[Congressional Record Volume 144, Number 46 (Thursday, April 23, 1998)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E667-E668]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                        TRIBUTE TO BILLY SUTTON

                                 ______
                                 

                       HON. JOSEPH P. KENNEDY II

                            of massachusetts

                    in the house of representatives

                        Thursday, April 23, 1998

  Mr. KENNEDY of Massachusetts. Mr. Speaker, to paraphrase the lyrics 
of the great old Irish folk song, ``Oh Billy, we hardly knew ye.'' But 
we loved you all the more.
  For us, it all began six years before I was born. The Second World 
War had just ended, and a young Navy veteran named John F. Kennedy had 
decided to run for Congress for the old Eleventh Congressional 
District.
  It so happened that one day in January 1946, a young Army veteran 
named Sergeant William Sutton was being discharged from Fort Devens. 
Billy loved to tell about what happened next. He'd been overseas for 
two years. He was finally on his way home to see his mother, and he had 
taken a train from Devens to North Station here. He had started up 
School Street, when Joe Kane spotted Billy.
  Joe Kane was family, literally. Joe Kane and grandad Joe Kennedy were 
first cousins, and they always called each other Cousin Joe. Cousin Joe 
Kane knew a great deal about Boston politics, and he was the first 
person Grandad turned to for advice for Uncle Jack. Billy had 
previously worked on two campaigns in the Eleventh District and knew 
everyone--but everyone!--in the District. So Cousin Joe Kane knew that 
Billy would be a prize catch for Uncle Jack.
  Cousin Joe wouldn't take no for an answer. When he caught up with 
Billy on School Street, he told Billy, ``There's someone you have to 
meet. Come on over to the old Bellevue Hotel with me.''
  Billy said he'd been in the Army overseas for two years, and he was 
going home to see his mother. Cousin Joe told him, ``You can see your 
mother later--this won't take a minute.''
  It took a little more than a minute, but it was love at first sight 
at the Bellevue. Uncle Jack loved Billy, and by the time Billy left for 
home, he'd signed on with Uncle Jack full time. He started the very 
next morning to build the organization that took Uncle Jack to victory 
in 1946.
  A few days after that, Billy introduced Uncle Jack to another great 
friend of our family, a man that Billy used to sell newspapers with at 
the Charlestown Navy Yard, another young veteran named Dave Powers.
  Two days after that, Uncle Jack made his famous visit to the meeting 
of the Gold Star Mothers at the American Legion Hall in Charlestown, 
and Billy and Dave and Uncle Jack were on their way together.
  The Democratic primary that year was in June, and the day before was 
Bunker Hill Day, with its huge parade and celebration in Charlestown. 
Billy felt they clinched the victory for Uncle Jack with their parade. 
Billy and Frank Dobie marched at the front with a huge banner 20 feet 
wide and five feet high saying ``John F. Kennedy for Congress.''
  People used to say that Billy had organized a thousand of Uncle 
Jack's supporters to march in the parade. As Billy knew, it was only a 
little over one hundred--but they marched only three abreast, 
stretching themselves out as far as the eye could see, going past all 
the Kennedy banners they'd put on every second house along the route.
  That day and many other days of Billy's ability, hard work, and 
incredible loyalty produced the victory that put Uncle Jack on the path 
to the New Frontier. He couldn't have found the way without you, Billy. 
We owe you big for that, and we always will.
  On January 3, 1947, Uncle Jack arrived in Washington to take his seat 
in the House of Representatives. He had driven down overnight from 
Boston in a snowstorm in Aunt Eunice's Chrysler. Billy met him at the 
Statler Hotel. Uncle Jack was desperate for breakfast, but Billy said 
he was late for a Democratic Party Caucus, and Party Leader John 
McCormack had been calling every ten minutes to find out why he wasn't 
there.
  But Uncle Jack said, ``Mr. McCormack has been getting along without 
me here in Washington for 28 years. He can get along without me for 
another 15 minutes. Let's go into the drugstore and get some eggs.''
  Billy spent those first early years with Uncle Jack in Washington. In 
those days, he lived on the third floor of the house Uncle Jack rented 
on 31st Street in Georgetown. Billy had his own shower and bath, and he 
bragged about how often he sneaked into Uncle Jack's closet for a shirt 
or tie.
  One day, Uncle Jack put on a pink shirt, and Billy told him in no 
uncertain terms, ``With your complexion, a pink shirt isn't right. It's 
too much technicolor.'' So Uncle Jack took it off and handed it to 
Billy.
  The next day, Billy walked into the room wearing the pink shirt 
himself. Uncle Jack looked up and said, ``Well, I'm glad to see my 
clothes go with your complexion.''
  Billy was also one of the first to say to Uncle Jack that a Senate 
seat was winnable. And in early 1951, as the Senate race was shaping 
up, Billy came home to Boston to organize and help out here. And he 
never left again.
  In Washington, he had missed his family, missed his city, and missed 
his state. I know how you felt, Billy.
  But in all the years that followed, Billy never left us. He helped us 
in all of our campaigns--my campaigns, Teddy's campaigns, Dad's 
campaign for President--he was always there, with his trademark skill 
and loyalty and smile--and the legion of friends we called Billy 
Sutton's army.
  As Billy used to say, ``Compared to the Boston Irish politicians I 
grew up with, Jack Kennedy was like a breath of spring.'' Grampa 
Fitzgerald didn't like to hear that, but the voters understood it.
  And do you know something--if it hadn't been for Billy in those early 
days, if Sergeant Billy Sutton had taken a different train from Fort 
Devens that afternoon, the Kennedys might still be in banking, and I 
wouldn't be here thanking Billy for making all the difference for our 
family.

[[Page E668]]

  The last time President Kennedy saw Billy was at the Boston Armory in 
October 1963. It was ``The New England Salute to the President'' 
Dinner, and President Kennedy came over to spend time with Billy and 
Marsha and talk about old times.
  One of the things Billy and Marsha treasured most was the telegram 
that President Kennedy sent to their daughter Barbara on her third 
birthday--May 29, 1963. They had the same birthday, and President 
Kennedy told her ``Congratulations on our birthdays.'' And ever after, 
Barbara could show the telegram and say, ``My father knew President 
John F. Kennedy, right from the beginning.''
  The secret of Billy's success was no secret at all to all of us who 
knew him. He was Irish to the core. The light in his Irish eyes and his 
Irish heart and soul was always on. It sparkled in everything he ever 
did, every story he ever told, every friend he ever made, everything he 
ever did. When the Kennedys and countless others hear the great Irish 
anthem, we think of Billy:

When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure it's like a morn in spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
You can hear the angels sing.

When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay,
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure they'll steal your heart away.

  To Marsha and Barbara and A.J. and all the rest of Billy's wonderful 
family, on behalf of all the Kennedys, I say today, as others in our 
family have said so often over the years, ``You stole all our hearts 
away, Billy. We love you, Billy. We miss you, Billy. And we'll always 
remember you.''

                          ____________________