The President’s own regimen for personal happiness seemed at odds with his public life. JFK’s initial reaction to his father’s insistence that he run for President was to break down in tears. Jack wanted only to party and party hard. As the oldest living son of one of the richest and most powerful men in the country, and holding a Harvard degree, Mr. Kennedy longed only for the life that would afford him the luxury of being an international playboy. He felt that being President would weigh him down with too much responsibility. Jack felt ill equipped to follow in the footsteps of his deceased older brother, Joe, Jr., who had died on August 12,1944, in an explosion of his experimental bomber that was designed to knock out V-1 “buzz bomb” launching ramps in France during World War II. Frustrated for eight months in England without doing anything courageous like sinking a submarine or shooting down a plane, Joe, Jr., was thought to be the son of the “yellow” Ambassador to Great Britain. Out to disprove the charges floating around England about his father’s questionable political affiliations, he quickly volunteered for the perilous top-secret V-1 mission.
The patriarch’s plans for Joe, Jr., were shattered in the explosion. Since he had not become President himself for having lost credibility when labeled “soft” on Adolf Hitler, the senior had designs on junior fulfilling his dream vicariously. Suddenly, JFK was next in line to carry the torch for the Kennedy clan. Until Jack miraculously pulled through his coma in the hospital in 1954, Joe never believed that his sickly son had “the right stuff” for the Presidency. Being merely retentive was not nearly enough to take on the overpowering commitment of the Oval Office, so Joe was destined to call the shots.
Nearly every decision deemed remotely important in the White House was controlled by Joe. When it came time to choose his cabinet, Jack was forced to submit to every one of the old man’s selections. JFK especially opposed Joe’s choice for attorney general, younger brother Bobby, who had never even practiced law. Kennedy’s close friend, Torbet Macdonald, asked the President for Jack’s displaced Senate seat, but the ex-ambassador quickly appointed Benjamin Smith as the senator until Ted was of age to run. Smith clearly understood the senior Kennedy’s dictum: the seat was to be reserved for the younger brother. These usurped decisions caused great angst for a man who had no control over his future. Joe Kennedy desired to surround his son with intelligent yes men. Joe wanted no interference with his policy making and continual dominance over his son. Former North Carolina Governor Luther Hodges was appointed secretary of commerce, Stewart L. Udall of Arizona was named secretary of the interior, Connecticut’s Governor Ribicoff agreed to be secretary of health, education and welfare, and veteran union attorney Arthur Goldberg was appointed secretary of labor. These men served to highlight the President and give Joe’s directions more credence; and Jack continued to rely on the decision-making abilities of the Patriarch. Weekends were usually spent at Hyannis, conferring with the ex-ambassador over government policy. Joe never had to be subtle when demanding his son follow his dictates. At the Kennedy dinner table, Jack resigned himself to a nervous titter in the Old Man’s presence. Joe would continually brag: “And to this day, not one of the boys has beaten me at anything. But I think they may have thought that I retired from tennis a bit too early. But I beat Bobby and Teddy at golf the last time I played them.” Losing his potency in the shadow of such an overbearing father figure, the misplaced and unwilling John hid himself in his drug and sex addictions.
Early on in the Kennedy administration, Sam Giancana had to grapple with the appointment of Robert Kennedy as attorney general. In spite of John’s strong objections, Joe believed his choice gave the Kennedys the edge over the mob. Even the Kennedy family attorney, Clark Gifford, advised against it. Sam could not have agreed more. (Later Giancana would discover that Kennedy had omitted important sections of the reports containing activities against the mob.) Giancana eventually concluded that the Kennedys were systematically attempting to erase their obligations to the Mafia. As Bobby was continuing to prosecute and apply constant surveillance of mob operations, Giancana continued to bug and tap rooms frequented by the president and his brother.
