Oh, yeah. Oh, poor Fulbright. If only he'd been picked—yeah, then Lyndon would like him and everything. And Fulbright was—yes, he was right. I remember he was the one—practically the only person who agreed with Jack—or who was against the Bay of Pigs?11
That's right. Um-hmm. The only one who spoke out against it firmly in one of the meetings.
Yeah. Though apparently at the second meeting he thought it might be all right, but you know, he sort of agreed at the end. But still—I think a lot of Fulbright.
When did Dillon12 come into the picture?
Well, sometime around then—but again, I was in the hospital.
But you'd known the Dillons in Washington.
Oh, yes.
But not terribly well, I gather.
Not terribly well, but as well as we knew anyone. I mean, we'd been to their house for dinner a few times and I knew Phyllis Dillon. So they were one of the few people whose house we went to dinner to—occasionally, as sort of a friend, but never terribly close. And now I'd say of all the cabinet once we were in the White House, they were really our best friends. The only ones we really saw in the evening or at our private parties were them and McNamara—the McNamaras. But the Dillons were the only ones we ever had dinner with just the four of us. The McNamaras and the Dillons would come to the private parties—those dances and things.
Did putting Bobby in the cabinet cause a lot of—
Oh, that was awful because—I suppose that was Mr. Kennedy completely. Bobby told me that once, after November, the weeks before we left the White House. He said it was Mr. Kennedy who really did it—and he said Bobby didn't think it would be good for Jack and Jack could see the problems it presented, though he never would say that to Bobby. And Bobby really went into this sort of slump that people say he was in since Jack's death. He didn't know what he wanted to do and again he wanted to go away and teach. He just didn't want it and finally—you know, he'd keep saying no or, he hadn't decided, or this or that, and finally one day Jack just called him in and said, "Well, you have to," or something, and it was decided. That shows you what Bobby is like and how he was just doing everything he could to get out of it, whereas Eunice was pestering Jack to death to make Sargent head of HEW because she wanted to be a cabinet wife.13 You know, it shows you some people are ambitious for themselves and Bobby wasn't.
What do you think the President would have had in mind for Bobby, if not the Justice—bringing him into the White House in some way or—
ATTORNEY GENERAL ROBERT KENNEDY AND PRESIDENT KENNEDY IN THE OVAL OFFICE, APRIL 1962
Abbie Rowe, National Park Service/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston
I don't know. But he was so used to working with Bobby and having him to sound out decisions with, so I suppose it might have been that domestic—sort of like Bundy, only not. I don't know. I think he always wanted Bundy for Bundy's job, didn't he? Or did he decide that after?
I think he must have always had it in mind. He decided it sort of in December. He was absolutely definite that he wanted Mac down with him and I think in the course of December down in Palm Beach he decided that he would be the man for that job.
And—oh, but that job really changed completely, the way, what Jack and Bundy made of it, didn't it?
Yes, it was much more. It had been a rather routine job with people like Gordon Gray14 and so on and it became, partly because of Mac's ability and partly because of Rusk's weakness, it became—
Jack saw he needed that?
It became much more of a job.
And just the way he saw he needed to get General Taylor there after the Bay of Pigs. He sort of created this job. Oh, one other thing I was going to tell you—the cabinet, what was it? God, my mind's gone blank.
Mac? Or?
Oh, one thing in Florida that I can remember about the interregnum that was rather a painful day. It was when Franklin Roosevelt, Jr., came down and Franklin told me Mr. Kennedy met him at the airport and said, "If it wasn't for some Italian in New York, we'd all be working for you now," meaning Carmine.15 You know, again Mr. Kennedy's charm—oh, no, no, no, that was before West Virginia—sorry. That's what he said to Franklin to get him to help in West Virginia. But, Franklin wanted to be secretary of the navy and McNamara said that he couldn't have him. Franklin always thinks that Henry Ford told McNamara he couldn't have him—some convoluted reasoning there. I forget what it is. So it was very hard for Franklin—you know, to tell him that. But he took it so sweetly.16
I wonder why Bob had that feeling?
I do think it might have been—either Henry Ford or McNamara had a meeting with Franklin. His mind was sort of set against him a bit before. I think Franklin would have been all right.
I think Franklin would have been a very good secretary of the navy.
Yeah.
Franklin is bright and he's capable of hard work and I think he's been—all I hear of him is the good job in Commerce.
So Jack felt terribly about Franklin. He offered him ambassador to Canada, ambassador to Italy, every time anything—this was in the months after the presidency and before, anytime he could think of anything, because he knew he really owed so much to Franklin, and Franklin said, no, he just would use these years to make some money and keep his Fiat—and then one—I guess it was last winter—we were at the Roosevelts for dinner and I guess this undersecretary of commerce job had come up because after dinner Franklin and Jack disappeared into an upstairs bedroom about an hour and a half, and Franklin had been, I guess, telling Jack how much he wanted it. So, on the way home in the car, Jack was so happy to see—you know, at last there was something Franklin wanted. And then he was made it.
