After Camelot: A Personal History of the Kennedy Family--1968 to the Present

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  Toward the end of the meeting, Maurice told Jackie, “Now, not only will Caroline be taken care of, but her children will be taken care of as well. And their children’s children, too.”

  Jackie looked up from a stack of papers in front of her. “You really do care about Caroline and John, don’t you?” she asked Maurice earnestly.

  He seemed surprised by the question, at least according to Stanley Gottwig’s memory. “Of course I do, my dear.”

  She smiled at him. “You are such a dear, dear man,” she said, reaching out for his hand. “I don’t know that I deserve you, Maurice.”

  “Oh, but I know that you do,” he said, taking her hand into his own and returning her smile. “I know that you do.”

  Caroline Kennedy and Maria Shriver Both Marry

  There were three Kennedy weddings of note in the spring and summer of 1986, two of them full-blown American royalty affairs that gave the family a great opportunity to reconvene: Eunice and Sargent’s daughter, Maria, to actor Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Jackie’s daughter, Caroline, to Ed Schlossberg. The third wedding was a very low-key event—Timothy, the son of Eunice and Sarge, to Linda Sturges Potter.

  “Don’t look at him as a Republican,” Maria Shriver told her uncle Teddy when talking about her fiancé, Arnold Schwarzenegger. “Look at him as the man I love. And if that doesn’t work, look at him as someone who can squash you.” Ted had to laugh. Actually, he took no issue with his niece’s choice for a husband and liked him very much. Eunice and Sargent felt the same way. Thus the wedding between Maria and Arnold, on April 26, 1986, was a joyous affair. It was interesting that Maria and Arnold had known each other a full seven years before marrying, nearly mirroring her parents’ long courtship of nine years.

  At the time, Maria was just beginning her career in television with a job in Philadelphia. She first became interested in broadcasting in 1972 during her father’s vice presidential race when she was sent to the back of the campaign plane during travel time—where the media was seated. She now calls those orders “the best thing that ever happened to me.” As a seventeen-year-old, she kept her ambition to be a reporter a secret because she feared her family would be against the idea. After all, the Kennedys often had a contentious relationship with the media, and, mirroring the concerns of her cousin John Jr. in years to come, she was afraid some of her relatives might feel she’d joined the enemy’s ranks.

  Maria’s career would be a fast-moving one. After college and a degree in American studies, she ended up working in a training program at KYW-TV in Philadelphia at the age of twenty-one, doing any job she was asked to do, from getting coffee for the news director to scouring the wire services for possible leads. She started at the bottom and worked her way up, given no preferential treatment because of her family and, if anything, maybe having it a little tougher, courtesy of people who viewed her as spoiled and privileged before even knowing her. Not only was she tenacious and determined, but she also had a real passion for news, which would carry her far. Eventually she found herself working as a field producer at WJZ in Baltimore and then, finally, on the air as a correspondent for the syndicated evening program PM Magazine. From there she would work for CBS News as a field reporter, and in years to come she would coanchor the CBS Morning News with Forrest Sawyer from 1985 to 1987, and then move to NBC from 1987 to 2004.

  Her mother, who always had been very strict with her, seemed quite proud that Maria was making her own way with her own career. “I know I have been hard on her,” she told friends at the wedding rehearsal dinner the night before the ceremony. “I imagine it is quite the challenge being the daughter of Eunice Shriver,” she said with a smile. “But, like all mothers, I have only wanted the best for her.”

  On her special day, Maria wore a lovely silk mousseline gown, very traditional with long white veil and train, while Arnold was dapper in a perfectly tailored black morning suit with a frock coat. As stunning as the couple of the day looked, though, it was difficult to take one’s eyes off Eunice and Sargent Shriver. They made another stunning couple, full of good cheer, Sargent in a gray top hat offsetting his tailored formal black cutaway outfit; Eunice was also wearing a large chapeau. “I can only hope for a marriage like my parents’,” Maria said at the time. “When I think of the ideal marriage, theirs comes to mind. That’s what I want for myself, my husband, the children we will have.”

