Why Ronald Reagan beats John F. Kennedy as a better presdient

The 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s inauguration recently passed, and the event was marked by much hoopla. 

There were nostalgic observations about the brilliance of JFK’s “Ask not what your country can do for you…” speech that frigid January morning back in 1960. 

And there was also a fair bit of blarney, such as pundit Chris Matthews on The Colbert Report implying that JFK became president at a time when there were still “No Irish Need Apply” signs. 

(Matthews, by the way, more than made up for this slip by writing a brilliant piece in The Washington Post about the very Irish, bipartisan friendship between Tip O’Neill and Ronald Reagan.)

Things also devolved into the absurd when it was revealed that the History Channel would not be running a docu-drama based on the life of JFK and other members of that fabled clan.  Apparently, certain Kennedy family members did not want the shocking news revealed that JFK might have had a roving eye!

What not many people have noticed is that all of these JFK memories came just as folks on the other side of the political aisle were celebrating the centennial of Ronald Reagan’s birthday.

Perhaps people have not linked these two events because JFK is arguably the most iconic Democrat of the past half a century, while Reagan is the most iconic Republican.

That being the case -- to go along with the fact that both Reagan and JFK have strong Irish roots -- it does beg the question -- who is the greatest, the most enduring, Irish American president?

JFK’s Irish roots, of course, are beyond reproach.  The story of the journey from the wharves of Boston to Harvard to the White House has been told many times. 

Perhaps this is what Ronald Reagan’s son Ron Junior had in mind when he traced his own presidential dad’s roots in his new book My Father at 100.

Yes, we know Reagan’s dad was an Irish Catholic with a drinking problem, and that Dutch’s great-grandfather, Michael, left Ballyporeen, Co. Tipperary, for the
U.S. 
But Ron Junior traces the Reagan roots all the way back to 10th century Ireland. 
None of which is necessary.  Because in the end, Ronald Reagan’s greatest impact on Irish America – for better worse – could be seen in the past several decades. 
In that sense, Reagan is very similar to JFK.

Fifty years ago, it may have been hard to find a “No Irish Need Apply” sign. 

But many Irish were still working class members of tough ethnic neighborhoods, not to mention devout members of a foreign religion.  (It was only in 1950 that Paul Blanshard’s best-selling anti-Catholic tract American Freedom and Catholic Power sold almost half a million copies.) 

Thus, the election of JFK was seen as an arrival, if not to the mainstream, then at least respectability.

Ah, but how the times swiftly changed.  That hard-earned respectability was often sneered at as JFK’s noble 1960s veered off course and steered the U.S. into a period bordering on cultural anarchy. 

A mere five years after JFK’s death, Reagan, in his run for the governor’s seat in California, tapped into Irish American frustration.  A group that had striven so hard for acceptance was now being told that it was lame and square to strive for acceptance. 

As the old saying goes, you become more conservative when you actually have something to conserve.  This was only more true by 1980.

And of course, it is easy to see a connection between JFK’s poignant journey to his ancestral home in New Ross, Co. Wexford, in 1963, and Reagan’s trip to Ballyporeen some 20 years later. 

But Reagan probably cemented his relationship with the Irish and other white ethnics in 1986 during the 100th anniversary celebrations for the Statue of Liberty – which was seen as a new Plymouth Rock for generations of Irish Americans who had intermarried with other ethnic groups.

Who’s the greatest Irish president?  In just 1,000 days, JFK did set a tone and agenda remarkable for its ambition, from civil rights and the cold war to space exploration.

Reagan, though, was a game-changer.  Even Democrats who have sought to carry JFK’s torch -- Obama, Clinton -- have voiced admiration for The Gipper and even copied certain policies, from cutting taxes to cultural conservatism.

Again, for better or worse.

(Contact tomdeignan@earthlink.net or facebook.com/tomdeignan)

The joke is on the Catholics

Earlier this month, another anti-Catholic skirmish broke out. The debate centered on -- of all things -- a Doritos commercial in which a priest and pastor are brainstorming about ways to raise funds.

If nothing else, give Doritos points for good timing. This all happened just as the New York Archdiocese announced that nearly 30 Catholic schools would either be closing or consolidated.

One wonders if the church higher-ups might actually consider dispensing Doritos instead of Communion wafers, if the orange-dusted snack would actually put fannies in the pew and, thus, more dollars in the collection plate.

Anyway, some people got all riled up. They said mocking the sacrament of Communion was offensive.
The only trouble is that the commercial was never really an officially-sanctioned advertisement. The Doritos ad, instead, was one of several proposed ads which were entered into a contest which was designed to produce an official advertisement.

Either way, the corporate big wigs got nervous and pulled the ad.

It should not be surprising, though, that this had the apparent effect of actually encouraging other advertisements that poked fun at the sacraments.

Perhaps you’ve seen the ad for Red Bull energy drink, in which the slacker boy enters a church confessional and begins speaking to an Irish priest, complete with red hair and a bad brogue. (What? No freckles? No Irish Spring theme song?)

The boy confesses vague sins related to females, and the priest questions him, asking him about this particular girl or that particular girl. In the end, the boy is told to say something like 40 Hail Marys.

The boy, though, is quite happy. He says he’s now got a couple of hot prospects in the female department, all thanks to the pushy questions from the Irish priest.

I don’t know if the ad is new, but I don’t recall seeing it until the whole Doritos mess went down. I’ve since seen the ad about 20 times since.

So what can we take out of this? Sometimes, professional spotters of anti-Catholic humor actually encourage the very forces they are hoping to tamp down.

