Aristotle Onassis came into the Kennedys’ lives when he met Jackie and Jack at a dinner party in Georgetown in 1955, back when Jack was a senator. Shortly thereafter, Jackie and Jack visited Onassis on his famous 325-foot yacht, the Christina—named after his only daughter, born in 1954—while it was docked at Monte Carlo and the Kennedys were in the south of France visiting Rose and Joseph. “There’s something damned willful about her, there’s something provocative about that lady. She’s got a carnal soul,” Onassis said at the time. It was certainly an odd statement to make about a woman who, at least from all outward appearances, seemed anything but carnal, but that was Onassis—always provocative, always defying expectations.
In 1963, Jackie and Jack suffered the tragic loss of an infant, Patrick. In order to help Jackie recover from the ordeal, her sister, Lee Radziwill, suggested that she join her and a group of friends on a cruise with Onassis. Not surprisingly, the trip garnered worldwide media attention, with an avalanche of pictures being published of Jackie and Ari touring the Blue Mosque in Istanbul and walking about in ancient Smyrna. They also visited Ithaca, Odysseus’s island kingdom, as well as Onassis’s private and lush island of Skorpios. Onassis had just recently bought Skorpios, a small, barren, waterless island in the Ionian Sea, which he magically transformed into an earthly paradise by planting thousands of trees and other vegetation and building large estates and quaint guesthouses throughout. “Jackie told me she had such a wonderful time, she wished the vacation would never end,” said Oleg Cassini, who designed much of her wardrobe during the White House days. “Ever since that cruise, she had a soft spot in her heart for Aristotle Onassis. He had been so warm to her and so understanding of her grief, she would never forget him. Then, in early 1968, the two began to date. It was a surprise. When she told me about it, my first thought was, ‘Really, Jackie? That is so odd.’ However, what came tumbling from my mouth was, ‘Really, Jackie? That is so nice!’ ”
When Aristotle Onassis first proposed marriage to Jackie Kennedy in the spring of 1968, she seriously considered it. She loved him—though it would probably be overstating it to say she was in love with him—she had a good time when she was with him, and he seemed to care about her and her children. She was tired of being alone. She wanted to move forward with her life and simply didn’t want to spend the rest of it being cast as the nation’s most celebrated widow. However, at Bobby’s behest, her sisters-in-law Ethel—Bobby’s wife—and Joan—Ted’s—visited Jackie at her home in New York City one afternoon to discourage her from being too hasty with Onassis. They feared that the union might jeopardize Bobby’s chances of making it into the White House. As Ethel put it at the time, “For heaven’s sake, don’t marry him. Don’t do this to Bobby. Or to me!” Moved by their pleas, Jackie agreed to put off the wedding, at least until after the election. However, after Bobby was assassinated, she became more concerned than ever about her own safety and welfare, and especially that of her children—and that’s when she famously said, “If they’re killing Kennedys, my children are targets.” Therefore, frightened, alone, and still traumatized by what she’d gone through in Dallas, she’d pretty much decided by her thirty-ninth birthday that she wanted to marry Aristotle Onassis as soon as possible. “You have done all the mourning that anyone can humanly expect of you,” he had told her. “The dead are dead. You are living.” She had to agree.
Still, bringing a man of such great controversy back to the so-called Kennedy compound was a big deal for Jackie Kennedy. In fact, it could have been argued that bringing any man who wasn’t a Kennedy onto such hallowed ground would constitute a true act of bravery. After all, this was a place of rich if often troubled family history, the sanctuary to which Kennedys always retreated not only after tragedies but after victories as well. It was a place where they could completely be themselves, away from media scrutiny—unless they invited the media in themselves—surrounded by their many children and loved ones.
Actually, it wasn’t a “compound” per se, just a cluster of large homes, each a sprawling white-frame clapboard structure. The only actual waterfront property was Rose and Joseph’s, which they purchased back in 1928. This was called the Big House by family members because, with fourteen rooms and nine baths, it was the largest one in the compound. The house also boasted a movie theater, a boat dock, swimming pool, tennis court, wine cellar, and several large stretches of lawn perfect for impromptu games of touch football, as was always the Kennedys’ way. Ethel’s house was next door and Jack and Jackie’s nearby. Eunice and Sargent and Jean and Stephen Smith also had homes in the compound, and Ted and Joan had a house on nearby Squaw Island, which was about a mile and a half away.
