Jackie, Ethel, Joan: Women of Camelot (64 page)

As the breath whooshed out of her, a chill ran down Joan’s spine. “Oh, no, Ted. What now?”

It was then that Joan heard the words that would forever change her life: “A girl drowned, Joansie. And there was nothing I could do. I swear it.”

By the end of the sixties the smoke was just settling over cities that had been burned during the civil rights unrest. The country still had not recovered from the deaths of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., and a linger- ing sense of hopelessness stemming from Jack’s assassina- tion five years earlier was still felt by many. With the war in Vietnam continuing as an explosive, divisive factor, it could be said that Americans had not had a chance to catch

their breaths in a decade that had been chaotic, emotional, and troubling.

On Friday, July 18, 1969, as the Apollo 11 crew ap- proached the moon in fulfillment of a goal set by Jack in 1960, Ted was en route to Boston to attend a weekend party with some male friends and six single young women who were fondly referred to by friends and family as “The Boiler Room Girls” (an appellation given them because of the countless hours they had put in for Bobby’s 1968 presiden- tial campaign.) This party—attended by five men, all mar- ried—was held in a cottage that had been rented by Kennedy cousin Joe Gargan on Chappaquiddick Island, just off Martha’s Vineyard.

A bit after eleven o’clock, as the festivities wound down, Ted emerged from the seaside cottage with blonde, blue- eyed Mary Jo Kopechne. At twenty-eight, Mary Jo had earned herself a degree in business and a treasured job on Robert Kennedy’s presidential campaign. Ted then asked his chauffeur, John “Jack” Crimmins, for the keys to his black 1967 Oldsmobile, and the two motored off into the night.

Ted would later explain that he was giving Mary Jo a ride to the ferry, which would be headed back to Edgartown, where Mary Jo was staying. Tragedy occurred, though, when, according to his own account, he took a wrong turn onto a dirt road that led to an unlit, narrow wooden bridge. His car plunged off the bridge, landing upside down in the cold, dirty water. While Kennedy managed somehow to es- cape, Mary Jo did not. Later Ted would claim that he had alerted Joe Gargan and friend Paul Markham to the accident, and the two dove repeatedly into the water in an effort to save Mary Jo.

After two teenage boys discovered the car on an early-

Chappaquiddick
527

morning fishing trip, police were summoned, and the young woman’s body—her identity a mystery—was eventually pulled from the murky water. It would be ten hours before Ted would contact the police and explain that the body was Mary Jo’s. No matter how one looked at it, everything about Mary Jo Kopechne’s death seemed to point to Ted’s lack of integrity and responsibility, or maybe worse.

Saturday, July 19, 1969, was three days before Rose Kennedy’s seventy-ninth birthday. Still healthy and active, that morning she planned to attend a charity bazaar at her church, St. Francis Xavier, and was dressing to leave when Ted called to tell her that something tragic had occurred. He warned her not to go to the bazaar for fear she would be con- fronted by the press, and told her he was on his way to the compound.

When Ted finally arrived in Hyannis Port, he went to Joseph’s room to tell him that an accident had resulted in a woman’s death, even though he had tried to save her. Joseph couldn’t do much but squeeze his distraught son’s hand. Then Ted patiently explained the situation to Rose. As usual, she was composed.

Rose knew of Mary Jo, even admired her, and was deeply troubled and saddened by her death. However, looking at a bigger, practical picture, she could predict serious trouble in the offing, and summoned her family to the compound to deal with it. Pat flew in from California, and Jean and Eu- nice both arrived from Europe, all three with their husbands. Jean’s husband, Steve Smith—who had taken over much of the Kennedy business in the wake of Joseph’s stroke— began to make logical decisions about strategy.

Once he got to his home on Squaw Island, some might be surprised to know, Ted’s first call was to Greece in search of

Jackie Kennedy Onassis. In fact, Ted had demonstrated a great degree of caring and generosity not only to Jackie and her two children but also to Ethel and her eleven in the wake of the family’s twin tragedies. “No one outside the family can ever know how much his efforts have meant to the shap- ing of their [Jack’s and Bobby’s children’s] lives,” Rose wrote in her memoirs. Jackie was so impressed with his sense of responsibility that she had even suggested he be- come Caroline’s godfather by proxy.

