedy walked among us, those signs encouraged him to seek the presidency or demanded justice after he made his decision to run. After he was shot and his fate was still unknown but widely anticipated, the signs read "Pray for Bobby." Along the train route, they simply said, "Goodbye" or "So long."

White tried to describe the scene — but how do you describe the indescribable?

"There were the family groups: husband holding sobbing wife, arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her," he wrote. "Five nuns in a yellow pickup truck, tiptoeing high to see. A very fat father with three fat boys, he with his hand over his heart, each of the boys giving a different variant of the Boy Scout or school salute. And the people: the men from the great factories that line the tracks, standing at ease as they were taught as infantrymen, their arms folded over chests. Women on the back porches of the slum neighborhoods that line the tracks, in their housedresses, with ever–present rollers in their hair, crying. People in buildings, leaning from office windows, on the flat roofs of industrial plants, on the bluffs of the rivers, on the embankments of the railway cuts, a crust on every ridge and height. Pleasure boats in the rivers lined up in flotillas; automobiles parked on all the viaducts that crossed the line of the train. Brass bands — police bands, school bands, Catholic bands. Flags: individual flags dropped in salute by middle–aged men as the train passed, flags at half–staff from every public building on the way, entire classes of schoolchildren holding the little eight–by–ten flags, in that peppermint–striped flutter that marks every campaign trip. He turned them on, black and white, rich and poor. And they cried."

No other politician in modern history could connect with as many disparate groups as Bobby Kennedy. It is something no one tries to do anymore because it is so difficult to achieve. And in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Teddy Tosses His Hat in the Ring

---

---

Through much of American history, if a sitting president wanted to be nominated for another term, it was his. Incumbent presidents have seldom been challenged from within their own party, no matter how much of a mess they may have made of things.

But, for awhile there in the latter part of the 20th century, an incumbent president could not depend on that.

In 1968, President Lyndon Johnson faced an insurgent challenge from Sen. Eugene McCarthy. Primaries were not the place where most delegates were won in 1968, but McCarthy did far better than expected against Johnson in the New Hampshire primary, and Johnson announced shortly thereafter that he would not seek another four years in the White House.

In 1976, President Gerald Ford was challenged by former Gov. Ronald Reagan in a down–to–the–wire fight for the GOP nomination that wasn't resolved until the party's convention that summer.

And four years later, President Jimmy Carter faced a challenge from Sen. Ted Kennedy that began — officially — in Boston's famed Faneuil Hall on this day in 1979.

It was a moment that most, if not all, political observers never expected to witness after the Chappaquiddick tragedy 10 years earlier. In the 13 months following Bobby Kennedy's assassination, nearly every pundit of the time expected Teddy to pick up his brothers' dropped torch and seek the presidency, but he was seldom mentioned in connection with the presidency after Chappaquiddick.

Even before Kennedy jumped into the race, I wondered why he was doing it. He hadn't really seemed to desire the presidency earlier in his political career. He seemed content to leave that to his brothers. But his brothers were gone, and I believe Ted felt obligated to seek the presidency on their behalf. He never seemed to take any joy from the campaign.

And, frankly, I sensed something of relief on his part when it became official that he would not be the party's nominee. He acted disappointed in his public posturings, but I suspect that, privately, he was relieved. He had given it a shot, and he had fallen short.

He had done his duty, and he never sought the presidency again — even though his speech to the delegates at the Democratic convention left the door open for another run sometime in the future.

The Beginning of the Iranian Hostage Crisis

---

---

Today is Election Day in the United States.

It is also the 35th anniversary of an event that had a tremendous influence on the election that was held the next year, in 1980, and many elections to come. It still influences thoughts and acts in the 21st century.

I'm speaking of the takeover of the American embassy in Iran on Nov. 4, 1979.

By comparison, I guess the world of 1979 seems quaint when stacked up against the world of today. In today's world, an American diplomat can be killed in an attack on a U.S. embassy, and many Americans won't even bat an eye. But, in 1979, the takeover of an American embassy was a shock to complacent Americans.

The only real interaction Americans had had with the Middle East was over the price of oil. Now, they were faced with political Islam, and they had no idea what to do.

Not unlike Barack Obama's experience with Benghazi, the Jimmy Carter administration was warned by the embassy in Tehran that radical Islamists would attack it. This warning came only weeks before the actual takeover. In the wake of the Islamic takeover, the American–supported shah of Iran fled to Mexico, where it was discovered that he was suffering from cancer. It was recommended that he be allowed into the United States for treatment.

The embassy warned Washington that it would be overrun by radical Islamists if the shah was allowed into the United States. Carter permitted the shah to be allowed into the country, and the embassy was taken over.

We may not know how Obama reacted to Benghazi until after he leaves office and writes his memoirs — if then. According to Carter, he agonized over the hostage crisis. "I would walk in the White House gardens early in the morning," Carter wrote in his memoirs, "and lie awake at night, trying to think of additional steps to gain their freedom without sacrificing the honor and security of our nation."

Carter did mention the warning in his memoirs, observing that Secretary of State Cyrus Vance told him in early October that diplomat Bruce Laingen was reporting that "local hostility toward the shah continues and that the augmented influence of the clerics might mean an even worse reaction than would have been the case a few months ago if we were to admit the shah — even for humanitarian reasons."

---

---

One by one, Carter wrote, his foreign policy advisers sided with allowing the shah into the United States for medical treatment. "I was the lone holdout," Carter wrote. Eventually, though, he relented, permitting the shah into the country. Less than two weeks later, a group of Iranian students, believing that the move was part of a plot to restore the shah to power, stormed the U.S. embassy.

Nov. 4, 1979, was "a date I will never forget," Carter wrote. "The first week of November 1979 marked the beginning of the most difficult period of my life. The safety and well–being of the American hostages became a constant concern for me, no matter what other duties I was performing as president."

Nevertheless, he believed initially that "the Iranians would soon remove the attackers from the embassy compound and release our people. We and other nations had faced this kind of attack many times in the past but never, so far as we knew, had a host government failed to attempt to protect threatened diplomats."

Things were different this time, though. The hostages were held through the next year's presidential election and were not released until after Ronald Reagan, Carter's successor, had been sworn in. Iran insisted the captors had treated them well, and many Americans took solace in the belief that their countrymen did not suffer needlessly — but stories of beatings and torture eventually emerged.

Carter probably will be forever linked in the public's memory to the Iranian hostage crisis, just as Richard Nixon is linked to Watergate and Lyndon Johnson is linked to Vietnam. For many Americans, it summed up the feeling of powerlessness with which they were all too familiar.

President Carter — by that time former President Carter — flew to Germany to greet the hostages, who had been released within minutes of Ronald Reagan being sworn in as Carter's successor. Apparently, the hostages were divided over whether they held Carter responsible for their ordeal. When he greeted them, Carter hugged each one, and some let their arms hang at their sides, refusing to return Carter's hug.

It reminded me of the scene at the Democrats' convention the previous summer, when Carter brought everyone of note in the Democrat Party to the podium and shook each one's hand, even the ones with whom he had clashed, in a show of party unity. But Carter had to chase Ted Kennedy, the man who had challenged him in the primaries, around in a fruitless pursuit of the handshake he desired the most, the one that might reconcile him with disaffected Democrats.

All that was still in the future on this day in 1979. As I recall, the takeover of the embassy didn't really cause that much of a stir initially in the United States. Maybe that was because Americans just hadn't dealt with this kind of thing very much. Maybe they figured it was simply a matter of negotiating with the students who had taken over the embassy and that the hostages would be released in a day or two. That was how it usually worked out.

