During my time with her, Eunice Kennedy Shriver mentioned not only that she had read my first book about her family, Jackie, Ethel, Joan: Women of Camelot, but that she had seen some of the television miniseries upon which it was based. Did she approve? Speaking with caution, she said she couldn’t vouch for its accuracy, “because I certainly didn’t live Jackie’s life, nor did I live Ethel’s, nor did I live Joan’s.” But then, after a beat, she added thoughtfully, “I have to say, though, that even I was struck by the universality of some of the themes. So, in a sense, I guess you could say it’s not just their story, is it? It’s a story we all share. And not just we Kennedys, either. All of us.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
J. Randy Taraborrelli
Winter 2011
PROLOGUE
An Unthinkable Tragedy
It was a gray, dreary, and unremarkable Saturday afternoon in Hyannis Port. Out on a stretch of pebble-covered sand and facing a dark, restless ocean stood an elderly woman wearing a black baseball cap. As she took in the endless vista, she bent down to pick up a seashell. She rolled it in the palm of her hand and then flung it into the sea. Appearing lost in thought, she pulled her white down jacket close in order to keep the chill of the Nantucket Sound at bay. To see her walk just a few steps, it was clear that she had a slight limp. Meanwhile, a young lady in a starched white maid’s uniform approached and stood directly behind her. After a few moments of hesitation, she tapped her on the shoulder. “Mrs. Kennedy,” she said, “the priest will be here at five o’clock to say Mass. He’s asked if you had any particular scripture in mind for the reading?” Ethel Kennedy turned to face the woman. With eyes reddened and face drawn, she seemed even older than her seventy-one years. Her frame was slight, shoulders slim and slightly hunched forward.
“How well I remember my own wedding,” Ethel said wistfully, not responding to the woman’s question. “We Kennedys are known for our great weddings, as you know,” she added. “Mine and Bobby’s was so beautiful.” According to the maid’s later recollection, Ethel then spoke of the formal white satin gown she wore on that special day so many years earlier when she and Robert Kennedy were wed. She also spoke of the long, diaphanous veil trimmed with delicate orange blossoms. And the elegant, dainty gloves. “But we called them mitts in those days,” she remembered. “They were satin and had pearls on them,” she added. “People don’t wear gloves so much anymore,” she mused as she reached into her pocket and pulled out large black sunglasses. She put them on. “I wonder why that is,” she continued, seeming distracted. “Gloves are so nice. Don’t you agree?” Her maid nodded.
Over the years, Kennedy weddings have been more than mere events, they’ve been the subject of national curiosity all the way back to the family patriarch Joseph’s, who wed Rose in 1914, through to Bobby and Ethel’s in 1950, Eunice’s to Sargent Shriver in 1953, and Jack’s to Jackie Bouvier, also in 1953. And there were so many more—Kennedy sisters Pat’s to actor Peter Lawford in 1954 and Jean’s to Stephen Smith two years later. Then there was Ted’s to Joan Bennett in 1958… The list goes on and on, especially as the next generation took their own spouses. Who could forget the elegant wedding of Jackie’s daughter, Caroline, to Ed Schlossberg in 1986? Wedding guest Robert Rauschenberg once said it felt as if there had been “seventy-five thousand Kennedys present.” It probably felt to those in attendance that there were at least that many. But then Caroline’s brother, John Fitzgerald Kennedy Jr.—only son of the slain President Kennedy—broke the tradition of big family weddings with a more intimate affair when he married the lovely Carolyn Bessette in 1996. It was a surprise not only to the media but also to many of Kennedy’s friends and even family members. How he was ever able to pull it off remained a mystery to many, but John wed Carolyn privately on Cumberland Island, Georgia, with just a few close friends and relatives present. Unfortunately, the wedding ceremony planned for this day—Saturday, July 17, 1999—between Ethel’s daughter Rory and her beau Mark Bailey now hung in the balance because John Kennedy Jr., his wife Carolyn Bessette, and her sister Lauren were missing.
