Latest news with #Chappaquiddick
The Independent
3 days ago
- The Independent
Long lost ‘Chappaquiddick' tapes found by son of reporter investigating Ted Kennedy crash
The son of the investigative journalist who literally wrote the book on Senator Ted Kennedy's Chappaquiddick car crash scandal has discovered his father's long-lost investigation audiotapes, according to a report in PEOPLE. Nick Damore, the son of investigative journalist Leo Damore, has been searching for his father's audiotapes for years. His father, Leo Damore, is the author of the 1988 blockbuster book Senatorial Privilege, which explored Kennedy's 1969 car accident in Martha's Vineyard that resulted in the death of his passenger, Mary Jo Kopechne. Kennedy waited 10 hours before alerting the police about his crash and the death of his passenger. Why he did so is still unknown. 'Leo Damore's book went on to sell more than a million copies. It took him eight years to produce the book and required more than 200 interviews, many of which were recorded on audiotapes. In 1995, Leo Damore died by suicide, and many of his documents and tapes disappeared in the aftermath. Among the Chappaquiddick tapes that disappeared were interview recordings of Joe Gargan, Kennedy's cousin, who was at a reunion party with the senator on the night Kopechne died. Nick Damore, who teaches middle school in Connecticut, was only 10 when his father died, and has spent years trying to track down his father's tapes. In 2021, he received a call from an attorney telling him that one of his father's lawyers, Harold Fields, had found a briefcase belonging to his father. 'They'd been cleaning out his house," Nick told PEOPLE, "and they found a briefcase under a bed that said 'Leo Damore vs. Ted Kennedy' and that had all the tapes.' The case contained nine bundles of tapes that included interviews with attorneys, investigators, and other figures closely associated with the case. "It's fascinating to hear Leo in his element," Nick said of his father. "It's like you're watching a master at work." The Gargan interviews are among the tapes located in the briefcase. At the time of the incident, Gargan claimed that he, attorney Paul Markham, and his cousin, Kennedy, had traveled to the bridge where Kennedy's car had gone off the road and into the water below in an attempt to rescue Kopechne. Gargan later changed his story and claimed that Kennedy had instructed him to lie about the events of the night and to claim that Kopechne was driving at the time of the crash. He said he refused to blame the woman. "They were interested in protecting the senator, there's no question about that," Gargan told Leo Damore in one of the interviews. "And they let us fend for ourselves. As well as everybody else." Most of what's contained on the tapes never made it into Leo Damore's book, so his son is doing his best to listen to all of the newly discovered audio logs and make sense of the story his father spent so many years working to tell. 'I'm just scratching the surface," Nick Damore said.
Yahoo
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Secret Chappaquiddick Tapes of Ted Kennedy's Cousin Discovered in Lost Briefcase: What They Reveal 56 Years Later (Exclusive)
The son of late investigative journalist Leo Damore spent decades looking for audiotapes that could shed light on his father's Chappaquiddick discoveries. Then an old briefcase turned upNEED TO KNOW Fifty-six years after Chappaquiddick, the son of investigative reporter Leo Damore reveals he found secret tapes about what happened that night After Leo Damore died by suicide, many of his belongings went missing, including the audiotapes of his investigation into Chappaquiddick His son, Nick Damore, tells PEOPLE how he located the tapes and what he's learning about the many mysteries surrounding his fatherFor years, Nick Damore has been searching for the audiotapes made by his father, investigative journalist Leo Damore, about what really happened at Chappaquiddick. Leo was the author of 1988 blockbuster book Senatorial Privilege, an exhaustive investigation into the events of July 18, 1969, when Ted Kennedy's car plunged into the waters off of Martha's Vineyard and his passenger, Mary Jo Kopechne, was left to die. The senator waited 10 hours to alert the authorities, a delay that — even 56 years later — remains at the center of the Chappaquiddick mystery. Leo's book, which took eight years of research and encompassed more than 200 interviews, sold more than 1 million copies. But after the author died by suicide in 1995, he left behind a mystery of his own — one that his youngest son is trying to unravel. Nick, a middle school English teacher in Connecticut, was 10 years old when his father died. Piecing together the last years of his father's life, he long wondered what happened to the audio tapes of Leo's most notable Chappaquiddick interviews, including the many conversations he had with Ted Kennedy's cousin, Joe Gargan. Tapes that went missing after Leo's death. 