Even though President Jimmy Carter was now only 160 delegates short of his party`s nomination, Ted Kennedy continued to crisscross the country, seeking support. But as Joan Kennedy and I prepared to rejoin the western campaign in mid-May, schedulers alerted me to a delicate situation. The senator had ”women friends” on the West Coast, and they were concerned about the logistics of scheduling Ted and Joan together on this trip. I was glad they had forewarned me and appreciated their sensitivity to Joan.
Meanwhile, the senator was still unable to pluck President Carter from the Rose Garden for a debate. And when one of Ted`s aides suggested a debate between Joan and Vice President Walter Mondale instead, Joan hesitated at first, but finally agreed. Mondale also agreed, and although it would be simply a joint appearance, not a debate, it would become the focus of our western trip. Because Joan`s comments would certainly draw national attention, we asked Dick Drayne, the senator`s experienced press aide, to help us. I wanted to have Joan`s speech ready and typed on cards before we left Boston, but Dick was so busy traveling and working for the senator that the most he could provide were some general ideas and a few amusing openers. Joan and I flew to Portland, Ore., our first stop, without knowing what she was going to say for her most important appearance of the campaign.
We moved from Portland to Los Angeles, crisscrossing California, our schedule too frantic and our pace too erratic to hide Joan`s growing fatigue.
On Mother`s Day, we were in San Francisco, 3,000 miles from our children, and that night our trail merged with the senator`s. He and Joan attended two fundraisers, after which we left for San Diego and then Albuquerque. Ironically, as Kennedy`s hopes for the nomination faded, his audiences reacted with near frenzy. It was frightening to see how difficult it became to move Joan and Ted through gasping crowds of well-wishers that at any time could contain a Sirhan Sirhan or a Lee Harvey Oswald.
During our two-day stay in Albuquerque, several sudden changes occurred. Kennedy held a series of mysterious meetings at the Four Seasons Hotel, where we were staying, which Joan did not attend. Although she did not usually sit in on strategy sessions, this time she felt deliberately excluded. There was a certain secrecy in the air, and soon after several additional young women arrived–I was told they were typists–they, the senator and his regular staff left abruptly for Los Angeles. We did not learn until later that the purpose of the meetings had been to prepare for a major address in Los Angeles in which the senator would offer to give up his candidacy if President Carter agreed to meet him in debate and then beat him in the final round of primaries on June 3.
Our new itinerary now included a day and night in Sioux Falls, S.D., on our way to the debate with Mondale in Helena, Mont., and I was not sure Joan could endure it. Then we were informed by a frantic call from Washington that Mondale had to cancel the debate. Joan would still be expected to speak, but other than a few more random thoughts provided by Ted`s staff, we still did not know the substance of what she would say.
Just as we were leaving for the airport to begin our trek to Helena, we heard that Mondale had decided he would debate after all and had requested to speak second. The only part of Joan`s speech we had–the openers–were based on the assumption that the vice president would speak first. Now even they would have to be rewritten.
Joan exploded: ”This is terrible. No one thanks me. No one helps. Rosalynn Carter has a huge staff. I`m not going to be able to get my hair done again. No one`s done my speech. This is it–the last day. I can`t go on. I`m just too tired.” Joan turned back to her unpacked suitcase, found a gift-wrapped box of chocolates under her clothes and began to eat one piece after another.
”All my life I`ve had to get attention by drinking,” she said in an avalanche of emotion as she paced her room. ”That was the only time he ever noticed me. Now, I`m being good in the campaign and not getting his attention.”
When our Washington scheduler called at 8:10 the next morning to announce that Mondale now wanted to go first, I began again to rewrite the opening.
By midafternoon we finally arrived in Helena at the motel on North Last Chance Gulch. I had to find a typewriter to transfer my longhand notes onto speech cards. The phone rang incessantly. One call announced a change: Mondale now wanted to go last.
With only an hour or so left, Joan wanted to rest a few minutes and then dress. One of Mondale`s advance team called my room to say, ”The vice president will arrive in Helena in half an hour, but he will have to leave early for an engagement in Kansas City, and must speak first.”
And then, in what seemed like a matter of only a few minutes, another call. ”The vice president is here,” a Mondale staffer announced. ”Is Mrs. Kennedy ready?”
I hastily assembled the speech cards and rushed into Joan`s room. Her hair still in rollers, she was just putting on her makeup.
”Mondale is here,” I said, trying to conceal my panic. ”Can you take time to read these through?” I held out the cards to her.
Joan shook her head no, one finger poised over an eyelid. ”You read them to me.”
I finished reading the speech and again held out the cards to Joan who was removing her hair curlers. ”Now shouldn`t you read it so you`ll be familiar with where the words are on the cards?”
”No,” she said calmly. ”I`ll be OK if you just read it again.”
I read it again, while Joan finished dressing.
Mondale went first. He spoke well and was applauded, but his talk was a regular campaign speech. Then it was Joan`s turn.
Joan delivered the speech perfectly, ad-libbing and waiting for the laugh lines, and yet becoming serious and compelling when she focused on Ted`s stand on specific issues. Mondale did not leave the hall. He stayed to listen, and when Joan finished, he joined the audience in a thunderous ovation. No one clapped louder than I did.
When the June 3d tallies came in, Carter had won the 1,666 convention delegates he needed for renomination, even though Kennedy had won in New Jersey, Rhode Island, South Dakota, New Mexico and California. Joining Joan in Washington, Ted declared he would fight on to the August convention in New York.
Back in Boston later that month, we stopped at an outdoor cafe for coffee. I reviewed several requests for interviews that had come in from newspapers and magazines. Joan listlessly stirred her coffee long after it was cool and said no to everyone. Then just after we arrived at Beacon Street and were still in the lobby of our apartment building, she suddenly told me what was upsetting her. ”I`m thinking about divorce,” she said in a rush of words. ”My doctor thinks I should divorce Ted right away.”
Before I could respond or guide her to a less public place, she continued, ”I know people who will testify that I`m a fit mother. I`m going to be tough, and I`m going to fight for Patrick (their youngest child).
”He doesn`t love me,” she said, tears filling her eyes, ”and I have to accept it.” Brushing away the tears with the back of her hand, she straightened up. ”My doctor is going to terminate me. If anyone thinks this is his idea or that he`s part of the decision, it will weaken my case. He says to get the toughest lawyer–an F. Lee Bailey type–because I`m so sweet and Ted will walk all over me.”
When I asked how Ted would react to the idea of divorce, she said, ”Oh, he`ll promise me anything–houses, that I can date or have affairs, anything
–if I will stay married.”
Joan was also worried about timing. Obviously, she could do nothing about a divorce until after the convention. But while it was still possible for Ted to get the nomination, Joan thought it so remote that she wanted to begin planning her life as if he would not win in August.
The afternoon after the Rose Parade (a July celebration of Rose Kennedy`s 90th birthday), when she and Ted were together in her apartment, Joan had decided to talk to him. She was looking for some sign of how he felt about her and wondered how she would fit into his future plans. ”He was in the tub.”
she said. ”I went in with my calender and sat on the john seat. That`s the only time he ever talks to me. I told him I was going to stay in Boston and write papers. He didn`t bat an eye, he didn`t say a word. As far as I`m concerned, it`s all over.”
Thursday: A new beginning.