I’m not sure why the likes of the Catholic League and Bill Donahue have not gone after Red Bull. Let’s face it, that’s got to be pretty much what Red Bull wants. After all, you can’t pay for that kind of exposure.

Meanwhile, some Catholic bloggers and letter writers who have commented on the Red Bull ad take this as an opportunity to flaunt their own angry side. They believe Catholicism remains the only religion which is okay to mock, a patent falsehood to anyone who has seen an episode of Seinfeld or The Simpsons or Family Guy in the past decade or so.

Others add bitterly that Catholics are at least more tolerant than Muslims, who would surely set about torching the corporate offices of any company which so much as mentions Islam -- much less the prophet Mohammed -- in anything so crude as an advertisement for chips or drinks.

What all of this does do is deflect attention from some real problems the Catholic Church is facing, around the world, but particularly in America and Ireland. In case you’d forgotten, we have Dennis Leary to remind us.

Leary has a new stand-up comedy special out called Dou***bags and Donuts. The special, which can be seen in repeats on Comedy Central, opens up with a rousing musical number that may very well be the most offensive song ever recorded about the ills of the Catholic Church.

Suffice it to say, not much of it can be printed here, but the emphasis is on the sex scandals which have rocked the church in both the U.S. and Ireland.

Leary’s raucous song, which features rather graphic descriptions of horny priests and exploited boys and bodily fluids, makes both the Doritos and the Red Bull ad look like grade school productions.

But who is to blame? Is it Leary, the angry lapsed Catholic? Or the high church officials who let things go so far?

Anti-Catholicism isn’t dead. A Protestant main character in Jonathan Franzen’s best-selling novel Freedom is an unabashed hater of the Pope. The trouble is, more and more people baptized into the church are coming to the same conclusion.

(Contact “Sidewalks” at tomdeignan@earthlink.net or facebook.com/tomdeignan)

What is so great about New York Irish?

In the current issue of New York magazine, a wide range of heavy hitters weigh in on what the cover calls “New York’s Greatest-Ever Everything.” As in, New York City’s greatest book, mayor, TV show, athlete and more.

Trouble is, there is a decided shortage of Irish names among both the greatest as well as those choosing the greatest.

So, as the Irish have always done, we’ll do for ourselves when no one else is interested. What follows is a highly subjective attempt to come up with “Irish New York’s Greatest-Ever Anything.”

MAYOR: Laois-born William Grace was the first Irish Catholic mayor of New York City, elected in 1880, and in the century that followed over half a dozen mayors had Irish roots.

They are a colorful bunch, from party boy Jimmy Walker (who fled New York with his mistress before he could be sacked in the wake of a scandal) to John O’Brien, who served exactly one year in office.

Grace was also a hugely successful businessman (and sent massive donations to Ireland in the 1870s), so his status as a trailblazer makes it hard for him not to be seen as New York’s greatest Irish mayor. He was anti-Tammany, but we won't hold that against him!

GANGSTER: The line between crime and politics was often fine for the New York Irish, and this is another tough category, with the likes of Owney “the Killer” Madden and Vincent “Mad Dog” Coll competing with more recent thugs such as the Westies’ Jimmy Cooney.

My vote goes to “the Gentleman Gangster,” Mickey Spillane, the West Sider who married into the fabled McManus political clan and went to war with Cooney in the late 1960s.

BOOK: New York’s greatest Irish book could be the toughest category yet, with Peter Quinn’s Banished Children of Eve doing battle with Jimmy Breslin’s Table Money and Pete Hamill’s Forever.

Then there’s National Book Award winner Colum McCann’s Let the Great World Spin and Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland. Another little book called Angela’s Ashes also had a number of Brooklyn scenes.

I’ll go with something slightly different here and pick Eugene O’Neill’s play Iceman Cometh. It is written by an Irish artist of the highest order, and depicts how the Irish fit in (or didn’t) with the rest of New York’s crazy melting pot.

ATHLETE: While the likes of Derek Jeter and Paul O’Neill can claim some Irish ancestry, this category calls for hefty Hibernian roots. It comes down to the great Yankees pitcher Whitey Ford and voluble tennis star John McEnroe.

Honorable mention goes to 19th century boxer “Old Smoke” John Morrissey who, in his spare time, was a political leader who orchestrated the death of anti-Irish leader Bill “the Butcher” Poole.

BAR: There are the old stalwarts like McSorley’s, literary dives like the old Rocky Sullivan’s, and quirky joints like Café Sine. My vote goes to the Village’s the Lion’s Head, which was not technically an Irish joint, but took to heart the old the Brendan Behan maxim that a great bar is a place “for drinkers with writing problems.”

MOVIE: This is a tough category, as there are dozens of solid movies (State of Grace, Brothers McMullen) but not many brilliant stand-outs. But when you crunch all the numbers, based simply on the big names and history and the best scenes (as opposed to some of the laughably bad ones), the best New York Irish movie could be Gangs of New York.

TV STAR: A battle of heavyweights between All in the Family’s Carroll O’Connor and The Honeymooners’ Jackie Gleason. You really can’t lose with this one, but in the end I’ll take Gleason for the sheer tenement tackiness of The Honeymooners.

UNION LEADER: Mike Quill. ‘Nuff said.

YEAR: It must have been somewhat lofty when, in 1928, a son of the Lower East Side, Al Smith, was nominated as the first Catholic presidential candidate. The Irish hadn’t come all the way, and they were going to be slapped when Smith not only lost big, but faced burning crosses and other nastiness from the KKK on the campaign trail.

Still, they had come far, and, for awhile, it must have been surreal to see Smith, with his cigar and Tammany ties and thick Noo Yawk accent, running for the highest office in the land.

Let the debate begin!