TIME: Almanac of the 20th Century

home *** CD-ROM | disk | FTP | other *** search

/ TIME: Almanac of the 20th Century / TIME, Almanac of the 20th Century.ISO / portrait / kennedy / kennedy.07a < prev next >

Wrap

Text File | 1994-02-27 | 13.2 KB | 258 lines

<text> <title> (Kennedy) In Europe:Not Necessary, but Nice </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--Kennedy Portrait </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> July 5, 1963 THE PRESIDENCY Not Necessary, but Nice </hdr> <body> Before President Kennedy took off on his trip to Europe, many a voice at home and abroad was raised in an old question with new overtones: Is this trip necessary? The impetus for the journey came from a January invitation from Italy's Premier Amintore Fanfani, but Fanfani's government had since fallen, and the President would be visiting an Italy in political turmoil. In West Germany he would be calling on a lame-duck Chancellor; in Britain his host would be the unhappy head of a scandal-rocked Tory government. There were problems at home that needed the President's attention. But by last week's end, after completion of more than half the trip, it was clear that while it may not have been necessary it certainly was nice. On the surface it gave Jack Kennedy the chance to perform his best role--as a political campaigner. For all of Europe to see, he moved through cheering throngs as if he were running for the Bundestag or the Dail. "Yours & Ours." Far deeper than this campaign triumph, Kennedy made at least two substantive points. First, and most important, he reasserted in clear, forceful terms the major aim of U.S. policy toward Europe: to help Western Europe become a strong, independent force of its own, linked by bonds of friendship to a strong, independent U.S. To achieve that aim he offered full risk by the U.S. "My stay in this country will be all too brief," he said in Bonn, "but in a larger sense the United States is here on this continent to stay so long as our presence is desired and required: our forces and commitments will remain, for your safety is our safety. Your liberty is our liberty; and any attack on your soil is an attack upon our own." In Frankfurt's historic Paulskirche (St. Paul's Church), he expanded on the theme: "The first task of the Atlantic Community was to assure its common defense. That defense was and still is indivisible. The U.S. will risk its cities to defend yours because we need your freedom to protect ours. Hundreds of thousands of our soldiers serve with yours on this continent as tangible evidence of this pledge." Emphasizing the need to create "a fully cohesive Europe," he said that "the future of the West lies in Atlantic partnership--a system of cooperation, interdependence and harmony whose people can jointly meet their burdens and opportunities throughout the world. Some say this is only a dream, but I do not agree." In his other major thrust, Kennedy took dead aim at France's Charles de Gaulle, whose lofty vision of a future Europe not only excludes U.S. influence but presupposes that the U.S. would not make good its promises to help defend the Continent: "Those who doubt our pledge, those who would separate Europe from America or split one ally from another, would only give aid and comfort to the men who make themselves our adversaries and welcome any Western disarray. It is not in our interest to try to dominate European councils of decision...I repeat again, so that there may be no misunderstanding: the choice of paths to the unity of Europe is a choice which Europe must make." To the Heart. There seemed to be a danger that Kennedy's straight talk might even further acerbate Franco-American relations. But at a time when West Germany might be drawn to De Gaulle's point of view, that risk was worth taking. The immediate French reaction was a shrug, with a hint of a sniff. France's Minister of Information Alain Peyrefitte said that his government does not really distrust Kennedy's resolution to defend Europe. But, he said, France does have a right to question Kennedy's ability to impose his policies on his presidential successors. "France," he said, "would have wished in 1914 to have the United States at her side, as also in 1939, when war broke out." But 1963 is not 1914 or 1939, and Charles de Gaulle knows it. And he could not help realizing that Kennedy, in his clear restatement of U.S. ambitions for a strong, independent Europe and of unwavering U.S. determination to defend European integrity by arms if necessary, reached the heart of Western Europeans. Campaigner in Action Konrad Adenauer's old face, long locked in the glacial freeze of history, suddenly melted. "You see," he said, almost chortling, to the President of the U.S., "there are some people who want to see you." There certainly were--by the hundreds of cheering thousands. On the first leg of his European trip President Kennedy's reception swept almost beyond the bounds of reality. From Cologne to County Cork, in Bonn and Berlin, in Dublin and Dunganstown, the emotional experiences built up. Some were framed in laughter, others in tears--and still others in bitter reminders of man's inhumanity to man. There was tea in an Irish barnyard and a mighty buss from a motherly country cousin. There was a hushed moment as two men of different ages and ideas--Kennedy and Adenauer--knelt and prayed together in the vaulted, 14th century Cathedral of Cologne. There was, as viewed from a West Berlin platform, the grim edifice of the Wall. More than anything else, there were the crowds, crying, "Ken-ah-dee! Ken-ah-dee! Ken-ah-dee!" And in their ecstasy of admiration, they pummeled the President in a fashion that must have given his doctors heart failure. The Wave. When he stepped down from his plane at Wahn Airport near Bonn, the first stop on his journey, Kennedy appeared weary. But no sooner did his motorcade start passing through the thundering throngs than the campaigner revived. And throughout West Germany, the crowds responded. Women fainted; indeed, in Frankfurt, one gave birth right on the street. In Hanau, a schoolboy cried: "He looks like a young Siegfried!" Everywhere, homemade signs danced in the air: HURRAY FOR JOHNNY and HI JOHN, THANKS AND KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. Hand-held American flags fluttered by the hundreds of thousands. To the citizens of Cologne, Kennedy brought greetings "from America, including the citizens of Cologne, Minnesota; Cologne, New Jersey; and even Cologne, Texas. As a citizen of Boston, which takes pride in being the oldest city in the U.S., I find it sobering to come to Cologne, where the Romans marched when the Bostonians were in skins. [Kennedy was off by almost a century. St. Augustine, Fla., was founded in 1565, as against Boston's birth date of 1630. History Buff Kennedy pulled at least two other historical gaffes. Speaking of Chancellor Adenauer, he said: "Two years after his birth [in 1876], General Custer and 500 of his cavalry were to be wiped out by Sitting Bull and the Sioux Indians." Custer actually made his last stand in 1876. Later, addressing the Irish Parliament, Kennedy presented the Irish Republic with a Civil War battle flag of the Irish Brigade. The brigade, said he, fought at Fredericksburg, Md., on Sept. 13, 1862. The date was actually Dec. 13, 1862. And it was Virginia, not Maryland.] May I greet you with the old Rhenish saying: Kolle Alaff! [Hurray for Cologne!]