The Secret Letters of Marilyn Monroe and Jacqueline Kennedy (11 page)

Chesham Place

Belgravia

London

Martha Marshall

The Waldorf-Astoria

301 Park Avenue

New York, New York

July 15, 1955

Dear Martha,

I am sorry I have been so long in writing, but I lost my baby in May and, since then, have been traveling. But now that I am in London at last (I am on my own and staying with my sister, Lee, and her family) I can relax and finally write to you. But I promise not to allow so much time to elapse between letters again.

I was spellbound by your Sinatra revelations. He sounds intensely complicated and endlessly intriguing. What a pity you can’t bring yourself to love him. But then none of us can love—or stop loving—at will, can we?

Mother mailed Lee a copy of
Life
and I read in it that not only was June 1 your birthday, but that
Seven Year Itch
opened that day as well and was a stupendous success, so I hope you are feeling happier than when you last wrote to me and that this birthday heralds a new beginning for you.
The Seven Year Itch
sounds wonderful, although I suppose it may evoke painful memories for you. Isn’t it sad that just when we think we have the man of our dreams, everything dissolves and reality
sets in? I have come to the conclusion that it is a. mistake to expect too much of life, or of men.

Between us, and in confidence, I have not been altogether happy. Lee and I are going on to the South of France and I may even stay there with her for a while, for some fun and a few giggles. But although she is my sister and I love her, I seem unable to confide in her, as I am in you. Something you wrote to me recently has stuck in my mind. You quoted Mr. G as alluding to “the seesaw effect” between the two of you, and in a strange way, a parallel dynamic exists between both of us as well. Apart from the fact that we both feel a mutual sense of respect and friendship, we both know we will always be discreet about each other’s confidences, because we each have as much to lose as the other.

On that note, I must ask you a question and should appreciate it if you would reply as honestly and sincerely as you always do. In the past six months, I have been besieged by rumors of Jack’s infidelities and I find myself compelled to ask you if these have reached Hollywood—and if you have heard them.
^*

Given my father’s history, the concept of an unfaithful husband is hardly foreign to me, and I could probably cope with the reality. It is just these deafening rumors which I find difficult to bear.

If, indeed, you have heard any, please be assured that none of them bear the slightest resemblance to the truth. For if Jack were as rampant an adulterer as the rumormongers allege, he would be either eternally exhausted or just plain dead.

In any event, I suppose things can only get better. At least I hope so. For both of us.

Love,

J

__________________________

*
“Probably made a dreadful mistake,” Jackie wrote in her diary, but was feeling somewhat low at the time. I lost my sangfroid, sufficiently to write and ask Marilyn if she had heard any of the Jack-as-Casanova rumors swirling around. I can’t think why I broached the subject to her and now feel foolish for having done so. After all, even if she’d heard anything, she wouldn’t tell me, would she? Not with her eager, puppy dog persona. Then again, to be fair to her, would I tell her if I chanced to learn that her beloved Mr. G happened to have another mistress? Probably not.”

The Waldorf-Astoria Hotel

Josephine Kendall

Chesham Place

Belgravia

London

July 28, 1955

Dear Josephine,

I was sad to get your letter and I am dreadfully sorry about the baby, and that you are feeling blue. I feel so bad for you hearing all those dreadful things about Jack. Is it Grace? I saw her at the
Seven Year Itch
premiere and don’t think she is nearly as pretty as you, or even me. Or is there another woman? I really hope not. I don’t want to believe Jack would ever be unfaithful to you. I am sure it is all lies and that you are the one and only woman whom Jack truly loves. I’ve got to stop now to go to therapy but will write more when I get back.

Later—You may not be in the mood to answer this next bit, but if you do, I would be very grateful. A friend of Aristotle Onassis, the Greek tycoon, has suggested I should marry Prince Rainea [
sic
] of Monaco
^*
I keep joking that Rainea [
sic
] ought to be called Prince Reindeer. I really do like the idea of becoming Princess Marilyn of Monaco. But although the
title sounds grand, I haven’t even met the Prince yet and have no idea as to whether or not I could ever love him. But it would serve Mr. G right if I did marry him, and I think I might. Have you met Rainea [
sic
]? What do you think of him? Does Jack know him, too? Maybe you could ask him if I should marry Rainea [
sic
] or not. Thank you.

Please write and let me know what you think—and what Jack does as well.

Love,

Martha

P.S. Yesterday, I met Garbo, just for a minute.

