by Wendy Leigh
Which brings me to my mother-in-law, the celestial Rose Kennedy. One day, in the far distant future, I imagine I could well be in her place, and a mother-in-law. That awareness should, I know, cause me to temper my remarks. However, two months here in Palm Beach, in close and constant proximity to her, has not enhanced our relationship remotely.
You may know from my father-in-law that Mrs. Kennedy, while matriarchal on the surface and fearsomely well organized—each child’s illnesses, problems, and preferences are catalogued on an index card—a feat, given the number of children involved—and though she has borne tragedy (the loss of two of her children to death and one to illness) bravely, in reality, is far from saintly.
Her coldness to Jack, her rejection of him as a child, her constant forays to Paris to view the collections (trips which I, of course, understand and cannot, in truth, afford to condemn) left him feeling lonely and unloved. The result, I firmly believe, was to entrench within him a steely resolve never to put his heart or his trust into the hands of one woman alone. Hence the infidelity. For which, perhaps, I blame my mother-in-law. Easier, of course, than constantly blaming Jack, and, perhaps, a contrivance on my part.
That said, my mother-in-law and I do, even now, engage in a subterranean battle of wills. Jack and I have our own suite of rooms in the compound, and during the time in which we are absent, my mother-in-law is prone to moving the furniture around to her satisfaction. Whereupon I, on arriving, move it back. Only to find it in Mrs. Kennedy’s preferred position on my return. All of which is only the tip of the iceberg.
I have to confess, though, that I am being a trifle unfair. Without wishing to reproach you in any way (for I know he is an attractive and beguiling man), the fact of Joe Sr.’s philandering does try her [Rose Kennedy] sorely* So perhaps she should be forgiven for her petty manipulations.
I hear Jack’s voice and must seal this letter and mail it quickly. For no matter how much his mother has hurt him, he would protect her—and her image—to the death and would not look kindly on my words.
With my love,
J
__________________________
*Dr. Joseph Brandt’s widow, Ida Brandt, has graciously granted the editor access to tapes of Marilyn’s therapy sessions, recorded with her consent by Brandt and hitherto not made public. When Marilyn received Jackie’s letter, she was elated. Two hours later, she kept her appointment with Dr. Brandt, whose transcripts from the taped session include the following dialogue, starting with Marilyn’s comments: “See, Joseph, I’ve really got her now. If he saw this, he’d kill her. Or, better still, leave her.” “So, Marilyn, what are you going to do with the letter?” “What do you think I should do, Joseph?” “You know better than that, Marilyn … don’t throw the question back at me.” (Long silence on the tape.) “Well, I guess I’ll look like a bitch if I show it to him. And then I’ll have to explain.” (Change in voice.) “But I want to do the right thing by her. I’ve hurt her enough so far, even though she doesn’t know it, and she’s been good and kind to me, so I won’t show it to him.” (Further silence.) “And I do owe her because now that I know about Jack and his mother, when I do see him, I’ll give him what he needs. And then we’ll see. …” Then, in a different voice, she went on: “She still thinks Joe Kennedy is having an affair with me. I’d really like to set her straight, but then I think it isn’t a bad idea she thinks I am, because maybe if she does, Jack might as well, which ought to get him hot, because he always wants to beat his father at everything. Also, maybe it stops her guessing about Jack and me and I’m glad. I’d die if she knew. I’d feel bad, real bad, if she did—and Jack would kill me.”
The day after mailing this letter to Marilyn, Jackie wrote in her diary, “I am absolutely appalled at my own indiscretion regarding Rose. But my depression at the alien status accorded to me in this rough-and-tumble household, coupled with my loneliness, cause me to write an extremely graphic letter to MM about my mother-in-law. My frankness was, I know, also partly prompted by my guilt at having a child and MM being barren. I wanted to amuse and divert her, and in the throes of such ‘noble’ emotions, went overboard. I feel mortified, am inclined to ask her to return the letter to me, but know full well that doing so would only alert her to the value of my indiscretions. Then again, perhaps my fears are groundless. Her own letters, all of which I have retained, contain a great deal of information which I am sure she would not wish made public. Nonetheless, when the moment is right, much as I am entertained by our correspondence, and genuinely do care for her, and am intrigued by her adventures and her universe, I shall attempt to draw her out on what I understand, via Jack (although how he knows this, I can’t imagine), to be her lurid past as a call girl. A letter on that subject will, I know, be my safeguard against any revelations she might, in future, consider making regarding my own indiscretions.”
444 East 57th Street
New York, New York
Josephine Kendall
3307 N Street Washington, D.C.
March 19, 1959
Dear Josephine,
I know you are busy with the campaign—I read about it all the time in the newspapers, and am rooting for Jack and for you—but thought I would write to you and let you know that I’ve been thinking of you a great deal.
