I<br > A POLITICAL APPRENTICESttlP<br >M~" l~，aImms~ M*CMOmES are political. In 1924， when I was<br >seven， my falber aitended the Democratic National Conven-<br >tiol~， and 1 can remember him returning home with a sonvenir<br >hat .~;haped like a teapot-a jibe at ehe t/(:publican Teapot<br >I)，m~e seandab;. I remember rny father taking me up to shake<br >hands with A1 Smith dining the 1918 presidential c~mpaig~<br >and with Franklin D. t/oosevek four vears later. I remember<br >evenin<s when I wonld walk with my father throngh working-<br >class neighborhoods in our home town of Springtieid， Ma:，，~;a-<br >chusetts， as he was gettin~ names on .nominating petitions or<br >urgiv.g people to rt%ister and vote. On one such evening， as we<br >walked alowg together， rny father told me something I never<br >forgol， "The votes m e there， Lawrence， if we can only get<br >them out."<br > Ills ，，rune was also Lawrence Fr~meis O Brien. He was born<br >in County Cork， Ireland， and came to this countW at the turn<br >of the century， lie first settled in upstate New York where he<br >worked as a machine operator in a factory; later he crossed<br >over into Ma:;sachusetts and foxmd a job tooling rifles at the<br >armory in Spring~eld. There he met and married my mother，<br >Myra Sweeney， a handsome， intelligent womarJ with a marvel-<br >ous personality. She， too， was from Cormty Cork， one of ten<br >children who had emigrated from Ireland to America.<br > By 19t4 my father had ~aved enough money to lease the<br >