| FUNERAL
OF COL VINCENT J-R KEHOE
22 AUGUST 2008
It was said that when Teddy Roosevelt
died, his son sent a telegram saying, “The Old Lion is No
More.” In so many ways, that describes how I feel about Col
Kehoe’s passing. The Old Lion is no more.
Col Kehoe retired from active service with the Regiment in September
1978 and a few years later the British Brigade published a booklet
entitled Jane’s Fighting Officers in which they had
tongue-in-cheek short comments of the major officers in the various
regiments. Most entries had 4 or 5 lines. The entry for Col Kehoe
was but one line. It read “Knighted and Sainted, Sept
1978. So much may be said.” It was meant to be a jab
at Kehoe, who, when he saw it commented…”How droll.”
How droll indeed. How could the Brigade have described him in 4
or 5 lines? In actuality it was right on target. “So much
may be said.”
Vincent J-R Kehoe melded his interests in theatre, arts, drama,
makeup, costuming, history and the military into a fascinating whole.
He made Boston’s Bicentennial celebration into a world class
event.
What you saw in Vincent Kehoe was what you got. If he liked you,
you knew it. And if he did not like you, you knew that too. Not
shy about giving opinions he was right upfront about sharing them.
Vin did not look to be liked or loved. But he wanted to be respected.
And that is exactly how it was.
My connections with Vincent Kehoe go back to my earliest days. We
were both born in Brooklyn, New York. After he graduated from Columbia
he began work, in the early 1950s, back in Brooklyn as a pioneer
in television makeup for CBS and NBC. He worked out of the Ave M
TV studio where the Hallmark Hall of Fame was produced live. I attended
many of the shows which were produced in that studio and our paths
undoubtedly crossed more than one time.
But it wasn’t until 1975 that we met. I became a private in
the Grenadier Company of his Tenth Regiment of Foot. My father had
passed away about one year previously and I found that Vincent Kehoe
and my dad shared many of the same traits. Both where dynamic men
and had very charismatic personalities. So Vincent became my mentor
and father figure in many ways. And that lasted for the whole time
that I knew him.
Tributes to the life of Vincent Kehoe have been pouring in this
past week. By phone, by e-mail and by our guestbook on the regimental
web site. Here are just two that are representative:
From the commanding officer of a regiment in North Carolina:
His was one of the first regiments, not a handful of guys calling
themselves a regiment, but a unit that actually looked like a regiment
on parade.
And from another reenactor:
Vin Kehoe’s impact on the Bicentennial is immeasurable.
His detailed research and driven personality brought reenacting
to a previously unknown level of professionalism. And his Tenth
Regiment of Foot was the “gold standard” by which other
British regiments measured themselves.
There are so many stories that can be told about Vincent Kehoe.
Here are two of my favorites:
We were hosting a BBC film crew at
Vincent Kehoe’s home on Old Westford Road in Chelmsford in
the summer of 1976. They were preparing a filmed story to be shown
in England later in the year when the regiment would be visiting.
Two Grenadiers were selected to be road guards, outfitted in modern
DPMs (camouflaged battle dress) and I was one of them. From time
to time we stopped traffic to permit the film crew to cross Old
Westford Road. At one point I found myself stopping a police car.
When the crew had crossed the road, the officer motioned me over
to the card. I could tell he was a high level member of the force
by his gold accoutrements. He looked me up and down and then said…”You
must be one of Vinnie’s boys.” Yes sir," I
said and then, smiling, he drove off. I’ve thought about that
moment many times, especially this past week. I was one
of Vinnie’s boys. We are all Vinnie’s boys.
One of Vinnie’s last commands before retiring took place in
Lowell. It was a Sunday, just before the primary, and we were to
parade through the city as a Guard of Honor for the current Governor
of the Commonwealth, Michael Dukakis. The Governor found himself
placed just before the Grenadier Company of the Tenth Foot. And
in front of him was a troop of mounted State Police officers. Observing
the situation, the Governor realized that marching behind a troop
of horses might not be the best place to be, so he asked the officer
commanding the troop if he could move his horses to the rear. The
officer told the Governor that he had a specific position in the
parade and could not change positions. Several minutes later Col
Kehoe asked the same officer if he could move his horse. Saluting
smartly, the trooper said, “Yes sir Colonel.”
And the troopers changed positions behind our regiment.
I conclude by quoting from an old fiend of Vincent’s who could
not be with us today. He wrote:
“I was privileged to know
Vincent for 20 years primarily as a reenactor, historian and fellow
combat veteran… I will miss his great laugh, his advice,
his love of life, his hard exterior but soft inner self.”
The trumpet’s call is silent, the flag is folded,
the troops stood down and the parade is quiet.
Rest well good soldier. The battle is over.
Captain Richard E Amsterdam
Adjutant |