Not this time.

Why Do You Want to Be President?

---

---

It was a very simple question, the kind of thing that is the very least that voters should know about anyone who seeks to lead the United States. Any voter can ask that question, and every voter deserves an answer to it. But Ted Kennedy, when asked that question on this day in 1979, stumbled through an obviously off–the–cuff response to the one question for which he should have had a definitive answer.

"Why do you want to be president?"

If there is such a thing as a softball question in presidential politics, that is it. After all, it didn't suggest that Kennedy should not have run — although I think the results from the 1980 Democrat primaries indicate that quite clearly (Carter received 51.13% of the vote in the primaries while Kennedy carried 37.58%). It was an uphill battle from the start. Incumbent presidents are seldom challenged for their party's renomination, and they usually prevail whether the challenge is serious or not. To succeed, Kennedy needed to be able to articulate a vision the way many Americans remembered his brother doing 20 years earlier.

Kennedy swung wildly when CBS' Roger Mudd asked him that question in an interview that was broadcast on this night in 1979 — and he missed with a rambling recitation of loosely linked talking points.

It inspired one of my favorite Doonesbury comic strips — in which an exchange between Kennedy and reporters was depicted. I don't remember now if the Kennedy of the comic strip was asked why he wanted to be president, or if he was asked about a more specific topic, but the answer was another rambling recitation. By the fourth frame of the strip, one of the reporters impatiently blurted out, "A verb, senator! We need a verb!"

There was more to it than the rambling answer, though. Kennedy had that kind of deer–caught–in–the–headlights look when Mudd asked him that question. How could he possibly have failed to prepare an answer for it? After all, he hadn't been asked to defend a bad, possibly embarrassing vote he cast in the Senate or some poor or reckless decision he had made, either professionally or personally. He hadn't even been asked about Chappaquiddick. He was merely asked why he wanted to be president. What did he want to accomplish? What was his vision for the nation?

If that isn't a softball pitch, what is?

It was an invitation to summon forth the Kennedy charisma, the soaring eloquence of "Ask not what your country can do for you." In hindsight, I believe that was the kind of thing Americans yearned for in 1979 and 1980. The country sought inspiration in 1980. Mudd's question tried to coax it from Kennedy.

It didn't even summon forth a grammatically correct sentence.

Ted's Side of the Story

---

---

It has been 45 years since Ted Kennedy's car plunged into the waters of Chappaquiddick. A young woman, Mary Jo Kopechne, drowned that night. Kennedy himself has been dead for nearly five years, but the event is still capable of provoking passionate debates.

With only a few exceptions, Kennedy spent the seven days immediately following the incident in seclusion. When he was seen, he was wearing a neck brace, a silent reminder of the accident. He emerged 45 years ago today — sans neck brace — to deliver a national address on the matter.

Since Bobby Kennedy's assassination a year earlier, Kennedy was widely regarded as virtually a sure thing if he wanted the Democratic presidential nomination; after the accident, the conventional wisdom was that he was damaged goods — damaged beyond repair.

Before the Chappaquiddick incident, Kennedy was often mentioned as a potential Democratic candidate for 1972. Even after Chappaquiddick, his name was still mentioned in connection with the 1976 race. He chose not to seek the nomination in either year, and it seemed his presidential ambitions really were behind him.

Incredibly, he did seek the presidency — in 1980 — but it always seemed to me he did so more out of a sense of personal obligation than anything else.

And he picked a year to run in which it was almost certain that he would not succeed. He ran against an incumbent Democrat, Jimmy Carter, in a year that was shaping up to be a Republican year. Running against an incumbent from one's own party has almost always been a "Man of La Mancha"–esque proposition — and, predictably, at least in the context of history, Kennedy did not defeat the incumbent.

But there was more to it than that. Early in the campaign for the nomination, Carter benefited from a rally–'round–the–flag mentality following the takeover of the American embassy in Iran and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.

If Kennedy had beaten Carter, it is far from certain that he would have defeated the Republican nominee, Ronald Reagan. In hindsight, it really seems the tide was running against all Democrats in 1980.

Before any votes had been cast, Kennedy's commitment was brought into question when he gave a rambling answer to a pretty straight–forward question posed by CBS' Roger Mudd — "Why do you want to be president?"

But on this night in 1969, he didn't speak about the presidency. He spoke about Chappaquiddick. Earlier in the day, he had entered a plea of guilty at the Edgartown, Mass., courthouse; he was given a suspended sentence and his driver's license was taken away.

Thoughts of the presidency probably were part of the equation, though, particularly when you examine the issues he chose to address when he spoke before the cameras:

• His wife, Joan, had not accompanied him that weekend due to "reasons of health." Her absence had been frequently mentioned, and Kennedy apparently felt obliged to say that she was pregnant (she suffered a miscarriage shortly thereafter).
• He denied the "widely circulated suspicions of immoral conduct" by himself and Kopechne.
• He denied that he had been under the influence of alcohol while he was driving.
• He acknowledged that his actions after the accident "made no sense to [him] at all."
• He said he had been told by his doctors that he had suffered a concussion and shock, but he didn't use that as an excuse for his actions.
• He said it was "indefensible" that he did not contact authorities after the accident.
• He told viewers that he had enlisted the help of two friends at the party to help try to rescue her.
• He said that "all kinds of scrambled thoughts" went through his head that, in hindsight, seem like nothing short of denial — including the idea that Kopechne may have saved herself somehow and whether "some awful curse actually did hang over all the Kennedys."

"The speech was not a success," wrote William Manchester. "He answered questions that hadn't been asked ... He also seemed to imply that the damage to his career was more momentous than [Kopechne's] death." That, I suppose, remained to be seen.

The Dawning of a New World

---

---

"Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed."

Neil Armstrong
July 20, 1969

---

I've heard that astronaut Neil Armstrong, the man who took the first steps on the moon, was a modest man, not prone to hyperbole.

When he said, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" as he descended the ladder on the lunar module and planted his foot on the moon's surface, I believe he really did understand the huge implications of that single, simple act. Regardless of how educated they were, all people — and it was estimated that half a billion people worldwide were watching — could understand what it meant to put a foot on the ground, and most could probably grasp that it was merely the first step on a journey that would take mankind into an era of unimagined developments and changes.

But all would not be revealed at once. In a manner of speaking, it was the first day of school for the human race. Science continues to build on things that were discovered via NASA's missions to the moon.

I was a small boy at the time, of course, so I didn't understand everything. Nevertheless, for me, the most heart–stopping moment on Apollo 11's historic voyage was the descent of the lunar module to the moon's surface on this day in 1969. I understood enough to know there were risks in that procedure.

Earlier, the lunar module had separated from the command module, which was piloted by Michael Collins, and Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin began their journey to the moon.

As the lunar module descended, computers were reporting lots of errors — which turned out not to be errors, after all, just computer miscalculations — and Armstrong and Aldrin reported back to mission control that they were passing lunar landmarks four seconds earlier than expected and would be "long" — landing west of their intended landing site.

The folks back in Houston would easily adapt their design for later flights — but nobody in the viewing audience knew that. Viewers were told that the lunar module might not have enough fuel to re–connect with the command module if it didn't land within a certain time. Turned out the astronauts were receiving premature low fuel warnings, and there was no crisis after all.

But no one knew that. I remember feeling a genuine concern for the men on board — and a genuine sense of relief when they reported a successful landing with a few seconds to spare.