." In Frankfurt, Kennedy rode with Vice Chancellor Ludwig Erhard, who is to take over from Adenauer next fall. Inspired by the crowds, the President turned impulsively to Erhard. Said he: "Let's stand up and wave." Asked a surprised Erhard, who is unaccustomed to U.S.-style political caravans: "Was?" But Kennedy, after first instructing Erhard about how to wave with one hand and then the other to avoid tiring, finally persuaded the future West German Chancellor to rise. By the end of the Frankfurt motorcade, Erhard was outwaving Kennedy. The Wall. All this was in prelude to the deeply dramatic visit to West berlin. There the Kennedy motorcade beat its way for four hours along 35 miles of smiling humanity. Women broke through the barricades, children grabbed for the President's coat, people threw torrents of flowers. But Kennedy was grim as he approached the Wall. The East Germans had deliberately stretched three huge flags across the Brandenburg Gate so that the view was obscured. The President mounted a specially built platform at the Gate, gazed across at the stark, grey Communist city. Driving over to Checkpoint Charlie, another part of the Wall, Kennedy again mounted a platform, talked to U.S. Major General James Polke, who pointed out key sites on the Eastern side. From windows and from other sites, a few East Germans furtively waved down handkerchiefs. When Kennedy stepped down, he looked like a man who had just had a glimpse of Hell. "Let Them Come to Berlin." From Checkpoint Charlie, President Kennedy drove to West Berlin's city hall, where he addressed 150,000 people. Said he: "There are many people in the world who really don't understand--or say they don't--what is the great issue between the free world and the Communist world. Let them come to Berlin. There are some who say that Communism is the wave of the future. Let them come to Berlin. There are some who say in Europe and elsewhere, `We can work with the Communists.' Let them come to Berlin. And there are even a few who say that it's true that Communism is an evil system but it permits us to make economic progress. Lass sie nach Berlin kommen!" Throughout Kennedy's German journey, he and Erhard got along famously--thereby laying the groundwork for even closer U.S.-German relations after Erhard takes power. And Konrad Adenauer, who had been suspicious of the young American President's determination to wage and win the cold war, was finally conquered. Said he in a formal toast: "I don't particularly like to make such acknowledgments, but let us face it. Historic honesty requires that we say that the war which destroyed Germany was provoked by Germany, that the United States has shown the great vision to help the defeated enemy, which was really a deed that is only very rarely found in history." Kennedy, said Adenauer, was a noble heir to that vision. Leaving Germany, Kennedy told Adenauer that he would leave a sealed message at the White House for the next U.S. President to open "when things aren't going well." It would contain only three words: "Go to Germany." Irish Ayes. Next came Ireland--and what a reel. After all, reflected a Kennedy aide, "Germany was business. But Ireland is fun." In his ancestral land, John Kennedy was Sean (pronounced Shawn), of the good old clan O Cinneide. [The Gaelic spelling of the name. This version and the anglicized "Kennedy" have been used more or less interchangeably for decades in County Wexford. Among those who still use the Irish tongue, it is still O Cinneide, or just plain Cinneide.] The Irish obviously considered Kennedy their own personal property. Indeed, there were so many proud officials who wanted the distinction of saying a few lovely words of welcome that the Irish politicians took to arguing about who would be saying what and when--and for how long. A group of students lay down on their backs to spell out the Gaelic word Failte--"Welcome." Schoolchildren sang the rousing Boys of Wexford ("We are the Boys of Wexford/ Who fought with heart and hand/ To burst in twain the galling chain/ And free our native land"). Kennedy, a Wexford boy, his hair tousled, his face soft with smiles, was delighted by it all. In his talks, Kennedy recalled that his great-grandfather Patrick Kennedy "left here to become a cooper in East Boston. He carried nothing with him except two things, a strong religious faith and a strong desire for liberty. I am glad to say that all of his great-grandchildren have valued that inheritance. I am glad to be here. It took 115 years to make this trip, and 6,000 miles, and three generations." In Dunganstown, where Patrick Kennedy came from, the President found Cousin Mary Ryan, sixtyish, and her two daughters waiting for him. Their little farm had been transformed only a few days before: the dirt yard had been laid with concrete, and plumbers had installed an indoor bathroom (wags dubbed it "John's john"). U.S. Secret Service Men literally had to use force to break the grips of hands that clutched at Kennedy. There were countless exchanges of gifts, including a sheepskin mat, presented to Kennedy by his cousins. "This," explained Old Family Doctor Martin Quigley, "is to be put beside Mrs. Kennedy's bed for the arrival of twins in August." Huge success that it was, Kennedy's sentimental journey in Ireland lasted at least 24 hours too long. By the time he left, the whole business had begun to get a little boring. At week's end, as he flew over the Irish Sea on his way to England, even Sean O Cinneide may have looked forward to a change of pace. There he began quiet talks with Prime Minister Harold Macmillan, who would surely welcome a chance to get his mind on something other than his own government's troubles. </body> </article> </text>