Jack Kennedy - Chris Matthews [12]
Still, he had yet to outdo his brother. When he did, it would be a matter of beating Joe at his own game. During his sophomore year he was asked to join Spee, one of Harvard’s top final clubs. With that coveted invitation, the second son now possessed entrance into circles closed to both Joes. Demonstrating what we might call his “crossover appeal,” Jack, with his easy charm, had moved beyond the self-circumscribed orbit of the equally ambitious but unimaginative Joe Jr., who seemed unwilling to stride beyond the local Irish comfort zone. According to Joe’s tutor, John Kenneth Galbraith, the older brother was “slightly humorless, and . . . introduced all his thoughts with the words ‘Father says.’ “
Quickly becoming both well known and popular, Jack didn’t give off the impression that he was trying too hard, and he made good use of what his older brother never seemed to have, namely a light touch. And more than that, his conversation, friends said, ranged more widely than that of anyone else their age.
As Jack started to make a name for himself on campus, his energies at first were directed to such pursuits as arranging to meet Lem at the Stork Club in New York. Only in his “Gov,” or political science courses, in which he would eventually major, was the unexpectedly serious side to him glimpsed. Before an injury sidelined him—his congenital back troubles made worse by one leg’s being shorter than the other—Torby patiently threw passes for hours to help improve Jack’s skills as a receiver. Undaunted, Jack, who’d competed in backstroke at Choate, transferred his hopes for varsity success to the Harvard swim team.
Just as Lem would always be, Torby turned into a Kennedy constant, there when his friend needed support. Lem and Torby were the first recruits of what would one day grow to be an unofficial reserve corps of steadfast compadres always game for the next adventure. What Jack required from any of his new best sidekicks was one thing above all else, and that was rescue: from being alone, from being bored, from being stuck.
After spending Jack’s freshman year apart, in the summer of 1937 he and Lem crossed the Atlantic to embark on a traditional grand tour. Such an exciting trip was a way to try to erase the memories of Jack’s hospital stays that February and March. Sickness continued to be one specter he couldn’t charm his way past.
For two months they hit the road, having fun but also making sure they saw the best cathedrals and historic buildings. Jack showed himself willing to stay in the cheapest pensions to help keep down expenses for his friend. Being two high-spirited young Americans, they couldn’t help having a terrific time. It was nonetheless a moment when Europe’s dark political realities were visible even to the most fun-loving of tourists.
In France, where they stopped first, Jack wrote in his diary: “The general impression also seems to be that there will not be a war in the future and that France is much too well prepared for Germany.” Later, Lem would recall that his friend “was beginning to show more interest and more of a desire to think out the problems of the world. . . . He insisted, for instance, that we pick up every German hitchhiker. This worked out very well because a high percentage of them were students and could speak English. In that way, we learned a great deal about Germany.” Jack and Lem couldn’t resist making fun of the Nazis they saw: “Hi yah, Hitler!” they’d cheerfully call out.
The threat of war, in fact, was now less rumor than fact. The Third Reich had been rapidly rearming, and possessed an army and air corps that couldn’t help but cast a pall over Europe. When Hitler first showed his true colors and remilitarized the Rhineland, in total violation of the Treaty of Versailles, which had ended World War I, neither Britain nor France rose up to challenge him. Thoughts of war, to most Europeans, too vividly brought back the devastation wrought by World War I, when masses of young soldiers were thrown against one another in a conflict that left the continent in carnage.