John and Carolyn had been on their way from Essex County Airport in Fairfield, New Jersey, to Hyannis Airport on Cape Cod in order to attend Rory’s wedding at the Kennedy compound. Although the houses that comprised the compound were summer homes for the Kennedys, the Hyannis Port residences seemed to symbolize their unity, serving as headquarters for observances and celebrations, for funerals and wakes, for auspicious announcements, commemorative rites, and family holidays like the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. First, though, John and Carolyn were scheduled to stop at Martha’s Vineyard to drop off Lauren, a vice president at Morgan Stanley Dean Witter. However, something apparently happened to their plane. The small, single-engine, red-and-white Piper Saratoga hadn’t been seen on radar since 9:30 p.m. Friday night, half an hour before it should have landed on Martha’s Vineyard. There was nothing anyone could do except to pray.
“Will the Mass be served at my house or at Senator Kennedy’s?” Ethel asked. She attended Mass almost every single day, either at her Catholic church or, quite often, in her own home where a priest would come to perform it. Of course, she would also walk out if the sermon hit her the wrong way, or if she didn’t like the priest. But everyone knew that about Ethel.
“Whichever you prefer,” answered Ethel’s maid.
“I think maybe my house would be best,” Ethel decided. “Yes, we’ll have it on my porch. And will Father O’Byrne say Mass?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Ethel shook her head sadly. “He married John and Carolyn just a few years ago,” she recalled. “And now here we are today. Oh, my poor Johnny,” she added, looking out at the gray sea and merging skyline. She hadn’t used the pet name since John was a tot, at least not that anyone could remember. “Oh, dear Lord,” she said, as if just hit with a revelation. “If Jackie was alive, I don’t know how she would handle this. In fact, I don’t think she could bear it. Do you?”
Ethel’s maid didn’t comment.
“I love all my boys,” Ethel continued. “You know I love my girls, too. But my boys, they have given me the most trouble, and for some reason, I just love my boys so much. And Johnny, I always thought of him as one of my own,” she concluded sadly.
It had been just before midnight on Friday night—not long after the family and guests retired after the rehearsal dinner—that Senator Ted Kennedy learned of John’s missing plane. He wasn’t that concerned, at least not at first. After all, John was nothing if not unpredictable. Perhaps he had changed his plans, Ted reasoned, and just hadn’t informed anyone. However, after a few calls, Ted began to fear the worst. He spent the rest of the night on the telephone talking to the FAA and the Coast Guard, as well as to any of John’s friends he knew to find out if they had any information. Finally, at about 5 a.m., he had no choice but to telephone Ethel to tell her the gut-wrenching news that John’s plane had gone missing. He and Ethel—whom he lovingly called “Ethie”—had been through so much over the years that this seemed like just one more awful moment they would have to share. After speaking to Ted, Ethel tearfully gathered those family members present in the house to tell them what was going on. The rest of the day would be a waiting game. Even though it was obvious that the plane had gone down somewhere, no one in the family was willing to give up hope, least of all Ethel Kennedy. “I don’t give up easily,” she said, “at least not on something I believe in. I have no doubts,” she said. “Not a one.” It would be just like her nephew, she said, to simply show up a day later than planned and have the most wildly entertaining story to tell about his delay.
The phone hadn’t stopped ringing at Ethel’s all morning. She would jump every time it rang, hoping it was good news. One of the calls was from Holly Safford, whose company was catering Rory’s wedding. She had just heard on television that John was missing. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Kennedy,” she said, according to her memory of the conversation. “Th
is is just so devastating. I don’t know what to say.”
“Holly, my dear, there is no need to be sorry, because they are going to find him,” Ethel said, her tone strong and reassuring. “We are going to have a wedding today, I guarantee it.”
“Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Kennedy?”
“Yes,” she answered, “please tell your staff to stand by and wait for further instructions. The wedding is not canceled. They will find John, I know it.”
Three long hours passed, and still no word. As Ethel made her way back to her home from the shoreline, two of her grandchildren—Kate and Kerry Kennedy—joined her. She held their hands, and as they passed a flagpole with an American flag flapping in the wind, the three stopped for a second and looked up at it. It was not at half-mast. Not yet, anyway. “Go, go, go!” Ethel was then heard calling out to the children. “Run! Run! Run! It’s a beautiful day. Go have fun!” With that, the two children raced across the white sand beach and down to the shore.