By March 1962, the attorney general was making serious strides, preparing a nineteen-page FBI document delineating Frank Sinatra’s close underworld ties (the report would be dated August 3, 1962, just days before Monroe’s death). The report had been instigated by J. Edgar Hoover, who told Bobby Kennedy in a private meeting that FBI operatives had noticed that the president was sharing the same mistress with Chicago gangster, Sam “Momo” Giancana. Humiliated by Hoover, and incensed over his brother’s compromising position, Bobby retaliated by ordering the investigation into Sinatra’s associations. The final draft would provide copies of monitored telephone conversations between the mobsters and Sinatra, including exact times and dates of the “special” favors Sinatra was performing for them. A car dealer named Peter Epsteen had tried unsuccessfully to persuade Sinatra to record a commercial for Epsteen’s Pontiac dealership in Skokie, Illinois. Epsteen called upon the services of his friends Joseph and Rocco Fischetti, cousins of the infamous Al Capone. After negotiating with the brothers, Sinatra made the commercial without charge, as Epsteen’s former wife reported to FBI agents. Sinatra received two Pontiacs as a gift from Epsteen. In defense, Sinatra said that the “favor” had nothing to do with the Fischetti brothers. The FBI would point out that later a lady friend of Rocco Fischetti’s would be seen driving a Pontiac “bearing Epsteen’s dealer’s license plate frame.” Sinatra bestowed a number of other favors upon notorious mobsters. Joe Fischetti received payments as a talent scout from the Fountainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach whenever Sinatra performed there. The investigation gathered more information by April 1962, when, under the assumed name of Joe Fischer, Joe Fischetti received seventy-one checks from the Fontainebleau Hotel, each in the amount of $540, totaling $38,340. The FBI correlated the entries with Fischetti’s income tax returns for 1959 and 1960 and determined that fees of $12,960 were paid to him from the Fontainebleau as a “talent agent.” The report would add that in Miami Beach “Fischetti would mean Sinatra” was performing for a contract price with the cash deal handled directly by Fischetti. In addition, Sinatra had lent Fischetti $90,000 to invest secretly in interests in a Miami restaurant. His relationship with Giancana would be noted as well. Giancana had been rejected by his draft board in 1944 because he was considered a psychopath. By fifteen he had already been in jail for auto theft, and by twenty he had been questioned in connection with three murders.
The Justice Department report would detail Sinatra’s relationship with gangsters in Nevada businesses, including his controlling interest in the Cal-Neva Lodge. Sam Giancana bragged to friends that he owned a piece of the place through Sinatra. While Sinatra ostensibly owned Cal-Neva, he employed Paul Emilio (Skinny) D’Amato, a New Jersey gangster who oversaw the operation on Giancana’s behalf. The Nevada Gaming Commission would ultimately revoke Sinatra’s license to operate the casino.
Prior to release of the report, Jack asked his brother-in-law, Peter Lawford, to spread the news that Sinatra was no longer welcome at the White House or any political functions. The “hero” of Jack’s campaign had become persona non grata; he would have to forget about the planned Western White House in Palm Springs. The running joke would be that Sinatra had rebuilt his home entirely for a single visit by the President. He had added cottages for President Kennedy and the Secret Service and had installed over twenty telephone lines with a switchboard and a heliport, mimicking the one he had noticed in Hyannisport. The word came down that the President “wouldn’t sleep in any bed that Giancana or any other hood slept in.” The irrevocable decision damaged Sinatra’s relationship with the mob. And to add insult to injury, Chris Dumphy, a Republican from Florida, arranged for Jack to stay at Bing Crosby’s home in Palm Springs instead, while the Secret Service was housed at the home of Sinatra’s friend, Jimmy Van Heusen.
Giancana and Sinatra were enraged by this sudden reversal
; Giancana had selected Sinatra as the mob’s liaison with the President. The plan having failed, Giancana went so far as to consider a “hit” on Sinatra for his ignorance and inability to carry out his tasks. But Giancana’s anger toward Sinatra eventually diminished and he instead blamed the “assholes,” the Kennedys.
