This Day in American History

January 20, 1961 – On a bitterly cold day in the nation's capital, John F. Kennedy took the oath of office as President of the United States, the youngest man ever to be elected to the office.

To date, in a year when the United States contemplates electing several possible firsts in its next President – the first Italian-American and twice-divorced man (Rudolph Guiliani), the first African-American (Barack Obama), and the first woman (Hillary Clinton)— JFK remains the only non-WASP ever to occupy the Oval Office.

By general agreement, the two most memorable inaugural addresses of the 20th century were delivered by Franklin Roosevelt and John F. Kennedy. I am fascinated by both men, as much for their weaknesses as for their many accomplishments.

But my interest has also been piqued by two family members—one, a relatively close relative; the other, the widow of a distant one—who knew them.

My grandaunt Hannah Riordan Spollen, a survivor of the Titanic, later worked for the Newbold family, the owners of the estate next door to FDR's home in Hyde Park, N.Y.

The Kennedys were connected to Michael Tubridy. No, not me (I was only four at the time of JFK's assassination, and eight at the time of Bobby's), nor even my father, but rather a distant cousin of my dad's with the same name. Therein lies a tale.

I first became aware of this relative at, of all things, my alma mater, Columbia University. The first time I met the professor who taught my American Presidency course, Henry Graff, he asked if I were any relation to Michael Tubridy the horseman.

Stunned, I told Graff that I had never heard of this Michael Tubridy. He explained that this man was a marvelous Irish equestrian whom he had seen at Madison Square Garden in the early 1950s.

Later that night, my father filled me in on the details of this relative, previously unknown to me. In his youth, he had been an exceptional soccer player, and when he had quit playing he had indeed become a horseman.

Professor Graff was also right about the date. My dad had gone to see his relative (a fifth cousin, or something similar) at the Garden around then. It would be the last time he would see him.

Only a year or so later, Michael Tubridy the horseman died in an equestrian accident. He had been warned that a particular horse was unruly, but was sure he could tame the animal. He was wrong.

(Come to think of it, this sense of overconfidence in taking on the impossible sounds like a common trait in anyone named Michael Tubridy. It might also explain why it has sometimes taken my father longer to perform some household handiwork than he originally anticipated—or why I continue to believe, against all odds, that I can post, at least a couple of times every day, to this blog.)

The rest of this story I learned from two different sources: a Vanity Fair article from over a decade ago on the Kennedy family's Irish connections (the article misspelled our family's surname – guess they gave their fact checkers the day off!) and a full-length book on the same topic, Thomas Maier's The Kennedys: America's Emerald Kings.

Before he died, my father's distant cousin met the wife of a rising young American lawyer – Ethel Kennedy, whose husband Robert had not only helped mastermind his brother Jack's election to the U.S. Senate, but had also served for a time as minority counsel to Sen. Joseph McCarthy's Committee on Un-American Activities. When the young horseman passed away, Ethel and Bobby Kennedy invited Michael's grieving widow, Dorothy (Dot), Tubridy, to America. Eventually, Dot became friendly with Jack and Jackie Kennedy as well.

It was Dot Tubridy, with her friendly pestering, who eventually persuaded JFK—against the strenuous advice of his “Irish Mafia” of closest advisers—to become the first American President ever to travel while in office to Ireland.

As a representative of Waterford Crystal, Dot secured a crystal bowl that Irish President Eamon de Valera presented to Kennedy, complete with the Kennedy family crest. Using the crest, Jackie made a seal ring for her husband – which, he later told Dot, he had impishly used in sealing a letter to the Queen of England.

I doubt if Dot Tubridy would even still have a clue about her husband’s Irish and Irish-American cousins in the U.S. But it gives me a kick to have a relative who ended up being a footnote in history.