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To my parents, Rocco and Rose Marie Taraborrelli
I have fought the good fight. I have finished the course. I have kept the faith.
—PAUL THE APOSTLE
Prologue
March 15, 1961. The White House.
It was an evening Janet Auchincloss would never forget, the kind that made her wonder whose life she was living, because it certainly didn’t seem like her own. Wearing a beige silk dress with a delicately jeweled bodice, pearls at her neck, and a fine emerald pin on her shoulder, Janet, with her husband, Hugh, walked into the State Dining Room and stood in stunned silence. Before them was a sea of people in formal wear seated at round tables, seven at each, in chairs covered in yellow, brown, and raspberry-colored silk. The tables were draped in gold cloth with simple yet elegant centerpieces of yellow-and-white hydrangeas, freesia, peonies, a sprig of tangerines, and two perfectly placed, tapered white candles. The flatware was antique vermeil. The room itself was also stunning, adorned tastefully in an eighteenth-century Louis XVI style with pale yellow walls, gold silk drapes, and crisp white molding. As a small string quartet softly played, people milled about searching for their place settings while chatting happily among themselves.
As Janet would later recall, it took a minute or so for her to focus on the seventy-plus guests before she realized that most of them were relatives and personal friends. Continuing to survey the room, she saw one animated young woman trying to flag her down. It was her daughter Lee. Janet made a beeline for her. After an embrace, Lee took her mother by the hand to the table where she was seated with her husband, Prince Stanislaw Radziwill—known to all as “Stas.” Hugh, impeccably tailored in a gray-and-white tuxedo, greeted his stepdaughter with a warm hug and Stas with a firm handshake.
As everyone enjoyed one another’s company, the anticipation in the cavernous dining room continued to build. Finally, a stately-looking gentleman went to a microphone and, with great pomposity, announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, and the First Lady, Jacqueline Kennedy.” At that point, everyone rose and applauded as the first couple made their way slowly through the dining room, smiling, shaking hands, and graciously greeting guests.
Janet’s oldest daughter, Jacqueline—Jackie—was a real beauty, her ink-black short hair in a glossy yet simple coif, her angular face clear and luminous as if carved from polished marble. She had prominent cheekbones and dark eyes set far apart. Her teeth weren’t perfectly aligned, but her smile was appealing just the same, as if that one flaw lent humanity to her goddess-like quality.
Love and pride lit up Janet’s face as Jackie reached out to her and kissed her on the cheek. Jackie then embraced Hugh and Stas, saving her sister for last. Smiling, she and Lee joined hands, holding each other at arm’s length to compliment their fashion choices—Jackie in white sleeveless organza, Lee in flowing red silk—before finally hugging each other.
Janet knew the evening was one Jackie had planned especially for Lee because Lee hadn’t been well. She’d had a difficult time giving birth about six months earlier, which had debilitated her to the point where she’d not even been able to attend the inauguration of President Kennedy. Making things all the more difficult for her, Lee was now living in Europe with Stas, an ocean separating her from her beloved family members. These days, she seemed muted, sad. She was certainly gorgeous, though, with a slender and willowy frame. Her eyes, large and intelligent, were maybe her greatest feature. Some people thought she was actually prettier than Jackie. She didn’t comport herself with the same authority, though. Jackie’s beauty was more than skin deep; it emanated from within because of her unwavering self-confidence. Lee just wasn’t as vital and arresting a person, at least not these days. Therefore, out of concern for her, Jackie decided to host this dinner-dance in Lee’s honor.
Of course, it had to have felt a little to Lee like it was Jackie’s night, especially given the grand entrance she’d just made. Lee was used it, though. After all, Janet’s girls had been in competition since they were youngsters—mostly one-sided, Lee’s side, unfortunately. Now that Jackie was First Lady, there was scant hope that Lee would ever be able to top that.
Though the Kennedys had moved into the White House only a few weeks earlier, it already felt to a lot of people as if they’d taken the country by storm. Jackie was, at thirty-one, a new kind of youthful, elegant First Lady, especially coming after the conservative, sixty-five-year-old Mamie Eisenhower. Her husband, John—better known to friends and family as Jack—was forty-three and handsome in a rock-solid sort of way, fairly bursting with vitality, or what the Kennedys liked to call “vi-ga!” His extended family was fascinating, too; tonight, though, they were scarce. In fact, if one were to peruse the official White House guest list, on top would be found “The President and Mrs. Kennedy,” of course. Next was “Prince and Princess Stanislaw Radziwill” (that would be Stas and Lee), followed by “Mr. and Mrs. Hugh D. Auchincloss” (Hugh and Janet), after which was “The Atty. General and Mrs. Kennedy” (Bobby and Ethel, naturally), and then all of the other guests, mostly friends of Jackie’s, Janet’s, and Lee’s. Though Jack’s brother-in-law Sargent Shriver was present, that was only because, less than two weeks earlier, Jack had announced a ramping up of his plans for a Peace Corps with Sargent as its director. Jackie thought he should be present out of respect for Jack, but his wife, Eunice, was nowhere to be found. There were no other Kennedys.
