Many of the Kennedys closest to her were unaware of how truly frightened Jackie was just to walk out onto the street in public. Crowds terrified her. The constant popping of cameras when she was in public never ceased to jolt her. Was it a bullet? she would wonder. Or just a flashbulb? The memory of watching helplessly as the lifeless body of her husband slumped into her lap had been burned into her consciousness. The nightmares had never ended; no matter how much time passed, she was still traumatized. Much to her dismay, she felt like a victim. If there was one thing Jackie Kennedy never wanted to think of herself as, it was a victim. Ari would be able to protect her and her children at this time when she felt most vulnerable. He could whisk her to far-off lands when she felt most threatened in America by paparazzi, the media, an adoring public, and worse.
Jackie’s relationship with Ari was kept from the family in the first few months because both believed that if the Kennedys knew of it, they would stop at nothing to end it. Bobby, who referred to Onassis as “the Greek,” felt he was a criminal, and nothing would change his mind about that. Even though Onassis was spending nights at Jackie’s Fifth Avenue apartment and she was flying off to Europe to be with him, Bobby and the rest of the Kennedys really did not know that anything serious was developing between them.
Jackie happened to be in Mexico in March 1968 when she learned that Bobby had decided to run for President. For her, this was not good news. She was convinced that it was open season on Kennedys, and that if he were to become President, his fate would be the same as Jack’s. He would leave behind ten children whose lives would be ruined, she believed, and a widow who would never be able to pick up the pieces of her shattered dreams. She had told Bobby of her fears but, apparently, he wouldn’t listen. So Jackie prepared a statement for the press, indicating that she “will always be with him with all my heart,” and began to hope and pray for the best outcome.
In March of 1968, shortly after Bobby announced his candidacy, Aristotle Onassis was interviewed at a cocktail party at the George V Hotel in Paris. In comments that have been published innumerable times over the years, Onassis said that, in his estimation, Jackie was a woman who had, for years, been held up as a model of propriety, constancy, and “so many of those boring American female virtues.” He said that she was “now so utterly devoid of mystery” that she needed “a small scandal to bring her alive. A peccadillo, an indiscretion. Something should happen to her to win our fresh compassion. The world loves to pity fallen grandeur.” Ari knew his words would have a great impact not only on the media, but also on the Kennedys. “That should set the cat among the pigeons on Hickory Hill,” he said, with a snicker, after making the statement. The next morning, newspapers across the country trumpeted his critical assessments of Jackie.
Ethel didn’t like it when she picked up the morning paper and read Onassis’s summation of her sister-in-law. “How well does he even know Jackie?” she wondered. “Why would he say these things? How dare he?” She convinced Bobby that he should discuss the matter with Jackie. However, Bobby was so angry at the report that he didn’t need much coaxing.
When Bobby telephoned Jackie to ask what she felt about Onassis’s comments, she confessed that she was actually thinking of marrying him but that no decision had been made. He was upset and said so, telling her that her decision could “cost me five states.” He further cast aspersions on the relationship, calling it a “family weakness,” alluding to Ari’s previous romance with Lee Radziwill. Jackie knew he was hurt, so she refrained from doing what would have come naturally for her at that point—hanging up on him.
Jackie still felt a close relationship to Bobby, and in the past had often tried to abide by his wishes and the wishes of the family. “But it’s time for me to live for me,” she finally told him. “Not for the Kennedys.”
After Bobby seemed to get nowhere with Jackie, it was Ethel’s idea to visit Jackie herself and to bring Joan along. Joan, who always cared about Jackie’s well-being, was concerned that her sister-in-law was making a terrible mistake and that she would get hurt in the process. She didn’t trust Onassis—though she didn’t know exactly why, rather it was just a sense that she had—and she felt that, based on what she read, he had underworld connections.
Ethel’s uneasiness was more specific. She wanted to know more about Onassis’s complex and allegedly illegal business dealings as much as she wanted to know the truth about his well-publicized, volatile relationship with opera singer Maria Callas. She believed that a wedding between her sister-in-law and Onassis should be canceled or at the very least delayed, because it would most certainly jeopardize Bobby’s political chances.