I’m writing to you on the plane to L.A. from Chicago, where I’ve been promoting Some Like It Hot.* Before I tell you all about it, I wanted to thank you for your kind and interesting letter. I loved it all, particularly all the bits about the Duchess and about R.K. I wanted also to tell you that I promise never to show that letter—or any other that you have written me—to anyone else in the world. I thought I would say that in case you were worried, which you shouldn’t be.
Chicago was thrilling, but exhausting. After I left—on the plane—I read that Jack was also here, seeing Mayor Daley. I expect you were with him, too, although they didn’t mention you in the newspaper. I am very sorry to have missed seeing you both.
I wonder how the campaign is going for you. Do you think Jack has a chance of making it right to the White House? Is it exciting for you? And are people thrilled at meeting Jack on the campaign trail? I am sure they are, and you, too, of course.
Love to Caroline and Jack and to you,
Martha
__________________________
*On March 18 Marilyn was in Chicago, promoting Some Like It Hot, and Jack was also in the city, meeting with Mayor Richard Daley. She and Jack spent one night together in his suite at the Ambassador.
3307 N Street
Washington, D.C.
Martha Marshall
444 East 57th Street
New York, New York
May 20, 1959
Dear Martha,
Forgive me for not writing to you sooner, but all this campaigning has exhausted me. The extremely belated answer to all your questions is yes to everything. Sometimes I look at Jack and he seems truly blessed, golden, like Gatsby, with a pure spirit and an honesty which should prevail. At other times, I could just throttle him, but that’s another story altogether. …
This is just a short note to add my thanks to Jack’s for your most generous campaign contribution.* You are such a good friend to us both.
I do think it is sad, though, that you didn’t get to say hi to Jack during your mutual stay in Chicago. That way he could have thanked you personally for your generosity.
In any event, I am writing this on board the Caroline, Jack’s campaign plane, a present from Joe K. It’s a DC-3, with a dining area, a sleeping area, and a galley, where I invariably end up making Boston clam chowder for Jack, as he loves it so. The plane is now jack’s campaign center and he spends far more time here than at home. Whenever I can, I fly with him, but usually spend most of my time doing needlepoint or reading—most recently, Lolita (which I didn’t like) and Bonjour Tristesse, which I did.
I am starting to get accustomed to the hectic pace of the campaign. In the end, I hope it will all be worth it. I ca
n’t believe how many hands I have to shake. Many of the women are even shyer than I am. And I tend to spend most of my time wondering how Caroline is getting on without me.
We are about to land in Des Moines—but before we do, I wanted to say that I adored Some Like It Hot and laughed until I cried.
Love,
J
__________________________
* Marilyn donated $25,000 to Jack’s campaign (see Heymann).
444 East 57th Street
New York, New York
Josephine Kendall
3307 N Street
Washington, D.C.
June 15, 1959
Dear Josephine,
Just a quick note to say that I am also real sorry I didn’t see Jack in Chicago. I have to confess the reason why I didn’t see him is because I was with Mr. G. I didn’t want to tell you before, because of Arthur, but I guess it doesn’t matter, and I know you won’t judge me for having been unfaithful to Arthur, because we both know that the marriage is on the rocks. So G and I met in Chicago, but I couldn’t see Jack as well, because, crazy though this may sound, G is so possessive that he goes ape at the thought of me spending even a second with another man—even one as happily married as Jack, and as serious a politician with so much integrity. So I couldn’t see Jack when we were both in Chicago at the same time, and hope you understand and that he will too, although you don’t have to tell him, because I am sure he was far too busy to think of me.
Hope the campaign is going well.
Love,
M
3307 N Street
Washington, D.C.
Martha Marshall
44 East 57th Street
New York, New York
October 20, 1959
Dear Martha,
I’ve been wanting to write to you for ages, but thought of you a great deal when I was in Louisiana campaigning for Jack. I tried something new, my idea, which was speaking French to the people there, and they all (100,000 of them) seemed to really appreciate my doing it but then, all of a sudden, went wild and surged forward toward me. I was petrified. Then I remembered the film I saw of you in Korea, how joyful you seemed, how elated by the crowd, how unintimidated, and (for that moment) imagined I was you, and thus sailed through the entire experience. Consequently, from now on I shall always remember your example and have it in my mind whenever I am confronted by a large crowd, and hope to act accordingly. All in all, I owe you a big thank-you for having thus inspired me.
I also wanted to say that although I never met him (did you?), I was sorry that Errol Flynn died. He always reminded me so much of my father. Do tell me if you know anything interesting about him—it would be exhilarating to be distracted from politics and transported into your glittering world, if only for a moment.
In haste,
Warm regards,
J
444 East 57th Street
New York, New York
Josephine Kendall
3307 N Street
Washington, D.C.
November 12, 1959
Dear Josephine,
Thank you for your letter—I am glad I helped, even though I didn’t know I did. I wonder if you’ve been hypnotized by the quiz scandal like I have and the rest of the country as well.* I just can’t believe that all those quiz questions were fixed and the contestants lied all the way through. In a way, though, it has started me thinking about all the things we—I mean me—do or say that aren’t right or true.
