Jacqueline Kennedy: Historic Conversations on Life With John F. Kennedy (13 page)

Well, I guess it did to Jack. Because then it was to really go around and talk to people, wasn't it, and keep speaking. Well, what month would that have been?

Well, that was May, and then in June there was President Truman's attack. Remember that?

Oh, yeah.

On experience. Did that upset him much or—

Well, you know, it irri— I mean, it was just one more thing to, you know, swat down like a buzzing fly. But I remember when he answered that, because that was on his way out to the convention. So June and July, what did he do? Well, then there was the long session of the Senate.

That was after the convention.

Was that after the convention? Were June and July—I guess he was mostly in Washington, wasn't he? Wasn't the Senate still in session then?

Yes, the convention was in July. It was earlier because the Democrats were out of office and then he came back and the special session began in August.

Then whenever he'd come up to the Cape for a weekend—oh, or a day—you should have seen our little house. There'd be fifty Lithuanians arriving with folk dolls for Caroline or something at eleven in the morning, then they'd go. Then, I don't know, then Tom Mboya
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would come, and then Governor Stevenson, then Norman Mailer, then—just in and out of our house. And everyone on the street outside—I'd started to build a stockade at the convention, but I only had it half finished—that split fence. So, Lee and Stas
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were staying with us and everyone could see them getting in and out of the bathtub because they had a room on the street. It was rather close living that summer.

About the convention, were you or the President ever alarmed by the way things were going at the convention? For example, all the Johnson efforts or the Stevenson picket line, or anything like that?

You see, I was at home at the Cape with my mother and stepfather and Janet. I was the only person in the whole compound because I was having John.
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And I was panic-struck, reading the papers. Well, Jack would always call me up, usually terribly late at night, or say something would be all right, or not to worry, or this or that. I suppose he was worried about me worrying, having a baby. Oh, but I was panic-struck watching it. But I guess they weren't as worried out there, because Bobby told me that once he got to the convention, he knew they'd get—you know, he'd get the nomination.

The President would call you every day—and Bobby, would he call you?

No, no, Bobby told me that later. No, Bobby didn't call me.

JACQUELINE BEING INTERVIEWED IN HYANNIS PORT, 1960
Fay Foto Service/John F. Kennedy Library and Museum, Boston

So you missed, of course, the sort of business of the great Stevenson act—
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Yeah, I just saw it on television.

And Lyndon saying—you saw things like the debate between the President and Lyndon. You missed Lyndon's people going around saying—talking about Addison's disease and—
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Oh, I remember that because when Lyndon Johnson came after the convention to our house at the Cape, we moved out of our bedroom—it was a very small house there—so that he and Lady Bird could have that room. We were sort of sleeping in a single bed in this tiny little guest room. And then we had to go over to Mr. Kennedy's, which was where all the press would meet the next day, and Lyndon plunked himself down in Mr. Kennedy's chair. I was just thinking, "Do you know what chair you're sitting in after the things you said about that man?"
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And anytime Lyndon would talk that night, Lady Bird would get out a little notebook—I've never seen a husband and a wife so—she was sort of like a trained hunting dog. He'd say something as innocent as—I don't know—"Does your sister live in London?"—and Lady Bird would write down Lee's name and "London." Just everything. I mean, she had every name, phone number—it was a—ewww—sort of a funny kind of way of operating.
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They were like a hockey team.

Yeah, well, you know, just—she always had these three green notebooks just filled with everything.

We talked about this the other day but it was not on the tape so you were—about the problem of Lyndon's going on the ticket.

Oh, well, I think everyone was disappointed because of all the people, they liked Lyndon Johnson the least, and I must say, Symington behaved awfully nicely there, didn't he?
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Yes.

You never thought he was any great statesman or anything, but he was just such a gentleman the way he did that. And I know that made Jack sad. I even wrote Symington a letter—which I asked him to burn.
[laughs]
And he wrote me back that he burned it—saying I wish he had been the vice president. But I know Jack had to do it because—have Lyndon as his running mate—to annul him as majority leader because here this man with this enormous ego would have been just enraged and blocking Jack in every way and yes—you know, and keeping everything in. I know he kept that session in before the convention.
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I think he called it before the convention.

Yeah, that was it, so Jack couldn't get out and campaign and do more things. I mean, he'd done something before to really make things difficult for him.

I recall it was called before the convention but took place after.

Well, he certainly didn't make—If you'd had him up there with that enormous ego, and thwarted and bitter—so nobody was happy about it. Everyone was even amazed that he accepted. Well, some other people can tell you about it, going down into his room and everything—
[whispers]
and I guess he was drunk, wasn't he?

Phil Graham was a great go-between and told me—I have notes somewhere—that the Friday I went out and had dinner with Phil, he gave me a great account of his role as kingmaker-intermediary. I think Joe Alsop also thinks that he was responsible for getting Lyndon on the ticket.
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Gosh, I don't know. I suppose Bobby could really tell you all of that.

Bobby was against it.