Ethel continued walking, still limping and showing signs of the hip replacement surgery she’d undergone earlier in the year. Slowly, she made her way past billowing white tents that had just been erected for the wedding ceremony and subsequent party. The site was bustling with activity as people carried elaborate flower arrangements onto the property—roses, for the most part, of every size, every variety, and, it seemed, most every color under the sun. Meanwhile, caterers with large trays of desserts unloaded their goods from a massive truck in Ethel’s driveway. One caterer almost tripped as she tried to navigate over a tangle of power cords while carrying a towering tray of cookies. “Careful,” Ethel said, laughing. “Don’t hurt yourself!”
Also scurrying about the premises were reporters and photographers from People magazine who had somehow gotten into the Kennedy compound. “Inform them that Mrs. Kennedy said they are not allowed on these premises,” Ethel was overheard telling one of the many uniformed policemen patrolling the property. “There should be no press here at all,” she said, now seeming quite annoyed. In her hand was a white linen napkin, folded and tied at the top with a delicate gold ribbon. “This is our home,” Ethel declared, “it is not a park.” She then looked at the napkin in her hands and untied the ribbon around it. It had Rory’s initials on it, and Mark’s. Then—who knows why she did it, whether it was because of some deeply buried sense of the inevitable—she crumpled the napkin and tossed it into a nearby trash can.
Eventually, Ethel walked up the floral-lined pathway to her house. An empty hammock swung on the porch, and the home’s windows were shuttered like those of all of the other white clapboard homes in the compound. Standing on her porch and looking out at the waves crashing on the beach in the distance, she tilted her head and allowed the ocean breeze to cool her face. She seemed to be trying to ignore the bedlam swirling around her when, out of the corner of her eye, she must have seen Ted Kennedy approaching from the direction of his own home in the compound. Family members, household staff, and those responsible for the wedding preparations looked on as Ethel extended her arms to the oft-troubled man she’d always considered more a brother than just a brother-in-law. He’d been in the hospital delivery room holding her hand in place of his deceased brother when she gave birth to Rory. How could she ever forget that?
Unfortunately, Ted had bad news for Ethel. He’d just heard from the Coast Guard that a person standing on the shore near Gay Head—less than a mile from Jackie’s vacation home—had spotted something black floating in the water. She’d thought it was a trash bag. But then one of her friends jumped into the surf to investigate and moments later returned with a suitcase. The two beachgoers gazed at the luggage for a long moment before finally lifting the identification flap. There they found a business card from Morgan Stanley. On it was the name “Lauren Bessette—Vice President.” It would get worse. A prescription bottle made out to Carolyn Bessette would emerge from the waves; a bag of kayaking gear; a piece of an airplane seat; a headrest; an aircraft wheel—all stomach-turning flotsam of a flight gone deadly wrong, now washing ashore and seeming to seal forever the fate of its passengers. Ted had said he didn’t know how he would tell Ethel such terrible news, but he knew that it should come from him.
While the visibly shaken senator relayed the news to her, Ethel Kennedy nodded solemnly as if trying to take it in, as if trying to fathom the unfathomable. When he finished speaking, she seemed stunned as she stood in place, just staring at him in disbelief. She’d been so strong all day, as was usually her fashion in times of crisis. But this was just too much to take. This was more than even she could bear. She began to cry. And as she did so, she seemed to become unsteady on her feet. So he reached out for her and held her close. For a long time, he held her close.
