I can’t say I knew him well. Who can except for his immediate family and close friends? Still, we all felt as if we knew John Kennedy, Jr. He touched our hearts. He carded the flame of Camelot, conscious (modestly) of what he embodied for many Americans, particularly Irish Americans.
He might have chosen a different role had it been left up to him. He wanted to be an actor and once appeared in an Irish Arts Center production, but his mother encouraged him to do law. Failing the bar exam made headlines (“The Hunk Flunks”), there was no privacy for him to lick his wounds so he good-naturedly shrugged it off, saying something like, “Maybe I’ll get it the next time.”
The first time I met John Kennedy was, fittingly enough, at a lunch to announce the opening of New York University’s Ireland House in 1992. The reception was held on campus and, one of the last to arrive, I stepped into an empty elevator. As I waited for the door to close, John Jr. approached. I didn’t hold the door open for him, I was too stunned (I guess he had that effect on most people) but he bounded in before it closed and I had the most eligible man in the world, chosen by People magazine as America’s sexiest male, all to myself for a couple of minutes.
I managed to introduce myself and spoke of knowing his cousin Courtney (Ethel and Robert’s daughter) and her then boyfriend, now husband, Paul Hill. He asked me about Irish America, which, ironically enough, at that time had his Uncle Teddy on the cover. As we walked down the corridor together to the pre-lunch reception, I remember that there was a wall of glass to our right and thatpeople were stating out open-mouthed.
He continued to chat when we got to the reception and I realized that he didn’t know anyone in the room and seemed just as shy as I was, so I stood with him for a couple of long minutes until someone brought over the then Irish Prime Minister, Charles Haughey. Kennedy was taken up then in a swirl of people clamoring to be introduced.
I’ve met others of the Kennedy family over the years and have had occasion to visit the famed compound in Hyannis. One of those times was for the christeningof Courtney and Paul’s daughter, Saoirse Rose Kennedy Hill, of whom I am the proud godmother.
It’s hard not to be won over by the clan. They have such an energetic and earnest dedication to social issues and activism, and most of all, an enthusiasm for life, even as life tests their mettle. (Saoirse’s godfather, Michael Kennedy, who served Mass at her christening, was killed in a skiing accident a few months later).
Though four generations removed from Ireland, the Kennedys, it seems to me, are still very Irish. They have that ironic Irish wit and knowledge that you can take everything else away but if you still have a sense of humor life hasn’t beaten you down.
Rory Kennedy, the youngest of the Robert Kennedy clan, whose wedding John Jr. was flying in to attend (her father was killed before she was born) is an award-winning documentary filmmaker, whose latest work, American Hollow, explores poverty in Appalachia. Rory spent a year in Kentucky with the Bowling family who live in extreme poverty. “In a lot of ways, my background is very different,” she has said, “[but] that sense of `us’ and `them’ broke down pretty quickly.”
With John Kennedy Jr., that sense of `us’ and `them’ broke down pretty quickly too. For all his star quality he had a kind heart and a common touch. He rode his bike around New York and took the subway. Went to the local diner and deli. He always carried himself with grace, and shouldered his responsibility to the legend of Camelot with self-effacing humor.
I met him a couple of other times over the years: at a fundraiser for Senator Ted Kennedy, surrounded by Hollywood stars, he still shone the brightest; at a lunch held at Mutual of America for Gerry Adams, whom he interviewed for George. (Adams, writing recently in the Irish Voice, said, “He cared enough to come to Ireland and visit the people in West Belfast…[and] his visit personifies what Irish America is about and how it is concerned to see peace in Ireland.”)
The last time I saw John Jr., a couple of months ago, at an American Society of Magazine Editors (ASME) lunch, reluctant to intrude, I awkwardly said hello. I’m glad now that I did. He glanced at my Irish America magazine nametag and smiled and we chatted for brief minute. He was the guest speaker that day and he talked about George and answered questions from people in the same industry about circulation and advertising. There was, I felt, just a hint of shyness for all his polish as a public speaker. He put himself out there because he cared about his magazine, and he wanted it to make a difference.
Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan said at President Kennedy’s funeral that you wouldn’t be Irish if you didn’t know the world would break your heart. The world is a darker place without your bright smile, John. We mourn your loss and the loss of those two bright spirits Carolyn and Lauren. We hope that heaven, with so many of your family there to welcome you, is indeed Camelot.
Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in the November 1999 issue of Irish America. ⬥
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