Jack, we hardly knew ya

THE TWO most significant visits to this country of the last century were those of US President John F Kennedy in 1963 and Pope John Paul II in 1979 and I'm delighted I was amongst the vast adoring throngs in each inspirational instance and near enough to the platform in Eyre Square to see a seated JFK beat time on his knee to the rhythm of a welcoming céilí band. I was young, impossibly romantic and I thought Jack Kennedy was wonderful. Almost 50 years on and despite all I've since read and heard about him, I still think he was wonderful and because of Ryan Tubridy's memorable documentary on Monday on RTE1 I now know why.[private] The Kennedy visit is well documented and for JFK: A Homecoming Tubridy took a different tack and adopted an attractively personal approach in that, having established that he has always been fascinated by Kennedy, he asked why the visit had such a dramatic effect on the Irish, and had the euphoria in turn affected Kennedy. Or was it all a cynical show, the self-indulgent extravagance of a powerful man or, as Tubridy elegantly put it, was Kennedy closing a significant circle of history. The documentary opted for the latter by telling of the departure of the Kennedy family from an impoverished, famine-ravaged, Wexford in the 1840s, of the proudly Irish family that made good in Boston, of the political successes which culminated in a Kennedy in the White House and, to complete the circle, the return of John Kennedy as the most powerful man in the world to the humble Wexford homestead where it all began. Tubridy talked to Ted Sorensen â€â€ scriptwriter and special advisor to Kennedy during the fabled White House Camelot years â€â€ who had accompanied Kennedy on the trip, and had it confirmed that maybe it was a sentimental journey but that JFK was intensely proud to be Irish and had loved every minute of his four days in Ireland. Historian Gearóid Ó Tuaithaigh of NUIG commented that the success of the visit was due to the Ireland of the time being on the cusp of change. The difficulties of the 1950s were receding from popular memory, there was a new young government, Sean Lemass had taken over from Eamon de Valera, a growing sense of excitement was everywhere, at last things were on the up and when Kennedy neatly stepped off from Air Force One at Dublin Airport to greet President de Valera their meeting was rich in symbolism. In Ó Tuaithaigh's words, the young attractive president of the young republic greeting an almost Old Testament figure of Irish freedom politics, seasoned, elderly, chiselled, Mount Rushmore-like, as it were, and the symbolism was of Irish political fulfilment, an indication that the prejudices that had long bedevilled the Irish in the United States had been overcome. As expected, the documentary included footage aplenty from the historic visit but more than that it included fascinating snippets of the most momentous politician and statesman of his era who will be forever young and is now of legendary status. I had never known that a little piece of his wonderful address to the joint Houses of the Oireachtas offended Dev, even though Kennedy was merely being humorous. Kennedy said it was a matter of regret to him that no connection had been found to link him through his mother's people who were Fitzgeralds to Lord Edward Fitzgerald who, as every Irish schoolboy should know, was an Irish aristocrat and revolutionary of the 18th century. He was a younger son of the 1st Duke of Leinster, was born at Carton House near Dublin, and another of his family's houses was none other than Leinster House. Fitzgerald joined the British Army and his regiment fought in America during the War of Independence where he was seriously wounded. His life was saved by a slave named Tony Small whom Fitzgerald employed for the rest of his life and always referred to as Faithful Tony. I'm telling you this not just because JFK would have known it but because it gives a good indication of Fitzgerald as a brave, no-nonsense military man who eventually moved to France and gave his allegiance to the French Republic. In his young days in Dublin, as Kennedy told his distinguished audience in Dáil Éireann, Fitzgerald didn't like living in Leinster House and took every opportunity to reside elsewhere. Like any dutiful son, he regularly wrote to his mother and in one letter he mentioned he didn't like Leinster House because 'it did not inspire the brightest ideas'. Applause and laughter but later at ÃÂras an Uachtaráin, his next port of call, Kennedy was soon to discover that Dev was not amused. To quote Sean Lemass, Dev came right over to Kennedy as soon as the latter darkened the Aras door and told him straight out 'You did no service to Irish politicians by that remark'. Even more remarkable, all mention of the offending line was removed from the official records and how Dev could have achieved such a feat of censorship would always remain a mystery to Lemass. The irony of the situation would not have been lost on JFK since in the course of his Dáil address he had exhorted, in coded diplomatic terms, that he would be much happier if the Irish authorities were to ease up on the banning of writers. But what a welcome on the mat at the Aras! And how about the delicious aside from Tubridy as he told of JFK's first visit to his ancestral home in Duncanstown? During his 1963 visit we all thought he was meeting his cousins for the first time but Kennedy had been there in the 1940s in the company of a relative of Winston Churchill, the attractive socialite Pamela Churchill who had gained a certain reputation amongst the men of the day. All Tubridy would say was he hoped Kennedy had a good time, and then pulled a face which I took as the television equivalent of 'nudge, nudge, wink, wink'. Jack, you were a man of contradictions, as Tubridy again revealed when he told of the contents of a small purse found in your pocket after your death, a rosary beads which Jacqueline later presented to your ancestral Duncanstown home where it is kept in a place of honour. And how about Ted Sorensen's quote from the Lament for the Death of Eoghan Ruadh O'Neill by Thomas Davis which came to mind as he sat down somewhere in the White House when the news of your killing was flashed through: 'Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall, Sure we never won a battle â€â€ 'twas Eoghan won them all. We thought you would not die â€â€ we were sure you would not go, And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell's cruel blow. Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky. O! why did you leave us, Eoghan? Why did you die?' Jack, we hardly knew ya.[/private]