The women of Camelot: Ethel, Joan, and Jackie, the Kennedy sisters-in-law, at Hyannis Port in 1960, just before Jackie became First Lady. (© JACQUES LOWE)
top: Ethel Skakel’s wedding day, June 17, 1950, to Robert Kennedy. In many ways, Ethel and Bobby were the ideal couple, with the same goals and philosophies—or, as Ethel would say many years later, “When you think of me and Bob, think ‘soul mates.’ ” (PHOTOFEST)
bottom: Jackie Bouvier’s wedding day, September 12, 1953, to John Fitzgerald Kennedy, at the time a Democratic senator from Massachusetts. Much has been written about their complex union, but on this day there was nothing but great happiness and optimism for the future. (PHOTOFEST)
Joan Bennett’s wedding day, November 29, 1958, to Edward Moore Kennedy. Joan later said she “had no idea what I was getting myself into” when she married into the powerful, controversial Kennedy family. Like many brides of her generation, she was young, innocent, a bit naïve… and very beautiful. (PARAGON PHOTO VAULT)
Ethel and Jackie were in the audience at the hearing of the Senate labor rackets committee on March 3, 1957. Bobby was the committee’s chief counsel, while Jack was a member of the committee. By this time Ethel already had reservations about Jackie—whom she and some of the other Kennedy women called “Jack-leen” (because it rhymed with “Queen”). (UPI/CORBIS-BETTMANN)
Jackie, Ethel, and Joan campaigned for JFK’s presidency, even though Jackie and Joan didn’t really enjoy politics. The three are seen here in a receiving line in Maryland just before the primary election there in May 1960. (AP/WORLDWIDE PHOTOS)
When Jackie’s advanced pregnancy prevented her from safely continuing on the campaign trail, Joan and Ethel carried on, attending many Democratic tea parties—this one in Erie, Pennsylvania, in October 1960—while stumping for their brother-in-law. (UPl/CORBIS-BETTMANN)
The First Family, photographed on Election Day, November 9, 1960. The entire family honored Jackie with a standing ovation just prior to this sitting, much to Ethel’s chagrin. Standing, left to right: Ethel Kennedy, Stephen Smith, Jean Kennedy Smith, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, Pat Lawford Kennedy, Sargent Shriver, Joan Kennedy, and Peter Lawford. In the foreground: Eunice Shriver Kennedy, Rose Kennedy, Joseph P. Kennedy, Jackie Kennedy, and Ted Kennedy. (ARCHIVE PHOTOS)
top: The Rulers of Camelot at the Inaugural Ball, January 20, 1961: The King, JFK, with his queen, Jackie; and her hand-maidens, Ethel and Joan. (PARAGON PHOTO VAULT)
bottom: Jackie and Jack at the Inaugural Ball at the Mayflower Hotel in Washington. Though Jackie was ill and weak from the birth of John Jr., she still managed to dazzle. (PHOTOFEST)
Jackie was proud of her performance when she gave a tour of the White House on February 14, 1962, for an international television audience. However Ethel, who felt that her sister-in-law’s appearance seemed “phony,” wondered, “Where did that voice come from?” (PHOTOFEST)
Jackie and Lady Bird Johnson, wife of Vice President Lyndon Johnson, always shared a warm relationship; correspondence that spans forty years is testament to a friendship that superseded the political differences between the Kennedys and the Johnsons. Here Lady Bird, wearing a Red Cross aid’s uniform, escorts Jackie into a luncheon hosted by the
Senate Ladies Red Cross Unit in the Old Supreme Court Chamber in Washington in May 1962. (PHOTOFEST/lCON)
Marilyn Monroe, just before going on stage at Madison Square Garden in 1962 to sing “Happy Birthday” to the President. Knowing that her husband was having an affair with the screen star, Jackie refused to attend the gala, saying “Life’s too short to worry about Marilyn Monroe.” (PHOTO FILE)
The Kennedys may have had problems with Marilyn Monroe in 1962, but one would never have known it by this photo taken at the Kennedy compound shortly after the Madison Squre Garden birthday party. Singing one of their favorite family songs are (l–r) : Joan, Eunice, Jackie, Ethel, Pat, Ted, Bobby, Jack, and Steve Smith (Jean’s husband). (JOHN FITZGERALD KENNEDY LIBRARY)
top: Upset by her husband’s relationship with Marilyn Monroe as well as the screen star’s sudden death, Jackie took a “private vacation” to Ravello, Italy, in August 1962. “Isn’t it tragic enough,” she told friends of Monroe’s suicide while on a cruise to Capri, “without our gossiping about it under the stars?” (PHOTOFEST)
Jackie, Ethel, Joan: Women of Camelot Page 60