'I never thought I'd find the Gargan tapes,' says Nick, now 39, referring to his father's key interview subject. 'I thought they'd been thrown away or maybe somebody got there first.' But in 2021, he got a call from his estate attorney that a long-forgotten briefcase had been found at the home of one his father's lawyers, Harold Fields. 'They'd been cleaning out his house," he says, "and they found a briefcase under a bed that said 'Leo Damore vs. Ted Kennedy' and that had all the tapes.' Inside were nine bundles of tapes, wrapped in twine, that contained interviews with attorneys, investigators and other significant figures. "It's fascinating to hear Leo in his element," says Nick. "It's like you're watching a master at work." Gargan, who died in 2017, was one of 12 guests at the reunion party on the night of July 18, 1969, on Chappaquiddick Island, many of whom had worked for Bobby Kennedy's presidential campaign. Gargan, along with Ted Kennedy and attorney Paul Markham, claimed they'd gone to the Dyke bridge after the senator's car crashed that night into the water below, to try and save Mary Jo Kopechne, who was 28. But years later, Gargan told Leo that Ted had asked him to lie about what happened and say that Mary Jo was driving the car the night it went over the bridge. He refused. 'It was a huge deal for Leo to get this interview,' explains Nick. 'No one had talked.' In one exchange about Ted and the events of that evening, Gargan tells Leo: "They were interested in protecting the senator, there's no question about that. And they let us fend for ourselves. As well as everybody else." Still, there's much more to the tapes that never made it into print, says Nick, who's been painstakingly listening to them. 'It's a behind the scenes look: who knew what. It seems like Gargan was coming to terms with the idea of coming clean, and breaking with the official version.' 'When you're trying to ask about something that's uncomfortable, you're not necessarily going to be getting the full truth, which is a lot of what I've heard with the Gargan tapes,' he explains. 'A lot of tip- toeing.' As mysterious as it all remains, it's not the only puzzle his father left behind. At the time of Leo's death, he was working on a book about President John F. Kennedy's mistress Mary Pinchot Meyer, who was killed in Georgetown on October 12, 1964. The case was never solved. That manuscript, which he called Burden of Guilt, also went missing after his death. 'I'm not convinced that what happened to him [his death] is not connected to the fact he was working on such a high level story about Mary Pinchot Meyer,' reflects Nick. 'This time he was not on the outside, People knew who he was. He had clout.' As Nick told PEOPLE in 2020, "Leo was getting too close." "At one point," Nick said, "he claimed to have gotten the diary that outlined the relationship between Mary and JFK. He also thought he'd found out who had killed her." But at the same time, Leo was under immense pressure and starting to unravel. "There were lawsuits, he thought he was being followed," Nick remembers. "Part of Leo's story is that he experienced such a clear attempt to stop him from pursuing stories about the Kennedys. I think Leo kept pushing it a little bit. It consumed him." Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories. Leo's friend Jimmy Smith — a former assistant DA in Dukes County, Massachusetts, who had connected Leo with Joe Gargan — told PEOPLE in 2018 that toward the end of his life, Leo was "like a man being chased ... very much afraid" before his suicide. 'The core of what I'm doing is to find out what's true and what's not true,' says Nick, who in 2023 made a documentary about his father, For Nick, From Dad. That's how his father labeled the cassette tape he left for his son on the kitchen counter of his Connecticut apartment before he killed himself. His final message. That documentary also became the springboard for a book he's now working on. 'Knowing how long Leo was on the trail makes me feel okay about taking a long time,' he says. 'It's like Rashomon, where everybody has a different retelling of what happened.' 'My goal when I started this was to understand my father better, find out what was driving him," he explains. "I had been avoiding it my entire life. Over time, it's evolved because I want people to know who Leo was. People who interested in his story and in American history. That's one of the reasons he wanted to preserve the Gargan tapes because he viewed it as an important artifact of American political history.' Now that he's found that piece of the puzzle, he says, 'There's this idea of closure, but the problem is you open the door and it leads to a room with four more doors. It kind of makes me wonder what else is out there.' 'I'm just scratching the surface.' For more on Chappaquiddick and Leo Damore, check out . Read the original article on People Solve the daily Crossword