__________________________

*
Onassis’s friend was George Schlee, who exhorted Gardner Cowles to approach Marilyn on Rainier’s behalf, proposing that she marry the prince. (See Robert Lacey,
Grace
[New York: Putnam’s Sons, 1994].)

Chesham Place

Belgravia

London

Martha Marshall

The Waldorf-Astoria

New York, New York

August 10, 1955

Dear Martha,

I was so touched by your kindness and concern on my behalf regarding all those ridiculous rumors regarding Jack’s alleged floozies. Thank heavens (because she would, indeed, be strong competition) Grace’s name has not been evoked in that connection. On reflection, I now feel that I reacted a trifle prematurely to mere gossip, which, as you so rightly say, is probably patently untrue.

I should love to hear about Garbo—how very thrilling that you met her! Lee and I are about to leave for the Eden Roc, and you can write to me there.

How riveting about Rainier! Monte Carlo is divinely elegant; the Palace, a dream; Rainier travels most of the time. In fact, if Rainier asked me, I should not think twice. When I asked Jack how he viewed a possible marriage between you and Rainier, he merely shrugged. However, don’t take his reaction as meaning indifference to you or your question—it is just a symptom of the current state of
our relationship.
^*
What does Mr. G think about you marrying Rainier?

Good luck.

Love,

Josephine

__________________________

*
During her trip to Europe in the summer of 1955, Jackie was so upset about Jack’s indiscriminate womanizing that she told friends she was leaving him. “Jackie left Jack Kennedy at that time,” said Peter Ward, an English friend who joined them in Antibes. “They were split. She said, ‘I’m never going back,’ in my presence several times” (see Bradford). However, within days the Kennedys and Lee and her husband were dining together in Monaco.

Rumors of a divorce brewing in the Kennedy household made it into print. First Drew Pearson reported the rumors in his syndicated column.
Time
printed a story that Joe had met with Jackie and offered her $1 million not to divorce Jack.

When she read the story in
Time,
Jackie supposedly phoned Joe and called him a “cheapskate. Only one million? Why not ten million?” Joe, convinced that a divorce would shatter Jack’s chances of ever occupying the White House, did indeed step in to broker a peace between his son and daughter-in-law. He flew to New York from Hyannis and pleaded with Jackie not to divorce Jack.

“Jackie was forthcoming on the matter with Gore Vidal. ‘Yes,’ Vidal said, ‘Joe did offer Jackie the money to stay with Jack and she took it. Happily’” (see Bradford).

In an exquisite irony, Marilyn, notorious for her rendition of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” was ultimately far less materialistic than Jackie. For while Jackie’s incipient materialism is a matter of record, Marilyn rarely wore jewelry, nor did she gravitate toward rich men.

The Waldorf-Astoria Hotel

Josephine Kendall

Chesham Place

Belgravia

London

August 17, 1955

Dear Josephine,

Thank you for your letter about Rainea [
sic
]. Mr. G does know that I’m thinking about marrying Rainea [
sic
] and he isn’t the least bit pleased.
^*
He said that if I did marry Rainea [
sic
], it would become impossible for us to carry on meeting because if I become Princess Marilyn of Monaco, we would be watched more than ever. I was glad he felt that way. He also said that Monaco is too close to Paris, so it would be dangerous for me to live there in case his wife found out about us.

I am really embarrassed about Garbo, but as you asked, I will tell you.
^†
I was in Bergdorf’s, trying on some silk lingerie just flown in from Paris. I stuck my head round the door, wanting Elise, who looks after me, to check the fit of my bra, and came face-to-face with Garbo. My mouth flew open—
I’ve always admired her, especially as Maria Valeska [
sic
] in that movie with Charles Boyer—and I stepped back into the room. “Marilyn!” she said, walked into the room after me, and closed the door. I froze solid. She put one finger on her lips. I know you will want to know this—her nails were bitten, she didn’t have polish on, and her lipstick was whitish brown. She gazed at me for a moment, then whispered, “Shhh.” I was still speechless, then she leaned forward, cupped my face in her hands, and kissed me. I didn’t mean to open my mouth, but, out of habit, did. She smelled of cheap soap, so I pulled away. Thank goodness, at that moment Elise knocked on the door and I was saved.

I must stop now or I’ll be late for analisis [
sic
] and you still have to pay if you are, but will write when I have made my last and final decision about Rainea [
sic
]. A lot depends on Mr. G and how he treats me over the next few weeks—so wish me luck!

