Jackie's Newport

by Raymond Sinibaldi

  The long line of black limousines began to arrive. Mr. Foster took

  Caroline and John back to their car to return them to the White House. Jackie got into the first car and waited to begin Jack’s final journey, past the Lincoln Memorial and over Memorial Bridge to Arlington. Presidents Truman and

  Eisenhower came to Jackie, paying their respects. In every direction stood rows and rows of people, thousands standing in eerie silence under a palpable pall of profound sadness. Off in the distance came the sound of muffled

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  drums, which grew continually closer, continually louder, and then the call to arms beckoned the silver gray horses to action and the final march began.

  The only audible sounds came from the cortege: the band’s cutting

  melodies, the incessant beat of the drums, and in the sporadic interims where they fell silent, there was the clip-clopping echo of the silver gray horses carrying Jack to his final rest. As it crossed the bridge to Arlington, CBS

  commentator Roger Mudd whispered into his microphone, “A scene of great

  majesty, serenity and grief.”

  Emerging from the car, Jackie took Bobby’s hand as they, along with

  Teddy, led the family to the graveside. The national anthem played as the casket team began their final removal of Jack’s coffin from the caisson. The strains of the bagpipes from the U.S. Air Force cascaded over the Arlington green while Lieutenant Bird’s casket team bore their commander to his

  Jackie bent down and whispered in John’s ear that it was time to salute daddy. The three-year-old boy stepped away from his mom and saluted. His salute, usually droopy, was strong and firm and he held it for six seconds while 65,000,000 Americans gasped.

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  final rest. As they lay the coffin on the grave, a combination of Air Force and Navy jets roared across the sky—fifty of them in all, representing the fifty American states, in sixteen formations of three with the last formation missing a plane, signifying the loss of the leader.

  Jackie took her place as the casket team lifted the flag and was now

  holding it tautly over the coffin. From above came an approaching high-

  pitched scream as Air Force I flew over, dipping its wing in a final salute to President Kennedy. The voice of Cardinal Cushing was once again heard as he blessed the grave of his personal friend. Calling him, “Our beloved Jack Kennedy, thirty-fifth President of the United States,” he asked of God “that his soul may rejoice in thee.” 419 The guns of salute began to fire.

  Jackie never wavered. She stood erect, head high, shoulders back, the

  epitome of posture, unflinching as the thunderous cannons echoed down the hillside of Arlington. Her hands were folded before her, and her eyes never left the coffin. When the cannons fell silent, Jackie and Bobby moved to the head of the coffin. Teddy stood right behind them. Three short rifle reports followed, and then the bugler played taps. After a slight pause, the Marine Band, Jack’s troops, began the “Navy Hymn.”

  Throughout it all the honor guard, the men who had been with Jack every

  step of the way since he’d left Bethesda Hospital on early Saturday morning, did not move. They stood at attention, their hands tightly holding the flag. Now came the moment for their final tribute. With immaculate precision the flag was folded, each pair of hands working in unison, until it reached the foot of the casket. Sergeant James Feldor, after making the final tuck on the trifold flag, handed it across the coffin, and it was passed breast to breast back to the head of the grave. Specialist Four Douglas Mayfield, with trembling lip and tear-filled eyes, handed it to Arlington superintendent John Metzler and saluted. Metzler, himself struggling for composure, moved toward the widowed first lady. His words were interrupted by his emotion, but he managed to deliver a deep and meaningful condolence. “Mrs. Kennedy,” he said, “this flag is presented to you 189

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  in the name of a most mournful nation.” Holding it out to her he could only whisper, “Please take it.” 420

  Without saying a word, Jackie clutched the flag to her breast and then

  moved to the head of the grave.