I wasn't the only one who responded that way — but I was part of a decidedly smaller subset that may have felt such anxiety for the first time in their lives on that occasion.

"Tranquility, we copy you on the ground," came the reply from Mission Control. "You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue. We're breathing again. Thanks a lot."

It was the first mission to the moon. The astronauts and the crew on the ground were learning things that would be adjusted on succeeding flights, but, in July 1969, it was all new.

---

---

The astronauts did not step out on the moon right away. NASA had scheduled a five–hour sleep period for them because they had been up since early that morning, but the astronauts apparently did not sleep. With an unexplored frontier waiting just outside their door, I guess that would have been like asking a kid to sleep late on Christmas morning. Anyway, Armstrong and Aldrin spent the downtime preparing for their historic moon walks instead of napping.

While not mentioned publicly at the time, Aldrin also took communion prior to going out on the moon's surface. He did so privately because, at the time, NASA was contending with atheist Madalyn Murray O'Hair's lawsuit that demanded that astronauts abstain from religious activities while in space.

I think that originated when the crew of Apollo 8 read passages from the Bible on Christmas Eve.

So Aldrin took communion on the moon with a special kit that had been prepared by his pastor, but he drew no attention to it.

When he returned to earth, Aldrin gave the chalice he used to his church, which still has it. Every year, on the Sunday closest to July 20, the church commemorates his lunar communion.

Once the astronauts were on the moon, I figured the hard part was over. I mean, all they had to do was go out the door of the lunar module, climb down that ladder and walk around on the surface, right? Nothing to it.

I suppose I was much too young to understand that, until someone did get out and walk around, no one really knew what to expect. All kinds of possibilities went through people's minds — and it's safe to say that most, if not all, were not good.

Before Armstrong and Aldrin walked on the moon, there was still a kind of mysterious aura surrounding it. Astronauts had been close enough to the moon to peer at its surface from their space capsules, and they thought they knew what to expect — but no one was really sure.

The moon, Shakespeare said, "comes more nearer earth than she was wont and drives men mad." And there did seem to be a kind of madness settling upon the earth around the time of Apollo 11's journey to the moon.

---

---

Most of the madness at the time was brought on by the space race. At the height of the Cold War, Russia and the United States were driven mad in a desperate race to get to the moon first. America won that race 50 years ago today.

But the madness wasn't confined to space. There were times that summer when it seemed the world was on the brink of spinning out of control.

Less than 48 hours before Armstrong and Aldrin walked on the moon, a car driven by Sen. Edward Kennedy plunged into the channel on Chappaquiddick Island, Mass. Kennedy survived, but a young woman who was riding in the car with him, 28–year–old Mary Jo Kopechne, perished.

And about three weeks later, the Manson Family would commit a series of highly publicized (for that pre–cable, pre–internet era) horrific murders in California.

Much of the world watched that night. It is said that more than 500 million people witnessed those first steps on the moon and heard Armstrong say, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

And, from that moment on, it really was a new world — a world in which man could fly to the moon and back if he chose to do so.

The Death of Mary Jo Kopechne

---

---

Mary Jo Kopechne was, by all accounts, a serious and hard–working member of Sen. Robert F. Kennedy's staff. Apparently, she seldom drank or got involved with men.

To say she was merely a secretary would belittle her contribution — for she did much more than type letters and fetch coffee. She was an important member of the team, staying up all night once to retype a speech Kennedy was going to give on Vietnam while Kennedy and his advisers made alterations.

A product of parochial schools, she taught for awhile after earning her degree from a Catholic liberal arts college in New Jersey, but her passion was for politics, originally working for a senator from Florida but quickly moving on to Kennedy's staff.

During Kennedy's 1968 presidential campaign, she was one of the so–called "Boiler Room Girls," an affectionate nickname given to six young women on Kennedy's staff. Perhaps more than any, Kopechne was devastated by Kennedy's assassination in June 1968 and temporarily left political campaign work shortly thereafter, vowing not to return to Washington because "I just feel Bobby's presence everywhere."

But she returned to Washington before the year was out.

Fast forward to Friday, July 18, 1969. It was the weekend of the Apollo 11 moon landing. It was also the weekend of a regatta in Edgartown, Mass., in which Sen. Edward Kennedy was competing.

Kennedy hosted a reunion for the "Boiler Room Girls" at Chappaquiddick Island, Mass., that Friday evening.

"Among the many responsibilities Ted had inherited from his brothers," wrote historian William Manchester, "was one for lifting the morale of the family's loyal campaigners." That was the objective of the gathering that night.

Actually, it wasn't as if the girls hadn't seen each other since the assassination. It was the fourth such reunion in a year's time, but the girls all seemed to enjoy being with each other — and a group of men who were there, too. Among them were a Kennedy cousin, one of his school buddies, an attorney and Kennedy's driver.

By 11:15 that night, Kennedy later told authorities, he decided to leave, and Kopechne asked him for a ride to her hotel. Kennedy agreed and told his driver to stay where he was since he seemed to be having a good time.

Kopechne didn't tell anyone she was leaving with Kennedy — and left her purse and hotel key behind. Odd behavior for someone who supposedly wanted to return to her hotel.

Accounts of what happened after that vary.

Kennedy later told local authorities that he made a wrong turn and went off a bridge. He said the car turned over and landed on its roof under water. Kennedy couldn't recall how he got out of the vehicle, only that he did and that he made repeated attempts to rescue Kopechne but was unsuccessful.

He returned to the party on foot and told authorities he saw no houses with lights on between the accident scene and the party, but it was established that Kennedy's route back to the party would have taken him past four houses, at least one of which had a light on all night.

Kennedy would have found a working phone at that house, as well as the one where the party was being held, but he didn't contact authorities until the next morning. Instead, he and two of the men at the party returned to the accident scene, where both of the men reportedly made several attempts to reach Kopechne.

When those attempts also failed, the men parted company. Kennedy's companions later said they assumed Kennedy would contact authorities, but he did not. Instead, he returned to his hotel, where he nursed the fantasy that Kopechne had, somehow, managed to escape the vehicle — and that he would learn she was all right the next day.

The next morning, however, two fishermen found the submerged vehicle, and the authorities were summoned. A scuba diver was dispatched, and he was the one who located the body. Upon hearing that a corpse had been found, Kennedy turned himself in to the local police.

---

---

The diver who found the body said she did not drown but, rather, died of suffocation. The position of the body suggested she had found an air pocket and had been trying to breathe. It was estimated that it took her three or four hours to die.

The diver was convinced she could have been saved. "I could have had her out of that car 25 minutes after I got the call," the diver said. "But he [Kennedy] didn't call."

A week later — and only a couple of days after Kennedy (wearing a neck brace) and his wife attended Kopechne's funeral — Kennedy spoke on national television. Of that I will have more to say next week.

There was considerable uncertainty about the timing of the accident. Based on Kennedy's version of events, it could have happened any time after 11:15 p.m. on July 18, but a deputy sheriff who had been working at a regatta dance that night said he encountered a dark car containing a man and a woman that appeared to be lost between 12:30 and 12:45 a.m. on July 19. He said he got out of his car and approached the other vehicle, intending to offer assistance, and the car drove off.

The inquest report only said the accident happened sometime between 11:30 p.m. on July 18 and 1 a.m. on July 19.

The Times They Are A-Changin'

---

---

In the minds of most people living today, there is no memory of a time when a Kennedy did not serve in Congress.