Love,

Martha

__________________________

*
According to Lem Billings, Jack’s lifelong friend, who was staying in Palm Beach when Jackie told Jack that Marilyn was contemplating getting involved with Ranier, Jack showed no reaction (see
Forever Jack
by Charles Cabot-Winthrop III [Washington, D.C.: Hookstead House Books, 1965]). But as soon as Jackie had left for her habitual beach walk, he called his old flame, Grace Kelly (who happened to be in the South of France, firming), and told her Marilyn was going to pursue Rainier. According to Grace’s masseur, Reginald Carrera, “The moment Grace heard Marilyn was in the running for Rainier, although she hadn’t been at all crazy about him she contacted him at once. They met, he proposed, and Grace, knowing that she didn’t have a hope of getting anywhere with Jack again, accepted.” (See
Grace, My Princess
by Reginald Carrera [New York: Premier Books, 1983].)

^†
Marilyn most likely relayed this story to Jackie in the hope that she would repeat it to Jack, whose lesbian fantasies were rampant, and in order to titillate him. In her memoirs,
One Lifetime Is Not Enough,
Zsa Zsa Gabor recalls a similar encounter with Garbo. “Greta asked me if she could drive me home. I said yes, but I was afraid of her. We got to my hotel (I was living in the Savoy Plaza) and for a moment I felt like inviting Greta in. Then she said, ‘Darling, would you like to come to my apartment?’ I was paralyzed. Then she kissed me straight on the mouth. And I couldn’t help kissing her back because she was so overwhelmingly strong and so beautiful.”

Marilyn was quite relaxed about arousing lesbian emotions in other women. She was blasé about the fact that her drama coach, Natasha Lytess, clearly had sexual designs on her. “She was in love with me and she wanted me to love her,” Marilyn said.

Marilyn told Lena Pepitone, “I let Natasha, but that was wrong. She wasn’t like a guy. You know, just have a good time and that’s that. She got really jealous about the men I saw, everything. She thought that she was my husband. She was a great teacher, but part of it ruined things for us. I got scared of her, had to get away.”

Hotel du Cap

Antibes

France

Martha Marshall

The Waldorf-Astoria

New York, New York

August 28, 1955

Dear Martha,

Thank you for your entertaining letter and vivid description of Garbo. I was mesmerized and, henceforth, will always view her through jaundiced eyes. Cheap soap, indeed! How disillusioning!

You and I live in such an incredibly small world! In an amazing coincidence, this evening I met Aristotle Onassis. Jack and I were invited to a party for Winston Churchill, held on a floating palace, the most beautiful yacht of which I could ever conceive. A crew of 60, a masseuse, two chefs (one French and one Greek). Belonging to none other than Aristotle Onassis himself! He isn’t movie-star handsome like Jack, but the more you talk to him, the handsomer he becomes. In a way, he reminds me of my grandfather Bouvier. He spins such fantastic tales about his early days when he worked as a telephonist for 25 cents an hour. He was utterly charming, a diamond in the rough, but with a way of talking to you that completely envelops you in his warmth and interest. Would I still find him attractive had he fallen off the back of a truck and not been one of the world’s wealthiest men? To be absolutely truthful, I probably would not. In any event, although he is conventionally ugly, he had a tremendous impact on
me. For once, Jack (did I tell you he is now here with me?) actually noticed. Afterwards, we had an enormous fight. Mostly, I suspect, because Jack was dressed in a white dinner jacket and I cracked that Churchill must have thought he was a waiter …

After the fight subsided, Jack sulked for ages. Ultimately, because I was bored with his silence, I said, “Jack, I wasn’t laughing at you, but at Churchill, being eighty and probably gaga!” Consequently, he was mollified, while I, for my part, felt a strong surge of guilt, knowing as I do that since April, after he resigned from the British premiership, Churchill has been deeply depressed. It is so sad, isn’t it, when great men go into decline.

I get the sense that you decided not to marry Rainier. But I think you might like Onassis better. If you want (and your Mr. G doesn’t mind), I can arrange an introduction.
^*

Love,

Josephine

P.S. Since last night, Jack seems inexplicably reformed. Perhaps we are now destined to live happily ever after at last.

__________________________

*
Jackie wrote in her diary, “The idea of MM and Onassis is divine. He radiates a rough-hewn masculinity, is strong, masterful, experienced with women, yet kind, not to mention stratospherically rich. Perfect for M, if only for a brief interlude. Mrs. G should really thank me. …”

Here, Jackie was unconsciously picking up on the fact that she and Marilyn shared similar sexual and emotional desires. To the seasoned observer of both women, it is possible to picture Marilyn happily married to Maurice Tempelsman (Jackie’s last love) and Jackie finding marital happiness with Arthur Miller.