The Nine of Us: Growing Up Kennedy

By Jean Kennedy Smith

In this evocative and affectionate memoir, Ambassador Jean Kennedy Smith, the last surviving child of Joe and Rose Kennedy, offers an intimate and illuminating look at a time long ago when she and her siblings, guided by their parents, laughed and learned a great deal under one roof.

Prompted by interesting tidbits in the newspaper, Rose and Joe Kennedy would pose questions to their nine children at the dinner table. "Where could Amelia Earhart have gone?" "How would you address this horrible drought?" "What would you do about the troop movements in Europe?" It was a nightly custom that helped shape the Kennedys into who they would become.

Before Joe and Rose’s children emerged as leaders on the world stage, they were a loving circle of brothers and sisters who played football, swam, read, and pursued their interests. They were children inspired by parents who instilled in them a strong work ethic, deep love of country, and intense appreciation for the sacrifices their ancestors made to come to America. "No whining in this house!" was their father’s regular refrain. It was his way of reminding them not to complain, to be grateful for what they had, and to give back.

In her remarkable memoir, Kennedy Smith—the last surviving sibling—revisits this singular time in their lives. Filled with fascinating anecdotes and vignettes, and illustrated with dozens of family pictures, The Nine of Us vividly depicts this large, close-knit family during a different time in American history. Kennedy Smith offers indelible, elegantly rendered portraits of her larger-than-life siblings and her parents. "They knew how to cure our hurts, bind our wounds, listen to our woes, and help us enjoy life," she writes. "We were lucky children indeed."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9780062444240

Jean Kennedy Smith

Jean Kennedy Smith  is the former United States Ambassador to Ireland and founder of VSA, an international organization that provides arts and education opportunities for people with disabilities and increases access to the arts for all. Smith was named an honorary citizen of Ireland by Irish President Mary McAleese for her contribution to the Irish peace process, and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Barack Obama in recognition of her service to people with disabilities. The eighth of nine children born to Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy and Joseph P. Kennedy Sr., Smith is a mother of four and the widow of the late Stephen Smith. She lives in New York.

Book preview

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to

my outstanding and loving parents,

who were always there for us,

through the good times and the bad.

CONTENTS

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE The White House by the Sea

  1   No Whining in This House

  2   The Nine of Us

  3   No Irish Need Apply

  4   Closet Castaways

  5   Faith, Values, and Hard Work

  6   Grandma and Grandpa Fitzgerald

  7   The Ocean in Our Veins

  8   Our Jewel

  9   On the Town with Dad

10   A Life Full of Lessons

11   Alone with Mother

12   The Dinner Discussion

13   Teddy

14   Daily Walks

15   Forever Changed

16   A Long Way from Bronxville

EPILOGUE And the Beat Goes On

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

PROLOGUE

The White House by the Sea

The white house looked out over the sea. It was a sturdy and practical house, an overgrown Cape Cod cottage with white wooden shingles and black shutters, set back on a lawn that was worn in places from too many football games. A circular drive brought you up to the front steps, which ascended onto a long, wide porch. The beach waited just beyond the grass. A breakwall jutted out to the left to help calm the sometimes unruly seas.

A visitor climbing the steps in the late afternoon and pausing before the door might feel a moment of solitude, looking out at the water where gulls swooped down for their supper. But stepping inside, he would quickly realize that he was not alone at all. The white house was full. Full of activity, chatter, and laughter. Full of books on shelves and sports gear in closets. And especially full of children. Nine of us, to be exact.

We arrived each June in Hyannis Port with tremendous excitement. This was where, without fail and without question, the Kennedy children spent our summers. Like boys and girls all over the country, we hung up our satchels on the last day of school with satisfaction and relief, and we faced those carefree days with joy.

Just a few hours south of Boston by car, Hyannis Port seemed a world away from the rigors of our school years, which began for the older children in Brookline, Massachusetts, and then continued for all of us in Bronxville, New York. A small hamlet off the road from the larger town of Hyannis, it had only a simple post office to mark its place on the globe. Hyannis Port was so small that it probably had more boats in its harbor than people in its houses. Everyone knew one another.

