“I agree with Lee,” Hugh finally said. “Let’s just sell it, then.” He was clearly tired of the discussion. This was the first time he had spoken during the entire meeting. He seemed beaten down and sick as he sat slumped over in a chair, an oxygen apparatus in his nose connected to a tank at his side. “We’ve all had our wonderful memories here, and maybe it’s just time to let the ol’ place go,” he added. He said that, of course, he would rather keep Hammersmith Farm in the family, but if there was no way to do it, “the family is still the family whether we’re sitting together at this table or at some other table. Let’s not fight, please.” Everyone looked sadly at Hugh. They loved him dearly and hated to see him so down and ill. “Yes, maybe it is for the best, then,” Jackie said. Sitting next to her beloved stepfather, she rested her hand on his and looked at him with great warmth and sympathy.
Janet had heard enough. “One of us has all the money in the world,” she said, seeming unable to look Jackie in the face. “And one of us has apparently made up her mind.” After slamming both hands on the table, she then rose and stormed from the room, leaving everyone in stunned silence.
“Good-bye, Hughdie”
By November, Hugh’s declining health made things all the more bleak for the family. With his emphysema taking a great toll on him, he continued to be confined to a wheelchair with oxygen. “This was a tough time for the family,” said Adora Rule. “Janet would wake up every morning hoping he would be better, but he just kept getting worse. ‘He’s my rock,’ she told me one day, ‘and without him, I’m not sure how I can go on.’ He meant the world to her. She would find him hobbling about aimlessly down by the shore, his medication also having a debilitating effect on him. Watching Hugh decline as he did was hard for her, especially since—though she wouldn’t admit it—she was suffering from her own old age issues.”
In November, Hugh accompanied Janet to the District of Columbia, where the couple wanted to cast their votes for the 1976 presidential election. Janet was voting for the Democratic candidate, Jimmy Carter, whereas Hugh was voting for the Republican, Gerald Ford. In a sense, as Hugh wryly noted, their votes would cancel each other out but, always the patriots, they were determined to do their civic duty. It was while in Washington, at the couple’s O Street residence, that Hugh took a turn for the worse.
“On the morning of November 18, Janet called me and asked me to come to O Street immediately, saying that Hugh wanted to say good-bye to me,” said Sherry Geyelin. “I lived in Bass Harbor, Maine, but took a plane to Washington as quickly as I could. By the time I got there, the next day, the nineteenth, poor Hughdie was already gone. I walked into the house and Janet was sitting on the couch with Oatsie Charles, crying. Hugh’s former secretary, Margaret Anne Kearney, was also there, comforting Janet. She told me that Janet had summoned her the night before and that when she walked into Hugh’s room, he said, ‘Oh my God. I must be about to die.’ His humor was intact until the very end.
“Poor Janet seemed so small to me, it was as if she had actually shrunk in stature and was just so tiny, so fragile and vulnerable, sitting there, crying.”
“You know full well it’s going to happen one day,” Janet told Sherry through her tears, “but when it does, it’s still such a shock. We were married for thirty-four wonderful years. I don’t know what I will do without him.”
Sherry sat next to Janet and held her hand. “He loved you very much,” she said, now also crying. “He was such a loyal husband to you.”
Janet looked up at her and softly said, “I know he did. That’s true of him.”
“We will always love him,” Margaret said of her former boss, for whom she had worked for twenty-one years. “His suffering is over now, Janet. Maybe this is a blessing.”
“Mummy was devastated when Daddy died,” said Hugh and Janet’s only son, Jamie. “Just absolutely devastated.”
There would be two services for Hugh Auchincloss, one at Christ Church across from the O Street home and the second at Newport’s Trinity Church. While Jamie and Janet Jr. attended both services along with Yusha, Nini, Tommy, and many other relatives, including his grandchildren, Jackie and Lee attended only the Trinity service. The sisters arrived in separate cars; Janet Jr. accompanied Jackie. “We are here for Mummy,” Lee told one relative. “But Jackie and I aren’t really speaking to one another right now.” When asked why, Lee shook her head sadly and softly said, “It’s just more of the same. What can I tell you?”