But, I mean, Bobby knows. All I know is that a call was placed at something like eight o'clock in the morning and Lady Bird answered. And Lyndon was still asleep. And then Jack went down. Lyndon said he'd come up but Jack said no, he'd go down to his apartment and Lyndon just accepted right away. But I don't know what had gone back and forth, and they all were rather surprised. So, I don't know if all these people were kingmakers or not.

Joe and Phil waited on Senator Kennedy on the Tuesday and said he had to put Johnson on the ticket. The President said nothing. But then subsequently, according to Phil, the President called him and I forget where this—and asked him about calling—what he should do about calling—said, "I want to go ahead with Lyndon." And I think then the President called Lyndon directly. Lyndon was asleep and then all this business started. Then later the thing seemed to get off the tracks and Phil was called in to kind of put it together.

I see. Oh, what else was I just thinking of? Can't remember.

Before the President went to Los Angeles, did he talk very much about—did he speculate about the vice presidency?

No, he really didn't. He was at the Cape and I flew down with him to New York and we stayed—did we stay the night at that Idlewild
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hotel?—or else I just saw him off and went back to the Cape—you know, and said goodbye to him. I guess we did stay the night because the Truman thing was sometime. He really didn't. You know, it was more just to get it himself. So, that all obviously happened in those four or five days there.

Did he ever get permanently mad at people?

Never! And then I used to say to him sometimes—you know, it was so funny in politics—it was all everyone talked about, every night. And I'd hear him speaking nicely about someone and I'd say, "What? Are you saying nice things about X? But I've been hating him for three weeks." You know, if I saw him in the street I was going to make a point to just glare at him and cross over to avoid him and Jack would say, "No, no, that was three weeks ago. Now he's done x, y." You know, I mean, in politics things do change so quickly and Jack would never—he'd often say that—never get in anything so deep that you've lost all chance of conciliation. I mean, he never treated it—what did he say? "In politics you don't have friends or enemies, you have colleagues"? That isn't quite the right—

Interests. Palmerston used to say there are no permanent friendships or alliances, there are only permanent interests. Something like that.

Yeah, but he never got—I mean, I'd get terribly emotional about anyone, whether it was a politician or a newspaper person who would be unfair, but he always treated it so objectively, as if they were people on a chess board—which is right. I mean, how could you if you—if he'd gotten so mad at all those people, then you may need to work with them again later. So, it's the only way to be effective—which is one reason I think women should never be in politics. We're just not suited to it.

Yeah. He was a great realist in that way, because I remember in Los Angeles, everyone felt as soon as Lyndon attacked the ambassador, that this finished him.
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That's because of the theory that developed of sort of Irish feuding. Too many people had seen John Ford films, which I didn't—
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John Connally was the one who was going around about saying Mr. Ken—about Addison's disease too. And then, you know, the day before Jack died in Texas, I said to him, "I just can't stand Governor Connally. I can't stand his soft mouth." He was so pleased with himself and he'd spend all our times in the car telling Jack, I guess, how far he'd run ahead of him in Texas. So, I'd say, "What's he trying to tell you? It seems so rude what he's saying to you all the time." And Jack said, "Oh, well, he's been making up with a lot of businessmen down here and gotten a lot of support he didn't have before. That's what he's telling me."
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But Jack would just sort of take it—you know, "yaaah"—and then when I said that, that I hated Connally, Jack was so sweet. He sort of rubbed my back—it was as we were going to bed—and said, "You mustn't say that, you mustn't say that." He said, "If you start to say or think that you hate someone, then the next day you'll act as if you hated him," and then, "We've come down here to Texas to heal everything up and you'll make it all impossible." Nellie Connally was refusing to ride with Yarborough—everybody was refusing to ride with Yarborough—everybody was refusing to ride. And there were two people named Yarborough and, I don't know.
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Everybody was hating everyone. And you know, Jack said just, "You know, you mustn't think that about people." He said it so kindly.

And the same way with the Stevenson people. When you think that the top people on the Stevenson drive at Los Angeles were George Ball, Bill Wirtz, and Tom Finletter. All of whom were immediately—
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Oh, yeah, I know. I think it's so good to be able to forgive quickly. That's a quality that Jack liked in me, being married—that if ever there'd be a slight little cloud, I'd always be the—I'd rush and say, "Oh, dear, did I upset you? Did I say something wrong?" Or "I'm so sorry." And he loved that, because I think it's hard for men to make up first in a family, in a rather intimate way. But he did that same thing—I can't do it in my life outside marriage, but he did that same thing outside.

Would he ever get depressed or was his temperament just terribly equable?

Oh, his temperament was terribly even, except when he'd be in pain for a long period of time—for instance, his back—and when he'd done the three or four usual things, which is go stay on crutches four days—if that doesn't work, go to bed for two days, or have a hot pack or something. And if it just seemed to stay on and on, he couldn't shake it, then he'd get very low, but just because of that. But if he had something to do, he'd get up and do it. And then eventually it would get better. But, in the beginning years of our marriage, ill health was—just seeing Jack in pain used to make me so sad all the time, but really after—when? I guess, after the Senate thing, it didn't seem to be as much of a problem anymore.