It also made me think of a question which Freud used to ask his patients: “Imagine you are starving. You discover that if you press a red button, a ninety-year-old Mandarin in China will instantly drop dead. As a result of pressing the button, you will get one million dollars. Would you press it?”† I don’t think I would. At least, I hope not. Would you?
You ashed about Errol Flynn. Well, I do have a great story to tell you about him but I am not sure whether or not I should, because it is very dirty. To tell you the truth, I am a little nervous about telling you, as there is no easy way to tell it without using four-letter words. Now that you are a mother, and Jack is running for President, I think that would be wrong. But if you would like me to tell you it—and can forgive my bad language—of course I will. Please write when you have time, and I’ll tell you it if you really would like me to.
Arthur just walked in looking glum, so must stop.
Love,
M
__________________________
* On October 19, 1959, congressional hearings commenced regarding the fixing of big-money quiz shows, including Twenty-One, on which distinguished Columbia University professor Charles Van Doren won $129,000 in prize money.
† See Dr. Erika Padan Freeman, Insights: Conversations with Theodor Reik (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1971). Freud termed this particular story “Tuer son Mandarin.”
3307 N Street
Washington, D.C.
Martha Marshall
444 East 57th Street
New York, New York
December 5, 1959
Dear Martha,
Your letter gave me food for thought and I’m grateful. Much as I despise myself for admitting this, honesty forces me to confess that (as I have never in my life known either hunger or cold, and the prospect petrifies me) I should, indeed, press the button.
However, not that I wish to indulge in one-upmanship or assuage my considerable guilt at my own venality, I have to ask you to reevaluate your answer were I to rephrase Freud’s question as follows: imagine that if you pressed the button, Mr. G would be yours for keeps (as the teenagers call it). Would you press it? I’d be extremely interested to learn your answer, if you feel like considering the question further.
On another front, your reticence regarding Errol Flynn was commendable, yet tantalized me almost beyond endurance. Please don’t feel that because I have become a mother, I either am less of a woman or have become fragile and unable to countenance the saltier side of life. My father, as you know, was utterly blunt regarding the subject of sex, as I myself have always been.
So, dear Martha, please don’t hesitate to express yourself as freely as possible (four-letter words included) regarding Errol or anything else.
We know each other far too well by now to play games or prevaricate in any way.
With great anticipation,
Yours,
Josephine
The Beverly Hills Hotel
Josephine Kendall
3307 N Street
Washington, D.C.
January 30, 1960
Dear Josephine,
I really wanted to reply to your letter honestly, so here goes. I have to he honest and admit that of course you are right. If I could have Mr. G, I would press the button, I would in a heartbeat. Afterwards, though, I’d feel sorry for the old Mandarin and his family and would try and make it up to them, but, yes, I would still press the button.
As for Errol Flynn. Well, to be truthful, about a hundred years ago, when I had just become a model, I went to a party, and there was Errol, in all his glory. All of a sudden, he took out his—forgive me, but I don’t really know another word—prick and played “You Are My Sunshine” with it on the piano.* He looked so pleased with himself—it was big and beautiful—the prick, I mean, not the tune—but I felt like saying. “Don’t think you are so great because you’ve got a big prick. I mean, it isn’t like winning the Nobel Prize because you are a genius. You didn’t do anything to deserve it, you were just born with it.” Bout I was young and shy and I didn’t say anything. So that’s my Errol story.
Have to go now, as I’ve got a costume fitting.
Love to you and Jack,
M
__________________________
* See Truman Capote’s essay “A Beautiful Child” in Marilyn Monroe (Munich: Schirmer/Mosel, 2001).
3307 N Street
Washington, D.C.
Martha Marshall
The Beverly Hills Hotel
February 28, 1960
Dearest Martha,
I am writing to you in an extremely distraught state of mind, but know that you, above all women, will understand my emotions. I have discovered that Jack has acquired a permanent mistress, one Judith Campbell, and that he is enthralled by her. They met in Las Vegas only lately. But the affair is ongoing and, as far as I am concerned, a great threat.
If you chance to question the manner in which I obtained this disturbing information, the answer is simple. Taking a leaf out of Désirée, the book which you and I both love, I have recently followed in Napoleon’s footsteps (vis à vis Fouché, his most trusted spy) and engaged a private detective to keep watch on Jack. If you judge me to be excessively devious and underhanded, and I hope you won’t, please imagine how you might have reacted were you to be in my position, loving Jack as I do and aware that a serious rival (she is said to be tall, dark, beautiful, and well versed in the art of lovemaking) looms large on his sexual horizon.
Forgive the somewhat distraught nature of this letter, but I know you will understand. There is, on reflection, very little you can say to my news, but I look forward to hearing from you when you have time.
Love,
Josephine
__________________________
Seymour Hersh’s interviews with Judy Campbell (see The Dark Side of Camelot) provide an insight into Jack’s wooing techniques and ability to sustain an illicit extramarital relationship:
