The First Lady once again steps before the camera to take viewers on a walk around her new home, now followed by the show’s host, Charles Collingwood of CBS. Jackie’s personal touches are everywhere, from the new draperies, whose designs she sketched herself; to the new guidebook she authorized to raise funds for the restoration (selling 350,000 copies in just six months). She has done away with oddities such as the water fountains that made the White House look more like an office building than a national treasure.
The First Lady has scoured storage rooms and the National Gallery, turning up assorted treasures such as paintings by Cezanne, Teddy Roosevelt’s drinking mugs, and James Monroe’s gold French flatware. President Kennedy’s new desk was another of Jackie’s finds. The
No one other than longtime household staff knows the White House and its secrets quite as well as Jackie. But despite her vast knowledge, there is also a great deal she does not
Foremost on that list are the names of the women her husband is sleeping with. And they are many. There is Judith Campbell, the mistress who serves as Kennedy’s clandestine connection to Chicago Mafia kingpin Sam Giancana—and who complains that JFK is less tender as a lover since becoming president. And twenty-seven-year- old divorcee Helen Chavchavadze, whom JFK has been seeing since before the inauguration. There are the girls brought in by Dave Powers. The president’s mistresses even include some of Jackie’s friends and personal staff. Jackie makes it a habit to leave for the couple’s Glen Ora estate in Virginia most Thursdays for a weekend of horseback riding. She does not return until Monday. The president has full run of the White House while she is away. So the list of his consorts grows by the day.
Jackie Kennedy is not stupid. She has known about JFK’s affairs since he was in the Senate. Her feelings are deeply hurt, but she sets the president’s indiscretions aside for the sake of appearances, for the prestige of being First Lady, and most of all because she loves her husband—and believes that he loves her.
The First Lady has a fascination with the European aristocracy and knows that it is common, perhaps even natural, for powerful men in Europe to have affairs. Her beloved father, John “Black Jack” Bouvier, strayed often. And her father-in-law, Joseph Kennedy, is notorious for his dalliances. The First Lady has no reason to believe that the president of the United States, the most powerful man in the world, will be any different. Besides, it’s a family tradition. “All Kennedy men are like that,” she once commented to Joan, the wife of JFK’s youngest brother, Teddy. “You can’t let it get to you. You can’t take it personally.”
Once, while passing through Evelyn Lincoln’s office with a French reporter, Jackie spied Lincoln’s assistant, Priscilla Wear, sitting to one side of the small room. Switching from English to French, Jackie informed the reporter that “this is the girl who supposedly is sleeping with my husband.”
However, despite outward acceptance, deep inside Jackie takes it very personally. From time to time, her friends notice the quiet sadness about her marriage. Even the Secret Service agents, who genuinely like and respect her, can see that the First Lady is suffering.
Even in the midst of her pain, however, the First Lady is practical. She makes a point to keep Kenny O’Donnell aware of the precise time she plans to leave for and return from any trip outside the White House, just to make sure she doesn’t stumble upon the president in flagrante delicto with a consort.
The First Lady has thought of taking a lover. She often dines alone with Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara. They flirt with each other and read poetry together. And when Jackie is in New York she visits the apartment of Adlai Stevenson, America’s ambassador to the United Nations. They always kiss when they say hello and enjoy trips to the ballet and opera together.
She is intrigued by these men and knows that there are rumors she has had a fling with actor William Holden, but it is her husband whose love she craves. Until recently their lovemaking was hardly spectacular. There was little attempt at foreplay—indeed, for all his sexual adventures, the president made love to Jackie as if it were a duty. She often wondered why he felt the need to sleep with other women and began to question whether
Then, in the spring of 1961, when Jackie twisted her ankle playing touch football at Hickory Hill, Bobby’s Virginia home, Bobby asked his neighbor, Dr. Frank Finnerty, to treat the injury. Finnerty was a thirty-seven-year-old cardiologist who taught medicine at Georgetown University. He was also extremely handsome and likeable. Jackie found him to be a good listener. A week later, her ankle healed, she asked Finnerty if she could call him from time to time, just to talk. A surprised Finnerty was more than happy to agree.
Sex was definitely on Jackie’s mind when she made the proposition, but not sex with Dr. Finnerty. Over the course of several conversations, she told Finnerty the names of the women her husband was involved with and admitted how bad JFK’s affairs made her feel about herself. The Kennedy marriage was designed, in Jackie’s words, as “a relationship between a man and a woman where a man would be the leader and a woman be his wife and look up to him as a man.” That construct extended to the bedroom, where his pleasure was paramount. She wondered why the president made love so quickly, without any concern for her pleasure. It was all about him, and she felt left out. “He just goes too fast and falls asleep,” she complained.
Dr. Finnerty came up with a solution. He scripted a discussion that Jackie might have with the president, suggesting ways that their lovemaking might be more mutual. Finnerty coached her to speak matter-of-factly and use precise descriptions of what she wanted and of how she might also be able to enhance the president’s enjoyment.
Thus fortified, Jackie nervously broached the subject to JFK over dinner one night. As the president listened in amazement, his usually shy and sexually inhibited wife told him precisely what she wanted from him in bed. Jackie lied when he asked how she had suddenly become so knowledgeable, claiming that she had gotten the answers from a priest, a gynecologist, and several very descriptive books.
The president was impressed. He “never thought she would go to that much trouble to enjoy sex,” Finnerty would later recall.
Jackie reported back to the doctor that the sex with JFK had improved, and whatever anxieties she had had about her own performance were gone for good.
Not that the president has stopped sleeping around. But at least Jackie now knows that he is getting satisfaction in the marital bed.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” concludes reporter Charles Collingwood. “And thank you, Mrs. Kennedy, for showing us this wonderful house in which you live, and all of the wonderful things you’re bringing to it.”
John Kennedy has joined his wife on camera for the last few minutes of the broadcast special, explaining the importance of Jackie’s ongoing efforts and what the White House means as a symbol of America. The First Lady says nothing as she smiles warmly and gazes into the camera. Jackie looks utterly unflappable as the special comes to an end, not a hair out of place, the strands of pearls around her neck perfectly aligned.
But looks are deceiving. The White House tour was actually recorded a month ago, and the hour-long broadcast took seven hours to film. A nervous Jackie chain-smoked her L&Ms whenever the cameras weren’t rolling and wound down afterward by combing out her bouffant so that her hair hung straight down.
She also downed one very large scotch.
Jackie’s White House tour is one of the most watched shows in the history of television. In fact, it earns the First Lady a special Emmy Award. America is now completely smitten. Jacqueline Kennedy is a superstar.
Meanwhile, the White House restoration continues. Far down on the list of items to be addressed are those gray Oval Office curtains, which will not be replaced until late in November 1963.
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MARCH 24, 1962
PALM SPRINGS, CALIFORNIA
