Hidden Heroism

Ted Kennedy would arrive from a vote in the Senate and begin the count: "Ninety-eight … 99 … 100! Ready or not, here I come!" The shrieking children—dashing into their uncle's private office and hiding under his desk, behind furniture and drapes, and, once, even partway up the chimney—would respond: "Wait, wait! Not yet! Uncle Teddy, not yet!"

"Let's see," the lion of the Senate would roar, "where would I hide if I were Rory? Oho! I see shoes sticking out below the curtains! But whose shoes are they? Why, they're Dougie's shoes, and heeerrreee's Dougie!" His booming laughter could be heard rollicking down the corridor of the Russell Senate Office Building.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, but after the assassinations of his brothers, Ted Kennedy, in addition to becoming the mainstay for their widows, found himself father to 16 children (as well as the hands-on uncle for those of his three sisters). And he saw his own children safely through their medical traumas. Practicing on an orange, he learned to give injections so he could bring Teddy Jr. home a day early from chemotherapy and save asthmatic Patrick from being rushed to the ER in the middle of the night. As a result, he was given a poster with a dour drawing of a large, glowering woman in a white uniform holding a tray with a gigantic hypodermic needle. Across the top was written, "For Dad … My night nurse! Love, Patrick."

The big calendar on his desk had the birthdays marked for every member of the family; he never failed to call with boisterous greetings. As the children grew older, he'd ask: "Have you decided on a summer job yet? No? Welllll, I'll give you till April, and then I'll find one for you." John Jr. and Tim Shriver helped earthquake victims in Latin America. Many worked as unpaid interns in his Senate office so they could better understand the careers of their fathers. As with his own children, and later his stepchildren, his nieces and nephews were invited to sit in on meetings, attend field hearings, and go on foreign trips to refugee camps to better grasp the concerns of public service. Because they were included, they embraced it.

He never missed a graduation, and he walked fatherless nieces down the aisle, including Robert's daughter Kathleen on the morning Teddy Jr. lost his leg to cancer (the senator wouldn't accept her offer to postpone). Robert's son Douglas asked his uncle to be the best man at his wedding "because he was always there for me."

Despite his own grief, and continuing pain from a broken back, Ted Kennedy steeled himself to persevere. He was forced to cope with constant comparisons with his brothers in his Senate work and the dark cloud of serious death threats: I had to keep one caller on the phone for 45 minutes while the FBI traced the call. He juggled a burden that would have crushed most other people.

So as much as we who knew him love Ted Kennedy and are proud of what he did for his country, only his family can really know the hidden heroism of their adored patriarch. That truth is clear from the first line of a letter that Jackie wrote the senator after Caroline's wedding—a letter that would become one of his cherished possessions. It read, "Dearest Teddy, Because of you, we're all going to make it."