When Jackie Kennedy
Came to Woodstown 

The Summer of 1967 

In the summer of 1967, all eyes in Waterford turned towards the quiet coastal stretch of Woodstown. It was here, rather than in the livelier resort of Dunmore East, that Jacqueline Kennedy, the world’s most famous widow at the time, chose to spend her first holiday abroad since the death of President John F. Kennedy.

Her original plan, according to local recollection, had been to stay in Dunmore East. But accommodation there was scarce in those hectic days, so she settled instead for the serenity of Woodstown. It wasn’t a bad compromise. The strand, with its ever-changing tide, offered a natural rhythm to the day: mud and cockles at low water, soft sands and glistening shallows when the tide returned.

For the people of Woodstown, the news caused a sensation. They were used to a quiet life. Dunmore might have had its fair share of important summer visitors, but Woodstown had rarely seen anyone quite like Jackie Kennedy. The question on everyone’s lips was: Where would she stay?

After much speculation, it was announced that Major Cholmeley Harrison, owner of Woodstown House, had agreed to let his home to the Kennedy party. “It is the first time I have ever let my house in the 23 years I have been here,” the Major told reporters, “and it will probably be the last.” His stately Regency-style mansion, built in 1820 and surrounded by 241 acres of woodland and lawns, stood just 40 yards from the public beach, offering an ideal retreat with privacy and fresh sea air.

Major Harrison held a press conference in the grand 40-room house to announce the arrangements. He revealed that a string of ponies would be brought down from the stables of the renowned Irish trainer Vincent O’Brien to be ridden on the strand by young Caroline and John Kennedy, as well as by the children of Mr. Murray McDonnell, a New York stockbroker who would join them.

“I have been promised a chestnut mare for Mrs. Kennedy from a friend,” he added proudly, “and Mr. O’Brien will be sending ponies for the children.” About fifteen guests in total were expected to arrive on 15 June, with the Kennedys staying for six weeks.

To make room for them all, the Major packed away his own belongings, explaining that “everything is in trunks in the stables”. He even purchased a washing machine for the occasion, as there was no local laundry service. Five bedrooms were prepared in the main house, and more beds were to be placed in adjoining quarters. “Some of the visitors may have to double up,” he joked, “and if the weather is fine, they may even sleep on the lawns.”

Inside the hall, reporters noted a small pile of mail already waiting for the famous visitor, letters from England, Sweden, Belgium, and Ireland. Mrs. Kennedy’s bedroom overlooked the main lawn and was decorated in a pink-and-cream palette, with twin divan beds and framed paintings on the walls.

The cook, Mrs. Kathleen O’Mahony from Dunmore East, was modest about her role. “I don’t know what they’ll want to eat,” she said, “but whatever they want, they’ll get.” Fresh salmon was promised for their arrival dinner.

Even the resident black bull grazing on the front lawn had to make way for the distinguished visitors. “The bull will be removed,” declared the Major, ensuring that his guests would have no unexpected encounters.

And so, for six memorable weeks in the summer of 1967, Woodstown and Dunmore East found themselves at the centre of international attention. Locals still recall the sight of ponies on the strand, the laughter of children in the dunes, and the quiet grace of a woman who carried both glamour and grief with remarkable dignity.

Jackie Kennedy came to Waterford seeking peace, and for a brief Irish summer, she found it among the sands and tides of Woodstown.

A Tremendous Irish Welcome

“I am just happy to be here in this land my husband loved so much, with his children. For them, I think it is a little bit like coming home. I think we will come back again and again.”

Those were the words of Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy as she stepped off an Aer Lingus jet at Shannon Airport on a bright June morning in 1967. Her voice, soft and husky, carried across the tarmac as she addressed the waiting press. It was a simple statement, but one that captured the emotion of her return: a widow’s journey back to the country that had so warmly embraced her late husband, President John F. Kennedy, just four years earlier.

A lush green carpet stretched across the tarmac, and beyond it a crowd of well-wishers pressed eagerly against the barriers, craning for a glimpse of the world’s most photographed woman. Caroline and John Jr. stood close to their mother’s side, two solemn, sun-kissed children, poised and polite before the waiting cameras.

Amid the flashbulbs and film cameras, Aer Lingus General Manager Michael Dargan waited at the foot of the aircraft steps. As soon as the cabin door opened, he boarded to greet the visitors personally before escorting them down to the cheering crowd below.

