Death at Chappaquiddick

Reviewer Acclaim for Death at Chappaquiddick

If you are going to read only one book about Chappaquiddick, the best one so far is the volume by the Tedrows. It is terse, brief, and covers everything. It solves the problem of what actually happened.

—Jeffrey Hart, National Review

A book I could not put down once I started reading it. It kept me up most of the night reading it to the last page. It examined every aspect of the death of Mary Jo Kopechne in the best tradition of investigative reporting. All the seamy details of that terrible night when a girl was needlessly allowed to die have now been carefully drawn together for all to read.

—Ralph de Toledano, Copley Newspapers

The Tedrows make it abundantly clear that the facts of the case were bottled up from the beginning to end, in the interests of protecting Teddy Kennedy.

—M. Stanton Evan, Los Angeles Times

A spate of books on the Chappaquiddick incident have recently appeared. By far the most devastating for the Senator is the book by the Tedrows.

—Saturday Evening Post

Attorney Richard Tedrow and his son Thomas devastatingly dissect Kennedy's testimony and that of others following the event and counter with contradictory statements made by those involved.

—Ralph Hollenbeck, King Features

But before Kennedy delivers his Inaugural Address, he will have to answer questions, clear up inconsistencies, nowhere better detailed than in the volume Death at Chappaquiddick, by Richard L. Tedrow and his son, Thomas. It is a gruesome tale. One cannot put the book down without reaching the conclusion that were it not for the name, position and power of Edward M. Kennedy, he could have gone to prison for manslaughter, perjury and obstruction of justice.

—Patrick J. Buchanan, New York Daily News

DEATH AT CHAPPAQUIDDICK

by

Thomas L. Tedrow

and

Richard L. Tedrow

PELICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY

GRETNA 1980

Copyright © 1976, 1980

By Richard L. Tedrow and Thomas L. Tedrow

All rights reserved

First paperback edition, January 1980

Second printing, January 1980

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Tedrow, Thomas L

  Death at Chappaquiddick.

  Bibliography: p.

    1. Kennedy, Edward Moore, 1932- 2. Legislators

— United States—Biography. 3. United States.

Congress. Senate—Biography. 4. Kopechne, Mary Jo,

1941-1969. I. Tedrow, Richard L., joint author.

II. Title.

E840.8.K35T43 1979 973.92'092'4 [B] 79-21703

ISBN 0-88289-249-5

Manufactured in the United States of America

Published by Pelican Publishing Company, Inc.

1101 Monroe Street, Gretna, Louisiana 70053

An Interview with Joseph Kopechne

I don't want to see it, but I do believe Kennedy could run, says Joseph Kopechne, whose daughter, Mary Jo, died in Sen. Edward M. Kennedy's car at Chappaquiddick 10 years ago.

And if he does run, he will lose—and he will lose because of Chappaquiddick. People will not forgive him for that. I know I haven't.

It was an extraordinary interview, because Joseph Kopechne and his wife Gwendolyn do not talk to reporters. Their grief has never faded.

You never get over the loss of a child, he says. The hurt is always there. When you go to bed at night and when you wake up in the morning . . . it never goes away.

At 66, Joseph Kopechne is trim and lean in faded red, white and blue plaid work shirt, washed-out blue jeans and tennis shoes. The big hands tremble. The fingers fiddle nervously. The pain is etched around the deep-set eyes and the strong mouth.

"We were so happy. So close. So happy with each other. You know, we were so happy that I remember, years and years ago, wondering what it must be like to lose a child or your wife.

Then it happened and I knew. It is like nothing else in God's world. The pain. . . . The voice falters and he looks away. To lose someone as close as that, someone who is a part of you as much as Mary Jo was a part of me and of us. . . .

The Kopechnes are deeply reclusive. There is no name on the door, no mailbox at the end of the drive. Their phone number is unlisted. Their official address a post office box number.

When a strange car scrunches to a halt in the gravel road outside, garden tools are deserted, doors and windows snap shut and the Kopechnes sit it out in silence until the intruder is gone.

They ignore the knock at the door and the ring of the bell. They want nothing to do with the outside world. But the outside world seeks them out again now that there is the likelihood of Ted Kennedy becoming a presidential candidate.

The anger is open.

"I still feel a lot of bitterness. It's been a long time, but to me it was just yesterday. I'll never forgive him. I don't believe the truth has been told. I don't know the truth. None of us knows the truth. It's still a mystery.

I get angry thinking about it. But then, I say to myself: 'What's the use? It's done now.' Nothing I can do, nothing that can be done, will bring Mary Jo back.

Kopechne is irritated by a recent report he might vote for Kennedy. I would never say that. What I will say is that I will not interfere if he runs . . . at least, that's the way I feel just now.

Behind him, a huge oil painting of Mary Jo dominates the comfortably furnished sitting room. Snapshots of her as a baby, as a little girl, and then as a young and beautiful woman, stand on the television cabinet.

"Mary Jo was a highly intelligent, compassionate person who worked terribly hard and believed deeply in working to improve the lives of ordinary people.