Jackie had enjoyed so many important family milestones with the family on this sandy stretch of Cape Cod land—Jack’s election, the birth of her children, the birthdays of relatives, and, of course, the sharing of great grief over Jack’s death and then over Bobby’s—that it felt almost sacrilegious to bring a stranger onto the property, let alone one with such a shady past. After all, she had always been a woman concerned with appearances, with what was and was not fitting, especially in social situations. This was more than just a matter of appropriateness, though. Indeed, the deeper meaning of bringing someone back to the compound did not escape Jackie, nor, she knew, would it escape anyone else. She realized that not only would such a move on her part signal that she was finally ready to move on, but perhaps it would also be a not so subtle sign to the Kennedys that maybe they should move on, too—from JFK’s death as well as from Bobby’s. “My taking Ari there is loaded with so much symbolism,” was how Jackie put it at the time, “I’m not even sure how I’ll react to it, it’s so emotional for me! It’s facing the future and letting go of the past, which is frightening. I’m so worried that the family will be upset or offended.” Indeed, no matter what twists and turns her life had taken since that fateful day in November 1963 when America lost a president and she a husband, Jackie was still a Kennedy at heart and she still cared a great deal about them. So what to do?
An Invitation from Rose
About a month before Jackie Kennedy’s scheduled visit to the Cape to celebrate her thirty-ninth birthday, she was at her Fifth Avenue home in New York with her dear friend Roswell Gilpatric. Gilpatric had served in Jack’s cabinet as deputy secretary of defense and had briefly dated Jackie in 1967. Over dinner, Jackie explained her dilemma about bringing Onassis to the compound. “I have mixed emotions,” she told Roswell, according to his distinct memory of the conversation. “I know I’m being silly. I feel so stupid.”
“Nonsense,” Roswell told her. “You mustn’t feel that way. It’s completely understandable after all you’ve gone through. But you know how Rose is. She would want to see you. And she would want you to bring Ari.”
Jackie wasn’t so sure. “I wonder…” she began, looking at Roswell with questioning eyes. “Would you call her to ask?” He was reluctant. “I don’t think it’s my place, Jackie…” he said. However, he changed his mind in midsentence, knowing full well that he could never refuse a request of hers. “Okay, I’ll do it,” he told her. “In fact, I’ll do it right now.”
Jackie’s eyes widened. “Now?” she asked. “But I meant when I wasn’t in the room, Ros!” She then scurried out of the parlor, saying she couldn’t bear to listen, as Roswell walked over to the telephone on a nearby end table and began to dial. It was always interesting to people who knew her well that while Jackie was ever the sophisticate in public—especially as First Lady—paradoxically she had another side to her, one that was very girlish and even incredibly shy. Ten minutes later, Roswell called out to Jackie. “Okay, you can come out now,” he said, laughing. “It’s safe.” Jackie peeked around the corner into the living room. “I spoke to Rose,” he told her, “and she was very upset.”
“Oh no,” Jackie said, coming back into the living room. “You see, Ross, I told you she would be cross…”
“No,” he said, cutting her off. “She’
s only upset because she couldn’t understand why I was calling instead of you. Yes, she wants you to come to the Cape for your birthday. And she wants you to bring Ari. In fact, she’s even invited me. Here,” he said, handing her the telephone. “Now, call your mother-in-law.”