Upon hearing from Ted, Jackie said that she would join the family in Hyannis Port as soon as possible.

Ted’s next call was to a woman he had dated sporadically over the years and was involved with at this time, the Austrian- born, blonde Helga Wagner. Alarmed by Ted’s predicament, Helga asked if she should come to Hyannis Port to be with him. Since her presence would only cause more turmoil, he wisely advised her to keep her distance.

After he called Jackie and Helga, Ted called Joan.

“Don’t worry. I believe you when you say it was an acci- dent,” Joan promised her husband, according to what she later recalled.

“I knew you would,” he said, relieved. “I could always count on you.”

After they hung up, Joan Kennedy sat on her bed, stunned by the news and overwhelmed by a deepening sense of dread. Just six weeks pregnant, Joan realized that she shouldn’t take on any stress, but that would now be impos- sible. She packed a small bag and left for Hyannis Port to be with the rest of the family.

Two hours after Joan’s arrival at the compound, Ethel ar- rived directly from Storrs where she had made an appear-

ance at the opening of the first Connecticut Special Olympics at the University of Connecticut. She was upset, angry, and confused, as were most of the family members.

When Ethel saw Joan, she must have immediately noticed that the young Kennedy wife seemed to be in a trance, as if on heavy medication, walking about aimlessly, biting her lip, and wringing her hands. Ethel took Joan into her arms, and the two embraced warmly. “We’ve had our problems in the past, but now is the time to pull together,” Ethel told Joan.

“Tell me what really happened,” Ethel said to Joan as they walked arm in arm into Rose’s living room.

“I don’t have the vaguest idea,” Joan answered, and she wasn’t lying. “Do you know if Jackie is coming, or not? I heard that she was.”

“I don’t have the vaguest idea,” Ethel answered, echoing Joan’s response.

Jackie Tells Ari:

“I Have to Be There”

B
y 1969, Jackie Kennedy Onassis was living a life far re- moved from the concerns of the Kennedys. She sometimes seemed determined to reinvent herself as a woman who had never been Queen of Camelot. During a vacation to Italy’s Isle of Capri in the Gulf of Naples, she ignored any autograph- seekers who referred to her as “Mrs. Kennedy,” and would indulge only those who referred to her as “Mrs. Onassis.”

She also had her checks changed to read “Jacqueline Bou- vier Onassis,” eliminating “Kennedy.” However, Jackie and Ari actually led separate lives from the start of their union. He told his biographer, Will Frischauer, “I was with Jacque- line for only thirty days during the first ninety days of our marriage.”

As soon as he married Jackie, Ari reignited his obsessive affair with Maria Callas. He went to be with Callas as soon as he returned to Paris, right after his honeymoon with Jackie. Jackie didn’t seem to mind.

“In his own way, Onassis was good to her,” observes Jackie’s cousin John Davis. “Who can say what kind of mar- riage that was? His two children, Christina and Alexander, hated her. But she seemed unaffected by their bitterness. Of course, it never much mattered to Jackie whether you liked her or not. Onassis got her away from the Kennedy tragedies, the publicity, the hellishness . . . and the next time I saw her after she married him, she seemed a completely new woman. Just lighter, better. . . . She had gotten on with things.”

Despite her new life, Jackie’s sisterly bond with Joan and, to a lesser extent, Ethel, still existed. Jackie had also stayed in touch with Rose, and had even arranged for the Kennedy matriarch to join her, Aristotle, and the children for a two- week cruise in the Caribbean in March of 1969 for the Easter holiday.

Rose couldn’t help but marvel at the jet-set lifestyle Jackie now enjoyed. The Onassises maintained fully staffed homes in Monte Carlo; Glyfada, Greece; two in New York; London; Skorpios; Montevideo in Uruguay; Paris; and aboard the
Christina.
Each residence was kept in complete readiness should the wealthy couple decide on a moment’s

notice to hop off to South America and their Montevideo ha- cienda, or fly to Paris for an art exhibit or to take a peek at “the collections,” where the latest fashions were shown.

