RFK Jr. and the mystery of who really wrote his A+ Harvard thesis

Did presidential hopeful Robert F. Kennedy Jr. cheat on his important Harvard senior thesis by having his roommate do some, most, or all of the work?

There are those who believe he did.

Kennedy’s roommate for all four years was Peter Kaplan, who would become one of his generation’s most distinguished journalists, including being executive editor of 1980s business magazine Manhattan, Inc., executive producer of Charlie Rose when he had a PBS show, and longtime editor-in-chief of the New York Observer, which was bought by Jared Kushner, Donald Trump’s son-in-law.

At Harvard Kaplan was a stringer for Time magazine.

In contrast Kennedy, who thought it would be fun to bring a snake with him to Harvard, apparently had no such lofty ambitions beyond getting high and chasing women.

It’s a story that began even before the Kennedy scion made it into Harvard, and which I revealed in my best-selling unauthorized biography “Robert F. Kennedy Jr. And The Dark Side Of The Dream.”

In the spring of 1972, 18-year-old Kennedy, who had been asked to leave two elite boarding schools because of his bad behavior and drug use, had finally made it to his senior year at a super-progressive school in a Boston suburb, and was about to choose a college.

There was, naturally, only one: Harvard, which he considered his “birthright,” where two generations of Kennedy forebears, including his late father, had matriculated.

But his senior classmates asserted, to their shock, that he wrote only two words on the application – “Kennedy” and “Harvard” – sent it in, and was accepted.

When a close friend heard years later what he had allegedly done, she called it, “Disgusting. It just reeks of arrogance.”

Kennedy entered Harvard in the fall of 1972, assigned to a dorm room in Harvard’s Hurlbut Hall, and paired with Kaplan, an American Studies major.

The pairing could not have been more opposite: The Catholic Kennedy, scion of the millionaire clan, was rooming with a public school-educated Jewish son of South Orange, N.J. They became fast friends, for a lifetime.

“Bobby was considered ‘Harvard’s babe magnet,’” recalled a classmate. “Bobby wasn’t getting laid a lot just because his name was Kennedy. There was a steady stream of girls through his dorm room because back then he was a gorgeous animal, and incredibly magnetic.”

To some, the brilliant, bespectacled Kaplan appeared to be Kennedy’s slave who would do anything with him, and for him, to remain in his good stead.

That went from experimenting with cocaine and marijuana – unlike Kennedy, Kaplan was never into drugs recreationally until he met Kennedy – to helping Kennedy with his classwork.

In the fall of 1975, having managed to survive three years of Harvard, Kennedy, with Kaplan at his side, began research for his senior thesis. 

The pair travelled to the Deep South in a Jeep, with Kennedy’s setter, Hogan, along for the ride. Kennedy’s goal, an idea likely pitched by Kaplan, was to write about “recent historical and political developments” in Alabama.

“Was Peter Bobby’s slave?” a close friend from the Harvard days, says. “No, not really.

“But Bobby saw Peter as a great asset academically, and whenever he could make use of his terrific mind, he certainly would, like penning all or some of Bobby’s thesis,” the friend claims.

“Peter was to Bobby what Google is to anyone today.”

They had chosen the “Heart of Dixie” state because its governor was the charismatic Democrat and staunch segregationist, George Wallace, who was wheelchair-bound as a result of being shot and paralyzed by an assassin while campaigning in 1972 for the presidency.

“Wallace looked pretty awful, sitting behind his desk in a wheelchair,” Kaplan later said. “But it was obvious that he felt a tremendous bond with Bobby.

“When Wallace was shot, [Kennedy’s mother] Ethel had gone to see him and invited him to stay at [the Kennedy home] Hickory Hill. He hadn’t done it, but he hadn’t forgotten the offer, either.”

During their tour of the South, the pair heard interesting stories about a liberal federal judge, Frank M. Johnson Jr., who oversaw civil rights cases. Kennedy decided, conferring with Kaplan, that Johnson would be the subject of his senior thesis.

Back at Harvard, the writing was completed and it was accepted by the university; Kennedy boasted that he was awarded “cum plus,” the equivalent of an A with honors.

But how much of it, if not all of it, was actually written by Kennedy was up for question.

As a close confidante of both Kennedy and Kaplan alleged: “Back then, Bobby certainly did not think of himself as much of a writer, so Peter was very helpful in getting the thesis finished.

“He felt he was helping his friend, and I think he felt flattered to be of service and considered as an intellectual and a writer, which he was. 

“Peter was exploited to some degree, but it was a two-way street. He was interested in being friends with Bobby and enjoyed the excitement and the fun and the glitter of the Kennedy family.”

Bobby appeared to clearly be following in the footsteps of his uncle, John F. Kennedy.

John F. Kennedy had also been accused of not completely writing his 1957 book “Profiles in Courage,” for which he would win a  Pulitzer Prize.

According to reports, JFK’s speechwriter and political strategist Theodore Sorensen “did a first draft of most chapters…helped choose the words of many of its sentences,” according a Wall Street Journal review of Sorensen’s 2008 memoir.

After JFK won the Pulizter Sorensen “happily accepted a sum” of money for his editorial work.

In 1977, Bobby Kennedy’s people arranged to have the manuscript sent to Phyllis Grann, the hotshot new boss at the major publishing house, Putnam.

While it needed much editing and rewriting “to make it like a commercial book,” noted Grann, “I was excited it was by a Kennedy – who wouldn’t be?”

Kennedy told The New York Times that he “changed the focus” of the thesis for the book but made no mention of Kaplan.

“I found Governor Wallace very pleasant personally. He has several admirable qualities,” he told the Times. “He is seriously concerned about states’ rights, not racism. Although I changed the focus of the thesis—which is broadly on integration in Alabama—I try to give a balanced picture of the governor.”

The reviews for the 288-page tome, “Judge Frank M. Johnson, Jr.: A Biography,” published in the summer of 1978, were scathing.

The reviewer for The New York Times declared that the book “neither adequately defines Judge Johnson’s role in modern Southern history nor captures the tangled and compelling story.” 

And Kennedy’s prestigious alma mater’s publication, The Harvard Law review, called the book “a grave disappointment…”

Kennedy gave an interview to People and blamed the failure on the fact he was a member of a “controversial political dynasty,” and that sales were low because “all the publicity gave people higher expectations of the book than what it set out to be.”

The loyal Kaplan, who died in 2013 of cancer at 59, took whatever he might have known about the research, writing and editing of Kennedy’s thesis to the grave. The Kennedy campaign did not respond to The Post’s request for comment.

A year after Kaplan’s demise, which shocked the journalism community where he was beloved and respected, a memorial service was held.

 Kennedy, one of those trading memories of Kaplan, recalled his “encyclopedic memory,” and remembered how, during their thesis adventure in the South decades earlier, they had met a Klansman in Alabama who introduced Peter to his grand wizard as, “That Jew and modified it with the adverb, ‘Real dang.’” 

Kennedy and the others in the room laughed heartily.

Jerry Oppenheimer is the author of “Robert F. Kennedy Jr. And The Dark Side Of The Dream,” published by St. Martin’s Press.