The newspapers of the day spared no detail of her appearance. 

Jackie wore a white A-line coat, neatly fitted and fastened with two buttons, over a matching dress that fell just above the knee, a modern look for the time. White leather gloves, flat black shoes, and a subtle tan completed her ensemble. Her children were smartly dressed too: John in a light suit with short trousers, and Caroline in a grey coat over a white dress, her hair tied with a white ribbon. Both children wore matching shoes, a detail that delighted the photographers. There was something reassuringly familiar about it, although matching shoes alone could hardly prove that footwear had been handed down from one sibling to the other.

Despite her fame, there was no special treatment on the flight itself. The Kennedys had booked their tickets through an ordinary travel agent in New York and paid the full fare. The secrecy surrounding their journey had been deliberate, an attempt to ensure privacy. But once word spread, Ireland was ready.

At Shannon, every vantage point was filled. People stood on walls, fences, and even car roofs to catch a fleeting glimpse of Mrs. Kennedy as she smiled and waved. Then, with the brief formalities over, the family boarded a C.I.E. coach bound for Waterford, where Woodstown House awaited them.

What followed was a rolling celebration across the Irish countryside. In Limerick, the streets were lined with cheering crowds, forcing the coach to crawl through the city. Outside the John F. Kennedy Memorial School, it stopped briefly so the Kennedys could wave to the children gathered in their uniforms. The young pupils beamed with pride. After all, their school bore the name of the late President, and only a year earlier, John Jr. had been sent a blazer embroidered with the school crest, making him an honorary pupil.

From Limerick, the entourage travelled on to Cashel, where they paused for lunch before continuing towards Waterford. All along the route, the same warm Irish welcome greeted them, with people waving flags, leaning out of car windows, or standing outside their homes with cameras in hand.

There was, however, one note of disappointment. A member of the accompanying Murray-McDonnell family, the New York friends joining the Kennedys for their stay at Woodstown, had suffered a skiing injury and was unable to travel. Their absence did little to dampen the excitement surrounding the visit.

At Shannon, among the first to welcome Mrs. Kennedy had been Pat Collins, a young ground hostess from Douglas, County Cork. For her, as for so many that day, the moment was unforgettable: a meeting with a woman whose life had become part of history.

As the Kennedys’ coach travelled along the winding roads towards Waterford, Ireland once again opened its heart, this time to the woman who carried the late President’s memory with her.

A Quiet Holiday by the Sea

WWhen Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy and her children finally reached Waterford, the welcome that awaited them was warm but dignified. The people of the city, well aware of her wish for “a quiet holiday”, showed remarkable restraint. There was gentle applause as the motorcade passed along the Quay, but no cheering or crush of crowds.

An elderly woman standing by Reginald’s Tower spoke for many when she said softly, “We want to show Mrs. Kennedy that she is welcome here, and beyond that, we don’t want to interfere.” It was an Irish welcome, understated yet sincere, full of respect for a guest whose public life had been touched by both glamour and grief.

From the city, the Kennedys travelled on to Woodstown House, their summer residence amid the green acres and fresh sea air of the Waterford coast. For several weeks, the great Regency mansion became a place of laughter, horses, and sunshine, though the holiday was not without its moments of peril.

One afternoon, while swimming off a beach near the house, Mrs. Kennedy was caught in a strong current that swept her dangerously far from shore. Later, she described the incident in a letter to the Secret Service:

“In mid-channel I found myself in a terrible current. I could not make the land opposite and the sea was so cold you could not hold your fingers together… I was becoming exhausted, swallowing water and slipping past the spit of land when I felt what I thought was a great porpoise at my side. It was Mr. Walsh.”

Agent John Walsh, a member of her Secret Service detail, had reached her just in time. Shoulder to shoulder, they fought their way back to the strand. “Then,” she wrote, “I sat on the beach coughing up seawater for half an hour while he found a poor itinerant and borrowed a blanket for me.”

Walsh’s bravery did not go unnoticed. Jackie later recommended him for an honour in recognition of his actions. It was not the first time he had saved a member of the Kennedy family; years earlier, he had pulled young John Jr. from a fire.

