Loss of Innocence (27 page)

Afterword and Acknowledgments

Nineteen sixty-eight, the time of my graduation from college, was the most consequential year of my life, and I would argue, in the recent history of our country. For three decades I’ve mulled the idea of writing about this time; much more recently, I’ve focused on the coming-of-age of an imagined young woman of my age and, more broadly, on 1968 as a tipping point for American women. Hence
Loss of Innocence
. While it stands on its own, this novel is also a prequel to
Fall from Grace
, my last novel: it, too, is set on Martha’s Vineyard and is part of a trilogy that involves members of the Blaine family, and which will conclude with
Eden in Winter.

As
Loss of Innocence
required me to imagine the Vineyard forty-three years ago, this required more than a little research. So I am deeply grateful to Carol Brush for her memories of that time, and, especially, to my friend Peter Simon, who lent me his evocative recollections and diary entries. As to the sailing scenes, I would have been literally at sea without advice of Brock Cullen, and my multifaceted friend, Dr. Bill Glazer. And the
Vineyard Gazette
helped fill in the blanks.

Depicting an historic person is never easy, especially one as complex, and as deeply admired, as Robert Kennedy. Critical to this effort was the input of my friend Jeff Greenfield, a close advisor and speechwriter for RFK throughout his campaign. Also important
were two books by other friends—
Politics Lost
by Joe Klein, and
Robert Kennedy, A Memoir
, by the late Jack Newfield—as well as
The Last Campaign
by Thurston Clarke. My evocation of the Kennedy campaign and the Chicago convention was also derived from—among other sources—
Miami and the Siege of Chicago
, by Norman Mailer; reports from
Time
,
Life
, and the
New York Times
, and the recollections of Jay Goodman, a delegate to the convention in 1968, whom I thank more fully below.

It’s not easy for a sixty-four-year-old man to create a twenty-two-year-old woman as she emerges into adulthood over four decades ago, or to reconstruct the experiences and perceptions of a graduate of a private women’s college of that time. So I’m particularly grateful to Betsy Athey, Carol Steiner, and Jill Finkelstein, 1968 alumni of Wheaton College. One of the really fun experiences came when Jill allowed me to crash part of her annual reunion with several classmates who shared their fascinating memories: Kathy Bouckley, Aline Coffey, Jackie Hatch, Nan McConnell, Mardie Prentke, Suzanne Ruch, and Jill Stewart. It was they who urged me to interview Dr. Jay Goodman, a beloved professor of political science who taught at Wheaton from the sixties until now, and who, I am told, has taught over half the students to graduate from the college in its long and distinguished history. My visit with Jay also gave me a chance to walk around Wheaton itself, which I’d recommend to anyone who enjoys seeing a pristine and beautiful New England campus. Thanks, too, to the alumni relations office at Wheaton, which helped all this happen.

Thanks, too, to my wife, Dr. Nancy Clair, my most faithful reader; my terrific agents at Janklow & Nesbit, Mort Janklow, Anne Sibbald, and Cullen Stanley; my dear friend Philip Rotner, and my wonderful assistant, Alison Thomas. Deepest thanks as well to my publisher and longtime friend, David North of Quercus, and my editor, Jo Dickinson, for their encouragement and advice. On behalf of all those who helped, much of whatever merit exists in this novel belongs to them; the mistakes are all mine.

Finally, there are the dear friends to whom I’ve dedicated this book. I need not reprise all that the indomitable Ted Kennedy did
for our country, and how irreplaceable he is in our civic life; what I want to record here is that it would be hard to find a more generous spirit and considerate friend. And anyone who values a truly public spirit in the public arena knows Eli Segal, founder of AmeriCorps and a central actor in the politics and policy of our time. But equally important to the many young people who followed Eli’s example were the power of his ideals, and his gifts as a mentor.

In particular, this book concerns women. The two women who share this dedication with their late husbands are among the most inspiring leaders I know. Not only did Vicki Kennedy share in every particular Ted’s protean life in politics, but she continues her own discerning and compelling advocacy on a host of issues from health care to protecting Americans against violence to promoting a more expansive sense of our obligations to each other. Phyllis Segal—aside from being as effective a chair of a nonprofit as I’ve ever seen, and an equally strong advocate for women’s rights—is continuing her lifetime commitment to volunteerism by finding new and enriching roles for those of our generation who now wish to use their skills for the public good. Never has a dedication given me more pleasure.