The Appeal to Jackie
Ethel and Joan paid their visit to Jackie on a brisk, New York afternoon in early April 1968. As always, Fifth Avenue in Manhattan was alive with bustle and movement: horns braying in congested traffic, taxis screeching to a halt and then starting off again, people colliding with one another as they walked—along with an assistant of Ethel’s—to their destination. On this afternoon a small gathering of people, about fifteen in all, had congregated on the sidewalk at the entrance of Jackie’s fashionable pre–World War I apartment building at 1040 Fifth Avenue, hoping for just a glimpse of the former First Lady. Later that day, Jackie and one of the Secret Service agents protecting her at this time would walk out the front door and right into the middle of this mass of humanity. At first the fans, who had been waiting for hours, would be stunned by her sudden appearance, as if they were in the presence of a religious apparition. Then after just a moment (because she wouldn’t be with them very long), the air would be filled with applause and shouts of “God bless you” and “We love you.” Quickly, Jackie would be ushered into a waiting car and driven away from the worshipping assembly, leaving each of its members feeling a bit faint in her wake.
“Will you just look at these nutcases,” Ethel muttered to her assistant as they worked their way through the group, none of whom seemed to recognize either her or Joan. “Who the heck lives here? Elvis?”
Once past the crowd, Ethel, Joan, and the assistant walked through the ornate, black, wrought-iron gate and into a small foyer with French doors, which opened into the large main lobby of 1040. The floors were black-and-white diamond-shaped marble tile. Above them hung a large, expensive-looking, crystal chandelier, beneath which stood an ornate, antique table holding a huge vase of fresh, seasonal flowers. To the left were the elevators, and to the right a fireplace in front of which sat a plush couch with end tables.
“What floor?” Ethel asked as they approached the elevator.
When the three women got out of the elevator, they stepped into a long entrance foyer with gilt-framed mirrors and nineteenth-century French paintings on the walls; Jackie’s was the only residence on the floor. Ethel turned to her assistant: “That’s it for you, kiddo,” she told her. “Time for you to go.” The assistant then handed her boss a couple of coffee-table books about French art, which Ethel intended to give to Jackie as gifts and, with a disappointed look on her face, said, “Are you sure, Mrs. Kennedy, that you won’t be needing me in there?”
Ethel said no. The downcast assistant turned and walked back into the elevator, just as Ethel rang Jackie’s doorbell.
After a butler welcomed the two women into the apartment, Ethel and Joan walked into a parquet-floored foyer that opened into a vast rectangular gallery with fourteen rooms radiating outward from it, including five bedrooms, three servants’ rooms, a kitchen, and a butler’s pantry. The living room, with its windows facing Central Park and its reservoir, was forty feet long and ran parallel to Fifth Avenue. The furniture, much of which came from the family’s quarters at the White House, was an eclectic mix that spoke of Jackie’s varied tastes, from dark, heavy, and formal pieces such as her most cherished possession—an ormolu-mounted Empire fall-front desk that once belonged to her father—to light and airy colored sofas and bright floral throw pillows. Striking watercolors by noted painters decorated the
walls. In a corner stood a large telescope, which Jackie liked to use to watch people as they enjoyed Central Park. There were no pictures of Jack to be seen; the only photo of JFK in the apartment was a small, silver-framed one on Jackie’s beside table in her bedroom. Outside, on the wraparound fenced terrace were large crab apple trees in wooden boxes painted blue. The whole place cried out for magazine photography.
About a month earlier, Jackie had hired a Greek chef, recommended to her by Aristotle Onassis, who went by the name of “Niko,” short for Nicolas (Konaledius). “I worked for her part-time for just six weeks preparing Greek foods for special occasions,” he recalls from his home in Greece, the walls of which are covered with photographs of him and Jackie from his brief employ. “I was fired, then returned again six months later for another three weeks. Then I returned to Greece where I worked for friends and relatives of Onassis’s.”
Niko walked into the living room just in time to hear Joan muse, “Gee, I wonder how many windows face the park.”
