Paying My Respects to The First Fitzgeralds & The First Kennedys - A Kennedy Pilgrimage

Today was the sixtieth anniversary of when the life of Patrick Bouvier Kennedy (August 7–9, 1963), the third child of President John F. Kennedy and First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy came to an end after two days since his birth. According to the PBS documentary called "Jackie: Behind the Myth," the First Lady “was rushed to a military hospital on Cape Cod. Patrick Bouvier Kennedy was born prematurely and lived only three days [it was actually two days]. The tragedy of this baby’s death brought them closer than they had ever been.”

I have chosen this solemn anniversary to write about my recent visit to the final resting places of that little boy's ancestors (some of which came here from Ireland) on this day. I recently discovered on the internet that some of the ancestors and relatives of President Kennedy are laid to rest at Holy Cross Cemetery in Malden, Massachusetts, not far from where I live. Because of this, I felt that I had to make a pilgrimage to visit their final resting places as soon as possible. My goal is to visit as many sites in Massachusetts of significance to the Kennedy Family as possible, before November 22 of this year, since this year commemorates the sixtieth anniversary of his final year in office.

The idea came to me when I visited the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum in Boston, Massachusetts. Upon the visiting the gift shop, I noticed that there were books that I wanted to own for myself. One of these books was called, "The First Kennedys: The Humble Roots of an American Dynasty" by Neal Thompson.  

To pass time on the hours of I had off from work. I listened to a podcast interview that Alison, the host of the Kennedy Dynasty Podcast, conducted with the author of the book. A seed was planted when I listened to the interview and in noting that I lived in Massachusetts, I knew I had access to visiting more places in connection with the Kennedys. I also ordered a copy of the book. I had already visited the campus of Harvard University where John F. Kennedy graduated from 1938 and of course the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library & Museum. I even visited the Massachusetts State House in 2015 and entered into the chamber where then President-elect John F. Kennedy delivered an address to a Joint Convention of the General Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts on January 9, 1961.

 

This address also known as the "City Upon a Hill" speech, which the President-elect delivered eleven days before his inauguration. Some of the words he spoke on that day are engraved at John F. Kennedy Memorial Park in Cambridge, Massachusetts, which I have visited and pondered over many times.

Towards the end of his address, Kennedy said that… “Courage--judgment--integrity--dedication--these are the historic qualities of the Bay Colony and the Bay State--the qualities which this state has consistently sent to this chamber on Beacon Hill here in Boston and to Capitol Hill back in Washington. 

And these are the qualities which, with God's help, this son of Massachusetts hopes will characterize our government's conduct in the four stormy years that lie ahead.”  

It is my hope that I, another son of Massachusetts, will bring those same qualities to this task of undertaking these pilgrimages in the next several days to sites in connection with John F. Kennedy within the state he was born in and loved so much. I hope to honor his memory and the memory of his family in doing so.

Last night, after returning from work, I decided it was time to visit Holy Cross Cemetary to visit the final resting places of some of the ancestors and relatives of John F. Kennedy. I didn't want to delay my visit any longer. Upon returning from work yesterday, and after getting ready for sleep, I printed out a map of the cemetery and jotted down where the final resting places of Kennedy's relatives would be. I did this late into the night. I felt like a detective working to solve a case.

To my surprise, I found that there were seven resting places of people related to John F. Kennedy there. I honestly didn't want to have the stress of trying to find all of them in span of three and a half hours. However, I was determined to do all I could. My goal was to go to the cemetery after work today and find seven of them before the cemetery closed for the day. After having breakfast this morning, I packed my lunch, water bottle, umbrella, and rain jacket in my backpack before heading to work. I also brought my camera containing a fully charged battery and a clear San disk, along with other necessities with me. I worked for the duration of my shift and as soon as it ended, I ate my lunch/dinner in the break room and at 3:42 in the afternoon, took the number 108 bus to the corner of Salem Street and Bellvale Street. From there, I walked for twelve minutes until I reached the grounds of Holy Cross Cemetery. 

It was 4:30 in the afternoon when I arrived. As soon as I entered onto the grounds from Lynn Street, my eyes were scanning the terrain and my search immediately began. I knew it would be difficult. I knew the cemetery was large, but I had not anticipated the size and scope of the grounds. I was a little discouraged at first but was determined to carry out my mission. 

The first final resting place I visited was not even on my list, but a coincidence. It was of the late actor John Cazale (August 12, 1935 – March 13, 1978), who had been in critically acclaimed films such as The Godfather, The Godfather Part II, Dog Day Afternoon, and The Deer Hunter. 

