Tuesday, August 6, 2024. Another very warm day yesterday, with temps pushing mid-80s and lots of sunshine. The forecast for today includes the mid-80s temp, but also “Thunderstorms” and maybe lots of rain (which always cools things off these days).
My friend Joe Armstrong sent me a copy of the new JFK JR.: An Intimate Oral Biography. The “Oral” part bothered me when I saw that it was more than 400 pages of people’s memories of him, their relationships with him, and a wide variety of his social life.
I never met him, and therefore never knew him personally. I saw him physically only twice and very briefly (passing by). The first time was a Saturday or Sunday back in the ‘90s when I’d gone over to the West Side to go to Zabar’s to get my particular Zabar’s supplies (such as fresh coffee, etc.)
With my packages I walked a block to get the bus back to the East Side. It was a warm sunny summer’s day, late morning and I got the bus at the corner of 81st Street and Columbus Avenue. There was a luncheonette on that corner with outdoor tables. They were all empty except for one guy reading the Times which he had fully opened so that I couldn’t see his identity, although I could see he was a young guy very casually and sensibly in gym shorts and a tee shirt, wrapped in his Times. As I passed by I did get to see the face. It was the pleasure of discovery — him: John F. Kennedy Jr. getting his news.
I was struck by this very very famous individual, solo and happily buried in newsprint, relaxed on a summer morning. He looked very much at home and very much real – not one of the most famous faces of our time. Yes, he was handsome particularly because the face was relaxed while enjoying his moments on that summer day — entirely unaware that his presence was fascinating to simply pass on the street.
The second time — which must have been years later — I was going to a cocktail party at someone’s apartment on the East Side on Park Avenue. I’d entered the building and into the elevator when a couple in a hurry came barreling in just before the door automatically closed. It was he again, but with his wife Carolyn Bessette whom I’d recognized from the papers. They were both smiling; neither appeared to look my way and so I remained a separate passenger who came to my floor first, and I exited. Naturally because it was him and his wife, I was unattentive out of respect for the boy’s incredible fame and popularity.
Naturally he was in my thoughts at that moment. I was reminded of a story my friend Lady Sarah Churchill had recently told me about John Jr.’s trip with two friends who’d gone down to Jamaica to stay with her while they went deep sea diving. Jackie had made the arrangements for them to stay with Sarah.
Sarah was concerned that they were not experienced and expressed her doubts to Jackie over the phone. Jackie assured her that John was experienced and would be fine. However, it turned out on the first trip underwater, one of John’s scuba tanks was empty when he put it on. He barely made it to the surface, and when he came up for air he was barely conscious. Sarah blamed it on Jackie.
It turned out that many had John-John stories of seeing or speaking with him out in public on the streets in his suits, or on his bicycles or in restaurants or at theater because he got around and was very much a part of the scene.
So, getting Joe Armstrong’s generous gift, JFK JR. I naturally felt I should read at least some of it so that I could share thanks with Joe. It is broken up into kind of chapters, but the entire book is made up of boldface names recalling certain personal moments in John’s life. Because it was mainly numbered pages with different individuals’ recollections of a moment or moments in the man’s life, I started by opening the book to any page and starting to read what was being said.
I quickly got over my objection to the style. Because the man had such an enormous and compelling personality and was so REAL and sensitive, smart, amusing, friendly and very often in the pleasure of moment in his life so full of variety and personal adventures. I frankly prefer it over the ordinary construction because people’s memories and the pleasure of their experiences with him become the great pleasure for you the reader.
You learn about the boy and his family, his mother, his sister, his caretakers, his friends, and his attitudes about life, about people, and his great joy in so many things, that you are left always with some sadness at times. Which goes along with the laughter, and most of all with the learning about this great man, whose life was too short considering its experiences and richness.
You feel sorry at the end but the memories of the many who knew him and loved him and his company, buoy you with the pleasure of experiencing his way of life, including the tragedy of his early departure. Your only regret is that it ended quickly and sadly, and for a few hundred pages, you were absorbed in his greatness — and niceness. You’ll love learning about him. Hope is what it brings to the conclusion for all of us.