Thus it came to pass that on the afternoon of July 28, 1968, her thirty-ninth birthday and just seven weeks after Bobby Kennedy’s death, Jackie Kennedy found herself in the most unlikely of scenarios—back home with her family in Hyannis Port, sitting on the same porch of the Big House and in the same white Adirondack chairs in which she and Jack once sat while enjoying many a golden sunset. Only now a new man was in Jack’s place, Aristotle Onassis. Of course, there were awkward moments. It was only natural. “But everyone was at least trying to make it work,” recalled Barbara Gibson, Rose’s secretary, who was present that weekend. “Onassis didn’t look like someone Jackie would end up with, so it was jarring when she walked through the door with him. He was much older, he wasn’t really very handsome, though I must say he made up for it in sheer charisma. Compared to Jack, who had always been so stunning and elegant, well, it was like night and day. But Rose Kennedy pulled me into the kitchen and said something to me that made a great deal of sense. ‘If he was young and good-looking, would that make it any better?’ she asked. ‘No,’ she said. ‘In fact, it might make it worse. As it is, he is so very different, I think it will somehow be easier to accept him into our lives.’ ”
Certainly, if one ponders the raison d’être at the heart of the Kennedy saga, one has to conclude that it was Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy who established the family’s moral compass and the model for their purpose-driven lives. Her enduring faith, rooted in her unfaltering devotion to her Roman Catholic heritage, which she passed on to her nine children, was like something out of the scriptures, unassailable, fervent, and about which she reminded her offspring with such passion and frequency that it became her mantra: “God never gives us more sorrow, more burdens, more troubles than we can endure.” Her husband, Joseph Patrick Kennedy, had ruled the family with an iron fist, strategizing the campaigns of three sons, which saw one elected president, another become attorney general, and a third a senator, all at the same time. He was as ruthless as he was savvy, amassing a fortune over the years as a stock market and commodity investor. But now, rendered speechless and paralyzed after a debilitating stroke in 1961, all he could do was sit in a wheelchair and stare off into the distance. It was very difficult being in his presence and accepting that the man he once was no longer existed. Still, he was “Dad,” or “Grandpa,” and an important part of the family. Jackie, in particular, loved him dearly and would spend hours at his side, reading to him, talking to him, and just wiling away the time.
Also present that weekend were two of the Kennedy sisters—Jean and her husband, Stephen Smith (who was the family’s business manager), and Pat, who was now separated from her husband, actor Peter Lawford. Ted Kennedy, the only surviving brother and the senator from Massachusetts, was also home for the weekend, along with his wife, Joan, known as “the Dish” because of her striking good looks. There were several other relatives present for the festivities as well, such as cousin Joe Gargan, whose late mother, Mary Agnes, was Rose’s sister and who, along with his two younger sisters, had been raised on this same property by Rose and Joseph. Also present were close friends such as Lem Billings, JFK’s prep school roommate; Senator George Smathers, JFK’s best friend, and his wife, heiress Rosemary Townley Smathers; and, of course, Roswell Gilpatric, who had arrived with Jackie. Eunice Kennedy, Rose and Joseph’s oldest child, was not present, as her husband, Sargent Shriver, was now ambassador to France under President Lyndon Johnson’s administration and the couple was living for the most part in Paris with their four children.
In the midst of these Kennedys and their close circle of friends was one of the richest men in the world, Aristotle Onassis, doing his best to fit in—and not doing a bad job of it, either. His Old World charm was truly hard to resist. Rose seemed captivated as he smoked a cigar and spoke grandly of his global travels and of Skorpios. “It would be my great pleasure to take you sailing on my yacht, the Christina,” he told Rose as the family sat on her porch chatting. “Oh my,” Rose said, acting impressed. “That sounds marvelous.”
“Though she acted as if she’d never been on a yacht before, of course, that wasn’t at all true,” said Barbara Gibson. “However, she seemed swept away by Onassis and couldn’t help but enjoy a flirtatious moment or two with him. ‘Why, I simply wouldn’t know what to do out there all by myself,’ she said, being very coquettish. ‘Oh, but I’ll be with you, my dear,’ Onassis told her as he reached over to touch her hand. ‘You don’t have to worry about that!’ Later, she said to me, ‘If Jackie doesn’t want him, I just may!’ It was all in good fun, though. But it does suggest that Onassis made a great impression on her.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to make of him,” Ethel Kennedy had said before Ari’s arrival, deciding to feign a bad cold and stay in her home rather than participate in the family gathering. (However, her children—at least eight of the eleven of them—were running all over Rose’s house, causing chaos in their wake.) Ethel knew that Bobby didn’t trust Aristotle Onassis—the feeling of animus had been mutual between them—and that he would never have approved of Jackie’s dating him. (“I’ve known that bastard for years,” Bobby once said of the shipping magnate. “He was a snake then and he’s still a snake. Other than his bankroll, I don’t understand what Jackie sees in him.”) Therefore, Ethel couldn’t understand how the rest of the family could be so welcoming of him.