  Equally special, though much more intimate, was the wedding on May 31, 1986, of Sargent’s and Eunice’s son Timothy to Linda Sturges Potter, a young woman he had known for a number of years. Because the rehearsal dinner and reception were not held at the Kennedy compound, it was guaranteed to be less of a media event. The couple was wed in an ecumenical ceremony, conducted by a New York Episcopal bishop and a Catholic priest, at Georgetown University’s Dahlgren Chapel of the Sacred Heart.

  The third of the Kennedy weddings that summer was that of Jackie’s daughter, Caroline, to Ed Schlossberg on July 19, 1986, which happened to be the groom’s forty-first birthday. It also happened to be the seventeenth anniversary of Ted’s devastating accident on Chappaquiddick Island.

  Edwin Alfred Schlossberg is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Alfred and Mae Schlossberg of New York and Palm Beach, Florida, his father a successful textile designer and manufacturer. Born on July 19, 1945, Ed grew up on the Upper West Side surrounded by a very large family of Russian Jewish immigrants. All four of his grandparents had landed on Ellis Island from Poltava, Ukraine, and, like Maurice Tempelsman, Ed’s family was deeply steeped in Jewish orthodoxy. He graduated from the Birch Wathen School and Columbia College and then received his PhD in science and literature from Columbia University in 1969. Ed was described by a family spokesman as “a specialist in interactive media,” though most people were at a loss as to exactly what that meant. Even Jackie, when asked by a Doubleday colleague what Ed’s profession was, said, “I have no idea. He could work for the CIA, as far as I know.” In fact, Schlossberg was—is—an incredibly creative person, an artist who worked with unusual materials such as aluminum, Plexiglas, or even rice paper and bamboo rods. He didn’t just paint pictures; he also designed and created artistic display pieces on a large scale. In addition to being the author of nine books, mostly instructional manuals, he was the president of Edwin Schlossberg, Inc., a New York company specializing in the design of museum interiors and exhibits.

  Ed is twelve years older than Caroline—interesting only in that her parents were also twelve years apart in age; JFK was thirty-six, Jackie twenty-four when they married. Because Schlossberg is Jewish, there were rumors at the time that the family—Rose, in particular—was unhappy about the union. The rumors weren’t true. The entire family supported Caroline’s decision to marry Ed. The fact that he agreed to raise any children the couple had as Catholics probably helped, though.

  “All our lives, it’s just been the three of us,” John said while delivering the toast at the rehearsal dinner the night before the ceremony. “My mother, Caroline, and me. Now,” he said, turning to Ed, “there are four.” John’s emotional and always appropriate turn of phrase was very much in the Kennedy tradition, reminiscent of his father’s and his uncles’ way with words.

  On the day of the wedding, Caroline walked down the aisle resplendent in a white silk organza gown with a tulle petticoat, shamrock appliqués, lace veil, and a twenty-foot train. It was designed for her by Carolina Herrera, with no input from Jackie. The Church of Our Lady of Victory in Hyannis was filled with many of JFK’s loyalists, including Arthur Schlesinger Jr., Ted Sorensen, and Pierre Salinger.

  For her part, Jackie played the role of mother of the bride beautifully, trying her best not to steal focus from her daughter—no small feat when one is Jackie Kennedy Onassis. The pushing crowd of onlookers outside the church could barely contain themselves when she arrived for the ceremony, alone. She was wearing a Herrera-designed pistachio-colored crepe suit and gloves, holding a clutch bag with one hand and waving to the crowd with the other. “It w
as a hot, muggy day,” recalled Steve Heaslip, who was a photographer at the Cape Cod Times assigned to the wedding, “with 50 or 60 media people waiting at the entrance of the church. Jackie sent over a big cooler of soft drinks and water for the press. I thought that was a classy thing to do.”