CBS News
07-07-2025
- CBS News
Sightseeing plane makes emergency landing on Massachusetts beach
What was supposed to be a scenic plane ride over Martha's Vineyard in Massachusetts turned into a terrifying experience for a Long Island woman and her young cousin after their small aircraft was forced to make an emergency landing on Chappaquiddick Beach. Sarah Sullivan and her 11-year-old cousin, Poppy, had just taken off for the tour when the plane's engine failed mid-flight. Engine failed mid-flight "He told us that we were going to have to crash land on the beach," said Sullivan. "So he told us to just tighten our seatbelts and brace ourselves." Sullivan said the landing went smoothly. She panicked on the way down, holding on and bracing for what she thought would be a big impact, but she said the pilot pulled it off seamlessly. "Within minutes we were on the sand," Sullivan said. "He made a really safe landing and we glided right through because the engine wasn't working, we glided right through onto the sand." Crash landing on the beach Sullivan credits the pilot's calm demeanor and quick thinking for their safe return to land. She said that he trained for this type of landing and knew exactly where to take the plane. "I'm very, very thankful. He was very calm and collected the entire time, which helped us stay a lot more calm than I was feeling internally," she said. "And right when we got down, he asked us, made sure we were OK and was kind of walking us through what was happening and what was going to happen next." Though the cousins made it out safely, the close call left a lasting impression. Sullivan said it was her first time on a plane that small, and, understandably so, she added it would probably be her last. "I didn't know how it was going to go," she said. "He said that he's never had to do that before either, he had the safety training that that was a safe spot to land and told us that he's never had to do it before. So we're very lucky. It was a terrifying experience, and Sullivan said she considers herself very lucky to have made it out without a scratch. Statement from plane company Classic Aviators, the company that runs the plane tours, said in a statement that both passengers are "safe and sound" and the pilot, Mike, and plane have since returned safely. They confirmed an "unforeseen engine issue" caused the pilot to land on the beach. "We thank Mike for doing what was needed with care, dedication and years of hard work and training," said Classic Aviators, in a statement posted on their Facebook page.
Yahoo
14-02-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Teddy's Tomb: The Kennedys Have Fallen Apart
When the late Sen. Ted Kennedy hired a bus and took his three kids and 26 nieces and nephews on family-bonding raft trips, sailing adventures and pilgrimages to places like Valley Forge and Bunker Hill, he couldn't have envisioned the scenes of recent weeks. Robert F. Kennedy Jr.'s confirmation as health secretary established him, the family gadfly, as the effective standard-bearer of the next generation. The most potent liberal dynasty of seven decades went MAGA. And it happened with a heavy dose of Trumpian fracturing and chaos and recriminations. Caroline Kennedy, the family's most poignant keeper of the flame, telling gruesome stories of her cousin Bobby gleefully placing live chickens and mice in a blender, while luring his younger siblings into drug use. Jack Schlossberg, the family's great hope, posting angry words like 'liar' and 'guru shaman figure' while his uncle testified before Congress. Five of Bobby's siblings decrying his conversion to Trumpism as 'a sad ending to a sad story.' In truth, the Camelot myth has been fraying for decades, like spidering cracks in the once-ubiquitous portraits of the martyred president on dining-room walls. Revelations of heavy drinking and 'womanizing' — not to mention Teddy's own lurid scandal at Chappaquiddick — undermined the once-robust sense of family values shared by this sprawling, touch-football-loving clan. Joe Kennedy III's