“Fourteen of twenty-three,” came a voice from behind Niko. It was Jackie, entering the room, smiling and looking radiant in beige harem pants and a matching top. Her long feet were bare and her toenails meticulously manicured and painted. The three women embraced and then walked about the apartment admiring Jackie’s collection of animal paintings and Indian miniatures on the walls. They then went into the library where they would chat privately for about thirty minutes before gaily going into the dining room for lunch.
All three seemed to be in good cheer as they sat in Jackie’s spacious and elegant dining room with its view of the George Washington Bridge. The room boasted of overstuffed couches, a baby grand piano, and a marble fireplace. On one wall was a large map with small pins all over it denoting places President Kennedy had visited, which was used as an educational tool for Jackie’s children, Caroline and John Jr.
After they were seated in the warm room, the walls of which were covered in crimson damask wallpaper with matching drapes, Niko served a Greek salad with tomatoes, peeled onions, cucumber, and bunch roka (Greek watercress). “I am completely fascinated by Greek culture now,” Jackie said as the salad was being served. “I thought it would be fun if I treated you both to some Greek food. Isn’t this special?”
Following the salad, Niko displayed a Greek vegetable casserole with eggplant, zucchini, potatoes, and green peppers, which the women seemed to enjoy. For dessert, he offered kouradiedes (Greek cookies) and Greek cheesecake with feta, ricotta, and Swiss cheeses.
“Oh my God, this cheesecake is so rich,” Ethel complained. “How can anyone eat this stuff?”
“I know,” Jackie said with a nod, not realizing that Niko was standing directly behind her. “Isn’t it absolutely awful? The ghastly, rich foods those Greeks eat! Niko!” she called out. When the servant showed up instantly over her shoulder, she looked startled for a moment before she sweetly asked, “I wonder, do we have any of those lovely madeleines?” He then ran to fetch the cookies, bringing them to the table a few minutes later.
Finally, over the madeleines and tea, Ethel got to the point. “Please tell me that you’re not serious about this Onassis character,” she said to Jackie.
“Oh, Telis?” Jackie answered, using her pet name for him, short for Aristotelis (the Greek form of Aristotle). “Why, he’s completely charming. Yes, I do like him very much.” When Ethel expressed surprise that she already had a nickname for Onassis Jackie smiled coyly.
At this point, Niko left the women to their conversation about Onassis’s life, his family, and his wealth. Joan sat silently sipping her tea, not really participating and at one point getting up to admire the baby grand piano in the room. As Ethel and Jackie spoke, the servant overheard bits and pieces of their conversation.
Ethel said, “Please tell me you will not marry him, Jackie. At least not until after the election, and even then…”
Because the women noticed Niko, who had entered the room, they stopped talking. He leaned over to pour tea for Joan, then walked to a serving cart a few feet away, but still within earshot of the conversation.
Niko recalls, “Ethel said something about not wanting to court controversy at this time. She also said that she wouldn’t allow Jackie to ‘ruin this for me,’ probably referring either to Bobby’s campaign or, perhaps, her chances to get into the White House. I don’t know which. I was too nervous to pay attention.”
Tense about what he was overhearing, Niko accidentally dropped two pieces of silverwear onto the glass top of the serving cart. Jackie, startled by the racket, turned to face him. “Will you please leave us?” she snapped. “Where in the world did Ari find you, anyway?”
After she scolded him, Niko sequestered himself in the kitchen. Shortly thereafter, he heard Ethel and Joan leave. “From what I could glean, no one was very happy with the way the luncheon went,” he recalls. “I actually think Mrs. Kennedy asked them to leave, but I can’t be sure since I was hiding in the kitchen.
“As soon as they left, Mrs. Kennedy came bursting into the kitchen, seeming upset, and told me to go clean the table. Then she disappeared into her bedroom and didn’t come out again until the next morning. I knocked on her door at about seven P.M. to ask if she wanted something to eat. She opened it, wearing a robe, and with a completely different attitude. She smiled at me, said, ‘No, thank you. I can wait for breakfast,’ and then closed the door.”
