For more than sixty years, the Kennedy name was political gold. It conjured youth, glamour, idealism, sacrifice, and possibility. It was Camelot.
Today, the spell appears broken.
A recent headline summed up the mood: “JFK’s grandson just lost. Good riddance to Camelot.” Whether that’s too harsh is open to debate, but there’s no question the once strong Kennedy mystique isn’t what it once was.
It’s hard to communicate to young people the feeling of that era. What made the legend?
There was John F. Kennedy, war hero, senator and the first Greatest Generation member to be elected president, not to mention the youngest. He looked like someone out of central casting, was brilliant, tough and the first real TV savvy presidential star. His televised press conferences became events known for his sharp wit and great chemistry with the press.
His beautiful wife, Jacqueline, wowed the world with her grace, love of the arts, restoration of the White House and her now-destroyed Rose Garden. She further solidified her image when she conducted first televised tour of the White House on CBS and NBC on Valentine’s Day, February 14, 1962.
The Kennedy era felt like a time of elegance, generational change and the celebration of community service and caring. In his Bostonian accent, Kennedy often talked about the need for “vigah,” — vigor — in order to promote a sense of youthful energy and physical fitness.
And then came the tragedy in Dallas. The mythology about Camelot grew after the assassinations of JFK and his brother, Robert F. Kennedy.
The political dynasty’s image began eroding. It didn’t happen overnight. It happened in stages.
Ted Kennedy remained a major force in the senate and become one of the country’s most influential legislators. Yet the Chappaquiddick incident effectively ended any realistic chance he’d become president.
Joe Kennedy III, once viewed as perhaps the family’s next political star, lost a senate primary in 2020 — a stunning outcome for someone carrying the Kennedy name and an indication the family name was not what it used to be. Other Kennedys sought office but also found that being a Kennedy didn’t mean an extra advantage.
Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. proved he is no Robert Kennedy. He has a long history of vaccine skepticism and repeatedly clashes with mainstream medical and scientific organizations. He embraces controversial public health positions and conspiracy theories. Other Kennedys have publicly distanced themselves from his political and health policy positions. Some even denounced him.
Most recently, Jack Schlossberg, Caroline Kennedy’s son and the only grandson of former President John F. Kennedy and Jackie Kennedy Onassis, came in third in the Democratic primary for a House seat in New York’s 12th Congressional District, winning roughly 11% of the vote in a crowded race.
Schlossberg appeared intelligent, earnest and personable, but he also cultivated an often bizarre, meme-driven social media that struck some observers as more influencer than future statesman. His shirtless videos and unconventional online posts seem indicative of how some Kennedy heirs often seem far removed from the carefully-crafted dignity once associated with Camelot.
The Kennedy story isn’t unique. Political dynasties rarely last forever. The Bush family once seemed destined to dominate Republican politics. The Roosevelt name once carried enormous weight. Entertainment dynasties — from the Barrymores to other famous Hollywood families — have often seen later generations struggle to match the accomplishments of their predecessors.
Once upon a time, being a Kennedy was almost a political credential in itself. Today it’s just another famous name. The Kennedy story has always been a paradox: extraordinary public service, extraordinary personal tragedy, extraordinary privilege and extraordinary scandal. These contradictions helped build the legend, and eventually helped diminish it.
Americans will always remember the stirring speeches, the optimism, the call to public service, and the promise of a new generation. But history eventually asks every dynasty the same question: What have you done for me lately?
Camelot isn’t dead. But Camelot is a lot less.
Copyright 2026 Joe Gandelman, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.
Joe Gandelman is a former fulltime journalist who freelanced in India, Spain, Bangladesh and Cypress writing for publications such as the Christian Science Monitor and Newsweek. He also did radio reports from Madrid for NPR’s All Things Considered. He has worked on two U.S. newspapers and quit the news biz in 1990 to go into entertainment. He also has written for The Week and several online publications, writes a column for Cagle Cartoons Syndicate and has appeared on CNN.