How about Udall?17 Had you known him at all?
Not really. You know, just the way I knew all the senators. I think he was always the one Jack wanted for that, don't you?
Yes.
Jack owed him a lot for Arizona, which he took away from Lyndon and brought to Jack. And he was bright and he really was—I mean, Jack said he's one of the best secretaries of the interior. You know, he really cares about conservation and all that. So I knew he was always planned and—who was it for Agriculture? There were three people—Herschel, does that make sense?
Herschel Newson?
Herschel or somebody, and Docking, was it?
Docking was the governor of Kansas.
Yeah, we knew him, we'd stayed with them. And some Her—well, Herschel Loveless, is it?
Herschel Loveless, yes, the former governor of Iowa.
Yeah. But Jack didn't like him much, I don't think? Anyway, he made things rather difficult. When Jack interviewed him, I guess he just had no ideas or was just—I know Jack was really depressed after that. And he loved Orville Freeman.18 I don't know if he was always wanting Orville Freeman or how Orville Freeman came up.
Orville gave the nominating speech in Los Angeles.
Yeah, but I mean, I wonder why Jack just didn't make him that in the beginning.
Orville didn't want it. Orville wanted to be attorney general.
I see.
Or to be secretary of the army, for some reason, and he just had a sense that the agricultural problem was insoluble and I think that was—my recollection is that, that was the last cabinet office filled.
I know at the convention, Jack was promising everyone Agriculture, wasn't he? I mean, a couple of people like Loveless and—
I think yes—particularly Middle Westerners.
Yeah.
To sort of flourish before them. Hodges?
Well, I don't remember any problem or anyone else they were considering besides Hodges.19 Who found Hodges? I think it was Sargent. And I don't know, it didn't set your mind aflame. I think maybe Jack thought he needed someone older.
Nice old man, a southerner—
A southerner business would trust, or something. I can't remember any comments he ever made and what kind of secretary of commerce Hodges was.
And then Ed Day as postmaster g
eneral.20
Oh, yeah. I don't know why he was chosen either, do you?
They wanted a Californian.
Oh, yeah. Well, he was the one cabinet member I really thought was third rate. I mean, I don't know about being postmaster general, but just corny and just—I don't know. I never thought much of him.
Now all the members of the cabinet, really the only ones whom the President knew moderately before, besides Bobby, were Douglas, and I guess, and Stewart Udall.
And Freeman.
And Freeman. But Rusk and McNamara and Hodges and Day, of course, Arthur Goldberg, we forgot.
Oh, yeah.
Goldberg was an old friend.
Yes, and he knew Goldberg—I mean, there was never any doubt in his mind that he wanted Arthur for that job. And I remember how sad he was when the appointment came in the Supreme Court, though he thought Wirtz was wonderful—a wonderful man. You know, it was sort of the way McNamara and Gilpatric21 worked together in Defense. You know, he really hated to lose Arthur in Labor but he really cared about his appointments to the Supreme Court. He said, "Oh, God, I'll hate to lose him." And now Arthur just thinks he's—I don't know—just the way all the Supreme Court justices get to think of themselves. I was so amazed that Arthur would rule that way and—that thing they just passed, where you can write anything about people in public office. And Arthur would even say you could do it with deliberate malice.22 He was one of the three who were for that. When you think, ads like that in the paper was partly what killed Jack.23 They get so detached from life up in the Supreme Court. There's this atmosphere of just reverence. But still, Arthur Goldberg's brilliant. But he talks more about himself than any man I've ever met in my life.
Has that always been so or is it—
Well, in the early days when he used to come for breakfast all the time, for the labor bill—they were obviously talking about the labor bill. But I really started to see much of Arthur Goldberg after the presidency. And I was really horrified. But, I mean, I know he's brilliant. I just think it's such a shame to be so pleased with yourself.
Apart from Rusk and from Day, the President was fairly well satisfied with the cabinet. Did you think?
Yeah, I don't think he cared about Day one way or the other because I don't know—I mean, is the Post Office Department a big problem?
No, I think Day ran it perfectly competently.
Yeah, Day was just sort of a—I don't know—he was always being in little skits at the multiple sclerosis ball. I just thought he was silly. But, that was me and I never really discussed him with Jack. But I don't think he thought much of him.
One of the interesting things is the President's instinct for people because his capacity to pick people whom he knew rather slightly—even Lovett and McCloy,24 for example. He hadn't known them much before, had he?
I don't think so. I mean, he'd obviously known them, but not terribly well. He could tell so much by talking to them, though I guess, with Dean Rusk, he made a mistake, but as you say, Dean Rusk comes over so marvelously when you're talking to him. You think he can save the world.
