Like many, I was saddened terribly by the news that Ted Kennedy had been hospitalized this morning. The last surviving icon of the great but cursed Kennedy family, Ted has always fought the good, liberal fight and reminded us of better times in America. But without a doubt, my grief goes deeper than yours. It’s not a contest, I know. But Ted did something for me in 1969, when I was a mere lad of 14, that made me the man I am today. Ted took the blame, but the truth is, I’m the one who drove Rose Kennedy’s car off a narrow bridge on Martha’s Vineyard and killed Mary Jo Kopechne. It was July, and my family was vacationing on Cape Cod. My father’s political connections had landed us an invite to a bash on Chappaquiddick Island, at which several prominent characters including Ted were to be in attendance. It didn’t sound that exciting to me, as I was dreaming about the possibility of man actually walking on the moon. But it meant a lot to my dad, so I went along. And it turned out to be a grand old time — largely because Ted took a liking to me and plied me with beer. I probably only had three, but it was the first time I’d tried alcohol, and pretty soon, I was in bad shape. But I was LOVIN’ Ted. So when he left the party to drive the lovely Mary Jo back to her motel, I went along for the ride. Ted asked me to drive so that he could discuss some business in the back seat with Mary Jo. I reminded Ted that I was underage, legally blind and at least a little intoxicated, but he wasn’t worried. He should have been. When disaster struck, the first thing I thought was, “I am FUCKED.” Not only had I caused a fatal accident and totaled the Kennedy matriarch’s car, thus ruining my own political aspirations, but dang nab it, I had never learned to swim. I didn’t have time to panic. Ted scooped me out of the car and swam me to the surface. He told me to dry off, run back to the party, say I’d decided to go for a night swim, and never speak of the matter again. He said I had my whole life ahead of me — and that he saw me as a young, black Ted Kennedy. He feared that if word got out, I’d be ruined forever. So I ran, and Ted took the fall. How many other men can you think of who’d do something like that? Not many, my friends. Not many.
Tags: Cape Cod, David Paterson, humor, Martha's Vineyard, Mary Jo Kopechne, Ted Kennedy
October 19, 2008 at 4:06 am
Intriguing.