  The time had come to light the flame, and for the final time Richard

  Cardinal Cushing was called upon for a blessing. “Our help is in the name of the Lord who made heaven and earth,” he began, and from there on, he

  improvised as the Catholic Church had no formal ritual for the blessing of a flame. The final intonation of Boston’s craggy archangel was a reference to Jack as “the wonderful man we bury here today.” 421

  Stepping to Mrs. Kennedy, Major Converse of the Army Corps of

  Engineers handed her the burning wick. “This is the saddest moment of

  my life,” 422 he said as he led her to the symmetrically piled evergreens at the head of the coffin. She touched the flame to the tip of the torch, and it instantaneously breathed fire. She turned to Bobby, handing him the wick, which he ceremoniously placed into the fire. Teddy followed and handed it back to the major, who extinguished it. The ceremony was over. The majestic farewell to the fallen president now, like Lincoln, belonged to the ages.

  Jackie’s left hand clutched Jack’s flag, and she held it close to her breast.

  Bobby reached for her free hand, and together they walked past Jack’s coffin down the Arlington slope. Twice they paused, as Jackie comforted Maxwell Taylor and thanked Bishop Hannan for the “splendid” 423 eulogy. She then parted the sea of humanity comprising kings and queens, generals, and

  prime ministers, emperors and heads of state, all giving way to the young widow, who “during those four endless days in 1963…held us together as

  a family and a country. In large part because of her we could grieve and then go on.” 424

  They were about to enter the car when Jackie noticed Lady Bird Johnson

  coming toward her. With her was Johnny Connally, the seventeen-year-old

  son of the Texas governor who was recuperating in Parkland Hospital. He

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  carried with him a letter from his mother that he wanted to deliver. Jackie graciously accepted the letter and inquired about his father’s condition.

  Coming over the bridge, Bobby asked the driver to stop the car for a

  moment, and the three of them peered out the window through the columns

  at the statue of the sitting Lincoln, his face furrowed and care-worn by the ravages of war. The widow and the brothers sat silently together, thinking thoughts known only to themselves and their God.

  Nearly 100 percent of Americans spent some portion of their weekend

  watching the funeral ceremonies of their president. Virtually every American had witnessed some measure of Jackie’s endless, elegant display of fortitude.

  Her day, however, was far from over, as she would receive, at the White

  House, all the representatives of the countries of the world who had traveled to pay their respects to Jack.

  Upstairs in the White House, her family was gathered hovering around

  a television, watching the local news with replay after replay of the funeral.

  Present were Kennedys, Shrivers, Smiths, Lawfords, Radziwills, and

  Auchinclosses. And, of course, the Irish mafia. Jackie entered and made her rounds, speaking to each individually, thanking them for all they had done and bringing comfort.

  Downstairs the dignitaries were gathered, and Jackie asked that all the

  family take turns greeting them in the Red Room. Teddy, along with his sisters Eunice, Pat, and Jean, headed downstairs. Jackie, meanwhile, placed a call to Evelyn Lincoln, asking if she could come upstairs and keep company with Rose Kennedy. “I have to comb my hair for all these dignitaries,” she said, leaving Jack’s secretary of twelve years to wonder to herself, “How do you do it?” 425

  Jackie asked Angier Bidd
le Duke if he could arrange for Ethiopian

  emperor Haile Selassie, French president Charles de Gaulle, Ireland’s

  president Eamon de Valera, and Prince Philip of Great Britain to visit her in the upstairs living quarters.

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  First came the emperor, whom Jackie and Jack had greeted together at

  Washington’s Union Station just six weeks prior. It was Jackie’s first public appearance since the death of Patrick, and in an ironic twist, she presented to Selassie’s granddaughter a bouquet of red roses welcoming her to America.

  They spoke in French, for Selassie’s English was limited, and after their visit Jackie fetched the children from across the hall. They were enraptured by him during his October visit. “He was their hero,” Jackie remembered, and as the children paused, tentatively looking through the door, Jackie said,

  “Look, John, he’s such a brave soldier. That’s why he has all those medals.”

  John climbed on his lap to inspect those medals, while Caroline ran to get the doll he had given her in October.

