Watching the Lion in His Den

In 2002, Ted Kennedy took me on a private tour of his longtime home—not where he slept, but where he lived: the U.S. Senate, the place where he grew from callow and reckless to dogged and wise and, by many accounts, the most effective legislator in the history of the institution, Daniel Webster included.

 

Edward M. Kennedy, 1932 - 2009

Evan Thomas

A scion of wealth and power, Ted Kennedy became the Senate's great lion by fighting for the poor and the dispossessed

Alter: The Senate's Greatest Legislator

Birch Bayh: My Friend, The Lion

How Kennedy Helped Save Clinton

Photos: Liberals' Lion

Video: Kennedy's Life and Death

More on Ted Kennedy

 

It was the 40th anniversary of Kennedy's election to the Senate and while press interviews always made him uncomfortable, he figured that he would subject himself to one with an old acquaintance, especially if we did it largely on the fly.

We had met back in 1978 when I watched him sing "Sweet Caroline" to his treasured niece, Caroline Kennedy, on her 21st birthday. In the years since, he was unfailingly friendly, even ebullient, but our conversations always went better when they stayed focused on policy rather than personal matters, and this one was no exception.

We began talking in his Capitol "hideaway" office, festooned with family photographs and priceless mementos, now bound for the Kennedy Library. Most of the focus that day revolved around his relationship with President Bush, which was cordial and cooperative at the time. They exchanged gifts for their dogs as they worked together to fashion what became the landmark "No Child Left Behind" education bill.

But even then, Kennedy was appalled by the Bush tax cuts. "It's the greatest transfer of wealth from working families to the wealthiest families in the history of this country—the history of this country," he repeated. When I cut in with some qualification, he was having none of it. Now his voice was rising with that patented indignation. "Hold on a second! Hold on! That's what it is! Class warfare in reverse!"

After we talked for a while in the hideaway, Kennedy took me and his dog, Splash, on a brisk walk to see a few of the places that meant so much to him. He was hobbling a bit with a bad foot and too much weight but still moving at a good clip.

"Whatsa matter, Splashie?" he cooed. Splash is a Portuguese water dog, the same kind he gave years later to President Obama and his family. Kennedy explained that the "old bulls" of the Senate, men like Harry Byrd and Bob Dole, had also taken their dogs to work, which meant—"Ha!"—no rules had ever been made preventing well-connected dogs from having the run of the place.

The three of us traipsed over to the prewar Russell Senate Office Building and mounted the marble steps to the second floor Senate Caucus Room, where his brother Bob (he didn't call him Bobby) announced his campaign for president in 1968 from the same spot his brother Jack had used to announce his own candidacy in 1960.