The Kennedy Men_ 1901-1963 - Laurence Leamer [284]
Despite the banality of much of the speech, one memorable phrase perfectly defined Jack’s aspirations as president and became the slogan of the campaign. “But I tell you the New Frontier is here whether we seek it or not,” he told the delegates and the millions watching on television. “New Frontier” brilliantly evoked the world that Jack saw ahead for America. New Frontier suggested both the romance of the American past and the dangerous future, opportunities as well as solutions, and passionate alertness, not passive acceptance. It was an irresistible slogan, with no taint of liberal perfectionism, no grand flourishes of rhetorical excess.
All the Kennedys were there that evening in the sports arena to savor Jack’s victory, all except for the pregnant Jackie and Joe, who more than anyone deserved to be sitting behind his son on that great platform high above the delegates. Two nights before, Chuck Spalding had gone over to the Beverly Hills estate to congratulate Joe. He had wandered around until he found Jack’s father in an upstairs bedroom. “Where are you going?” Jack’s friend asked, startled to see that Joe was packing his bags.
“I have to get on a plane tonight and get back to New York and get working on this thing,” Joe replied. “We’ve got to keep moving.” Spalding knew all the stories about the old man’s cynical grasp on his children, but he thought that Joe’s action was “an example of incredible restraint for somebody who has always been characterized as kind of a Machiavellian figure, moving his children around.”
Even his most vociferous critics would not have begrudged Joe at least this moment with his son, but he clearly wanted no new photos of father and son standing together shoulder to shoulder. And he had important matters on his agenda. In New York City, Joe called Henry Luce, the most powerful publishing magnate in America. Luce felt that Joe was angling for a dinner invitation on the evening of his son’s acceptance speech. Luce proffered what was supposed to be proffered, and Joe arrived at the Manhattan home an hour or so before Jack’s speech.
Clare Boothe Luce had probably been Joe’s lover while he was ambassador to the Court of St. James’s. That was long ago, and what the two men shared now was not a woman but similar views on the world of power. Luce knew that a man like Joe did not sit across the table from him this evening for aimless social chitchat. Luce published Time, probably the most powerful magazine in America. Luce was a conservative Republican, and Time’s take on Jack could have a crucial impact on the campaign.
Instead of waiting for his guest to raise the only subject that mattered this evening, the publisher spoke directly. “Time Inc. realizes Jack will have to be left of center to get the Democratic nomination, and will content itself with arguing domestic economic matters politely.”
“How can any son of mine be a goddamned liberal?” Joe retorted, as if any fool could see that Jack was moving leftward only to win and after his election would return to his natural conservative home.
“But if Jack turns soft on communism, Time will cut his throat,” Luce said, as he remembered later.
“Don’t worry about him being a weak sister,” Joe replied. It was all about toughness and manhood, and his son would not be found wanting.
Luce was one of the greatest power brokers in America, and early in the campaign, Jack met with the publisher. Luce’s immensely popular picture magazine, Life, had done more than any other medium to create the image of the Kennedys as a gloriously romantic, handsome, energetic clan, while selling millions of copies. Time had not been so kind.
Jack was aware of the subtlest nuances of journalism. “I see Otto Fuerbringer got well and is back at work,” Jack