When Edward Kennedy died last year, it was the first time in nearly half a century that a Kennedy did not sit in the U.S. Senate. But his youngest son, Patrick, continued the family tradition as a member of the House, serving Rhode Island's First District.

Now, however, Patrick Kennedy has announced that he will not seek re–election this year. And, as the last Kennedy in Congress makes preparations to leave, it is reasonable to wonder if the Kennedy family will ever send another one of its own to Washington.

Undoubtedly, there are Republicans who are wondering today if Kennedy's open House seat could be picked off in the midterm elections. My initial inclination would be to say no. Kennedy was first elected in the Republican year of 1994 with 54% of the vote, and he was routinely re–elected seven times, usually with two–thirds of the voters supporting him.

The district seems to be solidly Democratic. In the last 70 years, it has been represented by a Republican for only six. In 2008, when the district gave Kennedy 69% of the vote, it gave Barack Obama 65%. In fact, in the last 10 presidential elections, Kennedy's district has only supported the Republican nominee twice — and by very narrow margins (Ronald Reagan in 1984, Richard Nixon in 1972).

But appearances can be deceiving. Maybe Kennedy owed much of his success to the magic of the Kennedy name. Maybe Rhode Island Republicans, who seem — on the surface and from a distance — to have more in common with the "Rockefeller Republicans," the liberals and centrists who once had influence in their party, than the vast majority of Republicans today, can be competitive in 2010.

John Mulligan of the Providence Journal writes that "Kennedy's surprise decision ... instantly raises the prospects for the congressman's Republican opponent ... and may spur a fight among Democratic contenders for the seat.

"But Kennedy's decision 'absolutely, unequivocally has nothing to do with' the congressman's poor showing in recent polls, the shocking election of another little–known Republican state legislator, Scott Brown, to his father's Senate seat or the generally grim mood of voters in Rhode Island and around the country, according to ... the congressman's former chief of staff."

---

---

I have heard speculation today that Kennedy's decision was inevitable after his father died, and, indeed, there were indications in his eulogy last August of how deeply he was affected by the loss. He spoke of his childhood struggle with asthma and how it was a blessing for "a child who craved his father's love and attention." He spoke, on that occasion, of how his father remained a "magical figure" in his eyes as he grew up, of how his father found a loophole that permitted Patrick to sail on his crew.

"Just as proud as I was to be a crew on his sailboat, I am forever grateful for the opportunity to have worked with him in the United States Congress as his colleague," Patrick said in his eulogy. "I used to hang on to his T–shirt and his coat sleeve on the Capitol when I was just a little boy. So when I got a chance to serve with him on Capitol Hill, all I needed to do was set my compass to the principles of his life."

Since his father's death, I have had the sense that Patrick's compass increasingly was pointing him in different directions — away from memories of sharing something special with his father.

"I will really miss working with Dad," Patrick said the day his father was buried. "I will miss my Dad's wonderful sense of self–deprecating humor. When the far right made Dad their poster child for their attack ads, he used to say, 'We Kennedys sure bring out the best in people!' "

I don't know where Patrick Kennedy will go at this point in his life, but I hope he finds the fulfillment that will bring out the best in him.

Like his father did.

The Era of Kennedy Is Over

I guess it officially happened last August, when Edward Kennedy lost his battle with brain cancer.

But, if there was any lingering doubt, Scott Brown's apparent victory over Martha Coakley in today's special election in Massachusetts to pick Kennedy's successor puts an exclamation point on it.

With the death of Ted Kennedy, the last of the Kennedy brothers, the Kennedy political dynasty, such as it was, was over. I remember hearing, when I was a small child, some of the adults in my world warning that Bobby Kennedy, and then Ted Kennedy, each would be elected to two terms as president, creating a "royal family" in American politics. As it turned out, of course, Bobby was killed when he sought the Democratic nomination, and Teddy's chances of being elected were forever dashed when Mary Jo Kopechne died at Chappaquiddick the following year.

Ted Kennedy Jr. could have sought his father's seat, even though he lives in another state. Apparently, because he owns property in Massachusetts, he would be eligible to serve as its senator, based on existing state law. His cousin, Bobby's son Joe, could have run for the seat but chose not to. Ted Kennedy's widow could have been a candidate but ruled it out.

But just the name by itself would not have been satisfactory. The real magic of the Kennedy name came from the brothers. None of the next generation of Kennedys — with the possible exception of the long dead John F. Kennedy Jr. — possessed the public appeal that might have been capable of capturing that lightning–in–a–bottle feeling that permeated Camelot.

Brown's victory may well be a perfect political storm. When the seat comes up for a full six–year term in 2012, Massachusetts voters may return to their roots. It is reasonable to expect that Barack Obama will be at the top of the ballot, seeking re–election, and if he remains personally popular, it is equally reasonable to expect that he will attract many of the same sporadic voters who gave him his huge margin in Massachusetts but may well have been unmotivated to participate in the special election, as some voting groups are apt to be in these midterm races.

But even if a Democrat unseats Brown in 2012 — and even if that Democrat is named Kennedy — it will never be the same. The next generation of the Kennedys is now in middle age, and the only one who ever showed the voter appeal of the previous generation was JFK Jr.

Unless one of his cousins emerges to pick up the dropped torch, the era of the Kennedys is over.

The Final Days

In just a few days, Massachusetts voters will go to the polls to decide who will finish Ted Kennedy's term in the U.S. Senate.

It has been virtually an article of faith that the Democratic nominee, state Attorney General Martha Coakley, would win the seat with little trouble. That was a logical assumption. After all, Kennedy was elected nine times by Massachusetts voters (including a special election to complete his brother Jack's unexpired term), and he never received less than 58% of the vote.

Until recently, Republicans talked a good game, insisting that an upset was possible. But now, with the finish line in sight, it appears that an upset may be a little more than a possibility — a fact that is dawning on observers who, not too long ago, tended to believe the race was in the bag for Democrats.

Considering Massachusetts' political history, that wasn't an unreasonable conclusion. But, as the old saying goes, that was then and this is now.

• Jessica Van Sack of the Boston Herald reports that the latest Suffolk University/7News survey shows Republican Scott Brown holding a four–point advantage.
  
  "Although Brown's ... lead ... is within the ... margin of error," Van Sack writes, "the underdog's position at the top of the results stunned even pollster David Paleologos," who called it a "Brown–out."
  
  Independents appear to be fueling this upset–in–the–making. The survey shows nearly two–thirds of independents supporting Brown, reflecting a trend that has been showing up in national polls in recent months. Democrats in general have been losing the support of independents.
  
  But most observers didn't think the defection of independents would be as pronounced as it appears to be in Massachusetts.


• Yesterday, The Rothenberg Political Report moved the race to the "Toss–Up" column.
  
  "Whatever the shortcomings of the Coakley campaign (and they certainly exist), this race has become about change, President Obama and Democratic control of all of the levers of power in Washington, D.C.," says Rothenberg. "Brown has 'won' the 'free media' over the past few days, and if he continues to do so, he will win the election."


• Byron York of the Washington Examiner writes that a Democratic strategist laments that "the bottom has fallen out of [Coakley's] poll numbers" and has concluded that she is "destined to lose."


• Political reporter Steve Kornacki, who wrote earlier this month that a Republican victory was not going to happen, now writes in his blog that "Brown may actually win." But he urges readers not to "overreact ... This will probably be a very good year for the GOP. But their 'revival' will only last as long as the economy is in the tank."
  
  Given the stubbornness of the double–digit unemployment rate, that might be much longer than either Kornacki or the Democrats would prefer.


