Jack Kennedy, America’s most prominent (save perhaps Dr. Tom Dooley) Nice Serious Young Catholic Boy, rode into the Big Town the other day like young Lochinvar. No picaroon, Smilin’ Jack had nonetheless gone against the form (and some of the grain) in West Virginia and Oregon, and had fixed the clocks of a passel of pols who had counted upon those primaries to bollix the Kennedy bandwagon.
Tammany grand panjandrum Carmine DeSapio, head of the National Democratic Club, hosted a hoedown for the victor. His initial plans called for a restrained affair, similar to the ones he tossed for Lyndon Johnson, Stuart Symington and the late Hubert Humphrey, but Jack’s primary record rendered such modesty obsolete. The atmosphere was reminiscent of New Orleans at Mardi Gras.
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