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12 IRISH AMERICAN NEWS June 2008Irish StewBy Frank J. MahonBobby Kennedy — Forty Years LaterOn the morning of June 5, 1968,my dad came into my bedroom towake me up for school. I was a juniorat Fenwick High School, and likemost high school students, was nevermotivated to get out of bed willingly.Dad usually stood at the door andhollered something irritating to makesure I was awake. But not that morning.He came in and gently told mesome terrible news. Bobby Kennedyhad been shot. He wasn’t dead, butit didn’t look good. Dad knew howhard I would take it. Jack and BobbyKennedy were my heroes.I had stayed up late the night beforeto listen to the coverage of the CaliforniaPrimary. Things were lookinggood by the time I went to bed, but notall the numbers were in. I fell asleep,later than usual, sure that RobertKennedy would win, and would beheaded for the convention in Chicago,sure to win the Democratic nomination.It just couldn’t happen any otherway, or so I thought. Instead, I woketo learn that RFK’s movement to seeka newer world had been destroyed byyet another lunatic with a gun.Never again would he draw hugecrowds to hear him speak of theinsanity of violence, the wrongnessof our being in Vietnam, the tyrannyof poverty, or the potential of everyAmerican to achieve great things.Never again would he quote theGreeks or Shakespeare, paraphraseShaw, or recite the last line of Tennyson’sUlysses: “To strive, to seek,to find, and not to yield.” Never againwould I have a living hero. That timein my life was now over.When I got to school that day, myfriends came up to me and told mehow sorry they were—as if BobbyKennedy were a relative of mine.They understood. I was a volunteer forthe Robert F. Kennedy For Presidentcampaign—something I will alwaysbe proud of. I had worked in thecampaign’s Chicago office in an oldbuilding on Dearborn Street acrossfrom the Daley Center (then the CivicCenter). There’s a new building goingup there now.It was a bare-bones office with afew old desks and telephones. Oneafternoon, I was there with one otherperson—a guy a few years older. Ashe left for lunch, he called back to meand quipped, “You’re in charge.” Ofcourse it meant nothing. I was justthere to lick envelopes and answertelephones, but I still like to pretendthat for one moment—okay, for onebrief shining moment—I was incharge of the Kennedy For Presidentoffice in Chicago.One Sunday morning in April of1968, I boarded a bus with dozens ofother volunteers and we canvassedLake County, Indiana, two days beforethe Indiana Primary. At the end of theday, we were all driven to a rally at aHoliday Inn in Gary. Sen. Ted Kennedywas there to rev-up the troops,telling us all about his brother, “SenatorBob.” After it was over, I grabbed aKennedy For President poster, whichI still have. But that’s not all I havefrom those days.A couple of years before BobbyKennedy ran for President, I wrotehim a letter. Thousands of people did.Having read lots of books on the Kennedys,I knew that during the 1960campaign, PT-109 tie clasps weredistributed as keepsakes of the campaign.For younger readers unfamiliarwith the significance, John F. Kennedycommanded a motor torpedo boat(PT-109) in the Pacific during WorldWar II. His boat was sliced in half bya Japanese destroyer one night, and itwas Kennedy’s leadership and couragethat ultimately led to the rescue of thesurvivors of the crash. Robert Kennedyalways wore a PT-109 tie clip. You cansee it on his tie in many pictures.I wrote to him to tell him how muchI admired him and his brother John,and asked him if it would be possible toget a tie clip. I didn’t really expect one,but kids hope a lot. Unbeknownst tome, my father sent him a letter as well,some time later. I have no idea what hesaid, but he must have mentioned that Ihad a birthday coming up. Then, on aFebruary afternoon in 1967, when I gothome from school, I had an envelopewith a slight bulge in it waiting for me.It was a letter from Bobby Kennedy.This is what the letter said:Dear Frank: I have learned fromyour father that you recently celebratedyour 16th birthday. I hope thatyou will accept my belated best wishesfor a very happy birthday. I am enclosinga PT-Boat tie clasp like the onesPresident Kennedy distributed duringthe 1960 campaign. With kind regards,Sincerely, Robert F. Kennedy.And there it was—the bulge in theenvelope. A tie clasp in the shape ofa little gold PT-Boat, cutting throughthe waves, with the name Kennedywritten across it. It’s just made out ofmetal, and you can still purchase onelike it at the JFK Library gift shop for$12.50, but it’s kept in a special boxas if it were the Hope Diamond. I liketo imagine that Bobby wrote the letterhimself, took the tie clasp off his owntie and threw it in the envelope.But he probably didn’t. It lookslike his signature, though. I havesomething else to compare it to.A few months later, RFK came toChicago to give a speech at a testimonialdinner for Senator Paul Douglas,who had been defeated by RepublicanCharles Percy. Dad got two ticketsfor the dinner. We had a good table,though I remember the roast beefbeing very overdone. The programsall the guests received, dedicated toDouglas, had the words “ExcellenceIn Politics” in gold on the cover. Afterdinner, Bobby was introduced. Hewas a very cool dude. His speech wasstirring. He had a vision and plan fora better America. I was mesmerized.When the speech was over,Dad grabbed me and we headed forthe dais. He wanted me to get my wishto meet Bobby, and to thank him for thetie clip personally. RFK was besiegedby fans asking for autographs, but Dadgot us up on the dais and got me rightnext to Kennedy. Barely glancing downat me, he took my program and signedit. As I was about to speak, one of hisaides started talking to him on theother side and Bobby turned his headaway from me as he handed back theprogram. It looked as if all I would getwas his autograph again. Then, RobertF. Kennedy turned back and lookedat me. His famous bushy chestnutbrown hair covered up a surprisinglypronounced receding hairline. His eyeswere very blue, and they seemed tolook right through me. He had a stronggrip, and a toothy smile. He shook myhand and listened patiently as I blurtedout a thank you for the tie clip I waswearing. He was wearing his too.Bobby Kennedy died on June 6th,about 26 hours after he was shot. Iremember watching the funeral on TV.His older sons were the pall bearers. Itwas a simple funeral, as I recall, butit was carried on all 3 networks. Hewasn’t just a slain senator. He wasBobby Kennedy.A year after his assassination, Ireceived an invitation to attend amemorial gathering of the Kennedyvolunteers. My sister and I drovedowntown on a quiet Sunday eveningto an office building—I don’t rememberwhere it was. A documentary filmwas shown and people talked aboutRFK—what he stood for, and howwe must never let his dream for abetter world die. I was a kid who wasinspired by a charismatic politicianwho talked of hope and change, ofpeace and tolerance. Robert Kennedydidn’t live long enough to change theworld, but he forever changed the wayI look at it.Ted Kennedy HospitalizedEarlier today, we all learned thatTed Kennedy’s seizure was caused bya malignant brain tumor. But being aKennedy, he’s a fighter. He’s the onlyone of Rose and Joseph P. Kennedy’sfour sons to make it to old age. Whenhe was young, he looked a lot likeJack. Now he looks like his grandfather,Honey Fitz. Recently, Americasaw him revving-up crowds again, butthis time, it was for Barack Obama.Time will tell whether Sen. Obamacan do all that he says he wants to dofor America, and for the world. Hiscampaign, his message, are straightfrom the RFK playbook.Unfortunately, those who dare toseek a newer world rarely ever get thechance to find it. But what matters isthat every so often, someone comesforward and gives it a try. And thoseare the people who truly change theworld by inspiring others. I wisheveryone a Bobby Kennedy.