Irishwoman's diary: an audience with a president
An Irishwoman’s Diary: John F Kennedy’s surprise greeting in Limerick
John F Kennedy, accompanied by the mayor of Limerick, Frances Condell, walks towards the platform at Greenpark Racecourse, Limerick.
Mae Leonard with fellow members of Limerick Corporation staff, after President John F Kennedy had left Limerick.
It was June 1963 when the Frances Condell, Mayor of Limerick stood before us and announced, “He’s coming”.
There were stars dancing in her eyes and her cheeks were dimpled to capacity. John Fitzgerald Kennedy, president of the United States of America, had been persuaded to include Limerick on his Irish itinerary. And now there was breathless amount of work to be done. We, the staff of Limerick Corporation, were suddenly tossed into a whirlpool of activity. The running of the city had to be put aside. It was all hands on deck.
In a matter of minutes the venue for the president’s reception was chosen – Greenpark Racecourse was the only place large enough to accommodate the expected crowds. Engineers and maintenance workers were detailed to design and construct a platform worthy of this most powerful of men. The old reliable department store, Cannock’s, long gone now, was given the task of decorating that platform. The president’s Co Limerick cousins, the Fitzgeralds, had to be contacted by telephone – there was no time to post gilt-edged invitations. The city councillors’ ceremonial robes were taken out and dusted down.
The ancient, not to mention very valuable, mayoral chain was retrieved from the vault and the silver ceremonial maces had to be polished.
And then there was the gift. What do you give to a man who has everything? The mayor insisted that it had to be something synonymous with Limerick. But what?
A Limerick lace christening robe made by the nuns at the Good Shepherd Convent was the choice for the Kennedys’ expected baby. My mission was to organise packaging worthy of such a delicate gift and I was dispatched to the nuns at the Presentation Convent. In a parlour full of bees-waxed furniture, the reverend mother and three nuns constructed a white quilted box.
It was, indeed, a worthy receptacle for the delicate lace christening gown but it needed a bit of colour. “A bow?” I suggested and no sooner said than done – a lavish pink satin bow was fixed to the centre of cover.
On Saturday morning, dressed in my new tweed suit, I was back at my desk dealing with everyday Limerick Corporation inquiries. Would I get a chance to see the president? My boss shook his head, saying, “Somebody has to man the phones.”And in that vast empty building, I was deserted and on the verge of tears, when suddenly the big front door swung open. It was the city accountant.
“Not going to the ball, Cinderella?”
“No sir, the phones.”