  “You will be a brave warrior,” said the emperor to John, in his best

  English. “Like your father.”

  Caroline returned, and now they were sharing his lap, showing him

  the ivory carvings he had given them. Jackie noted that it seemed as if a transcendental bond existed between this ancient, bearded warrior, bedecked in military splendor, and her children. For twenty minutes they sat together, enthralled with him. “He had this thing of love,” Jackie would later recall.

  “They showed him their little presents, and they were so happy, just staring at him and worshipping.” 426

  The warmth of this gentle encounter ended, and President de Gaulle

  was next to enter. They had not seen each other since the splendor of Paris in June 1961, and now he was here to pay his respects to her and to her

  husband. On this day she would meet him as an equal with a singular

  purpose in mind.

  McGeorge Bundy noted that “she received him like a queen,” 427 in

  what was essentially a diplomatic meeting. Sitting across from him beneath the mantle of her fireplace, she spoke to her point. Jackie was aware that some acrimony had stirred within the French diplomatic corps regarding

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  the scuttling of a missile program. She also knew that de Gaulle would be meeting that very night with President Johnson, and she wanted to convey to de Gaulle a simple message. She wanted to impart to him Jack’s understanding of each leader’s desire and need to do, in their hearts and minds, what was right for their people. However, bitterness had emerged among these allies, and she called to de Gaulle’s mind that his ambassador, Hervé Alphand, was among the embittered. More than anything she wanted him to know that

  “Jack was never bitter.” 428 It was a simple message delivered from the heart of the woman who had beguiled him in France.

  The meeting ended, and she escorted the president across the hall to the waiting elevator. They passed a chest de Gaulle had gifted to her and her husband, on which sat a vase filled with daisies. Plucking one she handed it to him. “I want you to take this as a last remembrance of the president,” 429

  she said. The French president rode the elevator holding the American daisy in memory of the fallen American president.

  Dining with Ambassador and Madame Alphand before meeting with

  President Johnson, de Gaulle was quiet throughout most of the meal,

  perhaps ruminating on his own thoughts and images of the past few dark and endless days. Roused from his inner thoughts, he turned to Nicole Alphand.

  “Madame,” he said wearily, showing her the daisy. “This is the last souvenir I shall have of President Kennedy. She asked me to keep it, and I shall keep it always.” Gently he returned it to his pocket, and through a sigh he said, “She gave an example to the whole world on how to behave.” 430

  Bobby brought Eamon de Valera to her, the Irish president who, when

  Jack was only two years old, drew over sixty thousand people to hear him speak of Irish independence at Boston’s Fenway Park. Just five months

  earlier he had welcomed President Kennedy to his country on a journey that touched Jack’s soul. He brought with him a letter from his wife, whom Jack had so enjoyed during his visit. They spoke of everything Irish: of Jack’s visit, 193

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  of de Valera’s wife, of legends of the Emerald Isle, of its rich poetry, and particularly of a Gerald Griffin poem that was a tribute to the land, its people, and their struggles. Mrs. de Valera had recited it for Jack when he visited.

  Jack was so moved by it, he had memorized it himself.

  The poignancy of the memories overwhelmed them, and with tears

  flowing down both their faces, Bobby escorted de Valera out through what had been Jack’s adjoining bedroom. Jackie, choking back sobs, opened the doorway to the hall to find Prince Philip. He was squatting on the floor with John, and they were laughing. Gathering herself, Jackie curtsied. Standing, the prince told Jackie how much John reminded him of his son, Charles,

  when he was his age. “John,” she said, “did you make your bow to the prince?”

  “I did,” came the boy’s reply without looking up, invoking laughter and

  easing the moment. Lee and Biddle Duke joined them, and with Jackie’s

  prodding look, the prince advised her on the reception downstairs. “I’d advise you to have the line,” he told her. “It’s really quick and it gets it done.” 431

  Angier Biddle Duke remembered that in June 1961, aboard Air Force I on

  their way to London and dinner with the queen, Jackie had summoned him.