Rose once described the opulence she found on the
Christina
as “overwhelming.” While some of the interior of the luxury craft, such as the bar, represented masculine tastes, the nine staterooms were now decorated in pink satins and silks, refurbished to represent Jackie’s style (even though Ari would have preferred her not to redecorate). A rare, jade Buddha sat on display in the main salon. Expen- sive oriental vases were securely strapped to the walls in case of turbulent high seas. El Greco, Pissarro, and Gauguin paintings decorated the passageways. At night, the base of the Olympic-size, mosaic-tiled swimming pool was hy- draulically lifted level with the deck, forming a dance floor under multicolored lights.

The Onassis’s French household staff—accustomed to serving such personalities as Winston Churchill, Greta Garbo, and Cary Grant—served breakfast on trays in the staterooms on the lowest of the three decks used as living quarters by the family. At lunchtime, John and Caroline would eat with their mother on the shaded top deck while the ship was anchored, or by the saltwater pool near the game room when at sea. Onassis continued to make the final decision as to what food would be served in the oval dining room for dinner, selecting one main course from the three suggested by the French chef. Jackie ordered only for the children, usually beef and poultry dishes, which they would eat not in the main dining room but rather in the “officers’ mess”—a warm, intimate, wood-paneled breakfast room— with their nurse.

Ellen Deiner, who worked as a publicist for the Greek Na-

tional Theater, was aboard the
Christina
as a guest of Aris- totle Onassis on that particular cruise with Rose and Jackie. She recalled, “Rose reminded me of a typical tourist, with the big floppy hats and sunglasses, and cheap, cheap,
cheap
clothing. She and Jackie got along well, but they did have an ongoing discussion having to do with the children’s school- ing.”

As the only offspring of her son, John Fitzgerald, Caro- line and John Jr. were dear to Rose Kennedy. It was her wish that they be brought up to understand Kennedy values, a sense of family being chief among them. Rose feared that as they went through their impressionable adolescent years with Onassis as their stepfather, the children would grow away from the Kennedy tradition of serving country and family. Because she also wanted them to be available for frequent family visits to Hyannis Port and Palm Beach, she was upset when Ted told her Jackie was thinking of sending the children to Le Rosey, a Swiss boarding school attended by the children of the wealthiest of European society.

Recalled Ellen Deiner, “While the two were sunning, Rose and Jackie talked about the fact that if the children went to the Swiss school, they would be away from their mother for long stretches of time. She said that Joan and Ethel were so adamant about being with their children that they were known to fly back from political rallies just to make breakfast for them. I was sitting two chairs over, but could clearly hear Jackie protesting, ‘Well, I am not Ethel, and I am not Joan. I’ll raise my children my way.’ I had the feeling that the two bickered like any mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, but that at the core of it was a deep, abiding love and respect for one another.”

Rose seemed to crave information about her former

daughter-in-law. To her, Jackie was almost a stranger these days, living a life of privilege away from Hyannis Port and away from her watchful eye. In an attempt to learn about Jackie’s life, she tried to ferret out some tidbits from Ellen Deiner, who, she knew, was close to Onassis. “Rose asked me if it was true that Ari wanted to change the children’s names to Onassis by adoption,” recalls Deiner. “There had been news reports to that effect. In fact, I did once overhear Ari complain about seeing references to ‘John Kennedy, Jr.’ and ‘Caroline Kennedy’ in the papers. He wanted the chil- dren to have his name, since they were now his responsibil- ity. But Mrs. Onassis said, ‘They are not your responsibility, they are
my
responsibility.’ ”

“An adoption will never occur,” Rose told Ellen Deiner as she rubbed suntan lotion on her pale but still remarkably taut thighs. “Never! Once a Kennedy, always a Kennedy.” She put on her sunglasses and turned to Deiner. “The blood of the Kennedys runs through those children’s veins,” she in- sisted. “They are Americans, not Greeks. We will fight an adoption in court, believe me. They will be Kennedys, those children, and they will live in America. Even in death, my son has a right to expect
his
son to carry on his name.”