Surrounded by his children, Kenney takes the oath

There was no First Lady by his side. Son and daughter held the Bible on which Jim Kenney took the oath of office Monday. But there was no shortage of family inside the symphony hall where the son of South Philadelphia became Philadelphia's 99th mayor.

Kenney's father, James, a retired firefighter; his mother, Barbara; and two brothers watched from an Academy of Music balcony as the blue-collar kid became chief executive of the nation's fifth-largest city.

His children, Nora, 21, and Brendan, 26, stood on either side as Kenney took the oath. The new mayor is separated from their mother.

Pennsylvania Supreme Court Justice-elect Kevin Dougherty administered the oath to the former paperboy he used to hang with at the playground in South Philly. Power broker (and brother) John "Johnny Doc" Dougherty watched them both from a seat not far from the lectern - the boys and Jimmy, all now men on the big stage, two generations later.

"I can't tell you how humbled and what an honor it is to be standing in this wonderful room with all these people that I have known my whole life and worked with, to have been sworn in with my children holding the Bible," Kenney told those who packed the 1857 opera house on South Broad Street.

In an inaugural speech as notable for its brevity as for the new mayor's rapid-fire delivery, Kenney, 57, opened his remarks with sentimental reflections that hearkened back to his roots.

It was notable that Kenney, markedly private about his relatives, spoke about family on this momentous day, before then discussing the nitty gritty of public policy to improve this city of his.

Without his family to guide and steer him toward a life of service, Kenney explained, there would be no path to public service. And yet, he had learned how public service can take a personal toll on those you love.

Kenney said his father put in long hours at the firehouse while his mom raised all four kids while working on the side.

"He worked for all of Philadelphia's families," Kenney said of his father. "And that meant that, sometimes, he was even going to be required to put other families' before our own.

"When you're a child, that kind of sacrifice seems normal. It's your reality," Kenney continued. "But looking back, I see how extraordinary the sacrifice was that both my parents made."

The longtime city councilman's affection for family worked its way into his campaign a year ago. The room in which Kenney held his first media session was chosen with great care, one of many inside the heart of city government at Broad and Market Streets.

"The first time I was ever in City Hall was when my mother took me to that very room to see my father promoted in the Fire Department," Kenney said.

Despite a quarter-century on Council, Kenney has said little publicly about his home life. Would he ever run for mayor, he was asked in 2001? It depends, he answered, "how my kids are doing."

Announcing his run for mayor, he told reporters, point-blank, that he and his wife, Maureen, were separated. Apart for six years, according to his chief spokeswoman, Lauren Hitt.

Throughout his campaign, Kenney's children were kept from public view. They were not a part of his run, in part because strategists deemed it unnecessary. But also because he views protection of their privacy to be paramount.

"We find it to be personal and private, and has no bearing on his ability to govern," Hitt said.

That extends to other family members, too. In the days before Monday's swearing-in, Kenney blocked interviews with members of his family for a story about his modest upbringing.

They did not seek the spotlight for themselves, and therefore, Kenney insists, they should be spared.

Longtime friend and former Councilman Frank DiCicco said Kenney has long talked openly about his admiration for his father. But he has been more guarded about other aspects of his family life.

How had Kenney managed to balance his own public life with family? DiCicco, 69, answered that by offering thoughts on his own experience in office.

"It's very difficult," said DiCicco, another South Philadelphia native whose friendship with Kenney goes back three decades. "Everywhere you go, people are pulling on you. You're trying to be the father, the responsible parent, but you're always being pulled.

"Your nights are not your nights. They're everybody else's nights. It is a strain on the family."

DiCicco gave Kenney credit for coming through the marital separation with an enduring attachment and commitment to his children.

"First and foremost," DiCicco said, "he is a father."

John Dougherty, leader of the politically powerful International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers Local 98, grew up "about a hundred yards" from Kenney, the mayor said from the lectern. Their mothers were very close friends.

Dougherty marveled at how far his pal had come.

"It's amazing," Dougherty said after the inauguration. "The kid went from being a neighborhood paperboy and hanging in the neighborhood recreation center 7/24's, to now being a role model for other kids to ascend to being a mayor. It's a true American dream."

mpanaritis@phillynews.com

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