• Kennedy's widow, Vicki Kennedy, isn't sitting idly by. As CNN.com reports, she has been hitting the airwaves in commercials that began airing today, pleading with Massachusetts voters to keep the seat in the Democratic column.
  
  Mrs. Kennedy, more than anyone else (with the exception, perhaps, of the late senator's first wife and their three children), knows that health care reform was her husband's lifelong goal, the reason he wanted to have someone appointed to take his place between the time of his death and the special election, and that the election of a Republican to his seat could well put it on the legislative back burner for another 15 to 20 years.

The final days of this campaign will be a sight to see.

While Massachusetts (Democrats) Slept

---

---

In recent days, alarm bells have been ringing in Democratic circles. Ted Kennedy's Senate seat may be in jeopardy in next week's special election.

---

"[I]t's not the Kennedy seat, it's not the Democrats' seat, it's the people's seat."

Republican nominee Scott Brown

---

It has long been assumed that the Democratic nominee to complete Kennedy's unexpired term would cruise to victory. And that may be the eventual outcome. But the very idea that the seat that was held by the liberal lion for nearly half a century, representing a state that hardly ever votes for Republicans for anything, might not go to the Democratic nominee sent shock waves through the party, and the state's Democrats, as well as some national Democrats, although, notably, not Barack Obama — who, it could plausibly be argued, might not have been nominated for president without Kennedy's public endorsement — have responded.

Of course, Obama's absence from the campaign might not be a bad thing as far as Democrats are concerned. His latest approval numbers, from CBS News, show his national approval rating at 46%. At a comparable point in his presidency (less than a year before his party lost control of Congress), Bill Clinton's approval rating, as reported by CBS News, was 48%.

CNN.com reports that Obama's approval numbers are down three points since last month while his disapproval numbers are up four points.

Now, I live in an entirely different time zone. In fact, I would guess that I live about 1,500 miles from Boston. So I haven't seen the advertisements that have been running in the special election, but I have heard that the ads have taken a decidedly negative turn on both sides.

• The Boston Globe reported that the negative ads originated from Democratic nominee Martha Coakley's campaign.


• Then, the Globe reported, Brown retaliated with negative ads of his own.

I expect to see more of this from both sides in the last week of the campaign.

It has been suggested that an upset is brewing in Massachusetts. I don't know if that is true. But a lifetime of observing political campaigns tells me that decisions are made by those who show up.

I've heard that, in 2010, the Republican base is energized and that the Democratic base is not.

Sounds a lot like 1994 to me.

The Birth of Camelot

---

---

You can make the argument that it was 50 years ago today that the concept of the Kennedy presidency as a modern–day Camelot was born — although the truth, as it so often is, was quite different.

Kennedy's presidency was never regarded as Camelot during his lifetime. That label was given to his administration in hindsight — by his widow when she was interviewed by historian Theodore H. White a week after Kennedy's assassination in 1963.

In some ways, the presidency and the world have changed a lot in half a century. Fifty years ago, it was possible for a presidential candidate to wait until the actual election year to launch his campaign. Far fewer states (only 16 in 1960) held primaries, and, in his Pulitzer Prize–winning book "The Making of the President 1960," White implies the announcement itself was a foregone conclusion.

I don't know how the people of Massachusetts reacted when Kennedy announced his candidacy, coming little more than a year after they had returned him to the Senate. I don't know if it caught any of them by surprise. But it doesn't seem to have caught his staff by surprise. White did not write about a heated debate over the pros and cons of Kennedy's candidacy. He wrote about discussions of strategy.

"Some [primaries] should not be entered for fear of offending favorite sons; some should not be entered because they were unimportant," White wrote of the prevailing opinions at the late 1959 strategy sessions. "But ... a broad enough number had to be chosen to give a national cast to the campaign, and those chosen had to be of value for their impact on neighboring states and on the big bosses who would be watching. And every primary had to be won — there could be no stumbling."

Most delegations were chosen by state conventions and state party leaders in 1960. Forty–eight years later, most were chosen by voters in primaries or caucuses. It was a different time, but the American people weren't so different. In John Kennedy's day, the presidency was believed to be the exclusive domain of Protestants. In Barack Obama's day, it was thought to belong to whites.

But that was because only Protestants had been elected president prior to 1960, and only whites had been elected prior to 2008. In 1960, there were many who were skeptical that a Catholic could be elected president, just as there were many who were skeptical in 2008 that a black man could be elected president — mostly because neither had ever happened before.

Kennedy proved that a Catholic could be elected president, although no Catholics have been elected since and only one (John Kerry) has been nominated by a major party.

But in the early days of his candidacy, Kennedy's critics did not take him seriously, suggesting that, because of his youth and inexperience, he should focus on being the running mate for a more seasoned Democrat. His response? "I'm not running for vice president, I'm running for president."

(Thus, it was ironic when, in March 2008, it was suggested by Bill and Hillary Clinton, as well as others, that Obama would be a good running mate. Obama tried, in his own way, to deflect such talk: "I don't know how somebody who's in second place can offer the vice presidency to someone who's in first place," he said.)

Today, I have found no observances at the websites for the Boston newspapers that reflect on the 50th anniversary of Jack Kennedy's announcement. Instead, the spotlight is on the race to select the person who will complete the unexpired term of his youngest brother, Teddy, who died last August. Whoever wins, it will be the first time in nearly 60 years (with the exception of a brief period when a temporary appointee represented Massachusetts) that a Kennedy hasn't been in the Senate.

Time marches on. And perhaps it is long past time to retire Camelot as a synonym for the Kennedy presidency.

But it is worth mentioning today, if only to remind us how far we have come — and how far we still have to go.

The Stormy Present

---

"The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present."

Abraham Lincoln

---

In Massachusetts, voting has begun. Democrats and Republicans will be choosing their candidates today to run in a six–week general election campaign (along with an independent) to fill the U.S. Senate seat that was vacated by the death of Edward M. Kennedy in August.

Taking this step toward choosing the successor to a man who spent nearly half a century in the Senate seems like kind of a strange — and yet appropriate — way to bring this decade to an end.

I remember, as if it were yesterday, something I said to a co–worker more than nine years ago, when the Bush and Gore campaigns were locked in their legal battle over the state of Florida — that the eventual winner of the election might regret being the winner. At the time, I was thinking of the narrow congressional divisions, but, in hindsight, I may have been right for reasons I didn't consider.

Whether I expressed that thought verbally or not, it is one I have had before, usually following presidential elections. In fact, I had that thought last year, even though Barack Obama's victory was being hailed by friend and foe alike, and his party had achieved large congressional majorities. I remember wondering, on Election Night 2008, how Obama was going to achieve the delicate balancing act that would be necessary to revive the economy, put millions of Americans back to work and successfully end two wars while not alienating any of his supporters — or further alienating his detractors.

The answer was simple. "The stormy present," as Lincoln called it, was too stormy. It couldn't be done.

Or could it?

We are now a week removed from the president's address at West Point, in which he announced plans to escalate U.S. troop involvement in Afghanistan, and we're starting to see the first results of polls on that decision. Quinnipiac reports that "[p]ublic support for the war in Afghanistan is up nine percentage points in the last three weeks, as American voters say 57–35 percent that fighting the war is the right thing to do."

Quinnipiac also reports that approval of Obama's handling of the war is up, and three–fifths of respondents support his plan to begin withdrawing troops in 2011, although a plurality believe Obama won't be able to keep that pledge.

On the other hand ...

