Jacqueline Kennedy: Historic Conversations on Life With John F. Kennedy (17 page)

BOOK: Jacqueline Kennedy: Historic Conversations on Life With John F. Kennedy
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It's funny. I used to worry about going into the White House.
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This was before the campaign started or it got so close—you know, thinking all the things anyone thinks. It'll be a goldfish bowl, the Secret Service, I'll never see my husband. Then once Jack was nominated and everything, then you were so happy for him. And then once you got in it, I mean, you were just so happy for him, then you found out that it was really the happiest time of my life. It was when we were the closest—I didn't realize the physical closeness of having his office in the same building and seeing him so many times a day. There was always a great tension living there, but I used to—I remember thinking in the White House, "What was the matter with me that I spent so much time worrying, would it ruin our marriage to get in the White House?" And here it was so happy. And then I thought, you never can know what will be the best for you.
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Then once we were in the White House, I used to worry all the time about getting out of it. And I used to think, what will you do with Jack, who will be fifty-one or something when he leaves? This caged tiger who's such a young age, still able to do so much. And sometimes I used to ask him about that and be worried. And he'd always soothe me and say, "You know, it won't be a problem when it happens."

 

What did—did he ever talk about what he might do after the presidency?

 

Yes. In the beginning, he used to sort of treat it as a joke and didn't like to talk about it, and he'll say, "Oh, I'll be an ambassador to Italy," or something. And that would get—but he was just teasing. And then I'd say, "Oh, you have to run for the Senate." And—again, this shows something wonderful about Bobby. Once I told Bobby that I was so worried and that if only Jack could run for the Senate, you know, have Teddy's seat, because Jack said they wouldn't take two brothers from there. So Bobby went and spoke to Teddy and came back and told me that Teddy said that he would not run when Johnny—that's what the brothers always called him—was out, which is so touching because that was the highest thing that I think Teddy could ever have hoped for. And anyway, I told Jack that because I always remember him saying how John Quincy Adams—

 

Yeah.

 

—came back and was a congressman all his life, and I thought he could be a senator and have a base and do all his other things from there. And Jack was really wounded when I told him that. And he was touched that I cared so much to be so worried, but he said, "No, I never, never would do that. And take that from Teddy? How could you think I'd do such a thing? So you go back to Bobby and tell him." But I think that shows something so close about those three brothers.

 

JACK, BOBBY, AND TEDDY, HYANNIS PORT, 1960
John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

 

Yes.

 

That each would—there is Bobby making Teddy give up his prize, which Teddy does gladly, and then Jack refusing. They all worked with such love for each other. And just towards the end, Jack was thinking about being either publisher of a great paper or—I don't know. Bundy said to me the other night that he thought he might have ended up in television or something. I think he would have had to do something. He was getting rather excited about it. Sometimes he talked to Ben Bradlee about it—"Think we could buy the
Washington Post
?"—or something, rather jovially, but you could always tell when he was toying with an idea that pleased him in his mind. I think he would have gone around the world, written a book, done something with his library, and then really entered into that.

 

Where would you—where would you have lived, do you suppose?

 

Well, I just assumed we'd have lived in Cambridge, but maybe we wouldn't have. Or then I thought we should still live in Washington, but now I know that would have been completely wrong. And Jack always said we shouldn't live in Washington. He was right. It would be too hard for an ex-president to live in this city, which is so oriented to the new president. So maybe we'd have lived in—

 

He spoke to me about living in Cambridge part of the time. I got the impression that he would spend three or four months a year there and whether—

 

Sort of Cambridge, New York. I think that's what it sort of would have been.

 

The newspaper too he also—

 

You know, that would have been—

 

Considered as a possibility.

 

Yeah, that would have been such a full-time job with him. And Bundy said to me the other night—It just made me so sad, because Jack could have had his happiest years later. He said he sort of would have been the "President of the West." And you know, anywhere he went, he would have been—and anything he said people would have listened to so. And then Bundy said—I don't know if it's true or not—that after a while there would have been such a demand for him to come back that they might have had to do something about seeing if you could have a third term—you know, not in succession, but later. I used to say, "If only they could make a rule to keep you here forever"—because the one thing, when you leave the White House—and Jack always used to say this—is that you just have a cold fear going over you every day when you pick up the morning papers because you know how close it is—how some man far down can make a blunder, like Skybolt
28
or something, and everything can blow up. And the president just has to be watching everyone, everywhere, which only someone young and brilliant like Jack can do. So you'd have been just scared all the time, and knowing you had no power to do anything. But Jack always said, "Oh my God, no, I'd never. Eight years is enough in this place." Then you could see that it really did—it is the burdens, the way you look at Lincoln's pictures, over the years, and how much tireder and older he got. You can see that in Jack's pictures. Though he never spoke about—he would sometimes speak of the cares of it, but he'd never, you know, moan or feel sorry for himself. But he'd just say, like a, you know, a prisoner thinking of getting out—"Oh, no, eight years is enough in this place."