Despite the drama, life at Woodstown soon settled back into its familiar rhythm. Each morning, international photographers stationed at the gates tried to catch glimpses of Mrs. Kennedy and her children riding along the strand. The children rode the ponies sent down from Vincent O’Brien’s famous stables, while Jackie favoured the chestnut mare promised to her by a friend before her arrival.

Among the visitors to Woodstown that summer was Lord Harlech, the British diplomat and close friend of the Kennedy family. The Irish Times would later suggest that his bond with Jackie deepened during those weeks by the coast.

YJackie’s stay was not confined to the quiet of Woodstown. On 30 June, she travelled to Dublin, where she met President Éamon de Valera at Áras an Uachtaráin, a visit marked by symbolism and mutual respect. The following evening, she attended a state dinner held in her honour at Dublin Castle.

Days later, she was a distinguished guest at the Irish Sweeps Derby at the Curragh, her presence causing a sensation among racegoers and photographers alike. Whether she won anything or not remains a state secret.

On Sunday, 18 June 1967, Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy and her children attended Mass at Crooke Parish Church, which was then 100 years old. The small church, overlooking the Waterford Harbour estuary, had rarely seen such anticipation. Mrs. Kennedy arrived seven minutes before Mass began and was welcomed by the Rev. William Phelan, C.C.

Fr. Phelan accompanied her into the church, along with Mrs. Murray-McDonnell and five of Mrs. Murray-McDonnell’s children. The visitors occupied the front pew nearest the altar and received Holy Communion during Mass.

Half an hour before Mrs. Kennedy’s arrival, Special Branch detectives had discreetly searched the church, explaining that it was “in case we might find anything”. During Mass, detectives and U.S. Secret Service agents mingled unobtrusively with the 500 local parishioners. Some of the detectives carried walkie-talkies inside the church.

The 33-minute Mass included a sermon by Fr. Phelan on forthcoming changes arising from the Second Vatican Council, due to take effect on 29 June. About 30 press photographers were permitted to photograph Mrs. Kennedy and her children in the church grounds but were asked not to enter the church itself.

Packed to Capacity

Ten yards from the main church door, Fr. Phelan greeted Mrs. Kennedy with the simple words, “I welcome you.” She replied softly, “Thank you.”

The church was packed to capacity. Dozens of local people who had already attended the earlier 9.30 a.m. Mass returned for the 11 o’clock service in the hope of catching a glimpse of the famous visitor.

As Mrs. Kennedy walked down the centre aisle after Mass, she smiled and shook hands with parishioners. Her car was parked 100 yards away, and she continued to greet the crowd as she walked towards it. Around a hundred local fishermen from nearby Passage East had gathered by the church gates. She smiled and waved to them before stepping into her car to return to Woodstown House.

On the afternoon of the same Sunday that she attended Mass in Crooke, Mrs. Kennedy, her children, and their party went for a cruise aboard the Dunmore East-based trawler Misty Mornin’. The vessel was owned by local fisherman John Roche, who was unable to join them that day because of illness. Mick Whittle skippered the trawler, with Davy Hutchinson among the crew.

A member of the Munster Express staff who witnessed the party’s arrival reported to the editorial department the following morning:

At about 12.20 p.m. I sensed that something was about to happen. We saw Mr. Don O’Neill-Flanagan and his party. That was not unusual in Dunmore East, because they are particular frequenters of this seaside resort. But knowing that Mr. Flanagan had much to do with the Kennedys’ visit to Ireland, and it being such an odd hour for him to be here, it set one thinking.

Along comes Capt. Des Carroll, all decked up in his best, complete with reefer jacket, brass buttons that shone, a peaked cap that glistened, and armed with his usual binoculars. It looked like something was going to happen.

A Blunt Answer

Bursting with curiosity, I approached the captain and, in answer to my question, I got a blunt reply. The answer was: ‘The Kennedys and friends are coming, they’ll be here any minute.’ I looked around, hoping no one had heard that thunderbolt. But they hadn’t.

After a short while, cars began to swirl up the dust of a very dry dock, and among them was the world’s best-loved lady. Slowly, the small crowd converged on the quay, and Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy, her children, and guests mingled easily with the lucky few who happened to be there at that hour. The children roamed a little, but were at all times under the watchful eye of their mother and the guardians who accompanied them.

