The Secret Letters of Marilyn Monroe and Jacqueline Kennedy (8 page)

Jackie Kennedy

Suite 2222

The Carlyle

Marsha Marshall

The St. Regis

October 11, 1954

Dear “Martha,”

I was deeply saddened to hear of your impending divorce.
*
I just got into town and almost called you. But I imagine that at a time like this, you would probably rather be left alone. I want, from the bottom of my heart, to express to you how sorry I am that things didn’t work out between you and Joe DiMaggio. I know that you loved each other profoundly. It is unfortunate that your work came between you. I often dream of having a career, aside from helping Jack, but I think men generally find it intensely difficult to cope with women who forge separate identities.

In your case, however, that is utterly unfair, because Joe was fully aware that he was marrying Marilyn Monroe. You were Marilyn Monroe when he met you—how could he have expected you to relinquish your identity? But who knows what goes on in the hearts and minds of men?

You must never forget, Marilyn, that you are very special and very
beautiful and that you deserve love and happiness. Do you have a replacement for Joe in mind? Jack and I have been married for over a year now. Sometimes I still feel as if we are: gypsies. Jack makes speeches all over the city and is never home for more than two nights at a time. We stay with his family in Hyannis Port a lot, in a little room on the first floor where Jack used to sleep, so it: really isn’t big enough for more than one person.

I truly wish that we had a home of our own. If we did, it might give our lives some roots, some stability so that Jack would be able to spend more time with me and the children we want to have.

I realize this may not be the appropriate time (and forgive me for asking) but this morning, Jack was admitted to the Hospital for Special Surgery—Cornell Medical Center, here in Manhattan. He is having a very complicated operation—a double spinal fusion. Right now, he is in a lot of pain and feeling very low. It would greatly raise his spirits if you were able to find the time to send him a poster or a photograph of yourself. You could send it here to the Carlyle and I would bring it in to Jack when next I visit. Unfortunately for me, his sisters are staying here, too (we have very little in common), and I would be mortified if they get their hands on it and give it to him themselves. Could you please mark it “Private and Confidential”?

Which reminds me: I just adore your alias. I suppose movie stars invariably require an alias as protection from fans and gossip columnists. At any rate, movie star or not, in case our letters inadvertently fall into the wrong hands, I have made the momentous decision to acquire an alias of my own. You will be amused to learn that I have selected Josephine (after Napoleon’s empress)
*
Kendall. So let us continue our correspondence under our new aliases. Frankly, the prospect of doing
so inures us against the horrific mishap of either the Hollywood hag columnists or the equally vitriolic East Coast scribes getting their vulgar ink-stained hands on our correspondence. Perish the thought! I always open my own mail, so you could address the envelope to Jackie Kennedy, but then put the letter inside a second envelope, addressed to Josephine Kendall. Also please mark the outer envelope and the inner one “Private and Confidential.” I think that phrase describes our correspondence so well, don’t you? It is not my normal practice to confide in other women, as the majority are invariably jealous, excessively competitive, and fundamentally untrustworthy. However, due to your open, trusting, unjealous, and friendly nature, I am delighted to be able to drop my guard and do so readily and happily. Apart from which, I am utterly riveted by your tales of your fellow Hollywood luminaries.

Your story about George Sanders and Zsa Zsa Gabor was delicious. As for her tips, in the course of our conversation (we were sitting next to each other on a flight from Paris three years ago when I flew there for the Coronation), she did dispense a selection which she had gleaned from experts at MGM. When I mentioned that my large hands are the bane of my existence, she advised me never to wear pale nail polish, as that would only make my fingers appear longer. According to her, if I wore red or dark red polish, that would serve to truncate my hands. By the same token, she also advised that I create the illusion of long legs by always wearing the same color shoes as my stockings. I am not entirely sure whether these hints will be of any use, but in the light of Miss Gabor’s reaction to you in Hollywood, I am amused by the irony of my passing them on to you.

I am unsure as to when Jack and I will return to Washington again. I am so immensely worried about him. The operation he is having on
October 21 may be life-threatening. He has always said that he would prefer to be dead than disabled. I hope and pray that it won’t come to that. But if you are too busy, please do not, under any circumstances, give my request another thought whatsoever. Just look after yourself and guard against allowing memories of Joe to undermine you.

With my love,

Josephine

__________________________

*
Jackie wrote in the Purple Diary, “MM has given Joe D his marching papers. Wonder how Joe K will feel about her now that she is once more fancy-fee and ripe for the picking.… Then again, the poor kid doesn’t really need to get in any deeper with him than she already is.”

*
Sarah Bradford tells of Jackie’s engraving of Empress Josephine, proudly displayed in her White House bedroom. Norman Mailer interviewed Milton Greene, Marilyn’s business partner, and his wife, Amy, for his
Of Women and Their Elegance
(New York: Macmillan, 1980) and they both confirmed that Marilyn was fascinated by Empress Josephine and loved their collection of books on her.

