This afternoon, I attended a forum at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library & Museum in Boston. The topic was presidential speechwriters, and the main attraction was Theodore Sorensen. While Mr. Sorensen is not a household name, he's without question the best known presidential speechwriter in American history. My friends who only casually follow politics will not know Mr. Sorensen's name. They will likely, however, recognize this little phrase that Mr. Sorensen wrote: "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country."
Actually, many historians think that Kennedy himself wrote that quote, but there is no denying that Ted Sorensen wrote most if not all of JFK's speeches. It was even alleged that Sorensen was the ghostwriter who penned Profiles in Courage, a Pulitzer Prize winning book authored by Senator John F. Kennedy. Sorensen was the star attraction at this forum. Also on the dais was Ray Price, the man who wrote Nixon's resignation speech, and speechwriters for George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton. But at this venue, in this city, the other three guests might as well have been shadows for the relative attention that they received. I have to admit, given the opportunity to ask a question (okay, fine, I showed up early to be able to sit closest to the Q&A microphone) I directed my question to none other than Ted Sorensen. (He said it was a thoughtful question, by the way.)
It was an interesting afternoon. All of the panelists were informed and engaging. The forum was very well attended, with the large auditorium filled to capacity and then some. But the lingering image for me doesn't spring from the forum at all. It's from something that happened before I even walked in the door.
As I said, I arrived early. On the way in, I passed a limousine on Columbia Road headed toward the library. Sure enough, Ted Sorensen was the passenger. So I arrived and parked, and I walked in just behind him. I was struck by how delicately he moved. He was assisted into the library by a young woman who grasped his arm to steady him and he proceeded very slowly inside. Later, when he ascended the dais in the auditorium, he again moved quite gingerly while taking his place.
Now this is unavoidable. The man was born in 1928. Of course he's not going to rocket up the stairs like a seventeen year old. Still, I was struck by the irony. Here we were in a library dedicated to the memory of a president frozen in our memories as a young man, and his much younger adviser needs assistance getting in the door. That's how much time has passed since John F. Kennedy was president. Does it seem that long to Mr. Sorensen? Does it sometimes seem like it was yesterday? That's the question I would have liked to ask him. I didn't, because I wanted to pose a scholarly question, and I also didn't want to inject a melancholy note into the proceedings. But that's what lingers in the mind. That, and how different JFK was from the president we have now.
