Jackie, Janet & Lee

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  “What shall I do with them?” Jonathan asked.

  “Throw them out,” Janet said curtly.

  “But Madam,” he protested, “these must be worth almost fifty thousand dollars!”

  She shrugged her shoulders and changed the subject. Jonathan decided to put the jewels in a red box, and then deposit them in a locked safe off the kitchen in the new Watergate apartment. A few months later, he and Janet went to fetch jewels for her to wear to a special occasion. While going through the contents of the safe, she found the red box. “What’s in here?” she asked. He said it was the Onassis jewels. “I thought I told you to throw these into the trash!” she said, upset. She had a good memory for certain instructions, that much was clear. Jonathan promised he would do as he was told. Instead, he got the jewels out of the house and stored them in a safe-deposit box at a bank.

  A Devastating Diagnosis

  “What’s wrong with me?” Janet Auchincloss asked Jonathan Tapper one day in January 1983. She reached for his arm, her fingers tightening on it, her eyes pleading. “I haven’t been right for years,” she said, “and I don’t know why. I’m just so darn forgetful!” Placing his hand reassuringly on hers, Jonathan told her that she was fine. She pulled away from him. “No, I’m not,” she said, irritated. Knowing there was nothing to be gained by alarming her, the butler smiled and said, “Trust me. You are fine, Madam. Nothing has changed. You’re still completely impossible.” She smiled and nodded her appreciation. As Jonathan rose and walked away from her, he turned to make sure she was not too upset. He was saddened to see her just staring blankly into space. An hour later, she walked up to him and, this time much more urgently and with tears in her eyes, asked, “What’s wrong with me?” as if they’d never had the previous conversation.

  At the beginning of 1983, numerous medical evaluations finally resulted in the terrible confirmation that Janet was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. At last, her family members began to fully understand what had been going on with her. Looking back, it seemed to them that the onset of the disease may have been as early as 1974, when they first noticed Janet began behaving differently. There were many instances over the last nine years or so that, when reviewed and analyzed, certainly seemed to point to the onset of Alzheimer’s.

  Obviously, accepting such a devastating diagnosis was difficult for everyone, each of Janet’s loved ones handling it in his or her own way. “What can one say about such a conclusion?” asked Jamie. “When the doctor told us, we thought, ‘Oh my God, this is terrible. What do we do?’ Five minutes later, we asked the exact same question. Nothing registered.”

  Of the Bouvier sisters, Jackie was always the more pragmatic, realistic one. She had seen so much tragedy in her lifetime and, as a result, bore the battle scars of days often lived in great despair. By the time she was in her fifties, she had learned to accept the unpredictable unfolding of life with resignation. Within weeks of Janet’s diagnosis, after its immediate shock subsided, Jackie went into caregiver mode, doing the research necessary to find out as much about Alzheimer’s as possible. She became active with the Alzheimer’s Association, donating $250,000 to the organization for research immediately upon Janet’s diagnosis. (Not only would she continue to grant that same amount every year thereafter, she would also serve on the association’s benefit committee.) Planning for an uncertain future, she arranged with Maurice to create a one-million-dollar trust fund to handle all of Janet’s care not covered by medical insurance. Janet may have felt let down by Jackie over the years—certainly she’d never gotten over the crushing disappointment of the Hammersmith sale—but in her declining years, whether she fully understood it or not, her eldest daughter would come through for her. Chief among Jackie’s concerns now was Janet’s marriage to Bingham Morris. While she hadn’t been able to do anything about it in the past, she hoped that now she might have a little more latitude, especially if she was able to enlist Janet’s doctors in the effort.

  It was harder for Lee to accept her mother’s diagnosis. “Unlike Jackie, Lee didn’t want to know what to expect from Alzheimer’s,” said one person close to her. “She needed time alone, not with professionals, to grieve what she suspected was the end of her mother as she knew her. I don’t believe she had the tools available to her to come to terms with the diagnosis. Lee told me, ‘I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find that there’s no hope for my Mummy.’ Unfortunately, she and Jackie weren’t close enough to process it together.”