The St. Regis

Josephine Kendall

The Carlyle

October 13, 1954

Dear Josephine,

I am so very sorry to hear about Jack’s hospitalization and am sending this signed poster by messenger. I hope it isn’t too raunchy for the hospital
—
but it is the only one I have here in New York.

I’ve had an idea
—
but please say if you think it wouldn’t work. If Jack is in so much pain and so depressed, what if we spring a nice surprise on him? What if I got hold of a nurse’s uniform
—
I
could get them to send it out from Hollywood
—
and sneaked into the hospital dressed that way?
^*
Do you think that might pep Jack up? Or
—
better still
—
perhaps I could get you the nurse costume so you could surprise him instead of me. I am sure he would love that even more.

But if you want me to do it, of course I will.

Love,

Martha

P.S. I meant to add that I love the Zsa Zsa nail polish trick because my hands are fiat and webed [
sic
] like duck’s [
sic
] feet,
so
please don’t feel bad about yours.

P.P.S. I also love our correspondence.

__________________________

*
After Marilyn wrote to Jackie offering to dress up in a nurse’s uniform and surprise Jack, clearly confident that Jackie would agree to her ruse, she called Patty Renoir and begged her to send the nurse’s uniform, which she, Marilyn, had worn to audition for Lady of the Lamp. “She was talking a blue streak,” Patty recalled to her literary agent, Richard Winchester, “all about how now she was going to see ‘him,’ at last, how she was longing for him, how happy she was. Her voice was high with excitement, like a kid’s at Christmas.”

The Carlyle

Martha Marshall

The St. Regis

October 13, 1954

Dear Martha,

Thank you for your extremely kind and considerate note. I am sending this to you via messenger—they are a marvelous addition to our modern age—as well. I think it would be absolutely marvelous if you would dress up as a nurse and surprise Jack.
^*
It would make an enormous difference to him. Of course, you could only stay for a few minutes—so as not to tire him out—but he would just adore it, I know.

The best time of the day is in the morning, as I am usually having my hair done at Helena Rubinstein and the sisters are always sleeping. That way Jack will be on his own and feeling low—so the surprise will be even greater!

You are one of the dearest, kindest people to go to so much trouble for us.

Love,

J

__________________________

*
Jackie wrote in the Purple Diary, “Just hope Jack doesn’t have a coronary when he sees MM!”

The Carlyle

Martha Marshall

The St. Regis

October 14, 1954

Dear Martha,

You are a miracle worker! When I arrived at the hospital this afternoon, Jack was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and a completely new man.
^*
I wish I knew how you managed it! You did more for Jack than any doctor could possibly do—and the result is a tribute to the magic of Marilyn Monroe.

Speaking of which, you never did tell me whether or not you have a replacement for Joe waiting in the wings???? Someone with your generous spirit richly deserves love and happiness.

Thank you again for making Jack so happy.

Love,

J

__________________________

*
Jackie wrote in the Purple Diary, “This afternoon, when I saw Jack at the hospital, he looked so young, so fresh, so new. For a second, an unworthy thought regarding MM (and after all, she nearly did play Florence Nightingale, and we all know how she ministered to the sick and needy) flew through my mind. I ignored it, though. Or rather, as Scarlett would say, ‘I won’t think of it now,’ or ever. …”

508 North Palm Drive

Beverly Hills, California

Josephine Kendall

The Carlyle

October 21, 1954

Dear Josephine,

I wanted to write and say that I hope Jack’s operation was a success. He looked so sick that after I left him, I slipped into St. Patrick’s, lit a candle for him and prayed that he would get well fast.

Please let me know how he is, and you, too, of course.

Love,

Martha

1095 North Ocean Boulevard

Palm Beach, Florida

Martha Marshall

508 North Palm Drive

Beverly Hills, California

October 28, 1954

Dear Martha,

You are immensely kind to be so concerned about Jack’s operation, to have brightened his day and prayed for him. He is making a speedy recovery, so your prayers clearly worked. How I wish I could believe like you do!

You will be vastly amused to learn that before Jack was discharged from the hospital, one of his prospective visitors, his old flame, Grace Kelly (I don’t know whether or not you have made her acquaintance), called me.
^*
In the course of our conversation, I told her of your brilliant ruse of dressing up as a nurse and visiting Jack in that guise. She was so beguiled by what you did, and the effect: I told her it had on
him, that she promptly ordered a nurse’s uniform for her own visit! Jack, of course, was thrilled.

Now we are in Palm Beach, where he is convalescing. I spend much of my time walking on the beach, and wishing that his recovery will be permanent.

Warm regards and many thanks for your kindness and concern, J

__________________________

*
Jack (perhaps to indicate to Jackie and his other conquests, that they were members of an elite group of women) was open—even boastful—regarding his premarital fling with Grace Kelly. (See
Love, Jack,
by Gunilla von Post [New York: Crown, 1977].)