“I remember the weekend very well,” said Larry Newman, who lived across the street from the Kennedys with his wife, Mary Francis, known as Sancy. “I often saw Ari and Jackie walking along the beach, holding hands and looking very romantic. It was clear that there was a strong attraction, but also clear that Jackie was trying to move on. It was as if bringing him to this place the Kennedys considered hallowed ground was somehow cathartic for her, and maybe for the Kennedys, too.”
Newman also recalled seeing Jackie and Ari dancing on the street in front of his house as if they didn’t have a care in the world. “No music, of course, just the two of them in each other’s arms,” he recalled, “and I thought, okay, I think maybe I get it now. She had been so unhappy after the assassinations, this man brought romance back into her life. And, yes, maybe he wasn’t that attractive and, yes, maybe he had a checkered past, but it was what it was, and it was apparently working for her. You would see them kissing openly and you’d think, well, this is definitely a different kind of homecoming. I certainly never saw her do that in public with Jack.
“Jack was very much a Kennedy, a little uptight, not demonstrative with his feelings, at least publicly, and so was Jackie. But Onassis was very emotional and he brought something out in her. When you saw the two of them kissing you felt that there was something strong between them. I think, in the end, everyone wanted happiness for Jackie, and that weekend a lot of us saw that she was, once again, happy. When I saw her that weekend I told her, ‘You look happy, Jackie. Are you?’ And she smiled and said, ‘Yes, I truly think I am.’ And I believed her. But it was sad, just the same. Not easy at all. I remember thinking, Camelot is over. Long live the King…”
Ted Kennedy felt the same way, at least according to what he told George Smathers that weekend in Hyannis. That very day, Smathers had informed Ted that he’d decided not to run for Senate again at the end of the year; he had been the United States senator from Florida since 1951. Ted hated to see him go; the two had been great friends for a very long time. They were catching up on each other’s lives while sitting on rocking chairs on the expansive porch and taking in the magnificent seaside view when Ted suddenly observed, “Having that guy here, it’s hard, isn’t it?”
“Onassis?” Smathers asked.
“Yeah,” Ted said. “He’s a crook, you know? Bob hated him.”
Smather
s, according to his memory of the conversation, agreed. “Bob would hate this whole goddamn thing, wouldn’t he?” he asked.
“Are you kidding me?” Ted said. “If Robby was here,” he added using his pet nickname for his brother, “he’d sneak into Onassis’s room tonight and strangle the bastard in his sleep.”
The two men shared a good laugh.
After reminiscing a bit more about Bobby, they let the subject turn to Jack and then to Jackie. As they talked, it became clear to them that what was really bothering them wasn’t Onassis’s background. It was simply the idea of handing their beloved Jackie over to him. After all, Jackie had been a member of the family since Jack took her as his bride fifteen years earlier in 1953. She was such a vital link to Jack and to the family’s memory of him that, as Ted noted, “I don’t want to let her go. It’s like saying goodbye to Jack all over again.”
George Smathers understood. After all, as one of Jack’s very best friends, he had been a proud groomsman at his and Jackie’s wedding and even spoke on behalf of Jack at the wedding’s rehearsal dinner and at the reception. (He’d also been one of the co–best men at Bobby’s wedding to Ethel.) He told Ted that while he was sincerely trying to cope with the rapidly developing situation involving Jackie and Ari, “I have to admit that when I first saw them together earlier, it tore me up inside.”
Ted nodded. “So what do you think she’ll do?” he asked as he continued rocking slowly and gazing off into the distance.
Smathers thought it over. “Well, to be honest with you, Ted,” he said, according to his recollection, “I’m pretty sure she’s going to marry him.”
Ted stopped rocking and gazed directly at George, a look of astonishment crossing his face. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “This is unbelievable, isn’t it?”
George agreed.
“I guess as long as she was single, she was still Jack’s and maybe,” Ted said, thoughtfully, “she was still ours. But now…”
After Camelot: A Personal History of the Kennedy Family--1968 to the Present Page 3