About a week later, Janet and her young protégées, Linda and Joyce Faria, stood on the observation deck of the Windmill with its majestic view as far and as wide as the eye could see, all blue sky and sparkling Atlantic Ocean. “What a perfect day,” Janet said as she took in the cool, crisp air. “Did you know that Uncle Hughdie was born right here at Hammersmith?” she asked, looking down at the girls. Nine-year-old Linda nodded. Janet said that Hugh “loved this place more than anything,” which is why she had asked Mannie Faria for permission to bring his daughters to the Windmill to assist her in a solemn ceremony.
Janet held in her hands an ornate urn. Twisting off the top, she ran her fingers through the ashes—Hugh’s ashes. “Now, I want you girls to grab a nice big handful of these ashes,” she said, “and throw them out there as far as you can. Way, way out there. Like this.” She then took a fistful of ashes and scattered them off the observation deck with a wide gesture toward Narragansett Bay. The ocean breeze carried them out into the distance. With tears in her eyes but a soft smile on her face, Janet then watched as Linda took a handful of ashes from the box. In one motion as big as any that could be expected of a nine-year-old girl, she dispersed the ashes off the observation deck. They disappeared quickly. Seven-year-old Joyce did the same. Then another handful from Janet. “Good-bye, Hughdie,” she said as the breeze carried the ashes toward the bay. “We love you.” The Faria girls each took another handful of ashes and threw them toward the horizon. “Good-bye, Uncle Hughdie,” Linda said. “We’ll miss you.”
Of course, Janet’s first thought was to spread Hugh’s ashes with Jackie or Lee, or Jamie, Yusha, or maybe Nini or Tommy. However, in thinking it over, she decided that she just didn’t have the energy to try to get the family together, “what with this one being in one place, that one being somewhere else, and the other being who knows where,” she said. She also said she thought it would be special for the Faria girls, a memory they would treasure forever. Maybe the emotionally charged moment was a little too much for Joyce, though, who began to softly cry. Janet knelt down before her. “Oh, no, no,” she said, wiping her tears with her fingers. “This isn’t a sad day, Joyce. This is a happy day. Hughdie is free, and thanks to you and Linda, he will always be a part of Hammersmith.” She then reached into the box and put some more ashes into Joyce’s hand. “Go on,” she said, motioning out to the sea. Now with a big smile, Joyce threw the ashes off the side of the deck. “Good-bye, Hughdie,” she said. “We love you. Me and Linda. Mommy and Daddy. And especially Mrs. A.”
After the intimate ceremony at Hammersmith in Hugh’s honor, Janet went to Trinity Church, where she met her good friends Oatsie Charles and Margaret Kearney. The three women then spent the next couple of hours in silence, lighting candles and praying for Hughdie.
PART ELEVEN
ENDURING
Camelot Gardens
“I am perfectly willing to cooperate,” Janet Auchincloss was saying as she poured hot tea into a small cup, “but with one proviso: this absolutely can not become a Kennedy museum,” she added, handing the drink to her guest. “That is not what I want, and not what Jackie wants, either,” she said. Janet was in the living room of the Castle, not yet moved into it from the Big House but comfortable just the same. She was speaking to a young brunette in a stylish woman’s business suit named Janet Crook. Crook represented Camelot Gardens and Associates, the new owners of Hammersmith; her position was Director of Hammersmith Farms. It was early 1977 and the deal had been finalized at last for $825,000. “All
my children hate it, and I hate it,” Janet would tell the press of the sale. “Hugh and I wanted to keep the farm for our descendants,” she elaborated, “but it was absolutely necessary to sell.”
“You do have the presidential flag in the foyer of the main house,” Janet Crook noted. “You’ll leave that there, won’t you?”
Of course, Janet said. The two were referencing the framed presidential seal flag that Jack had long ago presented to Hugh; it had flown at the waterfront whenever the President was in residence. However, there should be no photographs of the Kennedy family on display, she added, clarifying her position. For Janet, it was a matter of family pride—Auchincloss family pride. “You see, this is our home, not theirs,” she explained, “and so, there’ll be no pictures of Rose, Ethel, Bobby, Teddy, and the others. Just a lovely wedding photo of Jack and Jackie, and maybe one or two other photos of Jack as President. But that’s it. Do we have an understanding?” Crook agreed and assured Janet that the new owners would be respectful of her wishes.