 

When you—when did you begin to think about restoring the White House? Was that before?

 

Yeah, I think once Jack was elected, or maybe whenever I thought I might be the president's wife. I just so knew that that had to be done. And then in Florida, between Christmas and inauguration, I had them send me a lot of books and things from the Library of Congress. And then once I was in there, I was in bed for about a week in the Queen's Room after inauguration, but I can remember seeing David Finley in bed and maybe John Walker,
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so it started right away. Because just to look at that place! Maybe just because I'd been to the White House obviously, for some congressional receptions, and my little tour around with Mrs. Eisenhower.

 

How was that?

 

Well, this might be rather interesting, but—I'd read in the paper that it was customary for the first lady to show the new one around. And it was the last thing I wanted because, as I say, I was about to have this child. So I asked Tish
30
to get in touch with Mary Jane McCaffrey, Mrs. Eisenhower's secretary. Mrs. Eisenhower told Mrs. McCaffrey not to give our people any help.

 

What?

 

But Tish knew her or somehow, so she used to meet Mary Jane, sneak away for lunch somewhere. And Tish liked Mary Jane very much, and she'd tell her, you know, things that you ought to know. And so when I asked if I have to, you know, "If it's something Mrs. Eisenhower's going to do, could I do it soon, because I don't know when I'm going to have this baby?" And apparently when Mrs. McCaffrey gave Mrs. Eisenhower that message, she hit the ceiling and said, "This is my house, and nobody's going to see it"—and all of that. So the message was given back to me, and I was just filled with relief because how could I see anyway, make sense of walking around that enormous house, you know, in half an hour and a cup of tea? I was so glad I wouldn't have to do it. So then I was in the hospital and I had John and it was all rather dramatic. And then, I think, the press started building up on Mrs. Eisenhower. So she kept pestering Tish and everyone: Could I come and see it before we went to Florida that day? And I got out of the hospital about noon and we were to leave, I think, at two-thirty for Florida. And I didn't want to go. I'd never done anything but walk around the room and, just to be boring, after a caesarean it's very hard to walk and all that for a while. Like a fool, I said I'd go. I wish I hadn't. And then they said they'd have a wheelchair and everything. And there was never any wheelchair and you just were dragged around every floor, and not even asked to sit down, and brought in and out of the—past all the press. And when I got back, I really had a weeping fit and I couldn't stop crying for about two days. It was something that takes away your last strength when you don't have any left. So that wasn't very nice of Mrs. Eisenhower.
31

 

A terrible thing. But why, do you suppose?

 

She was very funny. She always referred to it as "my house" and "my carpets," and I guess—didn't President Eisenhower say during the campaign, "Whenever Mamie thinks of that girl being in the White House she goes s-s-s-s-s-s"—or a raspberry or some charming sound? You know, there was this sort of venom or something there. And then, I guess, people used to say she'd go crazy when she'd hear all the things that we were doing. I suppose it's never that nice to hear about a new first lady who's doing things that you should have done, or something. "But I hear the Red Room is purple," she'd say. I don't blame her for that, but you'd think she might have been a little sympathetic before.

 

PRESIDENT EISENHOWER MEETS WITH PRESIDENT-ELECT KENNEDY IN THE OVAL OFFICE
Abbie Rowe, National Park Service/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

 

Yes. How did the President and President Eisenhower—

 

I guess President Eisenhower was fine when they went—the first meeting. I don't know what they talked about, but Eisenhower said, "And then I want to show you how quickly the helicopters can come here to get you away." And he pressed a button and they were there in three minutes and we flew away. So Eisenhower was fine with him.

 

What did the President think of Eisenhower?

 

Well, not much. You know, what did Joe Alsop say to me once—to us both? "Eisenhower would be the worst president of the United States with the possible exception of James Buchanan." You know, Jack saw that all that could have been done, I mean, how really he kept us standing still and gave away—I don't think he thought much of him. But he used to say, "Look at that man's health. His cheeks were as pink as a something, and he's smiling and chuckling away." Oh, another thing we noticed that was really funny. In the White House, in the door of Jack's—the sill to Jack's office in his bedroom—we thought there were termites. They were just riddled with little holes. And so I asked the usher, Mr. West,
32
because I thought, is the White House going to fall down again like it did under Truman? It was the cleats from his golf shoes. You just wouldn't believe! I guess he must have just walked all around the White House in them.

 

The same thing in the President's office.

 

Yeah. Now they're worn away. You don't notice it as much.

 

Do you remember anything about Nixon's visit to Palm Beach? Didn't he come down in interregnum?

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