Mr. Cazale was beloved and respected by those who knew him. He passed away from cancer at the age of forty-two. Though he was not on my list of graves to visit that day, I still felt that I should pay respect to him for a deeply felt unknown reason. I know one day that I will learn more about him and his story and will come to appreciate him more. I will look back on this and be glad that I visited him.

For the next hour, I kept searching for the final resting places of President Kennedy's relatives. I was frustrated due to my lack of finding them, despite using a printed map of the cemetery and a frequent gust of wind rattling the papers whenever I would check to where I was or if I was close to finding a Kennedy relative. If those sleeping in the ground could see, they would be amused by staring at an angry person wondering aimlessly throughout the territory. I felt that if I was serving in the military and if I was tested with the task of leading other soldiers from one location to another, I would fail and be considered unfit for command. 

After one frustrated hour of searching, I finally found one of the people on my list. It was the final resting place of Michael J. Fitzgerald and his family.

Michael J. Fitzgerald (May 10, 1864 – June 10, 1925), a patrolman who worked for the Boston Police Department for about thirty years and younger brother of John Francis "Honey Fitz" Fitzgerald the first American-born Irish mayor of Boston. This made him the grand uncle of President John F. Kennedy and would have passed away when Jack was eight years old. I think it is fitting that Officer Fitzgerald lived out the very calling that his grandnephew advocated for years later in the call of public service. He is laid to rest here with his wife and three of his children.

After wondering around for eight minutes and finally beginning to understand the map and where I was, I found the final resting place of Thomas Fitzgerald, his wife Rosanna, his mother Ellen, and possibly for his children. 

Since Thomas Fitzgerald, was also the father of John F. Fitzgerald (buried in St. Joseph's Cemetery in West Roxbury), and Michael Fitzgerald (whose resting place I previously visited), this made the great grandfather of President John F. Kennedy. He, like his wife, and his mother came from Ireland to settle in the Boston area. I am guessing that he came to America after his own father passed away because his father's final resting place is in their ancestral homeland. 

I also made note that on the very plot of that ground, there was a small marker for the matriarch of this Fitzgerald clan. 

I removed sprigs of grass in front of the marker with my hands since they obstructed the letters of her name etched within the small stone.

I don't know much about this matriarch and/or patriarch of this Fitzgerald clan or this branch of the family, but I will endeavor to learn of their fascinating stories and perhaps share with those who are interested.

After six minutes of following the map correctly, I soon found the final resting place of Henry S. Fitzgerald, who was the youngest son of Thomas Fitzgerald.

Also laid to rest with him is wife Margaret, and three of his children. Much like his older brother Michael, he was also the grand uncle of President John F. Kennedy. I am assuming that he was the last of his siblings to pass into history. According to his find a grave profile, his life came to an end on February 22, 1955. This meant that he passed away on the twenty-third birthday of his grandnephew Edward M. Kennedy and on the year before his other grandnephew Jack would be reelected to the Unites States Senate.  

It was now almost 6:00 in the afternoon, an hour and a half has passed since my arrival. Despite the fact that I still had about two more hours of sunlight, I felt as though I was running out of time. I had to continue my mission. Six minutes after paying respects to Henry Fitzgerald and his family, I made my way to visit the final resting place of his niece Regis Fitzgerald Murphy (June 2, 1906 – May 13, 1997), who was Michael Fitzgerald’s daughter who lived to age of 90 and was laid to rest with her husband’s family.

I have to admit that I am very grateful for the painted numbers on the side of the road, for without them I would have been totally lost. 

I also have to admit that I moved very cautiously when approaching the buried grounds when navigating the area since these were final resting places of human beings who once breathed life on this earth. Since there were people buried underneath, I felt like I was intruding as though I was stepping on their beds. Though I do not believe in ghosts, I always felt the need to apologize for each time I stepped on the grass. I had an irrational fear of falling beneath the earth while I was there so as soon as I paid respects (even though there was no threat of danger), I would go as quickly as I could to move to the next area. 

I want to also note that I tried to also visit the final resting place of Ellen C. Fitzgerald Olson (1837– May 13, 1997), the youngest sister of Thomas Fitzgerald who laid to rest with her husband Charles and her son was also named after her spouse. I was disappointed that I could not find it because I want to find all of President Kennedy’s relatives in one day and though I kept looking and searching, I had to give up. I will try again at some point when I return soon.

After ten minutes of searching, I then went to look for the final resting place of Bridget Murphy Kennedy (1821 – December 20, 1888). I found it strange that her place of burial has no marker to indicate that she was laid to rest here. 