Our house was a short bike ride out of town down Longwood Avenue and toward the sea. It started out as a cottage when Dad first purchased it in 1928. But it slowly grew as our family grew, its various additions rambling out from one side or another. In the summer, the house rarely got any rest, as we swung in and out of its doors. During the day, it served as our landmark on the shore, keeping us oriented while we swam or sailed on the water. At night our flashlights traced across the lawn where, like countless other children under the same moon in America, we scuttled among the bushes, playing hide-and-seek. On evenings when it was cool or the rain lashed outside, we gathered in the living room for fierce games of charades, acting out books, movies, or plays against the ticking clock. "It was Great Expectations!" I wailed after the time had run out without anyone picking up on what my wild hand gestures meant.

Hours later, after snacks and glasses of milk in the kitchen, we would move off to bed. Joe and Jack always had the bedrooms on the first floor, off the sunroom. For the rest of us it was a moveable feast, depending on who was home at the time. My older sister Kick and I often shared the room in the far corner of the house, at the end of the upstairs corridor. But if she happened to bring two or three friends home for the weekend, I would find myself in the room at the top of the stairs for a night or two. It was summer, and there was an easy flow to it all. With a few late-night whispers, we settled into bed, another day tucked in.

But what—another day so soon? The sun rose, the house stirred. Two feet hit the floor. Brisk steps down the hallway. Coffee on the stove. Dad, ready and alert in his riding clothes, with Teddy fast on his heels, filed out the front door, headed for their morning horseback ride through the cranberry bogs in nearby Osterville. Mother rose as well, said her morning prayers, and dutifully prepared for the short drive to St. Francis Xavier Church in Hyannis for daily Mass. Eunice, Bobby, or I sometimes awakened to go along with her.

Joe, Jack, Rosemary, Kick, Eunice, Pat, Bobby, and me.

Teddy was not yet born (1931)

Richard Sears. Pathe News Boston. Kennedy Family Collection. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, Boston.

Or else we didn’t, and instead stayed burrowed in our pillows, along with everyone else, for just a few more minutes of precious sleep. Then we stretched our arms up and out, ready for whatever the day might bring, under the care and in the fold of the big white house.

1

No Whining in This House

There is no other success for a father and a mother except to feel that they have made some contribution to the development of their children.

—JOSEPH P. KENNEDY

People have asked me for years about my family, about why we are so close, about how it happened that we all became involved in politics and interested in the issues of the world. They are naturally curious about life with my sisters and brothers, who all grew up to be well known, but who, in the beginning, were simply children.

Like the people who have asked me these questions, it is interesting for me to reflect on those earlier years and to think about what, if anything, made them beyond the ordinary. For in so many ways, our life seemed unexceptional most of the time. Even though I was there through it all, it is hard for me to fully comprehend that I was growing up with brothers who would eventually occupy the highest offices of our nation, including president of the United States. At the time, they were simply my playmates. They were the source of my amusement and the objects of my admiration.

Just as in any family, we had our happy days and our moody ones. We teased one another mercilessly. We argued over who deserved the last piece of cake. We planned exploits into forbidden territory, climbing too high in trees or onto the garage roof. And we laughed. I can say without reservation that I do not remember a day in our childhood without laughter.

Certainly a distinct characteristic of our family was its size. Growing up in a big family of nine children is a less common experience today than it was in those days, and it certainly left its mark on each of us. A large family can be a challenge, particularly for parents whose attentions are inevitably divided and whose patience must be stretched very thin at times. But any challenge of a big family is eclipsed by the tremendous fun. A child in a big family constantly feels surrounded and supported. For me, there was always someone to play with or someone to talk to just around the corner, out on the porch, or in the next bedroom. I never felt alone.

