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"She had the most remarkable visual memory of anyone that I have ever known," says Manchester. "When I interviewed her in Georgetown in the spring of '64, she would describe a scene, and she would even describe the configuration of the clouds in the sky. Later I would look at the photographs of that time, and she would be right."
The First Lady was also instrumental in propelling the preservation movement. In 1962 everyone, including the President and his advisers, was resigned to the fact that the historic 19th century town houses around Lafayette Square in Washington would be torn down to make room for a large federal office building. "She refused to give up," said John Carl Warnecke, an architect who helped develop a plan to preserve the 19th century character of the square. "She said this is 'a last-ditch effort.' A lot of other people have taken credit for Lafayette Square, but she was the true savior." After leaving the White House, she would help save New York City's Grand Central Terminal from the wrecker's ball.
She came to terms with bringing up Caroline and John in the proverbial fishbowl. In her protectiveness of them can be found early signs of how vigilant and tough she could be when her family and her values were at stake. Still the camera images of the kids are unforgettable, and the President was not above promoting photo ops. One day he brought little John to the Oval Office, and the cameras caught the toddler maneuvering between his father's legs through the crawl space under the Executive desk. And the nation's children came to envy Caroline her pony, the redoubtable Macaroni.
In time, Jackie's marriage grew more stable, though the couple often separated on vacation. Initially appalled by the restrictions of working and living under the same roof, Kennedy settled in. He gained new admiration for his wife just by watching the world's reaction to her grace and beauty. Jackie had been considered a liability by Massachusetts pols when J.F.K. was a Senator. She was, they said, too remote, too snooty. But as First Lady she came into her own. Charles de Gaulle arrived in the U.S. with his nose in the air; he considered Jackie empty and much too beau monde. But he was attracted to her. What exquisite French! Such sound Gallic genes!
Later the Kennedys visited France, and the welcome was tumultuous. It was a proud and happy hero who said, "I am the man who accompanied Jacqueline Kennedy to Paris." Talking in French to De Gaulle, the First Lady said, "My grandparents are French." Replied the great one-up man: "So are mine, madame."
During the 1,000 days of Kennedy's presidency, the First Lady's greatest impact was on style. She revolutionized dress for a female public figure. She loved slacks and shorts and riding habits. What she did not do was overdress -- ever. Gone were the klutzy handbags, the fussy hats, the grim shoes, the clashing colors and unphotogenic prints. The young Halston made her the famous pillbox hat. For the rest she looked toward Paris -- Jackie was a frank Francophile. The American designer Oleg Cassini made her copies of current couture, and Jackie encouraged people to believe she bought American. But she also shopped quietly at Givenchy and Balenciaga. Because her elegant taste was always restrained, it was very hard to tell the difference.