  Despite the diagnosis, Janet was still in good enough health to continue her regular life. Things would become bleak with time and she knew it, but meanwhile she insisted on keeping her schedule, including board meetings with her favorite charities, such as the Newport Jazz Festival, the Redwood Library, and Stratford Hall, where she was still on the board. Jackie came to Hammersmith to attend one meeting with her mother relating to her philanthropic activities, and was amazed to see Janet in near perfect form. “She could camouflage any memory loss,” said Michael Dupree. “She was still graceful and wonderful, and still a stickler for orderliness and cleanliness. For instance, after that meeting as she left the parlor, she tossed a Kleenex into the trash can just to see how long it would take for one of the maids to find it and dispose of it. It was still there the next morning. ‘Not acceptable,’ she told one of the maids. ‘Not at all acceptable.’ That was very much like Madam.”

  PART TWELVE

  “WELL, HAPPY, AND LOVED…”

  Janet Jr.’s Life in Hong Kong

  In the spring of 1983, Janet and Jamie took a cruise ship to China on a vacation to visit Janet Jr. and her husband, Lewis Rutherfurd, to see their boys, Lewis Stuyvesant and Andrew Hugh, and also to meet the new granddaughter, Alexandra. Janet Jr. had built quite a life for herself in Hong Kong since she and Lewis moved there back in 1966. Lewis had gone on to be the cofounder and managing director of Inter-Asia Venture Management, a venture-capital investment firm; his wife was a shareholder and adviser. Janet Jr. had taught French at the Chinese University for two years, just as planned. Meanwhile, she and Lewis had Lewis, Andrew, and, now, baby Alexandra.

  “Janet and Lewis had a happy, satisfying marriage,” said Dawn Luango, who, with her husband, James, often socialized with the Rutherfurds in Hong Kong. “He took a lot of pride in being married to Janet, always complimented her on her intellect as well as her beauty. Janet was private, though. I had first met her in 1966. Sometime in 1970, I was in a store with her when we noticed a magazine on the newsstand with Jackie’s picture on it. I said, just in passing, ‘Oh, she’s lovely, isn’t she?’ Janet responded, saying, ‘Yes, she is. She’s my sister, you know?’ I was speechless. I said, ‘What? Since when is Jackie Onassis your sister?’ She laughed and said, ‘Pretty much since the day I was born.’”

  “To me, it made a lot of sense that Janet Jr. didn’t want people to know about her relationship to Jackie,” said her brother, Jamie. “After all, what good had it done Lee? It was a cross she had to bear for her entire life, wasn’t it? The comparisons, the competition. Janet recognized it as a problem she didn’t want in her own life. I understood it, as did Jackie.”

  It’s worth noting that Janet may have been the one female family member who actually chose politics as an endeavor. Jackie was rather forced into it by virtue of her marriage to Jack (though Jamie opines that she probably would have married someone in politics eventually simply because of her attraction to power). Janet Sr. became involved because of Jackie (though she was always a patriot). Lee was never that politically minded at all. However, Janet Jr. was an expatriate who actually sought out politics when she founded the first overseas chapter of the League of Women Voters in 1979 in Hong Kong. “She was smart and well read, a quiet sort of political animal,” recalled Mary Leventhal, the league’s secretary under Janet. “In ’84, Janet was elected president of the Hong Kong chapter,” she added. “She was lively, intelligent, and keenly interested in world affairs.

  “The League of Women Vote
rs was affiliated with the American Club in Hong Kong, consisting of expats who would meet regularly to discuss social and business concerns and, also, tactics to stay involved in American politics while living abroad,” Mary Leventhal explained. “A major component of the league’s activity was the implementation of a voter registration drive designed to allow Americans living in China to vote on important American issues. We also ran debates at the American Club. For instance, during one memorable night, Janet encouraged two men with different views to debate gun control. Of course, gun control was something she cared deeply about because of her brothers-in-law. It was contentious, as one might imagine, but Janet was the perfect moderator. Actually, now that I think of it, she was a terrific debater herself. ‘I got that from my mother,’ she told me. She called her mother ‘the original politician in our family.’”