If anything, Jackie’s decisions relating to who would be invited to this particular dinner-dance underscored her pride in her own side of the family. Looking back all these years later, some might view the Auchinclosses as the other side of “Camelot,” the romantic term Jackie would one day use to describe her husband’s administration. After all, Jackie really did have a full life that had nothing to do with the Kennedys; for instance, she had a half brother and half sister the world didn’t seem to know a thing about: Janet Jr., fifteen, and Jamie, fourteen, born to Janet and Hugh and both at boarding school.
Though many people didn’t realize it, Jackie had modeled herself after her mom, Janet Lee Bouvier Auchincloss. Janet was remarkably stylish in her own right. At the age of fifty-three, her face was barely lined or scored by the years. She was petite and in shape thanks to her dedication to long walks, horseback riding, and isometric exercises. Self-assured, she held herself with a bearing that could best be described as regal. It made sense. After all, she’d been raised in an entitled world of privilege and money. Her first marriage to a scoundrel named Jack Bouvier in 1928 would result in their two daughters, Jacqueline Lee Bouvier—Jackie—and Caroline Lee Bouvier—known simply as Lee—now twenty-eight.
Of course, mother and daughters didn’t always get along, each headstrong, passionate, and, at times, temperamental. However, they were bound not only by a deep affection for one another but, like most
families, by a shared history of triumphs and disappointments. Incredibly enough, their journey had somehow led them to this astonishing moment—one that found Jackie as America’s First Lady, Lee as a princess, and Janet the proud mother of two accomplished, intelligent young women of substance.
The party was great fun, Jackie’s exquisite taste on full display, as always. “Come with me,” she whispered conspiratorially to Janet at one point in the evening. “I have something I think you should see. Let’s get Lee.” Eventually, they found Lee and Stas in front of the fireplace, under an imposing oil painting of Abraham Lincoln, talking to Oleg Cassini, Jackie’s dress designer. They pulled Lee aside and asked her to join them. Sensing a matter of possible urgency, Stas and Oleg wanted to come along, but Jackie said no. What she had in store was just for her sister and mother.
Jackie then walked Janet and Lee out to the hall, where they boarded an elevator that took them down one floor. They then walked through a seemingly endless maze of rooms to the West Wing and then into a foyer area utilized by the President’s personal secretary. Before them was a large, imposing, glossy white door, which Jackie opened with a flourish. After Janet and Lee had walked about a foot into the room, they stood in place beaming with pleasure, their mouths wide open.
It was the Oval Office, the executive headquarters of the President of the United States. The three women took a few careful steps onto the large, round green carpet, still in place from the Eisenhower administration. There were statues, busts, and figurines not yet in their proper places; most of the décor was still just as President Eisenhower had left it. Jackie said she eventually intended to change out the green drapes on the three large south-facing French windows behind the President’s desk to ivory to match the walls. She said that Jack was thinking about going with red carpeting instead of the present pale green, but she thought it might be “too obvious,” as she put it. The President and First Lady were free to implement their ideas; each new administration was given the opportunity to redecorate the Oval Office to its own taste. For now, though, Jackie’s only concern was to share this one special moment with the two most important people in her life, her mother and her sister. The three Bouvier women stood in the middle of the Oval Office for a long time, wondering how in the world they’d ever arrived at this incredible and also solemn moment. “It took my breath away,” Janet would later recount to her friend Oatsie Charles. “I simply could not believe my eyes,” she exclaimed.
Janet walked over to the President’s desk. It was Eisenhower’s, not the Resolute Desk that Jack would eventually use, made from wood of the HMS Resolute and a gift from Queen Victoria to President Rutherford Hayes. Jackie would later have that particular piece of furniture brought out of storage and placed in this office for her husband. But now, before Janet was Eisenhower’s big and imposing desk, a symbol of great strength and power if ever there was one.
“Go ahead, Mummy,” Jackie told her. “You know you want to.”
Janet paused a moment. Dare she? Then, according to what she would recall, she held her breath and slowly sat down in the President’s chair, taking her place behind the large desk. Once she was seated, she exhaled and tried to relax. “Is this real?” she asked her daughters, both of whom were beaming at her. They would later agree that seeing their mother sitting behind the desk that belonged to the Leader of the Free World somehow seemed to make all the sense in the world. After all, Janet had ruled the family with an iron fist for many years, and would continue to do so. The moment didn’t last long, though. After about a minute, Janet had to stand up and walk away from the desk, saying, “It’s just too much to take!”
The magnitude of the moment hit Janet hard, so much so that she made a decision. “I must call him Mr. President from now on, mustn’t I?” she asked Jackie as the three women took seats on the beige couches in front of the fireplace. According to one account, Jackie said, “Of course not, Mummy. He’s still Jack.” No, Janet decided as she gazed about the hallowed circular room. She noted that the important decisions likely to be made in this space in years to come would be so urgent that never should they be shouldered by a mere man named “Jack.” She offered, “We can no longer think of him as the man, we have to think of him as the office.” Therefore, from that time on, out of respect not only for the office but for the officeholder, Janet would always refer to her son-in-law as “Mr. President.”