  John Jr. was Ed’s best man on this special day, and according to all onlookers, provided one of the most memorable moments of the night when he took his mother into his arms and danced with her during the reception.

  Ted, who gave the bride away, offered an emotional toast at the reception, which was held under a large tent set up on the grounds of the Kennedy compound. “I’m filling in for my brother Jack,” he told the guests. He first paid tribute to Rose, who would soon turn ninety-six. She was elderly and feeble but still seemed determined to live a good life and be a part of the family’s many activities. “To the mother of us all,” Ted said, raising his glass to Rose. Turning to Caroline and Ed, he then said, “We’ve all thought of Jack today, and how much he loved Caroline and how much he loved Jackie… Caroline, he loved you so much.” With tears flowing all around him, Ted continued by toasting Jackie, “that extraordinary woman, Jack’s only love. He would have been so proud of you today.”

  PART SIXTEEN

  William Kennedy Smith and the Palm Beach Scandal

  Eunice’s Dire Prediction to Ted

  The 1980s had all but confirmed Ted Kennedy’s status as the consummate legislator, one of his greatest gifts being that he made few enemies while staying true to his personal convictions. He was known to forge friendly relationships with many Republicans, such as Senator Orrin Hatch, with whom he worked on a number of health-related issues. Throughout the decade, he worked hard during a period in which the Republicans had captured not only the presidency with Ronald Reagan, but control of the Senate as well. Though Ted found himself part of the minority party for the first time in his political career, this did not stop him from devoting himself to liberal causes such as women’s issues and gay rights. He was also at the forefront of funding for AIDS education, concerns, and treatment during a time when most people simply didn’t understand the disease and wanted nothing to do with learning more about it. Ted had a good heart. He genuinely cared about people from all walks of life and was always intensely interested in how the so-called “other half” lived. He wanted nothing more than to make a difference as a civil servant, which had always been his intention.

  Despite his great success in government, though, Ted was floundering in his personal life by the end of the 1980s. It could be said that the decade had been one of debauchery for him, with his drinking habit spinning completely out of control. As a single, wealthy, and very prominent man, there was no limit to the number of women he could score—not that it could be argued that there had been any limit when he was a married man—and he was often caught in embarrassingly compromising positions, such as when European paparazzi photographed him having sex with a young lady on a motorboat. Those kinds of sensational moments became commonplace for Kennedy in the 1980s and did nothing but distract from the good work he was doing in the Senate. Many people perceived him as being a disgrace to the Kennedy name, which had to have been frustrating to a man who so loved his family and wanted nothing more than to represent them in the best way possible. Still, his demons were what they were—and there seemed no getting around them. In his personal life, he always seemed to make the worst decisions, and they were definitely coloring the public’s perception of him. JFK and Bobby could get away with it. But after Watergate, all eyes were on politicians, and the tabloid media had created an environment that was now unforgiving in its exposure of the personal lives of political figures. Though not referring specifically to his uncle, maybe Ted’s nephew John Kennedy Jr. would put it best in a March 1998 editorial in his George magazine when he wrote, “Hellish torment awaits those who mix an undisciplined libido with a political career.”

  In January 1991, Ted Kennedy was sitting at a poolside table on a patio of the Kennedys’ sumptuous Palm Beach estate with two of the family’s attorneys. He looked dreadful. He was overweight by at least thirty pounds, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was unshaven and blotchy. His drinking problem was so serious that he was said to suffer blackouts after a night on the town. On this morning, he was obviously hungover. “I had sex with a couple of knockout hookers last night,” he told the lawyers awkwardly. “I’m not as young as I used to be, though,” he said with a chuckle, “because I think I fell asleep before I finished.” The attorneys laughed tensely. Just then, Eunice Kennedy came sweeping into the room.