Poll respondents also are skeptical — by a wide margin — about whether Obama deserves the Nobel Peace Prize he will receive this week. Perhaps that is because it is hard to reconcile the notion of a Nobel Peace Prize winner escalating a war.

Kennedy's successor — whoever he or she may be — will be confronted with the problems posed by the stormy present. No doubt there will be those among the new senator's constituents who will long for the seasoned leadership Kennedy could provide.

But that is not an option.

The option — aside from the one the voters have in choosing the nominees — belonged to those who decided to seek the Senate seat.

We won't know until Jan. 19, 2010, which one the voters will choose to serve the remainder of Kennedy's term.

And I have to wonder if the eventual winner might wish he/she hadn't won.

Which reminds me of another Lincoln quote, which may prove to be more appropriate than any of the candidates in today's primaries would care to admit:

"If it weren't for the honor of the thing," Lincoln said, citing a man who was tarred, feathered and ridden out of town on a rail, "I'd rather walk."

Words I Never Thought I'd Hear -- or Read

There's a lot of rhetoric — on both sides — in the health care reform debate.

And I know that economist/columnist Paul Krugman has tended to support Barack Obama's actions since taking office. Sometimes, he hasn't thought those actions went far enough, but he supported them, anyway.

Well, today I was mildly shocked when I read the headline on his column in the New York Times — "Missing Richard Nixon."

Now, Nixon spent the last 20 years of his life trying to rehabilitate his image. Initially, he was about as grudging as Pete Rose, determined not to admit that he had made a mistake. But he came to the conclusion rather quickly that he had to offer his mea culpa before he would be forgiven.

There are times, as Krugman has discovered, when Nixon doesn't look so bad in hindsight.

One such time is the current health care reform debate. Most of us remember when Bill Clinton and the Democrats tried to reform health care in the 1990s, but not as many Americans remember when reforming health care was on the agenda in the early 1970s.

"Many of the retrospectives on Ted Kennedy's life mention his regret that he didn't accept Richard Nixon's offer of a bipartisan health care deal," Krugman writes. I couldn't have been very old when that happened. I have no memory of it so I'll have to take Krugman's word for it.

But Krugman writes that "[t]he moral some commentators take from that regret is that today's health care reformers should do what Mr. Kennedy balked at doing back then, and reach out to the other side."

I've heard that from others. But Krugman doesn't buy it — "surveying current politics, I find myself missing Richard Nixon."

Wait a minute. Hold the phone. I can remember Nixon's landslide victory in 1972, and I can remember when he resigned two years later. Nixon was never popular with my parents and their friends, but when he left office, it literally seemed to me that he was universally despised.

It's been 35 years since he left office, and it's been 15 years since he died. Individual attitudes toward Richard Nixon the man may have softened, but I never expected to hear or read anyone say they missed having him in the White House.

Fortunately, Krugman was quick to elaborate.

"No, I haven't lost my mind. Nixon was surely the worst person other than Dick Cheney ever to control the executive branch. But the Nixon era was a time in which leading figures in both parties were capable of speaking rationally about policy, and in which policy decisions weren't as warped by corporate cash as they are now."

Well, that makes sense. Especially when he goes on to suggest that the influence of corporate cash has rendered the nation ungovernable. But it isn't that tidy.

"Nixon's proposal for health care reform looks a lot like Democratic proposals today," Krugman writes. "In fact, in some ways it was stronger. Right now, Republicans are balking at the idea of requiring that large employers offer health insurance to their workers; Nixon proposed requiring that all employers, not just large companies, offer insurance."

What happened? The right wing took over the Republican Party, Krugman says. "Moderate Republicans ... have either been driven out of the party or intimidated into silence."

But that's too simplistic as well. "We tend to think of the way things are now ... as the way it always was," Krugman writes. "But our corporate–cash–dominated system is a relatively recent creation, dating mainly from the late 1970s. And now that this system exists, reform of any kind has become extremely difficult. That's especially true for health care, where growing spending has made the vested interests far more powerful than they were in Nixon's day."

It is enough to spark memories of Deep Throat's admonition to Woodward and Bernstein — just follow the money.

"Given the combination of G.O.P. extremism and corporate power," Krugman writes, "it's now doubtful whether health reform, even if we get it — which is by no means certain — will be anywhere near as good as Nixon's proposal, even though Democrats control the White House and have a large Congressional majority."

As he wrapped up his column, Krugman appears to have thought that he was coming off as too pessimistic. "I'm not saying that reformers should give up," he writes. "They do, however, have to realize what they're up against."

That, too, seems to be a rational answer, and that leads us to what may be an insurmountable problem. Krugman manages to touch on it at the end.

Many of those who voted for Obama, it seems to me, have invested a lot of their emotional well–being into the belief that the election of Obama last year was a transformational moment for the nation. I have thought all along that it was a step that had to be taken at some point, but it did not ultimately resolve anything.

Thinking that it did is nothing more than denial.

"[T]rue transformation, it turns out, requires a lot more than electing one telegenic leader," Krugman says. "Actually turning this country around is going to take years of siege warfare against deeply entrenched interests, defending a deeply dysfunctional political system."

Emphasizing job creation seems a little more logical now, doesn't it? Putting people to work is something everyone can agree on, right?

Choosing Kennedy's Successor

Ted Kennedy's body is in its final resting place.

The eulogies have been given. The mourners have returned to their homes. The president is back in Washington. Kennedy's congressional colleagues are wrapping up their late summer break.

And, back in Kennedy's home state of Massachusetts, attention is turning to his successor.

Gov. Deval Patrick announced today that a primary will be held Dec. 8 and a special election will be held Jan. 19. Hillary Chabot of the Boston Herald writes that "[e]arlier today, Democratic lawmakers hit the gas on a push to appoint a temporary successor to Kennedy, moving up a public hearing on the legislation to Sept. 9."

Frank Phillips writes, in the Boston Globe, that "[a]ll eyes now are on Joseph P. Kennedy II ... with family members and political allies expecting him to make a decision very shortly."

There had been some talk, in the days before Ted Kennedy's funeral, that his widow might be persuaded to take his place. Most indications are that she is not interested. Chabot, in fact, writes that she told Patrick today that she is not interested. But there is some doubt. Chabot's colleague, Edward Mason, reports, in the Boston Herald, that a "Democratic operative with Kennedy contacts" has said that Victoria Kennedy is "very much interested" in being her husband's temporary replacement while the voters choose his successor.

So it falls to Joe.

"No other Kennedy of his generation with the political stature to step into the role has signaled interest in it," Phillips writes.

And the entry of a Kennedy into a special election campaign shortly after the death of Ted Kennedy apparently would have a chilling effect on the field of potential contenders.

Phillips writes that two Kennedy loyalists who have been considering seeking the job — Reps. Edward J. Markey and Michael Capuano — "would not run against a member of the family."

Joe wouldn't have an open shot at the Democratic nomination, though. Phillips reports that "[t]wo other major Democratic figures considering entering the race — Attorney General Martha Coakley and Rep. Stephen F. Lynch — have told associates they plan to compete for the primary nomination no matter who enters."

Personally, though, I find it hard to imagine Massachusetts Democrats nominating someone else if any Kennedy was on the ballot.

And, even though some Republicans in Massachusetts have expressed an interest in the seat, I find it even harder to believe the voters in the Bay State would elect one to the Senate over a Kennedy or some other Democrat — even though they did elect Mitt Romney governor in 2002. During Kennedy's tenure, only two Republicans — Edward Brooke, a black progressive who earned his reputation by prosecuting organized crime and contributing to the investigation that led to a conviction in the "Boston strangler" case, and former Gov. Leverett Saltonstall — were elected to the Senate from Massachusetts.