"She was devoted to politics by the time she was a senior in high school. That's why she went to work in Washington. It wasn't any glamour job.

She was constantly on call, but she loved it. She wouldn't have had it any other way. That's why she went to work for Bobby Kennedy—he was the only politician that we ever really trusted.

It was after a late-night party on Chappaquiddick Island for the girls who worked on Sen. Robert F. Kennedy's brief presidential campaign—which ended in his assassination in 1968—that Mary Jo Kopechne died.

She left the party with Ted Kennedy in his big black Oldsmobile and died after it careened off a wooden bridge and landed upside down in eight feet of sea water in Poucha Pond. Kennedy freed himself and, he said, dived repeatedly in a frantic effort to save her.

Eventually, he gave up and walked back to the house for help. Later, he swam to the main island, checked into a hotel—and waited until the next morning to report the accident.

We move out into the garden, into the muggy heat of the Pennsylvania summer and on to the stepped pathway leading from the back of the house towards the rhododendrons and the roses.

The beautiful home was made possible by the $140,904 settlement after their daughter's death—$90,904 from Ted Kennedy and another $50,000 from his insurance company.

Mrs. Kopechne, whose father came to the United States from South Wales at the turn of the century, hugs her knees and sits close to her husband by the edge of the path.

When we heard she was dead, she says softly, "we couldn't believe it. I can't remember much about it now. It was all such a blur. The days had no beginning and no end. Even now, it is all so hard, so difficult to understand. There are so many if-onlys. . . .

And yet, she's dead and our lives have never been the same since then and can never be the same again.

It was only a few years after Mary Jo's death that the Kopechnes moved to this tiny resort village of Swiftwater (population 400) on Route 611, hoping to find peace. They have few friends.

We were never 'joiners', Kopechne explains. "We were quite happy with each other. The three of us . . . Then, when it happened, I suppose Gwen and I became even more private. We didn't want to see people or talk to them at all.

"Very few people here discuss it with me. They all know who I am and it's something they steer clear of. They leave us alone. Chappaquiddick . . . just the sound of it brings everything back.

"If Kennedy runs, they'll throw the name at him and he must know that. God knows, I don't want to see it become an issue again.

The younger people, yes, perhaps they've forgotten, but, you know, it's the older people who go out and vote. It's the older people who would give him a hard time. There was just too much deception, too much double talk and cover up.

The anguish of Joseph Kopechne is unashamed and his wife's knuckles whiten on her knees and her eyes brim with tears as he speaks.

"I sometimes dream about her and, when I wake up in the morning, just for a minute or two, I forget she's dead. Then it hits you and the pain is as bad as it ever was. You learn to live with it. Life has to go on, but pain never fades.

If Kennedy does run and he loses, it won't bother us very much. We lost our whole life, says Joseph Kopechne.

—Donald McLachlan

Women's News Service

July 27, 1979

UPDATE: Ten Years After

Ten years ago, in July, 1969, the tragedy of Chappaquiddick burst on the world. Today's younger voters have little or no recollection of the event. Many others, who were shocked by the news, have only a hazy recall of some affair involving Senator Edward Kennedy and the death of a girl. The details fade with the passage of time. Mary Jo Kopechne's death has been the only certainty in the tragedy. Everything else has been shrouded in contradiction, controversy, and denials.

At the time, it was the news event of the year. It combined sex, scandal, and death involving people in high places, married men with single girls, and plenty of whiskey in a secluded hideaway. The climax was death for one of the girls while off alone at midnight with a United States senator. Some thought he was the cause of her death; if he didn't kill her, he left her to die.

To refresh your recollection, here are the Chappaquiddick facts briefly:

A party was held on Chappaquiddick Island (off the Atlantic Massachusetts coast not far from Cape Cod) at a cottage rented for Senator Kennedy on the weekend of Friday, July 18, 1969. The guests were married men and single girls. During the party, Senator Edward Kennedy and Mary Jo Kopechne drove away in the Senator's car, which later was driven off a bridge and sank. The Senator managed to get out alive, but the girl was found dead 9 or 10 hours later. Senator Kennedy did not report the accident to the police until 9 or 10 hours later the next day. He explained that he went into panic, and did not really know what he was doing during that time. As soon as he fully realized what happened, he said, he went to the police. During this period, some 17 telephone calls were made by and on behalf of the Senator to various employees, friends, and political advisors.

Headlines appeared in the press of the world then, for months afterward, and intermittently for years. The case continues to surface regularly, always coupled with the Senator's name. But the facts have been hard to come by. The Senator is one of the most powerful men in the United States, and he has been the beneficiary of what even his supporters admit was one of the greatest coverups in history.

Laws and regulations were broken and ignored, witnesses became hazy and altered stories, and evidence was concealed, destroyed, and manufactured. Authorities in law enforcement were told how to proceed, a grand jury was denied any evidence in the case and threatened with jail by a judge, and a body was snatched from the jurisdiction to prevent a police autopsy. These things were done with the help of police, priests, court officers, and judges.