  During her visit, Janet Sr. was quite happy about how well Janet and Lewis were living on Lugard Road in an exclusive neighborhood on Victoria Peak, the highest point on Hong Kong Island. Janet Sr. and Jr. spent many hours gazing out at the spectacular Hong Kong cityscape and talking quietly about the past, present, and future. Fluent in both Mandarin and Cantonese, Janet would try to teach her mom a few words to keep her mind active. “She’s so different,” she told Jamie one day, “and it’s as if she doesn’t have that fire she’d always had.” Jamie had to agree. “Every day, she seems just a little more subdued,” he added with concern.

  Shortly after Janet and Jamie returned to America, Janet Jr. and Lewis went to Hammersmith for a visit. While there, Janet Jr. began complaining of severe backaches and joint issues. “It didn’t seem very serious,” Yusha Auchincloss would recall. “I suggested she see a chiropractor, thinking she’d probably hurt herself while playing with the kids.” However, within weeks, the family would be devastated by a surprising and terrible diagnosis: Janet had lung cancer. “Since she had never smoked a day in her life, this was completely unbelievable,” Jamie recalled. “We all had to spring into action as a family. Quick plans had to be made, and among them was the decision that Janet and Lewis and the kids would stay in the States for as long as necessary so that Janet could have the best possible treatment available.”

  Janet Sr. was beside herself with worry about her daughter, fearful for the future. “Who will care for my grandchildren if my daughter dies?” she asked Jonathan Tapper through her tears one day. She was, these days, much more emotional than ever before. He tried to tell her not to worry while reassuring her that Janet was going to make it. “But it’s just not fair,” Janet said, crying. “It should be me. Not my Janet. I’m ready to go. It should be me.”

  Transfusion

  January 1985.

  Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was sitting in a small white plastic chair next to her half sister, Janet Jr., who was lying on her back in a bed at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston. Three times a week, it would be the same routine. Jackie would have her right arm punctured so that blood could be drawn and then passed and filtered through what she called “a god-awful machine of some kind”—actually, it was a sophisticated cell-separating apparatus. The machinery would collect platelets from Jackie’s blood and return the remaining blood components, along with saline, back into Jackie’s system. The platelets would then be transferred to Janet as part of an aggressive treatment to battle her cancer. Since a platelet transfusion from just a single donor would reduce Janet’s exposure to germs from multiple donors, it was decided that Jackie and only Jackie would give blood. Though it was known that Janet Sr. shared the same blood type as her daughters, this process would have been too much of an emotional ordeal for Janet Sr. to handle. “This is my responsibility,” Jackie had said, and so she devoted herself to it entirely. She was able to sneak in and out of the hospital through a back entrance; few would ever know of her devotion to her half sister.

  “Terribly weakened as a result of her treatment, Janet Jr. would spend the hours chatting away with Jackie about their lives, their children, and, of course, their mother,” recalled Sylvia Whitehouse Blake, who had known Janet Jr. all of her life. “Jackie remained committed to Janet’s recovery, especially after Janet underwent a painful bone marrow transplant at Dana-Farber in the hopes of keeping the cancer at bay.”

  When Yusha brought Janet Sr. to her daughter’s bedside in early March, the senior Janet seemed older and much more fragile. Jackie held her mother’s arm tightly as they spoke to Janet Jr., steadying her. Not only was Jackie extremely worried about her mother, she didn’t want Janet Jr. to realize the great toll her illness had taken on “Mummy.” As doctors and nurses dutifully came and went from the room, Janet and Jackie tried to keep Janet Jr.’s spirits up. It all felt hopeless, though.

  Vigil

  “Oh Lord, help me now. Continue your healing. Make me strong for this. Please cure me so I can be a mother and a wife again—soon; so I can be with my family and friends, and so I can find something to do to help others. Thank you.”

  —Prayer by Janet Jennings Auchincloss Rutherfurd as she began her last chemotherapy treatment on March 7, 1985

  March 11, 1985.

  Winthrop Rutherfurd III was behind his desk at his estate-planning firm in New York when he got the call. His sister-in-law, Janet Jr., had just a few more days to live. Shaken, he called his wife, Mary, to tell her he was flying immediately to Boston to be with his younger brother, Lewis, and the rest of the family. He also called his sister, Linda, who, he learned, was already rushing with her husband, Gordon, to be at Janet’s side.