By March 1961, the ongoing Giancana-Campbell-Kennedy sex triangle was in full swing, and Judith Campbell was regularly exchanging phone calls with the White House. To add more confusion and dissent, Joseph Kennedy would later deliver the message to Paul D’Amato that Bobby, despite the West Virginia primary promise, was not going to allow Joe Adonis back into the country. Then there was Carlos Marcello, who after trekking miserably through the jungles to deliver the “goods” and guns in Guatemala, had to sneak back into the country without protection. Suspicious rumors were circulating through the underworld that Marcello’s refusal to back JFK in the primaries, instead throwing his weight behind Lyndon Johnson at the Democratic convention, was the cause of Bobby’s anger. The truth remained that Marcello was aiding many branches of the United States government indirectly, including the administration, and it was believed that that alone should qualify for his protection. But Bobby Kennedy ignored his pleas and his formidable position. Giancana’s lines of communication to the President were disintegrating. As Old Joe had advised him to do, the attorney general continued to prosecute mobsters at unprecedented rates. He enjoyed undermining the mobsters’ agility and operations even while they were covertly helping the CIA.
The Bay of Pigs crisis became a debacle that defined Kennedy’s shortcomings. Marcello’s cries for help were completely ignored even by the CIA. Giancana offered his prize possession, Ricard Cain (formerly Ricardo Scalzitti), to “assist” the CIA. A superior marksman trained by the Chicago Police Department, a mathematical genius fluent in five languages, Cain made for a top-notch agent on loan. As the operation to promote the Cuban coup unfolded, Cain became a full-fledged operative planted to ensure success in the overthrow. With his cover as a Miami detective in place, Cain could maintain his front for the CIA. Even as the exiles trained, Giancana was planning various alternative methods for the Cuban leader’s assassination. The mob enlisted the expertise of a University of Illinois chemist to devise lethal concoctions for the purpose of destroying the lives of those targeted for death by the outfit. Included in their extensive arsenal were poison-laced cigars, a lethal bacterial powder intended to be absorbed through the skin, toiletries intended to cause heart attacks, highly concentrated poisons, and injectible cancer-producing serum.
After the first mob attempt on his life failed, Castro tripled his security, but since the Americans nevertheless believed falsely that Castro lacked sufficient internal support, plans for the invasion went forward. The plans called for the initial bombardment of Cuba’s coastline with a fourteen-hundred-man army of Cuban-exile soldiers, mercenaries, and undercover agents who hoped that the unhappy civilian populace would join forces to overthrow the government. Kennedy’s approval of military air support would also provide cover for the operation should the invaders need it.
The fiasco began on April 14, with only half the bombers from Nicaragua originally thought necessary for cover. It was rumored that the President had canceled the order for air support. The brigade of fourteen hundred men on the Bay of Pigs beachhead was remarkably vulnerable. The Cuban army of two hundred thousand soldiers were ready and waiting to overpower the outmanned resistance fighters. Castro had known about the possible invasion and had prepared his army well. On April 16, another plea for cover was sent to the President, but again the request was denied. The mission was a complete disaster: one hundred men were killed, and the remaining rebels were easily captured, interrogated, and tortured, further compromising the American government. For years to come, national and global security would precariously hinge on Kennedy’s failure to consummate the operation’s objectives.
By April 24, Kennedy had released a statement taking responsibility for the invasion. Not only had it upset world security, but Castro was able to use the upper hand to negotiate a trade of 1,113 captured soldiers and 922 of their relatives for $53 million in medical supplies and baby food.
Jack Kennedy would later blame the “medication for his back pain” for his mistaken judgment. Perhaps as another excuse for his poor performance under pressure, Kennedy would also claim to Marilyn that he left the decision making during the invasion to his brother Bobby. Or perhaps he had been “coming down” from a Dr. Feelgood high. Or perhaps the drugs had caused such a euphoria that Kennedy grandiosely believed he could “do no wrong” and the invasion couldn’t possibly go awry.
Caught off guard, Sam Giancana could not understand how Jack Kennedy had failed the CIA, the mob, and his country so miserably. Whatever faith he once had in Joseph Kennedy was gone. Battle lines between the Kennedys and the mob were irreversibly drawn.
16
Ol’ Blue Eyes
Marilyn’s on-again, off-again relationship with Joe DiMaggio wasn’t helping to stabilize her life. After enjoying another long night of lovemaking, Joe was still gone in the morning, without a word or promise of when they would see each other again. Each departure sent pangs of remorse through her body. There was no question she needed his strength and comforting. But at last she grew tired of this unfulfilling arrangement and turned her attention elsewhere.
Resuming lessons with Strasberg at his private workshop, Marilyn pressed forward in her quest to develop her acting talent. Knowing that the public enjoyed her most in comedy, and finally aware that she was a terrific comedienne, she began looking for a fresh, well-written comedy and the perfect director. Nearing the end of her Fox contract and eying the huge increase in salary Elizabeth Taylor had secured, Marilyn was inspired to peruse the inexhaustible supply of scripts sent her for that one treasure.
Her romantic interest in Frank Sinatra continued to bloom. Whether he was sincerely interested in her nobody would know. They shared intense lovemaking. She confessed to her maid that Sinatra knocked her out sexually and that he seemed more excited by her body than any other lover had been. He continued to send champagne and beluga caviar. Marilyn was more than happy to travel to Los Angeles to see him. She enjoyed the beauty of Beverly Hills and Malibu; the extravagant homes, the palm trees, the mountains, and the perfect weather. But her painful Los Angeles past made New York seem a more attractive residence. New Yorkers treated her with more respect than she got in Los Angeles. When Marilyn strolled down the busy streets of Manhattan, those who recognized her would often give her a gracious nod, respecting her privacy. Not so in Los Angeles.
Sinatra was making a big play for the actress. He had fun with Monroe and genuinely enjoyed her company. But he had ulterior motives. Competing with the President over the same lover, Sinatra may have wanted to upstage Kennedy by making Marilyn fall for him. JFK was thoroughly fascinated by Hollywood, subscribing to and avidly reading the trade paper, Daily Variety, just to keep up on the latest gossip. And then there was Sinatra’s former lover, Judith Campbell, who was still seeing both Kennedy and Giancana. Sinatra and Campbell had met at Puccini’s near Westwood, a Mafia hangout in which Sinatra was rumored to have an interest. Several days after their introduction, Sinatra invited the socialite to Hawaii with Peter and Pat Kennedy Lawford. Campbell found Sinatra charming at first, but his moody and promiscuous behavior was repulsive to the lady who did not want to indulge in his menage á trois. She had cried hysterically after he introduced her to group sex. But several weeks later he was inviting her to a Las Vegas opening. And it was there, in early February 1960, that Miss Campbell had been passed on to Jack Kennedy.
No doubt Kennedy, who was extremely possessive and jealous, got vicarious thrills hearing about the Sinatra/Monroe liaison. The excitement of being with Marilyn provided the additional “perk” of possibly upstaging the singing superstar. The President, with his drug-induced hyperconfidence, loved the challenge.
Meanwhile Marilyn was tau
nting DiMaggio by publicly seeing Sinatra, the Yankee Clipper’s archenemy since the Wrong-Door Raid. Angry at DiMaggio for his failure and resistance to commitment, Miss Monroe used Sinatra’s advances to make Joe jealous. She was sure that “Joe’s Italian blood would boil.”
And so the web of intrigue unreeled with each powerful player using the other to get back at the other. Marilyn’s own sense of power was enhanced by the influential company she kept. After the quiet Miller, Sinatra was a breath of fresh air, providing fun and laughs galore. Arthur and Joe were both homebodies who loathed the night life; Sinatra was just the right party animal to escort her around town. Even the President himself was envious of Frank for his freewheeling single life of high style and sophistication. JFK emulated Sinatra at every turn. And Marilyn appreciated the depth and breadth of Sinatra’s panache. The actress felt more comfortable with a man who understood her profession and all its obligations. And then the French poodle Maf meant more to her than “any mink coat or diamond bracelet.”
Frank didn’t seem to want any more children (he had three—Tina, Nancy, and Frank, Jr.). In fact, Marilyn believed that he still loved his ex-wife, Nancy, and that after all his playing around he would someday return to her. Meantime, any man who made her feel as though “she didn’t have to take sleeping pills or see a psychiatrist” was good for her.
Though Sinatra was socially smooth and had many admirers, on the inside he never had much personal confidence, and when he felt dejected he often went into wild rages. His inferiority complex would rear its ugly head many times. Numerous friends and associates, including Joe DiMaggio, disgusted and embarrassed by his tirades, refused to continue relationships with the man who made women swoon.
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