The two then walked over to the main house so that Janet could show her guest some of the sights there. “Down in the basement, that’s off limits, too,” Janet said. She explained that the Secret Service had once been quartered there and that much of its equipment was still present, though no longer in working condition.
“There were no teary moments even though this was obviously all very difficult for Mrs. Auchincloss,” recalled Janet Crook. “She was gracious and lovely, handling everything with the dignity that would be expected. I had maybe four months to get the estate ready to be a tourist attraction. It would be open every May through October. So there was a lot to do, not the least of which was for Mrs. Auchincloss to move her personal treasured belongings into the Castle.”
* * *
A few days later, Janet and Jackie rummaged through the enormous main house while giving dictation to an assistant. The secretary took frantic notes of furnishings and mementos that were still to be moved to the Castle.
For instance, on the third floor was a large walk-in cedar closet in which Janet’s many riding trophies from her youth were displayed, as well as silver cups, red ribbons, and other mementos of Jackie’s equestrian days. There was also a bulletin board covered with ribbons for the farm’s prize cattle. Jackie thought that perhaps some of these keepsakes should be moved to the Castle so that they would be closer to her mother.
At the end of the emotional day, Jackie stood in the living room next to the golden marble fireplace and in front of the presidential seal flag. “Don’t you think it’s marvelous that people will be able to walk through here and experience Hammersmith just as we have all these years?” she asked Janet. While Jackie had made the decision to not purchase Hammersmith herself—and, in fact, was in the process of building her own estate on Martha’s Vineyard—she didn’t like seeing her mother upset. She’d spent many tearful hours with Yusha trying to decide what was best, especially since he had promised his father he would always take care of Janet at Hammersmith. The decision was made, though, and now she was just trying to be encouraging.
Janet was never one to hide her true feelings, not in front of family anyway. Though someone like Janet Crook from Camelot Gardens would never know for sure how sad this time was, members of the family were well aware of it. “I suppose it will be nice,” Janet answered, halfheartedly. She then turned and slowly made her way up the crimson-carpeted staircase—the same one on which Jackie posed in 1947 as “Debutante of the Year” and from which, six years later, she tossed her bridal bouquet when she married JFK.
As Janet gripped the wooden railing tightly, an assistant followed close behind making certain she wouldn’t stumble. There actually was a small Elevette to the top floors, which had been installed back in ’59 for Hugh because of his emphysema. However, maybe adhering to that great tradition of Lees and Bouviers when it came to high drama, Janet chose the more theatrical way up the stairs—one by one, very slowly, very deliberately. When she got to the top landing, she leaned wearily against an enormous Dutch tall-case clock in the corner, twice her size. Then, gazing down to the floor below at her eldest daughter, she said simply, “You know your way out, Jacqueline. That will be all.”
“A Family That Endures”
“Okay, now how much do I owe you?” Janet Auchincloss asked little Joyce Faria. The young girl counted on her fingers. “Ten dollars,” she answered proudly. Janet nodded. Joyce had delivered the newspaper to her door at the Castle for five days a week over a two-week period. So, yes, that was ten dollars. The girls were really growing up; Linda was ten and Joyce eight.
Janet was now moved into her new residence, the Castle. It wasn’t so bad. The oldest building on the property, the Castle was a large farmhouse built around 1720 for the British admiral Jahleel Brenton. The name came from an old fable about a maid and butler who once lived on the property. They supposedly lived in the Brenton farmhouse because the Big House had no quarters for married servants. When children would go to visit the maid, she would always greet them by saying “Welcome to my castle”—thus its name.
The Castle was quite large, with a drawing room, library, dining room, kitchen, pantry, and maid’s quarters all on the first floor, and on the second, two bedrooms including the master, two bathrooms, and two maid’s quarters with another bathroom. There was also a garage, over which was the Palace, a three-bedroom apartment where Janet’s trusty butler, Jonathan Tapper, would remain. Janet also still owned ten surrounding acres, including the Windmill. The Faria family continued to live in the Caretaker’s House. Mannie remained as groundskeeper while Louise was re-assigned as manager of Hammersmith Farm’s Gift and Garden Shop (formerly the Children’s Playhouse). Meanwhile, the rest of Hammersmith—the Big House, the beach and pier, and about ninety more acres upon which sat a myriad of structures such as the stables would no longer belong to the Auchincloss family.