  She inquired if protocol called for her to “curtsey” before Queen Elizabeth.

  Duke’s response was swift and emphatic: “The wife of a chief of state never curtsies to anyone.” 432 Duke was in the hallway when Jackie found the prince playing with John on the floor. Following her curtsey, she had stepped aside, letting the prince into the room ahead of her. Glancing at Duke with a forlorn smile, she said to him, “Angie, I’m no longer the wife of a chief of state.”

  Recalling that story twenty-five years later, fighting tears and in a voice choked with emotion, Duke said, “I promise you, I nearly broke down.” 433

  All present in the Red Room were surprised to learn that the widow

  had joined them. Taking the advice of Prince Philip, Jackie took her position to receive her guests. Teddy was on her right and Angie on her left, with General McHugh nearby, ready to lend a hand.

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  Disconsolate and forlorn, she greeted them all. One by one they paused,

  and she shook their hands, exchanging words of gratitude and appreciation.

  Emotionally exhausted and physically drained, she carried out her duty to the last and still managed to bring comfort to those who came to comfort her.

  Ludwig Erhard, only a month removed from his election as chancellor

  of West Germany, was to have been the guest of the President and Mrs.

  Kennedy this very evening. Joining them was to be Werner Von Braun, the

  German-born rocket genius whom Jack had visited at Cape Canaveral a mere week ago. He came to her, and she shook his hand. Holding him in the line, she whispered to him, “I was looking forward to a state dinner with you this very evening. I had ordered German wine and German music…under other

  circumstances we would be dining together tonight, with German music

  playing in this very house.” Too moved to speak, Erhard simply nodded

  before making his way out, visibly moved by their exchange.

  Looking down the line Jackie could see Anastas Mikoyan, the first

  deputy of Nikita Khrushchev and the second most powerful man in the

  Soviet Union. The crusty old Bolshev
ik had fought in the Russian Revolution, survived Stalin’s purges, and now served as Khrushchev’s right-hand man. It was his sixty-eighth birthday, and as he waited on line to see the president’s widow, his distress was obvious to even a casual observer. Trembling when he approached her, it was clear he was at a loss. Jackie reached for his hand and, holding it, said, “Please tell Mr. Chairman President that I know he and my husband worked together for a peaceful world, now he and you must

  carry on my husband’s work.” 434 The interpreter delivered her message, and Mikoyan crumbled. Futilely he tried to blink away his tears but he could not stop them, and he buried his face in his hands and wept.

  Last in line was Lleras Camargo, the former president of Colombia and

  the founder of the Organization of American States. Camargo held a special place in Jackie’s heart for the hospitality he had shown her and Jack on a 195

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  state visit in December 1961. “Her stay in the house of the President, the state dinner that they gave at the Presidential Palace, the sense of the past—all of this gave her ideas about the maintenance and restoration of the White House.” 435 She had once said to Jack that she believed Camargo to be the

  “greatest statesman I’ve ever met.” Standing in front of her, both of them struggled for composure. With words that threatened to choke her, she told him that visiting his country was the best trip abroad she and the president had taken. The two of them began to weep, and Jackie said, “Please don’t let them forget Jack.” 436

  As she was leaving the room, Jackie beckoned to Clint Hill. “I may

  want to go back to Arlington later,” she whispered to him. “I’ll call you and let you know.”

  “Of course,” Hill responded, adding, “I hate to bring this up, but I told Provi I’d remind you. Have you thought about doing anything for John’s

  birthday?”

  “Oh Mr. Hill, you never forget anything,” she answered. “That’s what

  we’re going to do now. Everyone’s upstairs and we’re going to have a little celebration.” 437

  Duke escorted her upstairs on the elevator. Words would not come to

  either of them for all they had left were tears. He was due at Lyndon Johnson’s reception for the same individuals who had just paid Mrs. Kennedy their