For Americans of a certain age, Ted has been the Kennedy we saw grow old, in contrast to his martyred brothers, whom we remember for their vibrancy, and whose precluded later years we can only guess at. But for the majority who are too young to recall his brothers, he has been, as one interviewer put it to me last month, a symbol of permanence in politics.

For myself, it seems that I have been writing about him forever, back to when John F. Kennedy ’40 was only a first-term senator and Ted was a starting end for Harvard, catching a deflected pass in a snowstorm for a touchdown against Yale.

Anyone covering Congress—as I did for much of 40 years—covered Ted Kennedy. He was always accessible to explain what he was trying to do, the obstacles, why compromise was needed to get anything done. Sometimes his syntax was too awkward to quote directly, as if his mind was moving faster than his mouth, but you knew what he meant.

Newspaper headline writers use the word “lawmaker” to describe members of Congress, most of whom can claim the title only by voting on bills. But Ted has made laws that changed the nation, building coalitions on issues from discrimination to campaign finance to health to education. I have covered a few of his failures, notably his attempts to enact national health insurance. But there were more successes, like the 1965 immigration bill that ended national origins quotas, the creation of the Children’s Health Insurance Program (now SCHIP) in 1997, and battles to raise the minimum wage. (“If you’re not for raising the minimum wage,” he told a nervous colleague, John Kerry, in 1995, “you don’t deserve to call yourself a Democrat.”)

In the late ’70s and ’80s, as an editor in New York, I could only read and hear about his triumphs, fighting off the Reagan Administration’s attempts to retreat on civil rights and his legislative landmark, the Americans with Disabilities Act. Kennedy is a commanding orator, and I heard some of his greatest speeches. The best known is his 1980 Democratic Convention speech, when he promised that “the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.” In his health care speech in 1978, I heard him excite even the Carter supporters in the room when he attacked the President’s caution: “Sometimes a party must sail against the wind. We cannot afford to drift or lie at anchor. We cannot heed the call of those who say it is time to furl the sail.”

While these speeches taught me much about him, I got to know Ted best in the ‘90s while writing his biography. In 21 lengthy interviews—except for Chappaquiddick, which he would not discuss—he answered every question, personal or political, that I asked.

How did a rich young man become so interested in the poor? He talked about his grandfather, Honey Fitz, and his concern about people down on their luck, and his “mother’s basic religious beliefs, Sermon on the Mount, and those obligations that we all had,” especially the passage from Luke: “of everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required.”

Why did he argue against Robert’s running for President? A key reason, he told me though he never said it to his brother, was the fear of a second assassination. “We weren’t that far away from ’63, and that was still a factor.”

But I learned about him from interviews with others, too. Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, Robert’s oldest child, told me that in the year following his death, her uncle Ted often called to talk about her younger brothers’ problems. He inspired, too. “He made it his mission, I think, to make sure we felt connected to my father and to John Kennedy.”

He has also made it his mission to keep Harvard connected to President Kennedy. The Institute of Politics (IOP) is a living memorial to his brother. Its mission “to unite and engage students, particularly undergraduates, with academics, politicians, activists, and policymakers” mirrors the commitment to public service Ted’s own father set for his children. At the IOP, Kennedy has missed only two or three board meetings in 38 years; he speaks frequently, meets with students, and has them as interns in his office.

Harvard is an important part of his life. Ted made lifelong friends at college. Several worked with him early in his Senate career, and he goes to football games with them. At his 50th reunion in 2004, he spoke to his classmates about how the Senate has changed since he was first elected in 1962.

His other continuing Harvard connection is the faculty. He picks their brains, whether it is Robert Blendon on attitudes towards health care, David T. Ellwood ’75 on poverty, Jennifer L. Hochschild on the American dream or many others on their particular expertise.

Ted made the Senate his life’s work in 1982 when he decided not to make a second try for the presidency. And for all the millions the Republican Party has raised by promising to protect the nation from him, he has made the Senate work by finding allies in the other party, from Howard Baker to Bob Dole to Lauch Faircloth.

Two weeks ago, when the presidential candidates joined other senators in expressing their sorrow at the news of his brain tumor, they shared a special reason: For the next president to get anything done, Kennedy’s talent at working across party lines is essential and exceptional. McCain, Obama, and Clinton know it.

His life has had its setbacks, personal and political. Perhaps the most memorable summing up came from an interview former President Bill Clinton gave me during his impeachment trial, describing Ted’s message in that troubled time. He said of the sailor who has always raced at his best in rough weather: “You couldn’t have a better friend. I mean, he is loyal. People have been loyal to him, and understanding, and he’s had to ask for forgiveness a time or two… His advice is always simple. It’s just sort of get up and go to work, just keep going, and remember why you wanted the job in the first place.”


Adam Clymer ’58, former president of The Crimson and chief Washington correspondent of the New York Times, is the author of Edward M. Kennedy: A Biography (1999) and Drawing the Line at the Big Ditch: The Panama Canal Treaties and the Rise of the Right (2008).