Only Democrats served as Kennedy's Senate colleagues from Massachusetts in the final 30 years of his life.

The other day, when I wrote about Teddy Kennedy Jr.'s eulogy to his father, I observed that he was not a likely choice to take his father's place because he lives in Connecticut. Today, Phillips sets me straight on the fine points of the law in Massachusetts.

Teddy Jr., Phillips acknowledges, "lives in Connecticut but owns a house in Hyannis Port. This would not be an issue, however, as there is no residency requirement of a U.S. Senate seat."

Even so, "he has given no indication publicly that he is interested in the seat."

And that brings us back to Joe, who increasingly appears to be the sole hope for those who wish to see the Kennedys keep the Senate seat in the family on a long–term basis.

Ideologically, he appears to be well suited to succeed his uncle. When he was in the House, Joe's high ratings from Americans for Democratic Action (ADA), the Committee on Political Education (COPE), Consumer Federation of America (CFA) and the League of Conservation Voters (LCV) mirrored Ted's.

And the two got similarly low ratings from groups like the American Conservative Union (ACU) and the National Security Index (NSI) of the American Security Council.

In the meantime, I suppose, all eyes — especially those in the Oval Office — will be on Patrick and the Massachusetts lawmakers — and whether they will grant Ted Kennedy's dying wish to have an interim successor named to speak for Massachusetts in the Senate — and preserve the Democrats' "filibuster–proof majority" for the rest of 2009.

Kennedy Controversial in Death

This morning — the day after Ted Kennedy was buried near the graves of his brothers, John and Robert — his praises are being sung in most places.

There are exceptions, of course. There always are. Sometimes such voices are in a distinct minority, and they don't always agree on the reasons for dissenting.

Yet, dissent they do.

Which, I guess, explains, in part, my fascination with Maureen Callahan's column in the New York Post, which carries the headline "Kennedy's Free Pass With Women."

Now, I don't suppose it should come as any surprise to most people that the Post's columnists are critical of Kennedy, even in death. In a little over a week, it will be one year since the Post went against the grain in New York and endorsed John McCain over Barack Obama. It also endorsed the re–election of George W. Bush in 2004.

Its political leanings should be obvious.

And I have to give Callahan credit — to a certain extent. I agree that, given Kennedy's youthful behavior, his treatment from women has been somewhat bewildering.

But she is wrong when she opens her column by saying, "In all the obits published and specials aired this week, Chappaquiddick gets a few paragraphs, a few minutes, a tidy recapping of the events of July 19, 1969."

That misrepresents the facts.

Callahan's colleague at the Post, Jonah Goldberg, wrote that Kennedy's death was "marked by cynicism, opportunism and irony," with Democrats seeking to enhance their position on health care reform by naming the bill after Kennedy months after they denounced Rush Limbaugh for suggesting that was precisely what they would do. Goldberg also complained that Mary Jo Kopechne's death had been "minimized" in an effort "to protect the Kennedy brand."

Likewise, in his article in Forbes, Victor Davis Hanson complained that "a clear case of involuntary manslaughter for the 'average citizen' was reduced to a traffic violation for the 'high and mighty.' "

In Hanson's eyes, it was one of many examples of a double standard that was applied to Kennedy during his life.

Recently, I observed that Chappaquiddick has been mentioned frequently in the days since Kennedy's death.

True, sometimes it was a passing reference. But other voices were so angry that they made Chappaquiddick seem like a recent event, not something that happened 40 years ago.

It reminded me of a time when I was about 12. My family was visiting my grandparents in Dallas during the Christmas holidays, and I had been out shopping with the son of my parents' friends. I found (and purchased with my Christmas money) a three–record boxed set of audio recordings from the 1960s. As I remember, it was produced by CBS, it was narrated by Walter Cronkite and it was called "I Can Hear It Now: The Sixties."

I was interested in the presidency from an early age, and I was interested in American history as well so a collection of sound clips from that turbulent decade was right up my alley. At the time, I think I assumed it was intended to be one volume of a more extensive audio library, but if it was, I never saw any other volumes that were dedicated to other decades.

Anyway, when we returned from our shopping trip and I was waiting for my mother to pick me up, I showed my prize to my friend's mother and began pointing out what was included in the collection. I mentioned that a portion of Ted Kennedy's eulogy to his brother Bobby was on the recording, and my friend's mother said simply, "He killed that girl."

I don't recall any sound clips from Chappaquiddick that were included in the collection. And I don't recall bringing up Chappaquiddick in the conversation. But the mere mention of Kennedy's name prompted that observation.

Granted, only a few years had passed and the wound was still raw. But, for some people, the wound is still raw, four decades later.

That shouldn't mitigate Kennedy's actions. And it's possible Chappaquiddick did work against him when he unsuccessfully sought the presidential nomination in 1980. I was a college student in Arkansas at the time, and I voted for President Carter in the state primary. I wasn't the only one. Kennedy lost that primary by more than a 3–to–1 margin. In fact, I don't remember the Kennedy campaign making much of an effort to win the Arkansas primary.

Unless a younger Kennedy seeks the presidency, that was the only opportunity I will have to vote for a Kennedy. When Kennedy challenged President Carter, I remember some commentators bringing up Chappaquiddick, but I don't remember it being a major issue. Maybe it would have been if Kennedy had appeared to be a more serious contender for the nomination.

Anyway, Chappaquiddick was never a factor for me when I voted in the Arkansas primary. I was then, as I am now, an admirer of President Carter. There was never any question in my mind how I would vote in that primary.

And, rightly or wrongly, I remember blaming Kennedy's challenge in the primaries for Carter's eventual loss to Ronald Reagan. I felt that Kennedy forced Carter to squander time and resources to win his nomination instead of focusing on the general election campaign.

If that is true, then it also may be true, as I have heard recently, that Kennedy's quixotic presidential campaign led to the implementation of the many Reagan policies that he spent the last decades of his career fighting against.

Kennedy's ultimate influence on the 1980 election may have been an incorrect interpretation. But that is how I saw it.

Similarly, I guess, those who have written about Chappaquiddick in recent days may have misinterpreted its influence on the last four decades, but that is how they see it.

That's the tricky thing about history. It is open to all sorts of alternative interpretations.

Would Carter have been defeated by Reagan anyway? Maybe. That is something we will never know.

And we will never know the truth about Chappaquiddick.

Teddy Jr.'s Tribute

---

---

The last couple of days have reminded me so much of the outpouring of affection for Ronald Reagan when he died in 2004.

There were times during Reagan's memorials a little more than five years ago when I felt the mourners were laying it on a little thick. But I attributed it to the fact that I was not a Reagan supporter when he was alive and, I figured, well, let his admirers pay their tributes to his memory.

This time, of course, it has been for someone who was about as far from Reagan on the political spectrum as it seems possible to be — Ted Kennedy. And I am struck by the fact that these memorials always seem to have a single memorable moment.

Forty–one years ago, when Bobby Kennedy was assassinated, Ted Kennedy himself was responsible for the memorable moment at Bobby's funeral service in New York. And, without question, I think the most touching moment today was the speech given by Teddy Jr.

I've heard — and read — some speculation today that Teddy Jr. might be appointed to replace his father in the Senate. It isn't a bad idea, except that, logistically, it could present quite a problem. He lives in Connecticut. If a Kennedy is going to be appointed — or elected — to replace Teddy Sr., it isn't likely to be his namesake.