John-John was the cynosure of all eyes, but merely looked around him, quietly taking everything in. What seemed most precious to him was the camera he tightly clutched. Mrs. Kennedy, dressed in slacks and a polo-neck sweater, appeared more relaxed here than she had been seen anywhere else. Charm oozed from her, and I think she was most pleased that people did not rush to shake her hand or mob her. They treated her, as she wished, as an ordinary person rather than as a celebrity.

On Board the Misty Mornin’

Once the visitors were aboard and ready to sail, Capt. Des Carroll slipped the mooring ropes, and the Misty Mornin’ headed out of the harbour under the command of skipper Mick Whittle.

During the outing, the crew demonstrated how the trawler’s nets were shot and hauled. The vessel also crossed paths with fishing boats taking part in the R.N.L.I. competition sponsored by the Dunmore East Sea Angling Club.

The cruise took the visitors past the harbour mouth towards Hook Head, where the lighthouse stood at the edge of County Wexford. Along the way, they enjoyed views of Creadan Head, Woodstown Strand, and the coastline surrounding the estuary.

For Mrs. Kennedy and her children, the afternoon offered a chance to enjoy the sea air and watch a working fishing crew at close quarters. Back in Dunmore East, however, their quiet departure had attracted attention, and a very different scene awaited their return.

Return to Dunmore

As word spread that the Kennedys were in Dunmore East, thousands flocked to the harbour by every means of transport. When the Misty Mornin’ docked at about 6.45 p.m., cheers filled the air.

Security men struggled to hold back the crowds of admirers, but eventually a path was cleared. Amid cheers and applause, Mrs. Kennedy, her children, and their guests made their way to the waiting cars.

Mrs. Kennedy appeared relaxed after her afternoon at sea. The warmth of the welcome reflected the affection local people still held for her late husband, an affection they now extended to her and her children. As one local observer put it, she was “among the true Irish, the trusted Irish”.

High Diving at Portally Cove

One day during her visit, Jackie Kennedy decided she would like to explore some of the coves around Dunmore East. After making local enquiries, her party chose Portally Cove, about a mile from the village.

Maureen Derbyshire, the great-grandniece of Dunmore man Paddy Billy Power, was just 17 at the time of the Kennedy visit. She recalls the excitement of that extraordinary day and remembers Mrs. Kennedy’s protection detail travelling in huge limousines. One of them nearly knocked her down outside her grandmother’s house on the road leading to Portally Cove.

“I then went down for a swim and saw Jackie dive elegantly from the high rocks. When I was leaving the cove, they were leaving too, and I seemed to accompany her and her children back up the lane. Caroline had dropped her cardigan on the walk back from the cove, so I ran after them to return it.

“I also remember the Secret Service men with binoculars stationed on the Portally cliffs. And I remember Mrs. Kennedy stopping to chat with Mick Dee from Portally. They even shook hands. Strange the things you remember.”

It remains one of those rare moments when global history brushed quietly past everyday life in Dunmore East, leaving memories that still feel vivid decades later.

The Dunganstown Visit

Another memorable day was spent visiting her husband’s relatives in Dunganstown, County Wexford, the ancestral home of the Kennedy family. The visit held a quiet significance for Mrs. Kennedy, bringing her and her children to the place where their family’s American story had begun.

The small farmhouse, surrounded by hedgerows and meadows, was far removed from the grand settings she was accustomed to, but it had a charm of its own. Jackie and her children were welcomed at the door by Mary Ryan, the late President’s cousin, whose family had long maintained contact with their American relatives. Inside, the sitting room was simple and homely, with lace curtains and framed family photographs.

Gathered there that day were Mary Ryan and her relatives: Maeve Rowe; Josie Grennan, Mrs. Ryan’s granddaughter; Mrs. John Fenlon; James Kennedy, Mrs. Ryan’s brother; Margaret Kirwan, Mrs. Ryan’s sister; and Miss Mary Ryan, Mrs. Ryan’s daughter. It was an intimate gathering, without ceremony, bringing together a family separated by oceans and generations.

They sat together over tea as conversation found its easy rhythm. Caroline and John Jr. listened as stories were shared of old times in Dunganstown, relatives who had emigrated, and the enduring connection between the Wexford Kennedys and their American kin. The children were offered Marietta biscuits spread with butter, a simple treat that added to the homely welcome.