Within weeks, Janet had made herself comfortable in her new home, and she was especially happy to be in the company of her small charge, Joyce Faria. She sat down at her writing desk in the living room and took out her checkbook. The little girl was perched on a chair next to Janet, gazing up at her with her big brown eyes. “Now, you give this check to your daddy,” Janet said as she tore it from her register, “and he’ll cash it for you or maybe put it into a savings account. Okay?” The girl nodded.
“So, how are you doing in school?” Janet wanted to know. As Joyce talked about her school projects, Janet listened and offered suggestions and advice about how to treat others. The two then went to the kitchen, where Jonathan Tapper served them both a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream with some cookies. Finally, when they were finished, the little girl jumped up, kissed Janet on the cheek, and scampered outside. She then mounted her miniature donkey, Pedro, and was on her way back to the Caretaker’s House. Janet watched from the door, smiled, and waved good-bye.
“In April of 1977, I joined Janet, Oatsie Charles, Margaret Anne Kearney, and another of Janet’s friends, Ella Burling, on the patio of the Castle for a ladies’ luncheon, an occasion we tried to organize at least once a month,” recalled Adora Rule. “As we five women enjoyed the stunning view of ocean and sky, Janet’s butler, Jonathan Tapper, served a French meal. ‘This isn’t a bad life, you have to admit,’ I told Janet as we sipped mint juleps and whiled away the afternoon. She smiled and agreed. Janet then said that Jackie was coming for dinner that evening and bringing Caroline and John. Lee was also coming, she said, with Tina and Anthony. Yusha, Nini, and Tommy, along with their families, would also be arriving. She was expecting Jamie, as well. Some would be spending the night at the Castle, she said, while others would be in the Windmill. A couple of them would probably sleep up in the Palace. “We are nothing if not a family that endures,” Janet said, proudly. “No matter what happens, we endure.”
At least she didn’t have to leave the property, though leaving the Big House had been quite the heartbreak for Janet. “I miss my house so desperately
,” she said, “and all of my lovely memories there. I can’t believe that next month there will be people rummaging through my special things.”
Ella Burling asked Janet if she was still angry at Jackie. “A little,” Janet said, sadly. She added that she suspected Jackie’s true reason for not wanting to help was that she’d never forgiven her for having objected so strongly to her marriage to Aristotle Onassis. She, therefore, made a decision that she wasn’t going to use any Onassis money to bail out Hammersmith. Janet’s guests were taken aback. “My God, Janet, can that be true?” Margaret asked. “Did Jackie tell you that?” No, Janet said, she didn’t have to tell her, “but I know it’s the case. We are known to hold grudges in this family,” she added. Finally, she shrugged and concluded, “Look, it’s Jacqueline’s money and she has absolutely every right to spend it exactly as she pleases.” Then, as Janet gazed longingly at her former home in the distance, she added, “But still … it sure would have been nice.”
Newton Cope
In April of 1977, Lee began an exciting new design project in San Francisco at the estate of the millionaire industrialist William Hewitt and his wife, Patricia. While working on that project, she was invited to dinner at the home of the wealthy socialite and stylish bachelor Whitney Warren. His father had designed Grand Central Terminal in New York. Warren, who happened to be a close friend of Janet’s, had known Lee for years and decided to try to set her up with a good friend of his, fifty-five-year-old Newton Cope.
Newton Cope had recently been left a real-estate fortune, including the landmark boutique Huntington Hotel, by his late (second) wife, Dolly Fritz MacMasters. The two had been a popular couple in San Francisco high society. Cope was also now the president of Nob Hill Properties Inc., a development firm and real-estate company. “We were seated next to each other at a dinner party,” Newton Cope would recall, “and we talked about our children all night.” (He had seven.) Cope was taken by Lee. He found her free-spirited, interesting, and also interested in the world around her. She was nothing like what he expected based on what he’d heard about her. When he told Lee as much, she said, “I’m not what people expect of me. And neither should you be.” Cope was so taken by her, he panicked at the end of the evening thinking that perhaps he’d never see Lee again. Therefore, he drove her back to the hotel at which she was staying and, on the way, asked if she would take a look at his Huntington Hotel and see if she might decorate some of its rooms. “It was my way in,” he said with a chuckle. Of course, she agreed.
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