defeat in Massachusetts' Senate primary in 2020 ended the perceived electoral inevitability. But now, with RFK Jr. taking his place alongside President Donald Trump, two more pillars of the Kennedy mystique have fallen: the sense of family loyalty and the integrity of the Kennedy political brand. Through tragedy and scandal, the Kennedys kept on nurturing a common political faith, expressed in a breezily distinctive style. Unlike other family dynasties, such as the Bushes, in which each generation morphed with the times, the Kennedys were a fixed point on the political map: They were wealthy and famous and handsome, but they saw the pain and vulnerability of others. Whether it was RFK Sr. knocking on doors of log cabins to draw attention to Appalachian poverty or marching with Chicano grape pickers in California; or Ted Kennedy walking through waist-deep water to fight famine in Bangladesh or demanding AIDS treatments when few would touch the issue; or Eunice Kennedy Shriver using her bustling energy to create opportunities for people with disabilities — the blending of serious, forward-thinking commitment and noblesse oblige was apparent in every gesture. Fate decreed that Ted — the last surviving brother — would be the custodian of the family brand. As everyone knew, he was an imperfect vessel, especially when compared to his sainted brothers. But his long career proved that he understood as well — or better — what it took to carry that brand into new generations. Even as his rivals portrayed him as louche and undeserving, Ted crafted landmark legislation in immigration, health care and civil rights, drawing on his family's political capital and adding to it at the same time. For five decades he drank from the Kennedy chalice: His hideaway office in the Capitol was a de facto museum of Camelot, and he watched visitors marvel at the special blessings and curses of being a Kennedy. His dual roles as patriarch of the Kennedy family and CEO of the Kennedy political operation reinforced each other. He knew that 13 of his nieces and nephews struggled without the guiding hands of their fathers. He tried to fill the void, never missing a graduation or failing to acknowledge a birthday. But when he pulled together the whole gang for trips he delighted in planning, his motive was both familial and political: He wanted the kids to be there for each other, but also to receive their mandate. They were Kennedys, and they stood for something. Fortunately for the kids, the Kennedy brand extended beyond electoral politics. So younger Kennedys who abhorred politics, or whose foibles made them unlikely to withstand the scrutiny of running for office, could nonetheless flourish in the family business. RFK Jr., with a history of drug addiction and arrests, was a prime beneficiary. His global environmental activism fit the family mold. Here was a Kennedy taking on a righteous cause that was too hot for mainstream politicians. But when he veered into anti-vaccine activism, and medical specialists expressed alarm at misinformation he was spreading, he began to tarnish the family brand. Here was a cause a little too hot, and too tainted, to fit neatly into the Kennedy paradigm. And his willingness to sail the family ship into uncharted waters revealed what many Kennedy observers had long been saying in private: since Ted's death in 2009, the Kennedy family had been pulling apart, with different members mapping different courses. Even in Ted's heyday, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis raised her two children, Caroline and John Jr., at a discreet distance from the RFK family. Whether this was an expression of the former first lady's skills at image building — preserving a special status for the two children of the late president — or simple vigilance as a mother — keeping her kids away from the drugs being used by RFK Jr. and his brothers — is a matter of perception. Whatever the motive, her exertions did indeed establish Caroline Kennedy as her father's sole heir, a role she assumed after her brother's tragic death in 1999 in a plane crash. Still, Caroline never criticized another family member — until this year. Five of RFK Jr.'s eight surviving siblings — all four of his sisters and his brother Chris — had jointly condemned his support for Trump in strong terms, but with more sorrow than anger. Other family members supported them. But Caroline's letter to senators was more personally revealing than almost anything she has said in public in her 67 years. There was real pain behind her words, and she chose to read the letter aloud — solemnly, but with an edge of anger — to establish just how manifestly unfit she believed her cousin to be. 