Introduction
Kenneth P. ODonnell was President John F. Kennedys tough, no-baloney top political aide, troubleshooter, appointments secretary, special assistant, and friend. To me, he was just Dad. David F. Powers, or Uncle Dave to me, was his dear friend from the Kennedy days who worked to keep Jack Kennedys memory alive. Mr. Powers was one of the nicest, most congenial, funny men I ever had the privilege of meeting. To us, he may have been Uncle Dave; to Jack Kennedy, he was most certainly a best friend.
My dad had been with Jack Kennedy since the first campaign, and while he always hoped to go to the White House, he was perhaps more surprised than anybody when he was tapped for his positions there. As he explained later to journalist and friend Sander Vanocur,
The President and I just generally discussed what he planned to do; he wanted to go to Florida and said that we should all plan to go down with him to discuss the makeup of the government. At this point, he was not discussing any names, but he told Sarge [Shriver] he wanted him to take on the tasks of coming up with all the sub-cabinet jobs that he as president should and would want to fill. But, it was a casual conversation, as I recall.
About fifteen minutes after one of those meetings, Bobby asked me to come into the dining room with him. It was there he told me that the president was going to appoint me special assistant to the president. I was just surprised. I had assumed I was going to go on doing what I was doing and then just transfer my operation to the White House, but I had no idea until that moment what the President really had in mind. I was surprised and pleased. I asked Bobby what the hell the title meant. Bobby laughed and said, It means whatever the hell he wants it to mean.
Bobby and my Dad had a relationship built on much more than a joined political philosophy. They were friends, they trusted each other and they had each others backs up until the end. The ODonnells and the Kennedys did not first meet in 1946. In fact, our grandfathers, both working-class Irish at the time, had both gone to Boston Latin School togetherno small feat for the Irish in those early days in Boston.
Joe Kennedy Sr. went on to banking, finance, and politics. My grandfather, Cleo ODonnell, headed to Worcester, Massachusetts, where he made his mark in college football, most famously as a coach at Holy Cross College. So, when Bobby Kennedy looked up my dad at Harvard University in the fall of 1946, it was a meeting prompted likely by his own father.
My dad liked Bobby immediately. He was tough, determined, and funny. He was also a political junkie. These qualities, and the ability to throw a ball and take a solid hit and bounce right back up again, made him instantly part of the circle of athletes at Harvard. This circle included my uncle Cleo, who would become captain of the Harvard football team, as well as my dad, who would later become Bobbys roommate.
Bobby was to become my dads best friend and adopted younger brother. It was Bobby who introduced my dad to Jack Kennedy. Bobby was sure my dad, with his political inclinations stemming from his upbringing in Worcester, might be able to help his brother Jack, who had serious political ambitions of his own. He also felt Jack needed my dads tough, no-bullshit working-class Irish-American, persona around him. It would balance out the elite, educated snobs that Bobby felt often gravitated to political typesespecially his brother. My dads blue-collar roots were to become a key part of his successful relationship with Jack Kennedy. And, as my dad once said, [Jacks] computer of a mind recognized this quality immediately.
Still, the first meeting was not auspicious. No lightning struck, no celestial voices sang the theme to Camelot. They were two returned war veterans, both heroes; that much they had in common. But my dad worried that Jack was too young, too inexperienced, and not serious enough. For his part, Jack had never dealt with anyone quite like my dad, and was not entirely sure he liked him. But Bobby persisted. Bobby always persisted when he believed in something.
It would take a second meeting between them to cement their bond, and at this second meeting, my dad had become convinced that Jack meant what he said. Jack felt, despite my dads Irish tough-guy personalityor maybe because of itthat my dad might be just the right man for the job. I think in many ways, my dad saw a part of himself in Jack Kennedy, a part of his beloved Boston-Irish background that made him real in a way that most politicians never were to men like my dad. Despite his wealthy family background and upbringing, Jack remained a Boston Irishman to the core, and a politiciana fact he was always proud of. Perhaps it was the searing near-death experience in the war that shaped him, perhaps it was the early tragedy of the death of his brother Joe, or maybe it was his own remarkable (but unknown to either Dave or my dad at this time) battle for simple survival that made Jack special. Any way you looked at it, he was different: inspiring and human in a way that made my dad overcome his own innate distaste and prejudices against a young man with large bank accounts and unrealistic political ambitions.
My dad saw in Jack a humanity, an intelligence, and a compassion that convinced him that Jack had what it would take to go all the way. We take that for granted now, but at the time, it was an outrageous notion. Jack was an outsider, never accepted by the political insiders, even after he became president. It would, in fact, take many years and much credit due to the late senator Edward Kennedy to finally break that barrier, that estrangement. No, Jack, Bobby, my dad, and Dave Powers were toughened by their status as outsiders in a political system that saw them as young, inexperienced, arrogant, and unwilling to wait their turn.
None of this deterred my dad or Dave or Larry OBrien or countless others from signing up with Jack. They believed he was their man, it was his time, and he could change the system that largely left them as outsiders looking in. As Jack himself politely said once to a woman who urged him to wait his turn, No, madame, weve waited long enough. Our time is now.
And so it was with the help of my dad, Dave, Larry, a brilliant wordsmith named Ted Sorenson, and Jacks ever-present, irreplaceable brother Robert that Jack undertook the Herculean task of heading towards the presidency. There would be many setbacks along the way, but the team was determined and relentless. Jack never gave up. None of them did, not until fate made the choice for them on that horrific day in November, 1963.
My dad devoted his life to Jack. Everybody was all in. And they had, for all the tough times and tragedies, a hell of a good time. My dad was Jacks take-no-prisoners right-hand political compass. While he did not start out in that role, by the time he got to the White House, my dad was there for every decision, at every key moment. In fact, it was Bobby Kennedy who said once of my Dads role, There was not a decision large or small made by my brother in which Kenny was not a key factor. Later, when my own book,