Heymann cites how Grace dressed in a nurse’s uniform and was smuggled into the Hospital for Special Surgery by Jackie.

After Grace Kelly visited Jack in hospital, Jackie recorded in her diary, “Grace was excessively dewy-eyed over Jack and I suspect I made a bad move giving her access to him, even in this condition. For while I may play with the faint possibility that MM might be susceptible to Jack’s charms, I don’t take my musings at all seriously on that front. However, clearly Grace still carries a massive torch for him. But I’ll try not to dwell on it, especially now, when Jack is fighting for his life and all I want is for him to get strong and to survive.”

Grace continued to excite Jackie’s ire, even when Jackie was in the White House and Grace went there on an official visit. As Tish Baldrige recorded, Jack and Grace’s romance took place “before either of them was married; that, in my opinion, is why Jackie changed the White House meal in their honor from a four-hour black-tie dinner dance to a small eighty-minute-long seated luncheon—a bit of jealousy, perhaps. Princess Grace, we all noted, stood close to the president and gazed at him with adoring eyes. The photographs of the reunion made us shriek with laughter in the East Wing. She looked like a teenybopper up close to her favorite rock star.”

M
ARILYN
M
ONROE

Cedars of Lebanon

Beverly Hills, California

Josephine Kendall

1954 north Ocean Boulevard

Plain Beach, florida

November 8, 1954

Dear Josephine,

It is past midnight, I can’t sleep, and my thoughts are jangling around in my head like an out-of-tune tamborine [
sic
]. I am still on heavy-duty painkillers, ones the hospital gave me, and some I bought along myself.

I have been very sick with endometriosis. They operated on me two days ago. Now I am terrified that I won’t ever be able to have a child. I want a child more than anything else in the world, at least, sometimes I think I do. Other times, I am afraid the child will turn out to be another Norma Jeane, unloved and unhappy like I was. Sometimes, I don’t know what will make me happy. When I first started making movies, I used to go up by the Hollywood sign, look down and think, “Someday I am going to own this town.” Tons of other girls, I know, say the same thing. Except, for me, it came true, which is part of the problem. The
dream was far better than the reality.

Just now when I looked out the hospital window, there were no stars in the sky
—
but I know they will be shining up there another night and that gives me hope. I’ve got your last letters with me in the hospital; I just read them again, and they are so warm and friendly. In one, you asked me if I
found a replacement for Joe. I didn’t answer that question then, but you are so kind and caring to worry about me, so tonight I will, although I shouldn’t. Years ago, I slept with a few men whom I didn’t love. I would be telling a lie if I said I didn’t, and although I did love Joe, no one has ever touched my heart the way one very special man has. I can’t tell you where and when I met him
—
it doesn’t matter and it was a long time ago, and I can’t even tell you his real name either, because I made a sacred promise that I would never tell another living soul. I call him Mr. G, but he can’t be a replacement for Joe, you see, because
—
please don’t be shocked
—
he is married. He is tall, dark, and handsome, has brown eyes and reminds me of Clark gable so much. But no matter how much I love him, and I do, we have no future together, only the present. He lives in Paris and comes to America a lot (to see me), but his wife (she is very
small and blonde and French) is sick, and no matter how much he loves me, he can’t divorce her. I mustn’t say any more and I probably shouldn’t even have said this much, except you were kind and asked.

I never knew Jack dated Grace. If I were you and married to him, I would kill myself before I let her within a million miles of his hospital room, but then you aren’t me. You have nothing to worry about because you are married to him and she isn’t and never will be, and no Hollywood blonde will ever get him away from you, I know that.

You said you didn’t believe in religion but I thought you were Catholic, was I wrong? An orderley [
sic
] has just walked in—I’ll give him this to mail right away and will stop writing because I am sure you have better things to read than me.

Love,

Marilyn

__________________________

Jackie wrote in her diary, “Marilyn has made the sweetest confession—albeit when under the influence of… … … She is engaged in an illicit liaison with a mysterious tall dark stranger whom she has dubbed ‘Mr. G.’ She is obviously not talking about old Joe K, and he is clearly out of the picture, and has been for some time. So who could her mysterious illicit beau be? Could it be Sam Goldwyn? Nubar Gulbenkian? Paul Getty? Gary Cooper? She is achingly earnest about it, as in ‘I made a blood oath never to reveal a word about him, not even under torture’ sort of thing. She has such a vivid, Hollywood-style imagination. Still, I suppose I shouldn’t lake all this lightly, because, in reality, there is a wife and God knows how many children. None of whom stand a soupçon of a chance should Miss Marilyn gaze mistily and bustily in their daddy’s direction.… Little does Mrs. G, whoever she may be, know how insecure and fragile Marilyn really is.”