Our childhood played out during a different time in America, when children found their amusement conspiring in closets, playing ball in the front yard, or lost in the pages of an adventure novel. This was the heyday of radio. Televisions, computers, and video games had not been invented yet, and it was beyond our imagination that anything like that would ever exist. We did not automatically learn what was going on in the next town, state, or country by turning on a screen. Instead we waited for the newspaper to arrive on the porch each morning. Telephones were firmly attached to the wall by a thick black cord, and they were treated with respect. Time on the telephone equaled money. When it rang, you usually knew it was signaling exciting news or, hopefully not, a serious emergency. Either way, you never talked on the telephone for very long.

To get around town or to school, we walked or jumped on our bicycles. For longer trips, we rode in cars. And for even longer trips, we boarded great locomotive trains or vast steamer ships. Air travel was almost unheard of, and an enormous luxury. And no matter how we got where we were going, we always dressed up. Gloves and hats and jackets were typical attire, not just our Sunday best.

In the early decades of the twentieth century, when my brothers and sisters and I were born, the United States was still taking its shape as a nation. It was not yet the global powerhouse it would soon become. We grew up in those disquieting years between World Wars I and II, when America was in constant motion, an ambitious young nation wresting its way out of the Depression. We were aware that trouble was swelling overseas, although for us little ones in the family, it was more an abstract concept than a reality.

Central to our lives and to the people we would become were our parents, Rose and Joe Kennedy. They influenced the nine of us so profoundly, yet so subtly, that I hardly understood the impact myself until I looked back decades later through mature eyes. Mother and Dad both descended from Irish immigrants, a fact that profoundly affected their outlook on life and the choices they made for their family. They were very conscious of the tremendous oppression their ancestors had overcome and were extremely grateful to be Americans. Like other young people of their generation who were the grandsons and granddaughters of immigrants, Mother and Dad felt a duty to give back to the country that had embraced their family, and to contribute to its continued growth.

To whom much has been given, much is expected.

Mother repeated those words to us often, quoting the Gospel of St. Luke. She was not admonishing us. She was challenging us. Mother and Dad felt it was important for us to know how lucky we were. On some days, your ancestors had no idea where their next meal was coming from, Mother would remind us. In contrast, we had a roof over our heads and we had hot food on our table every night. Mother and Dad let us know that we had an obligation to give back.

Mother and Dad (Hyannis Port)

The John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, Boston.

To whom much is given . . .

All of us understood from the earliest age that we were required to use our talents and gifts for the good of others and of our country. There was no other option. For the gift of being in this world, we had a responsibility to it. This is what motivated Mother and Dad in their daily lives, and it was what shaped how they raised us. Theirs was a constant reminder: take nothing for granted, work hard, and be grateful.

Yet despite the seriousness of this obligation to them, somehow Mother and Dad made it all seem fun and light and interesting. They did not make unrealistic or unkind demands or hold our noses to the grindstone. I do not remember them once raising their voices to us—ever. Rather, they compelled us to be our best selves.

I definitely know you have all the goods and you will go a long way, Dad wrote to my brother Jack in his typical, encouraging tone.

Mother and Dad’s approach was steady, yet firm. And they were purposeful. As I look back, it is clear how intentional my parents were in every decision they made. They did not rely on chance, but instead set very clear rules through their example.

Complaining was strictly forbidden. We were not allowed to sit around moaning because we could not go to the movies or had received a poor mark in geometry class. If Teddy got more cookies, if Pat borrowed my bicycle without asking, if things seemed unjust or unfair, we learned early on that the response was not to grumble or cry. Dad’s voice would clamp down on our ears: Fix it. There’s no whining in this house. He could not abide us feeling sorry for ourselves. Life was far too good for us to whine about small things. It was selfish, and on top of