Mother and daughters spent about a half hour in the Oval Office, much of their discussion remaining private between them, the details lost to the ages and all but wondered about by their relatives for years to come. “I can’t believe I missed out on that moment when those three stepped into the Oval Office,” Oleg Cassini would recall many years later. “To think, I was standing right there when Jackie asked her mother and sister to join her! Later, when Lee told me about it, I must admit I was filled with envy.”
“It was such a proud moment,” Janet later remembered of her and Lee’s first and only time in the Oval Office. “It was something I’m so happy to have been able to share with my girls.” She said it felt to her, during that special evening in March of 1961, as if everything was right in their world, as if nothing could ever go wrong. Jackie and Lee would have agreed; this was the good life, all right. Surely, they thought, it would only get richer and more fulfilling with the passing of time, the promise of tomorrow.
Unfortunately, as fate would have it, mother and daughters could not have been more wrong. In fact, Jackie wouldn’t even get to see how that “obvious” red carpet Jack so badly wanted would look in the Oval Office, nor the realization of many of her other ideas relating to his inner sanctum. Those final renovations wouldn’t be completed until November of 1963 while the Kennedys campaigned in Texas. However, that was the trip from which Jackie would return a widow. She would then walk into the Oval Office only to find it already torn apart to suit the taste of the next administration. Swift decisions made by those newly in power would serve as harsh reminders that what had once been held sacred would now be laid to waste. Soon one sister would be forced to forgive the unforgivable while the other would make life choices based on fear and desperation. Indeed, before long, the lives of Janet and her daughters Jackie and Lee would change so abruptly—so unexpectedly—that it would take their breath away.
PART ONE
THE BEGINNING
“My Lee”
November 1952.
Janet Lee Bouvier Auchincloss, forty-four, came sweeping down the hall wearing a waistcoat jacket with a mink collar over a white silk blouse and matching cotton skirt. Her spike heels made staccato clicking sounds as she approached an office at the end of a long hallway. Peeking inside the small room, she found a young woman working behind a typewriter. “Excuse me. I wonder if you can help me?” she asked. “I’m looking for my Lee.” At the mention of the name, from around a corner came a familiar voice: “Mummy, is that you?” Lee suddenly appeared, also looking elegant in a smartly tailored black pantsuit with a wide leather belt. (In black-and-white photographs taken on the day, the belt appears to be gray but Lee would later call it “shocking pink.”) “Lee,” exclaimed Janet as she sized her up. “For goodness sake! Why are you wearing pants?” For a moment, Lee’s glowing smile disappeared; her shoulders drooped dejectedly. She recovered quickly, though, as Janet pulled her into an embrace.
It could be said that Janet Auchincloss’s life up until this point had unfolded pretty much the way she’d expected. She always knew, for instance, that she would marry “up,” as she had ten years earlier with her second husband, the well-heeled Hugh Dudley Auchincloss Jr., affectionately known as “Hughdie.” “Hughdie’s not perfect and neither am I,” she would tell intimates, “but we suit each other.” On the whole, she was content, even though, as a young woman of thirty-four, she had made certain sacrifices in marrying Hugh—not the least of which had been forfeiting the kind of passion she’d once shared with her first husband, Jack Bouvier. However, she was a pragmatic woman who, once s
he made a choice in life, made an effort to never look back. While the marriage to Bouvier had produced two daughters, Jackie, now twenty-three, and Lee, nineteen, with Hugh she had Janet, seven, and Jamie, five.
Janet had not been happy with some of Lee’s decisions of late, but her daughter seemed to have landed in a good place. For the last month, she’d been working at a new job as assistant to fashion icon Diana Vreeland at Harper’s Bazaar. It was going well for her. Because Janet had a full itinerary of business meetings with Hugh in New York, where Lee was now living, the opportunity for a mother-daughter visit at the new job presented itself. As she looked around at the Harper’s workplace, Janet took in the chaos of busy writers and photographers popping in and out of each other’s offices, all with so much to do. The creative energy in this place captivated her just as much as it had Lee when she first applied for the job.
Deena Atkins-Manzel worked at Harper’s at the same time as Lee, as a designer in the art department. “Lee and I started the exact same week, she a few days before me,” she recalled. “She was model thin, had a great complexion, a beautiful smile, a way about her that was elegant and smart. She had long dark hair and big, inquisitive brown eyes that sometimes looked hazel. She was eager, loved fashion and design. We spent hours talking about the latest styles and trends. I thought she was marvelous.
“I well remember the day Lee’s mother first came to visit,” she added. “Mrs. Auchincloss was a small-framed woman with a large personality. Much to Lee’s dismay, she invited herself into each office to ask the employees, ‘So what is it you do here?’ Lee would say, ‘Mummy, you can’t just barge into people’s offices.’ Mrs. Auchincloss said, ‘But I think it must be nice for these poor people to get a break from their humdrum jobs.’ She was a real character and I could tell that Lee was embarrassed by her, the way daughters sometimes are of their moms.”
Jackie, Janet & Lee Page 1
