JFK in Ireland: Four Days that Changed a President. Ryan Tubridy

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      Incorrectly referring to “The” Fianna Fáil as the Soldiers of Ireland (they were and are the Soldiers of Destiny), the rookie hack also slipped up when he reported in his diary that Fianna Fáil came to power in 1930 (rather than 1932). He referred to W.T. Cosgrave, the man who had led the Irish Free State of the 1920s, as “President Cosgrave” (he was no such thing) and called James Dillon, a future minister for agriculture and leader of the Fine Gael party, “Michael Dillon”. Perhaps it was as well that Kennedy’s career in journalism was short–lived.¹⁸

      The primary upshot of his 1945 visit was a first–hand encounter with Ireland, in which it is obvious that his feeling of affection for the country was sparked. Some reports suggest he spoke with other political leaders such as Richard Mulcahy of Fine Gael and Frank Gallagher, ex–director of the Government Information Bureau,¹⁹ and that he may have sat in on a session of the Dáil (a joint sitting of which he would address eighteen years later). What we do have are his diary entries and a full article written on the subject of Partition for the New York Journal American, part of the Hearst newspaper group.

      The article shows a keen, if prosaic, grasp of the Irish situation in July 1945. A straightforward take on the political parties of the time is peppered with a romanticised Irish–American vocabulary. On the subject of de Valera’s response in the Dáil to James Dillon’s question on the subject of Ireland’s status within the British Commonwealth, Kennedy writes sentimentally: “De Valera’s elaboration of his remarks left the situation to many observers as misty as the island on an early winter’s morning.” Later within the same article, he talks about the military background of some Government members, saying they “have been in both English and Irish prisons, and many have wounds which still ache when the cold rains come in from the west.” He tries to take a balanced, neutral line on Partition, but his respect for de Valera and his comrades shines through: “The only settlement they will accept is a free and independent Ireland, free to go where it will be the master of its own destiny.” However, he said he couldn’t see a solution to the problem in sight, because Britain would never accept “a neutral and weakly armed power on the vulnerable western flank”.²⁰ It is interesting that he was prepared to tackle the subject his father was unwilling to comment on, knowing that his own political career lay ahead. Perhaps he was not yet fully aware of the censorship that political office can impose on your own opinions.

      Scattered among his diaries from the year 1945 are a series of scrawled book titles and catalogue numbers. Irish American History by John O’Hanlon, Ireland the World Over by Edward Fergus and Ireland’s Contribution to the Law by Hugh Carney²¹ are just some of the titles that featured on Kennedy’s reading list, which also boasted the Irish Constitution for good measure. This is not the bedside reading of a man with no interest in his heritage. The old country was getting under his skin. While his parents and grandparents had tried to move away from their Irishness, there had been a generational shift and JFK obviously no longer felt it was a badge of shame. Perhaps his change in attitude reflects the fact that so many Irish Americans were making a success of their lives in the mid 20th century, reaching the top of every profession. Far from trying to hide his background, John Kennedy was intrigued by it.

       The Congressman in Dunganstown, 1947

      Back in the US once more, it was time to start fulfilling the family’s political ambitions with a precocious run for Congress in 1946. When John F. Kennedy announced his intention to run for office in a working–class, Irish–Italian district of Boston, the reaction was rather sniffy. One newspaper described the candidate as “ever so British”, a jibe that would be levelled at him throughout his life, in an ironic turn of events after the childhood taunts that he was “too Irish”.

      Kennedy was at an ethnic crossroads of sorts. Irish–Americans felt he wasn’t quite one of them, complaining that “He never even went to a wake unless he knew the deceased personally.”²² Most candidates with Irish roots attended wakes whenever there was one to attend because it was a good way to canvas for votes while showing yourself as a caring member of the community, but Kennedy was cut from a different cloth and would have felt it inappropriate to attend a stranger’s wake. His East Coast American sensitivity was more dominant than his Irish showmanship.

      Equally, Kennedy wasn’t as inclined to glad–hand as his grandfather, the über–Irish American politico Honey Fitz, had been. An early biographer noted that Kennedy “disliked the blarney, the exuberant backslapping and handshaking”.²³ He came from a new breed of Irish–Americans, an emerging middle class who didn’t see the need to get drunk every night and moan about the Brits, but who also had no problem embracing their ethnicity. JFK wasn’t scared of his roots, they didn’t embarrass him and he certainly wasn’t going to let them get in his way as he stood on the first rung of the political ladder.

      Despite the negative reactions, Kennedy’s eloquence and charm were such that he won easily, getting nearly double the votes of his Republican opponent, and this victory put him on the road to political greatness, although you wouldn’t have known it to look at him. Nearly every commentator at the time passed some class of remark on his boyish demeanour, his slight appearance and gaunt features. He was taking steroids for his spastic colon at a dose that caused osteoporosis in his lower back, and a back injury sustained during the war meant he was in constant pain. The steroids also triggered Addison’s disease, a disorder of the adrenal gland, which had caused him to lose weight. The extent of his health problems was kept hidden from the public, on his father’s advice, because it was felt that they might have hesitated to vote for an invalid.²⁴

      During JFK’s successful race for Congress in 1946 there had been several campaign parties at which Kennedy’s favourite Irish songs were sung: songs such as “Macushla”, “Danny Boy” and “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling”.²⁵ His sense of Irishness was emerging strongly at this point, as evidenced by a holiday he took in the old country in September 1947 with the purpose of exploring his roots.

      Before leaving America, the young Congressman made calls to track down some of his family connections in Ireland. One of these was to his aunt Loretta Kennedy Connelly, who happily obliged with directions for New Ross in County Wexford, a short trip away from where Kennedy would be staying. He went on to get a guidebook which came with a map, and that map is peppered with the letter ‘X’ beside places that interested him.²⁶ He was eager to get to know the old country and investigate his family’s history there.

      On 1 September 1947, thirty–year–old Congressman Kennedy arrived at Shannon airport for a three–week stay with his sister Kathleen. She had married the eldest son of the Duke of Devonshire and, despite being widowed after only four months, was still given the use of Lismore Castle in County Waterford, an extravagant holiday home owned by her late husband’s parents.

      The guest list was like something out of an Agatha Christie novel, including Pamela Churchill and Anthony Eden (former British foreign secretary and future prime minister), Sir Shane Leslie (a writer and first cousin of Winston Churchill) and William Douglas–Home (a playwright). Kennedy stayed in the Queen’s Room, which afforded him river views; he would have been accustomed to such luxury, with the splendid homes his family occupied back in the USA.

      One morning the future president went searching for his roots, taking СКАЧАТЬ