  Jamie Auchincloss had seen his sister a week earlier. At the time, Janet Jr.’s son Andrew was suffering from such a bad cough, there was concern about his mother possibly catching something from him. However, Janet Jr., now wearing a wig after having lost her hair due to chemotherapy, insisted on seeing him one last time. It was his birthday; he and his uncle Jamie shared the same natal day.

  After it became clear that Janet’s lung cancer had spread to her brain and pancreas, many of her old friends—such as her old beau, John Kerry—called Jamie wondering if they could see her. Jamie told them he thought it best if they all just waited for the memorial. As for himself, Jamie just couldn’t bring himself to go back to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute after his and Andrew’s birthday. He couldn’t bear it. It was also decided that “Mummy” shouldn’t go back, either. It was too much for her.

  When Winthrop Rutherfurd finally arrived at Dana-Farber on the 11th, he raced to his sister-in-law’s room. There he found Jackie seeming completely bereft. She was standing at Janet Jr.’s bedside with Lewis and their two sons, Andrew and Lewis. “For the next three days and nights, we stayed with Janet,” Winthrop recalled. “We never left her side, not for a second. Jackie slept on a couch. None of us were able to bathe or make ourselves presentable. She could have been ‘Mary Smith,’ or anyone else, that’s how anonymous, if you will, and low-key Jackie was; she was just Janet’s sister, and that was it. Looking back on it, I can’t help but think how extraordinary it was that this woman, one of the most famous, celebrated in the world, sat with the rest of us for three days and nights as part of our family. That’s just who Jackie was, though, to us—family. That’s why she was there, holding Janet’s hand. She cared for her deeply. There was a quiet strength about her, a sort of bravery, which, of course, we had all read about—Dallas, and all of that—but I don’t think we’d actually experienced it prior to this time.

  “There was a solarium outside the room, and sometimes we would go out there and sit and talk and cry. For those three days, though, there was actually nothing we could do but just wait. Jackie would go into Janet’s room, hold her hand, talk softly to her, and say good-bye, as we all did. The boys would leave at night, and then come back the next day. We just waited and waited for the inevitable.”

  Finally, on March 13, with the family all holding hands in a prayer circle around her bedside, Janet Auchincloss Rutherfurd took her last, labored breath. She was just thirty-nine. “When she flat
lined,” recalled Winthrop Rutherfurd, “the doctor turned to us and said, ‘She’s gone. I’m very sorry. She put up a brave fight, but it’s over.’”

  “You can rest now,” a tearful Jackie said as she gently placed her hand on her half sister’s forehead. “My sweet, sweet Janet.”

  Brave

  On March 19, 1985, Janet Auchincloss sat in a pew at Trinity Church in Newport next to her only son, Jamie. She looked small and frail, not at all the formidable presence of days gone by. The terrible occasion was Janet Jr.’s funeral. “Are you okay, Mummy?” Jamie asked, concerned about her. She nodded yes. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he pressed. She shook her head no. Staring straight ahead, she showed no emotion, seeming somehow paralyzed by her terrible grief. Jamie took her hand and held it tightly. As he studied her face, it suddenly occurred to him that his mother might never get over this tragedy. Janet Jr.’s decline had taken a serious toll on her; the traumatic ordeal seemed to have caused Janet’s Alzheimer’s to somehow overcome her. She was now more forgetful, distant, and vacant than ever. In fact, Jamie had to wonder whether or not his mother even knew what was going on around her.

  As Janet sat staring blankly, her eldest daughter, Jackie, gave a eulogy at a lectern in the front of the church. “Knowing Janet was like having a cardinal in your garden,” she said. “She was bright and lovely and incredibly alive.” She then read a number of poems, including one Janet had written: Jackie said that Janet wrote it back in 1966 when she first got to Hong Kong. “‘I am the richest person in the world!’” Jackie read. “‘I always own the view from my window. All my windows.’ Then, this last part,” Jackie explained with a soft smile, “you really had to know my sister to understand. ‘I’m tired,’” Jackie read, “‘hot … and my baby toe tickles.’” The mourners laughed. “That was very Janet,” Jackie said. “She always had such a whimsical view of things.”