Better Than Broadway
Ethel Kennedy and Jean Kennedy Smith spent months in planning, in deciding who among the whos to invite, at $15 to $100 a ticket. There were a few slip-ups along the way. Ethel sent a shoe-box full of index cards for the guest list to Mrs. David Ginsburg, ticket chairman. Mrs. Ginsburg was slightly surprised to see "Trigger Mike" Coppola and "Tony Ducks'' Corallo on the list. And when she saw the name Hoffa, she "knew something was wrong." Indeed there was. Ethel had picked the wrong shoebox--the one with the cards compiled by Husband Bobby while he was counsel for the Senate's McClellan committee, investigating labor racketeering.
But all's well that ends well--and the evening was a definite success. Ethel and Jean had hoped to raise $70,000 for two family charities: the Lieut. Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. Foundation for Mentally Retarded Children, in New York, and the Lieut. Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. Institute of Washington, which finances research on mental retardation. The total kitty came to $90,000 and the extra $20,000 will go to Washington's United Givers' Fund.
Beyond income, it was the sveltest, splashiest, most scrambled-after social affair that the nation's capital has seen in many years. Ostensibly, it was to celebrate the Washington opening of Mr. President, a sorry, soggy musical by Irving Berlin still on its way to Broadway. In fact, Mr. President was only the intermission in a three-act social extravaganza.
Act I. There were 16 pre-theater dinner parties. Any New Frontiersman who did not give or attend one might just as well start packing his bags. Some 60 guests entered the L.B.J. ranch (Spring Valley division) under a spotlighted marquee, supped on beef, beans and brownies. Mrs. Joseph P. Kennedy led the list at the French embassy, where Ambassador and Mme. Herve Alphand served a magnificent buffet with champagne. Two Kennedy sisters, Pat and Jean, were among the diners at the Douglas Dillons. There was hot crab meat for 26 at the Paul Nitzes, beef stroganoff for 40 at the Angier Biddle Dukes, ham for 30 at the Averell Harrimans. At the most exclusive dinner of all --in the White House family dining room --were the President and Jackie Kennedy; 78-year-old Mrs. Alice Roosevelt Longworth (as Teddy Roosevelt's daughter, her fondness for a certain shade of blue inspired In My Sweet Little Alice Blue Gown, a song far more enduring than any in Mr. President); Colombian Ambassador Carlos Sanz de Santamaria and his wife; and Artist William Walton.
Act II. At the theater itself, the glittering audience, rather than the widely panned play about the family problems of a President after leaving office, was the whole show. Eighteen buses, furnished gratis by the D.C. Transit System, gathered the 600 top ticket holders from their dinners and deposited them at the National Theater. There nearly a thousand spectators jostled fashion reporters for glimpses of the nation's best beaded, brocaded and beminked women. They gasped their approval when Jacqueline Kennedy stepped out of a limousine encased in the stunning pinks, golds and greens of a full-length Chinese brocade skirt, green velvet top and oriental stole.
From a near-stage balcony box, Jackie seemed to enjoy scenes stolen from her own life: Nanette Fabray portraying a globetrotting First Lady now riding an elephant, now watching a cobra fight a mongoose. Back in the theater's nooks and crannies, men guarding the presidential box laughed aloud at lyrics to The Secret Service Makes Me Nervous. President Kennedy did not arrive until the start of the second act; Jackie tried to fill him in, but he still spent much of his time studying his program, later gamely asserted that the musical was "very good." To avoid hurt feelings over the seating, Ethel Kennedy made most everyone feel "in" by scattering the Kennedys and their kin throughout the 1,681 seats--even up in the $15 second balcony.
Act III. The evening ended with a brilliant ball at the red brick British embassy, where the most select 600 mingled in marble halls, danced past the gold pillars of the grand ballroom, relaxed at candlelit tables on flagstone terraces. One terrace was covered by a white silk tent trimmed in gold, ashimmer with garlands of tiny lights--all designed for the 1957 visit of Queen Elizabeth II.
Jackie made the most of Lester Lanin's music. To the tune of Never on Sunday, she tripped a nimble fox trot with the Colombian ambassador; while she was dancing with France's Ambassador Alphand, Millionaire Charles Wrightsman, a Palm Beach neighbor, cut in. President Kennedy proved more of a wanderer than a dancer; he frequently left the presidential table to greet and joke with guests. Totally relaxed, he seemed solemn only once, during a ten-minute chat with Brother Bobby, presumably about the crisis in Mississippi. He was coaxed onto the floor twice, dancing with his sister Eunice and with Mrs. Frederick Gushing, daughter of an old friend, Mrs. John R. Fell.
Lanin played no twists, but Mrs. Jacob Javits, wife of New York's Republican Senator, nevertheless twisted to a fast fox trot with Deputy Secretary of Commerce Herbert Klotz. Lyndon Johnson danced with Jackie's mother, Mrs. Hugh D. Auchincloss. Senators Hubert Humphrey and John McClellan, better known for their oratory than for their ballroom skills, jostled about. Equally at ease were such non-Washington types as the Alfred G. Vanderbilts, the Henry Ford IIs, the William Paleys. and Mrs. Gary Cooper.
It was withal a wonderful evening, and Jackie appeared willing to stay forever. But shortly after 2 a.m. the President took her by the hand and headed toward the door. A Secret Service agent picked up her brocade stole. The only thing that had intruded on a memorable night was that miserable play.
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