Part I: My Life With the Kennedys

Did you see my friend, Jacqueline Kennedy, on TV recently?

ABC's Diane Sawyer (she cares) "interviewed" recordings Jackie did with Kennedy aide Arthur Schlesinger.  Jackie was promoting her new book (posthumously, I think) Jacqueline Kennedy: Historic Conversations on Life With John F. Kennedy.

I'm no Kennedy, but her appearance had me reminiscing about nearly a half century of campaigning, vacationing, romancing, and intimate conversations with America's most famous family.

My relationship with the Kennedys began when when JFK was in Los Angeles accepting the nomination in 1960 and later in 1962 speaking at that post-secondary school in Berkeley. Like two sheep passing in the night, we missed each other. A notorious night owl, it wouldn't have surprised me if he had made a late night sojourn to the old Cerrito Theatre. 

I had my own work schedule which consisted of the three Rs that dominated grade school. I couldn't get away. It was the law.

After his Presidency tragically ended, I vowed I would never again choose school/work/skateboarding over my second family.  You make time for family. Even if it's your adopted family. And they have money.

So when Bobby Kennedy made a special trip to visit me in Van Nuys in Southern California's San Fernando Valley during his presidential campaign in 1968, I got my father to drive us over to meet him at the local junior college.

We only had time for a short but meaningful visit as Kennedy's motorcade made its way through the Los Angeles Valley College campus. Since there were thousands of people (not friends, like me)  surrounding his car, there was no way he could get out of the car so that we could catch up on stuff. 

I looked up at his face in the car.  There seemed to be a halo around his head.  Like he was some sort of utility player for the Los Angeles Angels. .

Then he was gone.  We never got another chance to chat. I could go to The White House, but he wouldn't be there.

Thus far, the Kennedys had come to visit me.  It was kind of selfish.  Now, it's my turn. They need my help.  After all, it's a two-way street to the Kennedy Compound in Hyannis, MA.

It felt good to be needed.

I packed up and moved out to Beantown at age 30 to see what I could do to help. The Kennedys had more than their share of tragedies, and I needed a few of my own.

I relocated to Cambridge which was part of JFK's congressional district starting in 1947.

Everything was going great until Bobby Kennedy's daughter, Kerry, hit on me.

Joe Kennedy III, Bobby's oldest son, was running for the same congressional seat held by JFK. 

I was working nearby and I'd come over to have lunch in the same building that housed Joe's campaign headquarters. One day Kerry and I made eye contact.  Let me tell you, you can talk all you want about Pat  and Dick, Rosslyn and Jimmy, or Mamie and Ike, I could tell Kerry Kennedy had me in her crosshairs. It was the look that said, "I'd like to Kennedyize you."

One thing I knew, what the Kennedys want, they usually get. 

We continued the flirting during the course off the campaign. (By the way, I got Joe elected.) We became somewhat of an item.  I don't what kind of item, but an item nonetheless.

I'm sure the Kennedy secret police were checking my credentials to see if I was a worthy fit for the clan.

I had my own doubts. 

For one, I didn't like their brand of touch football. From what I had seen of their games, they were absolute chaos. Everybody running around on the lawn at Hyannis.  No continuity to the play calling. Ineffective defensive schemes. It was embarrassing.

Also, I came from a small family.  Just my brother and me.  There weren't many cousins or nieces around either.

Of course, the Kennedys were notoriously fertile.  Joe's grandfather had produced enough heirs to staff a scout troup. 

And Bobby had one-upped his Dad by fathering 11 kids with Ethel.

Kerry would certainly expect me to sire at least ten little Kennedys.  That's a lot of responsibility.

And then I'd be expected to run for office--and win.  Up to that time, no Kennedy had lost an election.  I didn't want to be the first.

Kerry took it hard, but I decided we'd just have to be friends. We went our separate ways, but a few years later our paths crossed again.

We were both writers.

She put together a book, some light-hearted picture-book called  Speak Truth to Power, while I wrote the critically-panned, intellectually brilliant What's So Funny About Looking For a Job?

Hoping she still wasn't carrying a torch for me, I dropped by while she was promoting the book.  The first event was at a bookstore. While she was speaking, our eyes locked like James Madison and Dolly's orbs did when Aaron Burr (yes, that Aaron Burr) introduced them.  Fortunately, Kerry didn't make a scene.

Later that day, she spoke to students at Harvard.  Coincidentally,  I taught a course there called "Humor Writing." From what I could see, her book didn't have a lot of yucks.

As I recall it, she was speaking to the brainy kids when she spotted me.

"Are you stalking me?" she said.

Wow. Talk about turning things around. Now, she's the victim. And I'm the stalker.

"No, I said, "unless you'd like me to."

She laughed. 

We were good. 

Next: Vacationing with John-John