Jack Kennedy - Chris Matthews [117]
Despite Green’s backing, the governor remained stubborn. Lawrence remained neutral even after Kennedy’s impressive victory in the Pennsylvania primary as a write-in on the ballot. Time was starting to run short, and the deal needed to be closed. Thus, at the invitation of Governor Lawrence, Kennedy spoke at a luncheon in Pittsburgh that included the county leaders in the western part of the state. Lawrence himself introduced Kennedy, but wasn’t very warm. Implying in his remarks that Kennedy’s write-in triumph still wasn’t the last word, the governor seemed to have asked Jack to Pittsburgh to audition for a job he’d already won.
Understanding that he’d been set up, Kennedy strode to the stage. “I could tell, as Governor Lawrence was speaking, that the senator was very angry,” O’Donnell recalled. “He got up and laid it out cold and hard to them, that these political leaders better think what was going to happen to the Democratic Party if the candidate who’d won all the primaries and amassed all the delegates could be denied the nomination simply for being an Irish Catholic. He told them they’d better think long and hard about what might be left of the Democratic Party should they follow this course.
“Then he ended with a tough—and I mean tough—attack on Lawrence, kicking him good and hard where it hurts the most. All the color drained from Governor Lawrence’s face. He was stunned. There was a muttering in the room and a nodding of heads in agreement, along with chilly looks directed at Lawrence . . . who got up suddenly, almost knocked his chair over, and rushed out the door, claiming he had a meeting to go to. He didn’t even say good-bye to the senator, just fled the room. The rest of the people at the meeting got up and cheered and swarmed the senator.”
New York was a different story. There Kennedy had all the Irish bosses working for him. As Daniel Patrick Moynihan, former aide to Governor Harriman, described the situation: “It was still the last moment in history where Irish political leaders had that much power.” Rip Horton, Kennedy’s Choate classmate and Princeton roommate, was a New York volunteer who saw Kennedy’s religion pay dividends in the cities. “This organization, this Kennedy-for-President movement, encompassed everywhere: Albany, Syracuse, Rochester, and Buffalo. So the politicians were responding to the electorate,” seeing he might be a help to local candidates in their elections. His momentum was starting to be infectious.
Preparing for a possible power play at the convention, the Kennedy campaign began shuttling through the Midwest attempting to tie down delegates. Adlai Stevenson, presidential nominee of 1952 and 1956, was not ready to accept a changing of the guard in the Democratic Party. Moving into May, Kennedy still had received no support other than neutrality from Stevenson. “God, why won’t he be satisfied with secretary of state?” he demanded of a Stevenson loyalist.
On the eve of the convention, Jack asked Adlai, one last time, to back him. Again, the answer was no. When Kennedy made it clear he had the votes for the nomination, Stevenson still refused. Now came the threat: “If you don’t give me your support, I’ll have to shit all over you. I don’t want to do that, but I can and I will if I have to.” Nothing worked. The old campaigner wasn’t ready to give up his one last chance for glory. Eleanor Roosevelt would arrive in Los Angeles still bearing the torch for Adlai, but it was a flame that burned, just as brightly, against this younger favorite. The year before, Jack had sent a young ally, Lester Hyman, to secretly test her attitude toward him. Asked her opinion of a potential Kennedy presidency, and not knowing Hyman’s loyalties, Mrs. Roosevelt let loose with a broadside. “We wouldn’t want the Pope in the White House, would we?” Hyman, who is Jewish, told me he almost fell off his chair.
To Kennedy, the more formidable presence at the convention would be Lyndon Johnson. Kennedy kept his opinion of the Senate majority leader well