Ethel’s Thoughtless Remark
In May, around a month after Jackie’s luncheon with Ethel and Joan about Aristotle Onassis, Jackie joined him on the Christina for a four-day cruise. While sailing under the stars, they discussed marriage. According to what they would later tell friends, Ari promised that should they wed, Jackie would still be a free woman, able to do whatever she pleased and see whomever she liked. As his wife, not only would she be one of the richest women in the world, but she and her children would also be protected by an arsenal of security: an army of seventy-five trained, machine-gun-toting men and their vicious attack dogs. What would Onassis get out of the deal? He would get Jackie, of course, someone to worship, the most famous woman of all, and a prize to any collector of famous women. He would also be able to stake his claim of legitimacy in the business world, for surely she would not be with him if he weren’t someone special, a man of integrity.
Did they love each other? “Jackie was never in love with another man after Jack,” said her friend Joan Braden. “It wasn’t a matter of love with Ari. It was about security, protection… and money. Onassis was worth $500 million, right up there with J. Paul Getty and Howard Hughes in terms of wealth. She was not mercenary, but rather a practical woman in the way she handled her marriage to Jack, and in her relationship to Ari. She had children to consider, and a lifestyle in the public eye that she could not escape. She had to make certain decisions with an eye toward what made sense.”
Stavlos Pappadia, who at the time was a reporter for the government-controlled Greek newspaper Acropolis, and also a friend of Onassis, recalled, “Ari told me that Jackie said she was under pressure from Bobby and her sisters-in-law to delay the marriage. He said he agreed to it because, really, he was in no hurry.
“Ari told me, ‘She’s a lovely woman, very self-centered, very egotistical, but fascinating in every way.’ He spoke of her as if he were a fan, not her future husband. In fact, he collected photographs of her from newspapers and magazines, he told me. He said he had hundreds of them. She was his idol, really.”
Even though Jackie had decided to delay a decision regarding a marriage to Onassis, she didn’t want Ethel to believe that she had had anything to do with it. “I don’t want Ethel to start thinking she can run my life,” is how she put it at the time to a friend of hers. When news leaked out to family members that the wedding was being postponed, Ethel was the first on the telephone to Jackie.
“I think you made the right decision,” she happily told her, according to Leah Mason.
Jackie hung up on her.
A
few weeks later, in the middle of May, Jackie was with the family at the Hyannis Port compound. She flew in from New York because she wanted to see Bobby and congratulate him for his recent successes at the polls. Jackie still felt a sense of union with the Kennedys. As far as she was concerned, the family’s successes were hers, as were their failures.
It’s true that Jackie had not wanted Bobby to run for the Presidency because she feared for his life. She hadn’t changed her mind about that, but since he was pushing forward anyway, she wanted to support his effort, which was the reason she had decided to postpone any decision about marrying Onassis. Jackie was struck by Bobby’s courage, awed by his wisdom. He so reminded her of Jack that watching him deliver a speech on television never failed to bring a tear to her eyes. She said that she wished she could attend more of his speeches in person, but feared that her presence might detract attention from him. “I’ve been shopping for an awful wig that would provide enough concealment to let me watch from the crowd,” she joked, “but I look so stunning in all of them, there’s no way I wouldn’t be recognized!”
Jackie’s backing was a double-edged sword for Ethel, however. Even though it was Ethel who shared with Bobby the thousands of small intimacies that actualized not only their marriage but also the true essence of who he was as a man, it still always seemed that she was in Jackie’s shadow. Once again, just as after Jack’s death, it felt to Ethel as though Bobby’s need for Jackie was greater than his need for her.
After Jackie’s return from Greece, there was a family gathering at Rose and Joseph’s to fete Bobby. It soon grew into a raucous affair with plenty of drinking and friendly (and sometimes not-so-friendly) ribbing, so typical of a Kennedy gathering. Joan, Eunice, Pat, Jean, their husbands… the whole gang was present and, for the most part, in good spirits. However, tension between Jackie and Ethel was palpable, and seemed to be growing thicker as the evening wore on.
Jackie, Ethel, Joan: Women of Camelot Page 37