'I have known Bobby my whole life; we grew up together,' she said. 'It's no surprise that he keeps birds of prey as pets because he himself is a predator.' Caroline's son, Jack Schlossberg, reinforced his mother's views on social media: 'LIFE AND DEATH DECISIONS by someone who cannot tell the truth,' he asserted on X while Bobby Jr. was testifying. Schlossberg, 32, seems intent on following his grandfather into politics, but those footprints have faded. Caroline's attack on RFK Jr. was shocking to Kennedy watchers, and painful to those who remember Ted's sincere efforts to hold his relatives together, but it followed her tenure as Joe Biden's ambassador to Australia. She was speaking not only as a cousin but a member of a rival team. And these days, any expectation of family loyalty in politics is a quaint notion. RFK Jr. wasn't alone among Trump Cabinet nominees in confronting revelations by close family members; Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth's mother criticized his treatment of women in a 2018 email. Trump's own niece and nephew have published deeply personal attacks on his character. It's impossible to know how Ted Kennedy, if he had lived to see it, would have responded to his nephew's shape-shifting political project. But there is no such singularly powerful voice to guide Schlossberg as he attempts to build on his grandfather's legacy of service. The young Kennedy is nothing if not forewarned, however. The mystique is over. Dignity is lost. Family ties have unraveled. And once again, the Kennedys' plight is our own.
Politico
14-02-2025
- Politics
- Politico
Teddy's Tomb: The Kennedys Have Fallen Apart
When the late Sen. Ted Kennedy hired a bus and took his three kids and 26 nieces and nephews on family-bonding raft trips, sailing adventures and pilgrimages to places like Valley Forge and Bunker Hill, he couldn't have envisioned the scenes of recent weeks. Robert F. Kennedy Jr.'s confirmation as health secretary established him, the family gadfly, as the effective standard-bearer of the next generation. The most potent liberal dynasty of seven decades went MAGA. And it happened with a heavy dose of Trumpian fracturing and chaos and recriminations. Caroline Kennedy, the family's most poignant keeper of the flame, telling gruesome stories of her cousin Bobby gleefully placing live chickens and mice in a blender, while luring his younger siblings into drug use. Jack Schlossberg, the family's great hope, posting angry words like 'liar' and 'guru shaman figure' while his uncle testified before Congress. Five of Bobby's siblings decrying his conversion to Trumpism as 'a sad ending to a sad story.' In truth, the Camelot myth has been fraying for decades, like spidering cracks in the once-ubiquitous portraits of the martyred president on dining-room walls. Revelations of heavy drinking and 'womanizing' — not to mention Teddy's own lurid scandal at Chappaquiddick — undermined the once-robust sense of family values shared by this sprawling, touch-football-loving clan. Joe Kennedy III's defeat in Massachusetts' Senate primary in 2020 ended the perceived electoral inevitability. But now, with RFK Jr. taking his place alongside President Donald Trump, two more pillars of the Kennedy mystique have fallen: the sense of family loyalty and the integrity of the Kennedy political brand. Through tragedy and scandal, the Kennedys kept on nurturing a common political faith, expressed in a breezily distinctive style. Unlike other family dynasties, such as the Bushes, in which each generation morphed with the times, the Kennedys were a fixed point on the political map: They were wealthy and famous and handsome, but they saw the pain and vulnerability of others. Whether it was RFK Sr. knocking on doors of log cabins to draw attention to Appalachian poverty or marching with Chicano grape pickers in California; or Ted Kennedy walking through waist-deep water to fight famine in Bangladesh or demanding AIDS treatments when few would touch the issue; or Eunice Kennedy Shriver using her bustling energy to create opportunities for people with disabilities — the blending of serious, forward-thinking commitment and noblesse oblige was apparent in every gesture. Fate decreed that Ted — the last surviving brother — would be the custodian of the family brand. As everyone knew, he was an imperfect vessel, especially when compared to his sainted brothers. But his long career proved that he understood as well — or better — what it took to carry that brand into new generations. Even as his rivals portrayed him as louche and undeserving, Ted crafted landmark legislation in immigration, health