One of the Boys

The boys at the Horseshoe Tavern in Boston's proud but impoverished Charlestown district can hardly get over it. Every time they pick up their newspaper--or so it seems--there is their own Dave Powers, sitting as big as life next to the President of the U.S. David Francis Powers, the boy from Charlestown, is officially listed as a White House staff assistant--but that is only half the story. In the informal, easygoing atmosphere of the Kennedy Administration, the elfish, ebullient Powers, 49, plays a unique role as John Kennedy's constant companion, morale builder, tension lifter and joke teller. One reason for his value is that even amid the glitter of the nation's capital, he still remains a son of Charlestown. Says Dave casually: "It's the best White House I've ever worked in."

Powers is the White House receptionist, with the serious duty of getting visitors to the President on time and in good humor. From his private office in the White House's East Wing or from the big reception desk in the West Wing, Dave may sally forth to relax the President with a political story or a new joke (Kennedy sometimes complains that there are not enough new ones) or conduct a White House tour for VIPs. He frequently dines with the President, has accompanied him overseas, swims with him almost daily in the White House swimming pool, where, says Dave, "all you've got to do is keep your head above water so you can talk." Says a White House aide: "When you see Dave with the President, you know the President has forgotten business and is relaxing."

Skinny Candidate. Powers was an unemployed Air Force veteran living with his sister back in 1946 when a young man appeared at the door of their Charlestown three-decker and said: "My name is John Kennedy. I'm going to be a candidate for Congress, and I'd like to have you with me." The meeting turned into friendship, and Powers, who was said to know almost everyone in Charlestown by his first name, soon was leading Kennedy up and down the back steps of the neighborhood's countless three-deckers, popping into kitchens where neighbors pledged their vote and solicitously insisted on feeding the skinny young candidate. Kennedy won, and has never forgotten Dave's help. In every Kennedy campaign since 1952, Powers has taken leave from his job with the Massachusetts state housing board to give a helping hand, traveled 72,657 miles during the 1960 campaign.

Powers is neither buffoon nor court jester but a shrewd and amiable Irishman who knows the President's moods and specializes in the topics of the day with a dry wit and sometimes sharp thrust. Universally liked around the White House, he carefully addresses Kennedy as "Mr. President," just as carefully avoids horning in on any serious matters of state. His invariable greeting for even the stuffiest White House visitor is "Hi, pal." As he rode through the streets of Paris in a motorcade after meeting Charles de Gaulle, Powers waved to the crowd and shouted: "Comment alley-voos, pal?"

"You Too, Prince." One of Powers' great attractions for Baseball Fan John Kennedy is his encyclopedic memory for baseball statistics. Last week Powers accompanied Kennedy to the All-Star game, was readily identifiable in the pictures that showed a foul ball landing near the presidential box. Reporting a game some months ago, a newspaper erroneously said that Powers had ducked a foul. The gang at the Horseshoe Tavern indignantly formed a "We Know Dave Powers Didn't Flinch Club," signed up 200 members.

Though Dave frequently meets the high and mighty in his post, he is pretty casual about it all. He describes the Shah of Iran as "my kind of shah," charmed Britain's Prime Minister Macmillan by presenting him to Kennedy as "the greatest name in Britain." Meeting Grace Kelly and Rainier on the White House steps, Powers was so taken by Grace's beauty that he said. "Welcome to the White House, Princess," then turned away before remembering that her husband was there too. He wheeled around and added: "And you too, Prince." When he met Nikita Khrushchev in Vienna, Powers had a problem: "I had to remind myself not to smile," he says. "That's pretty hard when you are used to smiling."

A devoted husband and father of three, Powers expects to go back to his state job in Boston--and to the Horseshoe Tavern --when John Kennedy finishes his latest grand adventure. Meanwhile, he is refreshingly modest about his moments of glory. "Anybody could do what I do," he says. "I'm just lucky that the President likes the way I do it."

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