She was the great grandmother of President John F. Kennedy. She lived a fascinating life. She was born in Wexford, Ireland and when she was twenty-eight years old, she sailed to America on the boat called the Washington Irving. While on deck, she met Patrick Kennedy, a farmer from the same county as her. 

Five months after their arrival in Massachusetts, they married on September 26, 1849. The couple had three children.

Tragically, her husband Patrick contracted cholera and died at the age of thirty-five. He would die on November 22, 1858, one hundred and five years to the day before his great grandson John F. Kennedy would be assassinated in 1963. Through her strength and determination, she would manage her family, work, and eventually set up her own business. Through it all, she would live to see the birth of her grandson Joseph P. Kennedy and would pass away three months and fourteen days later at the age of 67. She was not laid to rest beside her husband Patrick.

According to page 24 of the Hardcover edition to The Kennedy Women by Laurence Leamer, “Bridget had given up her space in the family plot in the Cambridge Cemetery so that two of her grandchildren could be there. Instead, she was buried at Holy Cross Cemetery in Malden, outside the city far from the Patrick Kennedy she had met on a boat so many years ago.”

I then went to follow the coordinates I copied from the cemetery's website to finally locate the final resting place of Bridget's son, Patrick Joseph "P.J." Kennedy (January 8, 1858 – May 18, 1929).

He is laid to rest with his wife Mary Augusta Hickey Kennedy (December 6, 1857 – May 20, 1923), his daughter Margaret Louise Kennedy Burke (October 22, 1888 – November 14, 1974), and Mary E. Duffy (August 15, 1905 – January 26, 1985), whom I have no information of at the moment.

According to sentences carefully selected from pages 13 to 15 of JFK: Coming of Age in the American Century, (1917–1956) by Fredrik Logevall, Patrick “P.J.” Kennedy “had put away part of his earnings and kept on the lookout for an opportunity. One day it came: a saloon in Haymarket Square was losing money and had been put up for sale. P.J. pounced and acquired it for next to nothing. Before long the enterprising and self-possessed young man, in his twenties, turned the tavern in a profitable business… and the tavern became a key center of political activity… Kennedy, his influence rising, became a leader of Boston’s Ward Two and, in 1884, at age twenty-six, was appointed precinct officer. Two years later, just shy of his twenty-eighth birthday, he won a seat in the state House of Representatives."

Three years later, Patrick Kennedy married Mary Augusta Hickey on November 23, 1887. He was twenty-nine. She would be thirty in one week and six days. The couple had four children together, including Joseph Patrick Kennedy, who would attend and graduate from Harvard University, and would later be appointed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt to become Ambassador to Great Britain on the eve of the Second World War. As for Patrick, he became a widower after thirty-five years of marriage in 1923, and for the next six years, which would end up being the rest of his life, would be a loving grandfather to his grandchildren.

Although, I was tired, I was not yet finished. In realizing that Mary, Patrick’s wife was President Kennedy’s paternal grandmother, I also had had to visit the final resting place of Mary’s parents, also located in the cemetery. Because of this technicality, this would make them President Kennedy’s paternal great grandparents. With a deep breath and with some reluctance, I pressed onward to locate where Mary Hickey’s parents were located. After thirteen minutes of searching and rechecking the map of the cemetery, I finally found them.

I came upon the final resting places of James F. Hickey (1837 – November 22, 1900), his wife Margaret Martha Field Hickey (1836 – June 5, 1911), and four of their children. I don’t know anything about them at the moment, but I do know that much like the first Fitzgeralds (Thomas and Rosanna) and first Kennedys (Patrick and Bridget), they came from Ireland and settled in Massachusetts. After doing some calculations, I found out that their youngest daughter, also named Margaret, died in 1902 at the age of thirty-two, two years after her father passed away. I also found it a strange coincidence that like the first Patrick Kennedy (1823-1858), James F. Hickey would also die on November 22, sixty-three years to the day in which his great grandson President John F. Kennedy would be assassinated. How astonishing that two great grandparents of JFK would pass away on that same date in different years. Apart from this, I don’t have any additional details of their lives or any information on them at the moment. I hope to obtain more knowledge of their stories in the near future. 

I tried in vain once again to look for the final resting place of Ellen C. Fitzgerald Olson, but I was already tired and worn out after having searched for two and a half hours for everyone else on my list. I decided to make two more final revisits before leaving the cemetery. I decided to visit Bridget Murphy Kennedy again.