But he did give quite a speech this morning. If you haven't seen it, watch the attached clip.

I'll say no more.

I Think He's Clueless

They said their final goodbyes to Ted Kennedy today in a funeral mass that featured a eulogy by Barack Obama, a man who might well never have become president if not for Kennedy's endorsement.

I'm sure there are many who are still ooohing and aaaahing over Obama's speech today. He is indeed an impressive orator, and I mean to take nothing away from that skill.

But it is a talent that seems best suited for political campaigns. It can be helpful when a campaign is over and the orator must lead as well as persuade, but one must know how to make that transition. Once one is in office, oratorical skill is beneficial only when it is used effectively to implement policy.

In that regard, I have come to the conclusion that Obama is clueless.

Obama has a well deserved reputation for sharp political instincts. But that is a reputation that was honed on the campaign trail. If the public gets the idea that such a person is not so effective once in office, it can be extremely difficult to reverse that.

I know I live in a traditionally Republican area, but I've been getting the sense that even some Democrats are disappointed. And the Gallup Poll supports that.

The cumulative effect, of comments that have been made and actions that have been taken, on his public image — and, as a consequence, confidence in him to govern — has not been good. Trying to appease a group of people who cannot be appeased has made Obama look weak. Comparing his bowling skills to Special Olympics has made him appear insensitive. Protocol missteps in his foreign travels has made him appear uninformed.

When faced with a challenge from Republicans to his stimulus package, Obama sought to appease his adversaries. He got just enough GOP support to pass his package, but whether it was his idea or the idea of Democratic lawmakers, Obama's campaign promise to give tax credits to employers who hired Americans was left out. Now, many people who might have gotten jobs with the help of such a tax credit are on the verge of losing their unemployment benefits.

Job creation should have been a priority all along. But despite Obama's campaign trail promises and a lot of lip service from lawmakers, it has not been a priority in the seven months that Obama has been in office.

When Obama and the Congress return to Washington, they will take up the debate on health care. But for millions of unemployed Americans, the greatest threat to their health, both physical and mental, is not being able to pay for housing or nourishing food or adequate clothing.

They're not asking for bailouts. Can they be blamed for wondering about the priorities of a nation that bails out the bankers who played such a prominent role in the economic meltdown (and stands by while those bankers are given multimillion–dollar bonuses) and then takes away the meager source of support for unemployed workers while counseling them to be patient for a year or two?

Maybe Kennedy's death is the reality check Obama needed. He's had his "filibuster–proof" Senate majority for less than two months, but it can be gone in the wink of an eye. While I don't think anyone doubts that Massachusetts will pick a Democrat to take Kennedy's seat, there are other Democrats in the Senate whose party's grip on electoral power in their states is so tenuous that, if any of those senators should die suddenly, it might be a real challenge for the party to keep the seat.

Increasingly, it seems to be obvious that 2010 is apt to be quite a challenge for some Democratic incumbents who are going to be on the ballot. But if anyone would have known about the ever–shifting nature of political power in America, it would have been Ted Kennedy. And he was enough of a student of history to know how voters hold the party in office accountable.

There may be many concepts that voters don't comprehend as fully as they should. Certainly, the health care debate is full of them. That's got to be one of the main reasons why seemingly transparent scare tactics are successful.

But the voters understand when unemployment is high. Next Friday, we'll get the latest unemployment figures. My guess is that those numbers will be something of a letdown for some people who were unduly encouraged by last month's 0.1% drop in the unemployment rate (I wonder how that happens when actual job losses were still in six figures).

Did you watch Kennedy's funeral mass today? Sandwiched in there, between remarks from the priest and the musical interludes, were intercessions from Kennedy's grandchildren, nieces and nephews, some of whom referred to the poor, the unemployed, the vulnerable, the ones who have been forgotten by society. They are the ones who were championed by Kennedy.

To be sure, some spoke of health care reform and Kennedy's belief that it was the issue of his life. But Kennedy was an advocate of workers' rights, and I have a hard time believing that he would passively permit the lifeline of unemployment benefits to be denied suddenly to hundreds of thousands of Americans — something that is due to start happening in a matter of weeks.

Health care reform is important. I don't think anyone would agree with that more than Ted Kennedy.

But, in a nation that is nearing double–digit unemployment, I have to wonder if Obama, sitting on the front row with his wife, his vice president and Jimmy Carter, the man whose presidency was ended in large part because of escalating unemployment, gets it.

All That You Can't Leave Behind

---

I found this on YouTube today.

---

Tonight, mourners have gathered in Boston to pay homage to Ted Kennedy.

It is closed to the public, but it is still being televised on CNN and C–Span. It has been alternately moving and amusing to listen to the eulogies from both Democrats and Republicans. As vilified as Kennedy was in life for his liberal leanings, it has been enlightening to listen to people like Orrin Hatch and John McCain speak with genuine affection for a friend.

But, as I have been reading the articles on the internet — and viewing videos like the one I have posted — it has occurred to me that Ted Kennedy, like Richard Nixon, has one Achilles' heel that will be with him as long as there is an American history that is chronicled in the history books.

For Nixon, it was Watergate. For Kennedy, it was Chappaquiddick.

It was inevitable, I suppose, that Kennedy's death would bring another round of discussions about that incident.

The Week reported that "Kennedy's name was Google's top search term the day after his death, but Mary Jo Kopechne and Chappaquiddick were Nos. 2 and 3."

And some writers, like Michael Scherer in TIME, mentioned it only in passing. Scherer referred to it as one of Kennedy's "darkest moments."

Howie Carr of the Boston Herald briefly brought up Chappaquiddick in a general article that recites all of Kennedy's shortcomings.

There has been much talk in tonight's memorial for Kennedy of the late senator's love of humor. Tom Blumer writes, for NewsBusters, that Chappaquiddick was one of his favorite topics.

To be sure, some people defended Kennedy. Melissa Lafsky speculated at The Huffington Post that Kopechne, "a dedicated civil rights activist and political talent with a bright future," might have "felt it was worth it" to trade her life for Kennedy's career.

Boy, that sparked a debate.

Rick Moran responded, in American Thinker, that it was "maybe the most amazingly shallow, myopic, and ultimately self–centered sentence ever written."

Perhaps that is unduly harsh. Personally, I believe that, unless one possesses the selflessness of a soldier, who knows he might at any moment have to sacrifice his life for others, no one is ever prepared to die at the age of 28.

So I thought Lafsky's article was interesting but a little preposterous.

Especially when I consider Eliott C. McLaughlin's survey of media experts for CNN.com, asking if Kennedy's political career could survive a Chappaquiddick in the 21st century — "in the era of blogs, talk radio and 24–hour news cycles."

It's a fair question. The media has changed considerably in 40 years.

I remember, at the time, that Chappaquiddick was overshadowed, to a great extent, by Apollo 11 and its historic trip to the moon. If we could return to July 1969 and everything else was the same — but talk radio, blogs and 24–hour news were part of the media mix — I agree that Chappaquiddick would be a source of continuing discussion — even as the lunar module was descending to the moon's surface.

Heck, with split–screen technology, both stories could be covered simultaneously.

And I think Kennedy's career might well have been over. But I'm thinking from the perspective of one who has just been through an election year in which reverence for political dynasties was brought into question. In 1969, Kennedy, I believe, benefited from a reservoir of affection that Massachusetts had for John and Robert Kennedy and the Kennedy family.

We may find out in the months to come whether that reservoir still exits as Massachusetts chooses a replacement.