Last weekend, when it was 105 degrees in Pasadena at 7 p.m., I decided to cancel my outdoor evening concert plans for a cooler endeavor. This led me to scroll through movie channels in the comfort of my air-conditioned home. When the remote control landed on the movie “Chappaquiddick,” my mind wandered to another hot summer night decades ago.
It was the summer of 1969, which I had thought I would remember for its oppressive heatwave. But then-Sen. Edward Kennedy drove his car off the Dyke Bridge in Chappaquiddick, Massachusetts, giving a forever new slant to the memory of that summer.
A young woman named Mary Jo Kopechne lost her life in that crash, and Kennedy lost his chance at ever becoming president.
Long before the infamous accident occurred on July 18 of that year, my friend Linda and I had decided to trade the soaring New York temperatures for a long weekend on the beaches of Martha’s Vineyard. We made reservations at a bed & breakfast for mid-August when everyone in their right mind seeks to escape the sweltering city.
On the morning we boarded the train for New England, it seemed that everyone at Grand Central Station was talking about the Chappaquiddick tragedy. I was close enough in age to Mary Jo to imagine myself in her position. She was a campaign worker for Robert Kennedy; I was a volunteer for President John Kennedy. Ted wanted her to work on his presidential bid.
Would she have accepted his offer? Mary Jo’s chance to decide was buried forever in the waters beneath the Dyke Bridge.
On our first day in the Vineyard, we rented bikes and peddled to the bridge, stopping for a moment to view the waters of Poucha Pond below. They were dappled in sunshine, looking innocent of the horror they had hosted.
Looking back, I am still pained by all that Mary Jo never had a chance to experience. Might she have worked in the White House? Traveled the world? Married? Been a mom? Now, there is a memorial plaque on the bridge for her, but it doesn’t list the dreams she was denied.
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