That would be his—how would he go about sizing them up? He'd talk to them—that'd be the main thing, of course, then he'd get a lot of reports from Sarge.25
Yeah. He'd have all these reports and things, and things that other people would say about them and then they'd come. It's like an interview if you're going to be accepted in a school or something. I mean, he'd be in that living room with them for a couple of hours and they'd just talk.
Did he ever describe what he talked about?
Well, it was such a hard time for him, those busy days. And then when he'd come over to see me in the hospital, he would— Later I told you what he said about McNamara and I know how disillusioned he was with Loveless—just certain, who had no solution to the farm problem, and no original thoughts. The others—I should have asked him all that, but when you live with a man who's so busy and everything, you don't want to just question him, question him, at the end of the day. So you pick it up by what he's telling someone else or what he wants to tell you—though I might have been dying to know. I'll remember more later. Now my mind has gone so blank about so many things that I know I remembered before.
It'll come back. What gave him the most trouble besides Franklin and Stevenson in that period? Do you remember anything else in which he seems [to have had a] problem?
No. I remember—did I say it before—about him getting Clark Clifford to do that reorganization thing? It wasn't trouble. That was something he was very pleased with. Did I say that in the tape before?
No, you haven't.
Well, right after he was elected, he got Clark Clifford. I think he'd asked Clark way before election, saying, "If I get elected you must be prepared right away to do this transition thing." So, Clark had been looking into it, you know, making great things, so that everybody who was appointed to something spent those months between November and January literally at the desk of the man they would succeed. And he said there'd never been such a, you know, well-done transition. But he was thinking about that way before he was even elected.
What were your own thoughts about getting in the White House?
It's funny. I used to worry about going into the White House.26 This was before the campaign started or it got so close—you know, thinking all the things anyone thinks. It'll be a goldfish bowl, the Secret Service, I'll never see my husband. Then once Jack was nominated and everything, then you were so happy for him. And then once you got in it, I mean, you were just so happy for him, then you found out that it was really the happiest time of my life. It was when we were the closest—I didn't realize the physical closeness of having his office in the same building and seeing him so many times a day. There was always a great tension living there, but I used to—I remember thinking in the White House, "What was the matter with me that I spent so much time worrying, would it ruin our marriage to get in the White House?" And here it was so happy. And then I thought, you never can know what will be the best for you.27 Then once we were in the White House, I used to worry all the time about getting out of it. And I used to think, what will you do with Jack, who will be fifty-one or something when he leaves? This caged tiger who's such a young age, still able to do so much. And sometimes I used to ask him about that and be worried. And he'd always soothe me and say, "You know, it won't be a problem when it happens."
What did—did he ever talk about what he might do after the presidency?
Yes. In the beginning, he used to sort of treat it as a joke and didn't like to talk about it, and he'll say, "Oh, I'll be an ambassador to Italy," or something. And that would get—but he was just teasing. And then I'd say, "Oh, you have to run for the Senate." And—again, this shows something wonderful about Bobby. Once I told Bobby that I was so worried and that if only Jack could run for the Senate, you know, have Teddy's seat, because Jack said they wouldn't take two brothers from there. So Bobby went and spoke to Teddy and came back and told me that Teddy said that he would not run when Johnny—that's what the brothers always called him—was out, which is so touching because that was the highest thing that I think Teddy could ever have hoped for. And anyway, I told Jack that because I always remember him saying how John Quincy Adams—
Yeah.
—came back and was a congressman all his life, and I thought he could be a senator and have a base and do all his other things from there. And Jack was really wounded when I told him that. And he was touched that I cared so much to be so worried, but he said, "No, I never, never would do that. And take that from Teddy? How could you think I'd do such a thing? So you go back to Bobby and tell him." But I think that shows something so close about those three brothers.
JACK, BOBBY, AND TEDDY, HYANNIS PORT, 1960
John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston
Yes.
That each would—there is Bobby making Teddy give up his prize, which Teddy does gladly, and then Jack refusing. They all worked with such
love for each other. And just towards the end, Jack was thinking about being either publisher of a great paper or—I don't know. Bundy said to me the other night that he thought he might have ended up in television or something. I think he would have had to do something. He was getting rather excited about it. Sometimes he talked to Ben Bradlee about it—"Think we could buy the Washington Post?"—or something, rather jovially, but you could always tell when he was toying with an idea that pleased him in his mind. I think he would have gone around the world, written a book, done something with his library, and then really entered into that.
Where would you—where would you have lived, do you suppose?
Well, I just assumed we'd have lived in Cambridge, but maybe we wouldn't have. Or then I thought we should still live in Washington, but now I know that would have been completely wrong. And Jack always said we shouldn't live in Washington. He was right. It would be too hard for an ex-president to live in this city, which is so oriented to the new president. So maybe we'd have lived in—
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