Word association: King Arthur. John F. It seems like a natural string of words and phrases now, half a century after JFK was killed in Dallas. For one brief shining moment, our memories tell us, it was real: the charismatic young president with his White House full of brilliant, idealistic associates, spreading hope and enlightenment across the political landscape, making the world a better, safer place. His coterie of Harvard-wisened advisers and his star-studded White House gatherings of artists, scholars and opinion-makers conjured visions of a Camelotian court of honor.
But no one suggested such a thing until a week after the assassination when Jacqueline Kennedy asked journalist-historian Theodore H. White to interview her and write an article for Life magazine — an article that was published in December and forever linked the Kennedy presidency with Camelot. Jackie insisted that White make the Camelot reference the focal point of his article, hoping that associating Kennedy with the mythical monarch who brought peace, chivalry and nobility to his kingdom would persuade the public to remember the slain president as a rare and heroic leader whose contributions to history would never be duplicated.
More than a leader, Kennedy was a symbol. He embodied not what was but what could be. For that, we can be both grateful and resentful. He spoke of a New Frontier, never defining what it was but making us believe it was a worthy destination. But the uplifting rhetoric and mythical imagery, with little substantive achievement to support them, had a downside. The mythology made us susceptible to the lure of a false prophet, a would-be savior who might promise deliverance but deliver only words.
JFK primed us to judge our leaders not by how they make us think but how they make us feel. That can be a dangerous standard; it can make us prey for charlatans and demagogues. Kennedy on the 50th anniversary of his too-soon and too-tragic death, to let go of the dream. King Arthur and his knights are supposed to be pure-hearted, chivalrous, and endlessly courageous.
In the same way, the Kennedy administration is sometimes remembered as a period of optimism, expanding opportunities, and humanitarian goals. JFK has been lionized as a civil rights hero; he is also remembered for his dream of exploring outer space. Jackie Kennedy, the widow of John F. Kennedy, was the first to refer to the JFK administration as Camelot. Jackie deliberately brought up Camelot during the interview, and even quoted from a popular musical of the day.
By the time Thomas Malory wrote his version of the Arthurian myth in the midth century, Arthur had shriveled from heroic warrior and inspirational ruler to a cipher defined by the acts of others around him. Malory's stories were about events during Arthur's life, but the collection is called Le Morte d'Arthur, which needs no translation. His Arthur is enamored with his ideals, which fail in the face of other people's lust for either power or each other.
This was the book that served as the basis for the musical that Jackie Kennedy was referencing. But the conflation of Camelot and the Kennedys persists, and not only does it not really suit, it also does a disservice to the real understanding and assessment of the Kennedy Administration.
It's natural to adulate and lionize a vibrant leader violently cut down, but it's the thin end of the wedge. Once a mythology has taken hold, it becomes difficult to isolate the true history — even if it's actually more compelling and fascinating than the lore.
Mythology is common to nations' stories of self, but America, perhaps by virtue of the recentness of its founding, is particularly prone to it, continually intertwining myth with the current body politic. It's still difficult for history students to sift out the truth of the founding fathers because the mythology is so pernicious, creating an inaccurate view of both history and modern government. For years, "Camelot" as a memento mori was a lens that made viewing the life and times of Kennedy and the nation more difficult and less satisfying, except for those who love fairy tales.
Whatever the intention or interpretation, a wistful lyric from a mediocre musical about failed idealism doesn't do justice to Kennedy and his time. He, and we, deserve better. This article is more than 7 years old.
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