Jackie was gracious and attentive, asking questions and smiling often. For the relatives gathered around her, the visit continued the family connection celebrated by President Kennedy’s own visit four years earlier.

As the visit drew to a close, Mrs. Kennedy thanked her hosts warmly, promising to write and send photographs from America. When she and the children stepped outside, the family stood at the doorway to wave them off. It was a simple, sincere moment of kinship that bridged continents.

The Glass Factory

One morning, Caroline and John Jr., along with Mrs. Murray-McDonnell and her children, toured the Waterford Glass Factory, accompanied by their guides and security officers.

A factory spokesman described the visit:

“They stayed for about an hour and were shown through the factory. I must say, and mind you some of the children that come in here are little monsters, that I have never seen better-behaved children. Little John-John had a camera, he seemed to be very camera-conscious, and he took a lot of photographs of the blowers. Imagine, at six years of age.”

Before leaving, Caroline and John Jr. were each presented with a Waterford Glass goblet bearing their name and engraved with the Kennedy crest.

Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy did not visit the factory. However, she placed a special order for several chandeliers to be installed in the new Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. The commission created a lasting connection between Waterford craftsmanship and the cultural centre named in her late husband’s honour. A little light from Waterford would shine in his memory.

Dunhill Community Hall

Not all her cultural visits involved grand settings. On another evening, Mrs. Kennedy travelled inland to the small village of Dunhill, where a local amateur drama group was performing Seán O’Casey’s The Plough and the Stars in the community hall. News of her attendance spread quickly, and for the cast, it felt as though Hollywood itself had arrived in their midst.

The play went ahead as usual, though the performers later admitted that nerves were running high. Mrs. Kennedy watched attentively and joined warmly in the applause at the curtain call.

“It was very good of her to come all the way from America to see our play,” one actor later remarked.

For the Dunhill Players, her appreciation was worth more than any review. It was a night they would talk about for years, when Jackie Kennedy sat among them and made their small stage feel like the Abbey Theatre itself.

The Trip to Rome

On Monday, 10 July 1967, the Evening Echo reported that an Aer Lingus flight from Dublin to Rome had been delayed for more than half an hour because of one very special passenger. Twenty-eight travellers bound for Zurich and Rome were kept waiting at Dublin Airport following the late arrival of Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy.

She had been booked on a scheduled Aer Lingus flight operated by a BAC One-Eleven jet. However, once the other passengers were seated and the aircraft was ready to depart, there was still no sign of her. Airline officials explained the delay and offered refreshments while the passengers waited.

More than thirty minutes later, Mrs. Kennedy’s car, escorted by Special Branch officers, arrived at the airport’s VIP lounge. She was then ushered aboard the aircraft.

An airline spokesman later confirmed that “no complaints” had been received from the other passengers about the delay.

Mrs. Kennedy was believed to be travelling to Rome with a small group of friends, intending to pay a private visit to the Pope before he left for his summer residence at Castel Gandolfo.

Meanwhile, Caroline and John Jr. remained at Woodstown in the care of their attendants. For a little longer, they continued to enjoy the sea air and familiar faces that had made their Irish holiday so memorable.

The family returned to New York in mid-July 1967, bringing to an end an Irish holiday that had captured imaginations on both sides of the Atlantic. On arriving home, Mrs. Kennedy told a reporter how much she had enjoyed her time in Ireland, particularly the quiet beaches, the friendly people, and the opportunity to show her children the country their father had loved.

She spoke fondly of their days in Waterford, recalling with amusement that Caroline and John Jr. had been a little afraid of the spirited Irish horses. “They’re used to riding their pet donkeys at home,” she laughed. Then she added, with the wit that endeared her to so many, “Next time I come to Ireland, I’ll be sure to bring my own asses.”

It was a light-hearted remark, offering a glimpse of a woman who, after years of public sorrow and scrutiny, had found moments of peace and laughter in Ireland. Though her life would take many more extraordinary turns, the people of Waterford, Dunmore East, and Woodstown would long remember that summer of Jackie, Caroline, and John Jr. by the sea.

There was no return visit with her own donkeys. The following year brought a different chapter: on 20 October 1968, Jacqueline Kennedy married Aristotle Onassis on his private Greek island of Skorpios.