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TIME: Almanac of the 20th Century
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TIME, Almanac of the 20th Century.ISO
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1990
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94
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05309916.000
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1995-02-15
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<text id=94TT0696>
<link 94TO0163>
<title>
May 30, 1994: Once, in Camelot
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
May 30, 1994 Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
COVER STORIES, Page 36
Once, in Camelot
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By Hugh Sidey
</p>
<p> She was a butterfly caught in the political torrents of Washington,
detesting many of its coarse rituals but fascinated by its drama.
</p>
<p> Jackie Kennedy went to Milwaukee when Senator John Kennedy announced
for the crucial Wisconsin primary in the winter of 1960, and
the temperature was near zero. She sat in a jammed and tacky
hotel hall, stiff-backed in a short-sleeved designer sheath
with delicate leather gloves up to her elbows, eyes wide and
smile frozen. A New York and Washington thoroughbred in the
land of parkas and beer. She never yielded.
</p>
<p> The night before Jack flew to Los Angeles for the Democratic
Convention, where he would be nominated for President, the two
retreated into a stark hotel suite. After months of delegate
hunting, the real game was afoot, and she knew that ahead lay
surging crowds and screaming groupies. The moment was almost
desolate, the beginning of something strange and maybe not nice.
It was in Jackie's circled eyes. She could not raise room service.
She found Cokes, remade the bed while her husband talked Vice
Presidents with a friend.
</p>
<p> She was tortured in those first days in the White House. Just
when the idea of making the White House a living stage of American
history and beauty seized her is hard to say, but within days
she had called friends to try out her idea, to hustle funds
to restore the old mansion as it had been in the days of Jefferson
and Madison. There was Jackie prowling government warehouses
for old furniture and diving into the White House basement,
smudging herself with dust but scrounging up desks, tables and
chairs.
</p>
<p> The White House began to take on its historic designs; the place
shone with new paint and gardens. She was ecstatic to find the
original woodcuts for wallpaper ordered in the early days. New
panels were printed. She relished the great view down toward
the Mall from the Truman balcony. "This is what it is all about,"
she told a visitor, sweeping her arm from the Washington Monument
to the Jefferson Memorial. "This is what these men fight so
hard for."
</p>
<p> Let the skeptics snort about Camelot, but there was something
during the Kennedy years that was magic. Jackie was more of
that than anyone admitted for a long while. She smoothed the
rough Kennedy edges. As much as anyone in those heady days,
she grasped the epic dimensions of the adventure. No small portion
of the glamour of the Kennedy stewardship that lives on today
came from her standards of public propriety and majesty.
</p>
<p> She could be naughty, perhaps acting out of knowledge of her
husband's indiscretions. Before the brutal end of the New Frontier
came, there was the feeling that the two had grown closer together
because of the inexorable public pressure that surrounded the
White House. But in the summer of 1963 she went off with her
sister Lee Radziwill for a European cruise, stayed twice as
long as scheduled as stories of nocturnal sightings filtered
back. Jack was sore. That was one of the reasons she went to
Dallas in November on that doomed political junket, a gesture
of contrition for the summer sins.
</p>
<p> She came out of Parkland Memorial Hospital after the most terrifying
public tragedy in history, pink suit splattered with her husband's
blood, her hand resting on the garish coffin where his shattered
body lay. She walked that way down an ugly loading ramp with
her back straight and her chin up, carrying immeasurable grief.
She never yielded.
</p>
<p> (Washington contributing editor Hugh Sidey covered the Kennedy
White House.)
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>