  At almost seventy, Eunice was now, maybe more than ever, quite the vibrant presence. As she got older, her personality was just as dominant as ever, even if she was physically much more frail, no doubt the result of her years-long battle with Addison’s disease (the same ailment from which her brother Jack suffered). As honorary chairman of Special Olympics International, Eunice was still a very busy woman. This coming summer of 1991, she was looking forward to the International Special Olympics in Minneapolis. At seventy-five, Sarge was getting older too, but was still involved in many charities despite a bout with prostate cancer.

  Eunice was actively involved in her children’s lives as well. All her children were, not surprisingly, of great service to others. Her eldest, Bobby, had turned into a fine young man and was now living in Los Angeles and working for the Special Olympics. Anthony was head of a charity called Best Buddies, whose goal was to forge friendships between the handicapped and college students. Timothy was deeply involved in educational charities concerning AIDS prevention and drug addiction. Mark was invested in a social program in Maryland called Choice. Meanwhile, Maria was doing very well in her television broadcasting career. As Eunice’s only daughter, she spoke to her mother almost every day from her home in Los Angeles. The older Maria got, the more she looked like Eunice. Eunice would make an excellent, if also sometimes quite strict, grandmother to Maria and Arnold’s children as they came along—four in all.

  Eunice sat down and took her brother in with slanted eyes behind thick-framed glasses. There she sat, staring at him, not greeting him or anyone else, just staring at him with a stern expression. She had her rosary clutched tightly in one hand and was fingering the beads. When a Kennedy functionary came to the table to ask if she would like some breakfast, Eunice dismissed the servant with a quick wave, not even glancing in her direction lest she take her eyes off her brother for even a moment.

  “Good morning, Eunice,” Ted said with a smile, perhaps trying to break the uncomfortable silence of her sitting there staring at him. “And how is my lovely sister faring on this glorious day?”

  “Just look at you,” Eunice said, ignoring her brother’s attempt at levity. “Why, Ted Kennedy, you look a fright.” She said she was worried about him and that she knew fully well why he had been drinking. “You want to escape,” she told him. “Yes, we have a lot of sad memories. But we can’t escape them, Ted. We have to face them.”

  “I know that,” Ted said sadly.

  “As your sister who loves you, I am asking you to please take a good long look at yourself,” Eunice said, never softening her steely gaze. “You must change the way you want to be perceived by others, and govern yourself accordingly.” She then ticked off a list of the public relations disasters that had occurred in the recent past, behind which she suspected was his drinking. She knew of every incident, too, and had a memory for the specifics of each episode that most people would have found amazing. “Jack and Bobby are depending on you, now as always,” she said, invoking the names of their dead brothers—which no one ever did in the family unless they meant business. According to the two lawyers present, she also said that there was “a whole generation of Kennedys coming up now,” many of whom have their own personal dysfunction, “and they need you to set an example for them. In fact, this family needs you now more than ever.”

  Ted nodded in agreement. Eunice’s commentary had to have made
an impact on him. After all, Ted had done his best to be a strong male influence on twenty-four Kennedy children—two of Jack’s, eleven of Bobby’s, four of Peter Lawford’s, and now four of Stephen Smith’s, not to mention his own three children. It had never been easy, but he had done his best and he had done so despite his tendency to be self-absorbed—which made it all the more a challenge.

  “My fear is this,” Eunice continued. “If you don’t straighten up, something terrible is going to happen. All hell is going to break loose again, and by that time we’ll all be too damn old to deal with it.” Then, rather than soften the blow by saying anything else, Eunice glanced at her watch and exclaimed, “Oh my God! I’m going to be late!” And with that, she pushed herself away from the table, rose, and walked away quickly, leaving Ted sitting with the two attorneys, perhaps embarrassed and maybe even saddened. But that was Eunice. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would coddle a person after she let him have it. She wanted the moment to stick, not be defused by some meaningless pleasantry. Ted had to know that Eunice was right, though. In fact, it would take less than a month for her dire prediction to come true.