Here she was in a burial plot with no stone marker with her name and dates of birth and death. I wondered what could have happened. She seemed so alone out here. Her five children and predeceased husband were buried elsewhere. Only her son Patrick was buried nearby, within five minutes of walking distance from her. When my copy of "The First Kennedys: The Humble Roots of an American Dynasty" by Neal Thompson arrives. I will read it to learn more about who she was and to fully appreciate her story.

I then walked for another five minutes to visit Bridget's son Patrick Kennedy once again. To my dismay, I found out too late that he was buried only one row behind his in-law Michael Fitzgerald, the first of the graves I found at the cemetery. 

I had walked in circles looking for Patrick Kennedy, as I was hoping he would be the first one I would find before searching for the rest of the people on my list. He would instead be one of the last I would discover there. I decided to rest for a little while and sat in front of his tombstone. I felt it was appropriate that I visited him on the sixtieth anniversary of the death of his great grandson, who was also named Patrick.

As I drank from my water bottle to get hydrated, I could not help but think of the lineage this man spawned. He was the father of a United States Ambassador to Great Britain, great grandfather to another United States ambassador to two other countries, and a grandfather to two United States Senators, a President of the United States, and another ambassador to his ancestral homeland. That ambassador to his ancestral homeland was Jean Kennedy Smith (1928-2020), whom I had the honor of meeting years ago.

I could not help but think of Jean Kennedy Smith, the last surviving sibling of her family born on February 20, 1928. This meant that Patrick Kennedy would have lived long enough to see her and perhaps hold her as an infant in his arms and probably saw her take her first steps. Patrick would pass way into history one year, five months, and twenty-five days after Jean’s birth. Jean would have no living memories of her paternal grandfather, but she would honor his legacy of public service and would have made him proud. 

After sitting in front of Patrick Kennedy's tombstone for about ten or maybe more minutes, reflecting on his legacy and getting rehydrated. I decided it was time to leave as it would be dark soon. I got up from where I sat and brushed away any spare sprigs of grass that was on my pants. At 7:31 in the evening, I left through the southern gates of Holy Cross Cemetery for my return journey home.

I retreated my steps and walked up Lynn Street, took a left on Bellvale Street, and kept walking until I came upon the bus stop at Salem Street and waited for number 108 bus to arrive. At 8:13, the bus arrived and upon going onboard, the sun had set completely, and it was night. The bus took me to Malden Station and upon adding more money to my Charlie Card, to pay for more bus and subway rides, I walked to another bus stop and from there, took the second bus home. I arrived inside my house at 9:05, and after getting refreshed, clean, and ready for bed, I began to compose my chronicle of today's pilgrimage. 

Upon reflection, I learned some new lessons today. First, I learned that sometimes even if you prepare for a journey, you could still get lost if you're not careful. Second, sometimes you won't always find what you're looking for, but it doesn't mean you can't try again. Thirdly, there is always something new you can discover no matter how mundane they may seem at first. While I still live, I can learn more from the past lives of the people whose resting places I visited today to inform my present. The late author and historian David McCullough once mentioned that history is about people and that people are the most interesting subject. 

To conclude this blog entry, I want to share another excerpt from then President-elect John F. Kennedy's "City Upon a Hill" speech, which he delivered at the Massachusetts State House, where his grandfather Patrick once served as a public servant. 

He said, “For we are setting out upon a voyage in 1961 no less hazardous than that undertaken by the Arabella in 1630. We are committing ourselves to tasks of statecraft no less awesome than that of governing the Massachusetts Bay Colony, beset as it was then by terror without and disorder within. 

History will not judge our endeavors--and a government cannot be selected--merely on the basis of color or creed or even party affiliation. Neither will competence and loyalty and stature, while essential to the utmost, suffice in times such as these. 

For of those to whom much is given, much is required. And when at some future date the high court of history sits in judgment on each one of us--recording whether in our brief span of service we fulfilled our responsibilities to the state--our success or failure, in whatever office we may hold, will be measured by the answers to four questions: 

First, were we truly men of courage--with the courage to stand up to one's enemies--and the courage to stand up, when necessary, to one's associates--the courage to resist public pressure, as well as private greed? 

Secondly, were we truly men of judgment--with perceptive judgment of the future as well as the past--of our own mistakes as well as the mistakes of others--with enough wisdom to know that we did not know, and enough candor to admit it? 

Third, were we truly men of integrity--men who never ran out on either the principles in which they believed or the people who believed in them--men who believed in us--men whom neither financial gain nor political ambition could ever divert from the fulfillment of our sacred trust? 

Finally, were we truly men of dedication--with an honor mortgaged to no single individual or group, and compromised by no private obligation or aim, but devoted solely to serving the public good and the national interest.”