care and civil rights, drawing on his family's political capital and adding to it at the same time. For five decades he drank from the Kennedy chalice: His hideaway office in the Capitol was a de facto museum of Camelot, and he watched visitors marvel at the special blessings and curses of being a Kennedy. His dual roles as patriarch of the Kennedy family and CEO of the Kennedy political operation reinforced each other. He knew that 13 of his nieces and nephews struggled without the guiding hands of their fathers. He tried to fill the void, never missing a graduation or failing to acknowledge a birthday. But when he pulled together the whole gang for trips he delighted in planning, his motive was both familial and political: He wanted the kids to be there for each other, but also to receive their mandate. They were Kennedys, and they stood for something. Fortunately for the kids, the Kennedy brand extended beyond electoral politics. So younger Kennedys who abhorred politics, or whose foibles made them unlikely to withstand the scrutiny of running for office, could nonetheless flourish in the family business. RFK Jr., with a history of drug addiction and arrests, was a prime beneficiary. His global environmental activism fit the family mold. Here was a Kennedy taking on a righteous cause that was too hot for mainstream politicians. But when he veered into anti-vaccine activism, and medical specialists expressed alarm at misinformation he was spreading, he began to tarnish the family brand. Here was a cause a little too hot, and too tainted, to fit neatly into the Kennedy paradigm. And his willingness to sail the family ship into uncharted waters revealed what many Kennedy observers had long been saying in private: since Ted's death in 2009, the Kennedy family had been pulling apart, with different members mapping different courses. Even in Ted's heyday, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis raised her two children, Caroline and John Jr., at a discreet distance from the RFK family. Whether this was an expression of the former first lady's skills at image building — preserving a special status for the two children of the late president — or simple vigilance as a mother — keeping her kids away from the drugs being used by RFK Jr. and his brothers — is a matter of perception. Whatever the motive, her exertions did indeed establish Caroline Kennedy as her father's sole heir, a role she assumed after her brother's tragic death in 1999 in a plane crash. Still, Caroline never criticized another family member — until this year. Five of RFK Jr.'s eight surviving siblings — all four of his sisters and his brother Chris — had jointly condemned his support for Trump in strong terms, but with more sorrow than anger. Other family members supported them. But Caroline's letter to senators was more personally revealing than almost anything she has said in public in her 67 years. There was real pain behind her words, and she chose to read the letter aloud — solemnly, but with an edge of anger — to establish just how manifestly unfit she believed her cousin to be. 'I have known Bobby my whole life; we grew up together,' she said. 'It's no surprise that he keeps birds of prey as pets because he himself is a predator.' Caroline's son, Jack Schlossberg, reinforced his mother's views on social media: 'LIFE AND DEATH DECISIONS by someone who cannot tell the truth,' he asserted on X while Bobby Jr. was testifying. Schlossberg, 32, seems intent on following his grandfather into politics, but those footprints have faded. Caroline's attack on RFK Jr. was shocking to Kennedy watchers, and painful to those who remember Ted's sincere efforts to hold his relatives together, but it followed her tenure as Joe Biden's ambassador to Australia. She was speaking not only as a cousin but a member of a rival team. And these days, any expectation of family loyalty in politics is a quaint notion. RFK Jr. wasn't alone among Trump Cabinet nominees in confronting revelations by close family members; Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth's mother criticized his treatment of women in a 2018 email. Trump's own niece and nephew have published deeply personal attacks on his character. It's impossible to know how Ted Kennedy, if he had lived to see it, would have responded to his nephew's shape-shifting political project. But there is no such singularly powerful voice to guide Schlossberg as he attempts to build on his grandfather's legacy of service. The young Kennedy is nothing if not forewarned, however. The mystique is over. Dignity is lost. Family ties have unraveled. And once again, the Kennedys' plight is our own.
