Sea Street

About Teddy

Too near, too often, too late

For twenty-two years I have lived on Sea Street, less than a mile from the Kennedy Compound. Does that proximity mean anything? Not necessarily. Like most Americans, the Kennedys have been a part of my life. I was on the Pasadena Freeway when I heard of JFK's assassination on the car radio. I pulled off into Highland Park and sat in front of a donut shop in my car in stunned disbelief. My wife, at that time, a Med student at UCLA and I spent the entire weekend in denial. This couldn't be happening.

I was at the Ambassador Hotel when Bobby Kennedy was shot in the kitchen.

Some years later, I was actually at the Ambassador Hotel when Bobby Kennedy was shot in the kitchen. Once again, I was paralyzed with disbelief. I had seen Bobby once before in Vincennes, Indiana; he was in a convertible sitting up on the top of the back seat and I said to my companion, "I think he's wearing pancake makeup." The look on his face left an indelible memory.

I never thought that much about the Kennedys in the years that followed. I watched Teddy stumble through his Presidential Campaign but I wasn't much interested. It wasn't until 1989 that I made a direct connection. Joan Kennedy asked that my restaurant, the Courtyard Restaurant on Main Street in Hyannis, cater a cocktail party for the yearly Concert on the Green by the Boston Pops. The other invited restaurant was the Asa Bearse House. I was pretty sure they would serve New England fare and I was sure it would be excellent. What could the Courtyard do that made sense?

I talked to my chef, Keith Swenson, and we decided to take an entirely different approach. We laid mirrors atop tables and put seashells and sea urchins on them. The centerpiece of all this was a roasted twenty-pound octopus, its tentacles intertwined. To the left was an elaborate fruit sculpture and all around the octopus was hundreds of pieces of sushi. Sushi being sushi, is very vulnerable to temperature and humidity so we had to plan all this carefully. We covered the entire display with a large silk sheet and when we lifted the sheet the crowd took one look and I heard a collective swoon as everyone swooped down upon the sushi and gobbled it up. It was a happy moment. Another time in connection with the Pops Orchestra, I saw Senator Kennedy in his white suit, conduct the Pops Orchestra through John Philip Sousa's Stars and Stripes Forever.

I saw him once in a while about town. Once in a bar on Ocean Street.

In the years that followed, I saw him once in a while about town. Once in a bar on Ocean Street, once at Blockbusters and once in the Westgate Pharmacy where he was reminiscing about the days when the Kennedy kids would gather there for treats.

I suppose these incidental encounters were experienced by many people in Hyannis. I knew people that knew the Kennedys; I knew the barber that used to do Rose Kennedy's hair. I knew the salesman at Puritans that sold Teddy his suits and I heard the standard gossip-pro and con.

In 2003-4, I was Campaign Chairman for the Jewish Federation of Cape Cod and as such sat on the Board of FEMA. The subject of allocations came up and I saw an opportunity to help the Noah Shelter for the homeless. I called Suzanne Norman, the Director of the Shelter and asked her if she would like for me to stage a telethon on Channel 17 at the Cape Cod Media Center. She was enthusiastic about the project and so, with the help of my wife and son and a small staff, we did three telethons that were quite successful. Prior to the third telethon, Senator Kennedy's office in Washington was contacted with the request that the Senator make a statement in support of our efforts. Much to my surprise we received something that exceeded all expectations.

I had never met the Senator face to face, I felt like I knew him; I felt like I knew him very well... Of course, this was Senator Kennedy's special gift.

The Senator had taken time from his busy schedule to go into a TV studio and record a plea for funds. This clip made a big difference that year. It was suggested to me that a copy of the telethon be sent to the Senator. This telethon featured an excerpt from a production of the Cape Cod Opera Company and I knew that Senator Kennedy loved opera. In addition to the opera excerpt, my son and I sang O Solo Mio and I sang Nessun Dorma. It wasn't until a year later that I found out the DVD had never been sent. I have always felt bad about this. But, in retrospect, I realized that Senator Kennedy had to deal with so much coming at him all the time that perhaps my omission didn't matter.

I thought about this the other day when I stood in front of Simmons Homestead, where Scudder Avenue and Pitchers Way meet, while filming the Senator's motorcade passing by. I was especially moved when the Kennedys put their windows down and called out "thank you" to the crowd that had gathered. People in the crowd shouted back, "Goodbye, Teddy. We love you Teddy and we love you Vicki."

Strangely enough, I realized then that although I had never met the Senator face to face, I felt like I knew him; I felt like I knew him very well... Of course, this was Senator Kennedy's special gift.