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During the bleak period after Jack Kennedy's assassination in 1963, it was Ethel whom Bobby relied on and talked to as he sorted out what to do with his life. "It was so difficult seeing Bobby so miserable," she says. "But we never really talked about pulling out of political life altogether. Bobby used to quote Lord Tweedsmuir on polities' being a very noble calling. It's a way of working directly to achieve the things you believe have to be or ought to be done." Eventually, Bobby returned to politics, first in a successful race for New York Senator, later in his belated campaign for the presidency. "No one else cared as much," says Ethel, and she strongly urged him to run despite the objections of some of his advisers, who thought he should wait until 1972.
Giving Comfort
Then her own moment came in Los Angeles. No one who was there will ever forget that it was Ethel, in the first panicky moments after Bobby was shot, who calmly pushed back the surging crowd in the hotel serving kitchen to give him air. Later, as he lay dying, she led a small group of friends and family out onto the roof of Good Samaritan Hospital for a break. Everybody was numb with shock, but Ethel was dry-eyed, her voice was firm, she even managed to laugh.
On the plane that carried Bobby's body back East, Ethel moved down the aisle, placing pillows under the heads of friends, squeezing their arms, kissing them, urging them not to feel bad. In New York, it was Ethel who made most of the funeral arrangements, planning the seating, working out the prayer card, suggesting roles for Leonard Bernstein and Andy Williams, even finding places for the children to stay. She told Archbishop (now Cardinal-designate) Terence Cooke that she accepted Bobby's death as God's will, and therefore she wanted the ceremony to be as affirmative and optimistic as possible.
On the funeral train that carried the casket from New York to Washington, she refused to remain closeted in the family car. Ignoring a friend's urging to go back, she stepped into a car full of Washington friends and officials. After kissing or shaking hands with everyone there, she learned that all the staffers and newsmen who had traveled on Bobby's campaign plane were aboard the train. "I want to see them," she said. A reporter friend told her that they were scattered throughout the train, perhaps 20 cars in all. She insisted, "I'll go see them." And so she did, teasing some and comforting others. After going through the entire train, she returned to the casket, and wept.
An Unchanging Way of Life
In the weeks after the funeral, there were rumors that Ethel and her children would leave Hickory Hill. Nothing could have seemed more plausible. Why not cast off painful associations and turn away from Washington politics? Why not, in fact, spend some time in international travel and socializing? Ethel would not have it. "No one ever gave a thought to leaving Hickory Hill," she says. "This is where we'll stay."