Many people thought, and still think, Senator Kennedy should become President of the United States regardless of Chappaquiddick. Thus, it was necessary to keep his record as clean as possible. Others feel this should not be. The authors take the position that the public has the right to know the facts, and then decide.

Some say he is not morally qualified and/or was criminally responsible for the death of Mary Jo Kopechne. Others claim the important issue is the reaction and conduct of the Senator at a time of crisis. Their concern lies with Senator Kennedy's explanation that his failure to report the accident to the authorities was due to shock for 9 or 10 hours thereafter. They argue that he cannot be entrusted with the responsibilities of the Presidency, where crisis reaction time must be counted in minutes and even seconds.

In the Watergate burglary, the public's right to know brought out the facts that deposed a President and sent important people to jail. We can do no less for Chappaquiddick, where a young girl died, and a candidate for President may have been criminally implicated. We repeat: let the public decide the issues after the facts are known.

DEATH AT CHAPPAQUIDDICK

Part One

Chappaquiddick: The Way it Was

THE PRIVATE PARTY

Senator Kennedy was at Chappaquiddick on July 18 and 19, 1969, for two reasons. The first was his family tradition of participating in the annual Edgartown Sailing Regatta. The second and more important reason was the planned private party in the Lawrence cottage on isolated Chappaquiddick Island.¹

To ensure privacy the party arrangements were made in advance by different Kennedy loyalists without mentioning the Senator's name. The fame of the Kennedys necessitates this type of planning. Jack Crimmins, a Kennedy chauffeur, reserved rooms for the party guests at the Dunes Hotel. The guests were six young, single girls who had worked for Robert Kennedy and had remained close to the Kennedy causes after his assassination. Mary Jo Kopechne was one of these girls.

The party cottage was rented by the Senator's cousin, Joe Gargan, who told the rental agent that it was for himself, his wife and another couple. Between the time of the rental and the party, the plans apparently changed somewhat.

Senator Kennedy had reservations at the Shiretown Inn, where he stayed whenever he visited Edgartown. Gargan made these reservations for the Senator. To Russ Peachy and Bill Parker, co-owners of the Shiretown Inn, Gargan meant Kennedy. When he called it was to signal another Kennedy booking and to signal them to prepare the welcome.

Senator Kennedy left Washington, D.C. at 10:40 a.m. on Friday, July 18. He arrived at Martha's Vineyard at 1:30 p.m. Jack Crimmins chauffeured him from the small airport to the Lawrence cottage on Chappaquiddick Island, which is accessible only by a small, two-car ferry. The Senator wanted to change into his bathing suit and join the girls for a quick swim before the regatta.

1. Judge Boyle found in his inquest report: Kennedy was the host and mainly responsible for the assembly of the group at Edgartown.

To get to the isolated beach, the Senator followed the same route that would change history later that night. Crimmins drove down the paved School Road, making a sharp right onto the rough and unpaved Dike Road. After a bumpy drive, they took Dike Bridge across Poucha Pond to the beach.

After an hour or so on the beach with Mary Jo Kopechne and her five friends, Senator Kennedy went back across Dike Bridge to change clothes and participate in the regatta, which ran until 6:00 p.m. The six girls followed the Senator's regatta in a chartered boat and shouted him encouragement along the way. Though Senator Kennedy did not win, everyone had a great time.

When the race was over, Senator Kennedy checked into his rooms at the Shiretown Inn to change clothes. Ross Richards, Stanley Moore and several crew members dropped by to discuss the race over beer and drinks in his room. The small get-together occupied the Senator's time from 6:30 until around 7:00 p.m.

Crimmins picked Senator Kennedy up and delivered him to the Lawrence cottage by 7:30, so he could bathe and freshen up for the party. By 8:30, everyone had arrived for the cookout, drinking and good times. We know now¹ that those present were:

1. For days Kennedy sources refused to divulge the names of those who attended. . . . After several days, it was learned that six men and six women attended. Human Events, August 2, 1969.

Details of the party are contradictory, depending on when one talked with the girls. Immediately after the accident, they told reporters it was the kind of party where no one watched the clock or who was where, or with whom. At the inquest six months later, it became a dull, clockwatching affair. Most other reports indicate that it was not a dull party, but rather loud and long. Residents of Chappaquiddick said the party was one of those loud, noisy brawls.¹

It does not seem to be a coincidence that the five older, married men and the chauffeur got together with the six younger, single girls at the isolated cottage. All had opportunity to leave if the arrangements were unsatisfactory. The reports conclude that all twelve knew what was planned and that they were prepared to enjoy an all-night party. There was no effort by the group to catch the last ferry back to their motel rooms in Edgartown.

The party was well stocked with steaks and liquor. By 10:00 p.m., the Silvas, who lived 150 yards away, could hear quite a blast in progress. Dodie Silva remarked to her family: Boy, they must be having a heck of a time. . . . I hope they don't wreck the place. By 1:30 a.m., John Silva was ready to call the police in to halt the disturbance. There was yelling, music and general sounds of hell-raising.²

After all, it was an island summer night, away from the press and pains of political life