Man Of The Year: John F. Kennedy, A Way with the People

(8 of 11)

country." Before long, diplomatic pouches were bringing word back that Khrushchev now felt that his young American antagonist might be much more than a pup. In evidence Khrushchev, amid belligerent yowlings, backed away from his year-end deadline about the settlement, forced or otherwise, of the Berlin question.

The Image. Slight and temporary though it may have been, the relaxation that Kennedy won in the tensions about Berlin gave him a chance to perfect and polish his image as a U.S. political leader. Part of that image was, and is, the youth, vigor and attractiveness of the Kennedy family. Few diplomats have scored more triumphs than Jacqueline Kennedy in her year as the nation's First Lady. She has charmed Britain's Macmillan, France's De Gaulle, Germany's Adenauer and, for that matter, Khrushchev himself (said Khrushchev of Jackie's gown: "It's beautiful!"). "Jackie wants to be as great a First Lady in her own right as Jack wants to be a great President," says a friend. Toward that end, Jackie has worked hard and effectively. She has done over the White House with unexceptionable taste. She has introduced into the White House, for the first time in years, good food, great music, Shakespeare, warmth and informality—all along with a deep respect for American tradition. In so doing, she has managed to stay very much herself.

Jackie Kennedy refuses to be falsely humble. She wore her apricot dress and coat of silk and linen to speak to farmers in a Venezuelan barnyard. She declines to honor all the petty requests that pour into the White House, ignores most of the President's political rallies, turns down invitations from women's groups who are constantly nagging her for an appearance. She water-skis, rides, plays golf, and yet remains an attentive mother to her children.

"Who's Crying?" The Kennedys try to shield Daughter Caroline from too much publicity. But despite all her parents' efforts, Caroline is a real Kennedy: she makes news. She came clutching her mother's shoes into a presidential press conference at Palm Beach. Carefully rehearsed, she was on hand to proffer a fresh rose to an enchanted Nehru at Newport. Once, Kennedy had to break off a TV filming to go and wipe Caroline's offstage tears ("Who's crying in this house?" he demanded). Again the President of the U.S., spending a weekend at Glen Ora, was heard to say impatiently: "Hurry up, Caroline. I want to use the phone."

Even beyond his immediate household circle, the President remains a family man. A brother, sisters and brothers-in-law have flocked to Washington in convenient concentration, all willing to help the President with his work and eager to help him relax after hours. Bobby is still Kennedy's right-hand man. Sargent Shriver Jr.—Eunice Kennedy's husband—is head of the Peace Corps. Stephen Smith —Jean Kennedy's husband—is special assistant to the head of the White House "Crisis Center." Actor Peter Lawford—Pat Kennedy's husband—helped pay off Democratic debts by co-producing an inaugural extravaganza, still shows up at Kennedy conclaves, sometimes with the Hollywood Rat Pack in tow. Until he suffered a stroke last month, Father Joe was in regular touch with the President, offering encouragement and loyalty. And it was