Reviews for The Nine of Us

[adonisguilfoyle · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I've always thought that reading autobiographies or memoirs by people with first-hand knowledge of the subject is better than trusting professional biographers, but this account of the Kennedy family by Jean Kennedy Smith reads more like fiction - like a fairytale! - than fact. I realise that Jean was the last living Kennedy sibling - she died this year - when she was writing about growing up with her parents and brothers and sisters, and would naturally choose the good memories over the bad (although the last chapter reads like an obituary column), but come on! Joe and Rose never argued and Rose was a devoted mother? We all know about her filing card system, but even Jean acknowledges the team of Irish nannies who 'took charge of diaper changing, bottle washing, pram pushing, ear scrubbing and meal planning'. And Jack famously complained that his mother never held him as a child. The truth will out, however, and Jean also paints a picture of a mother who made siblings correct each other's behaviour ('Bobby, look at Jean. Perhaps you could remind her very nicely that lipstick does not go all over the face') and a father who ordered his own favourite meal - roast beef and Yorkshires - for the whole family on the rare occasion they went out for a meal.I'm sure the Kennedys loved each other, but we all know far too much about them now for this cute little collection of anecdotes to tell us anything new. Also, there isn't enough about Jack!

[briandrewz · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a perfectly delightful read. As a descendant of one of the most famous American families, the author tells us what it was like to grow up in it. Don't expect any scandalous revelations here. It's a fluff piece that works brilliantly, evoking a time long gone by. Jean Kennedy Smith speaks lovingly about her parents and siblings, and details her formative relationships with each one. It's a breezy summery book, fascinating for any fan of the Kennedy family.

[catherineburkehines · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

There's a sucker born every minute, and when it comes to the Kennedy family, that sucker is me. This isn't a bad book, it wafts over details of a much more interesting life than the author would have you believe. It's the sort of book a grandmother would write for her grandchildren: sunshine, flowers, and childhood perfection. I can't exactly fault it for that, and I wasn't really looking for salacious details, but a more completely picture would have been much more interesting.

[lisasharvey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Nine of Us: Growing up KennedyJean Kennedy SmithMy Rating ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️▫️Publisher Harper CollinsPublish DateOctober 25, 2016I wish Jean Kennedy Smith had written this book 20 years ago, when I was raising my son. Nine of Us: Growing up Kennedy is like nothing I've read about the Kennedy family before. And yet exactly like I would've expected. Each chapter contains immensely valuable parenting words of wisdom from Joe or Rose Kennedy. This just could be the best guide for raising smart, thankful and devoted kids!Jane Kennedy Smith grew up thinking her childhood was unexceptional. Her brothers and sisters were all her playmates. They played, and laughed and argued over the last piece of chocolate cake. She had no clue they would turn out the way they did. The family was distinctive perhaps because they were so large, and their parents influence was profound but subtle. As grandchildren of Irish immigrants, Rose and Joe wanted to make sure their children appreciated how much they had to be thankful for. They wanted to make them understand that they had an important obligation to give back. And that the gift of being in this world is a responsibility. The nine children were compelled to do their best and complaining was strictly forbidden. Joe's rule of "No whining in this house" are words that we could all raise our families on today.The book gives us and intimate look into each of the nine siblings. Smith details what each were like, what they liked to do, their special interests and even the times they got into trouble. Can you imagine Teddy sitting in his mom's closet surrounded by her dresses, shoes and hats, for "time out" for breaking a window. Or what about Bobby in a typing class. How fun it sounds to have a grown-up as a Kennedy, with the dinner table as the family hub and discussions of current events as the main course. How fun to have played tennis with Eunice or sailed with Jack or rescued animals with Bobby.Growing up Kennedy is a delightful look into the young lives of the family who, each in their own way, has had a profound impact on this country. The values Rose and Joe instilled and the often unique way in which they instilled them, continues to be relevant. A great read for anyone raising a family today!

[finallycj · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This tells the true story of how the Kennedy children grew up from someone who lived it. The author also adds in some insights that she gained later in life about different situations. It mainly focuses on the good time the Kennedy children had while growing up and only touches a little on the tragedies that befell the family. However, for anyone interested in the Kennedy family, this is a must read. My only complaint is that it is not longer and seems to come to an end all of a sudden. I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review.