The Kennedy Men_ 1901-1963 - Laurence Leamer [373]
These grand ceremonial functions were not simply trifling asides to the business of government, but symbols of the nation’s greatness. And never in American history had they been carried out with such grace and elegance. The most memorable gift the president gave each visiting head of state was the event itself, symbolizing in its uniqueness a detailed concern for that nation and its leader.
In July the state dinner for President Mohammad Ayub Khan of Pakistan took place at George Washington’s home at Mount Vernon, the guests arriving down the Potomac River by boat. Although most commentators celebrated the event, some critics complained about Americans honoring this heathen and his entourage by drinking gin and tonics on Washington’s grave. Those who criticized the exquisite party and said it was a wasteful extravagance could not have imagined that forty years later the evening would still be remembered in Pakistan and America while the issues discussed between the two presidents had long been forgotten.
These White House evenings had become the best parties in America. Jackie was the beautiful hostess of these events, blessing them with her elegance. There was good wine and quick wit. The guest lists were eclectic, including business leaders and artists, philanthropists and athletes, politicians and authors.
Kennedy clearly understood the political advantages of being seen as a benefactor of the arts, and he had the intellectual integrity to honor not just those who served his party or his ambition but also those who served the high truths of their art. In November 1961, he invited the incomparable Spanish cellist Pablo Casals to dinner at the White House. Casals had stopped playing publicly as a protest against the fascist Franco who held his beloved Spain in bondage.
Great artists and great art do not serve the state and might indeed be seen as dangerous, even subversive. “We believe that an artist, in order to be true to himself and his work, must be a free man,” Kennedy said that evening. He invited Igor Stravinsky, the Russian composer, for his own evening, Andre Malraux, the French novelist, for a different event, and on another inspiring evening all the Nobel Prize winners in the Western Hemisphere. He resurrected the Presidential Medal of Freedom so that he and his administration could celebrate accomplished Americans for their contributions not to him and his administration but to American life and culture.
The Washington Star reported that “for the first time in almost 50 years, Washington has no wealthy extrovert with social position who can rightfully claim the local title of society queen. The truth of the matter is that the nation’s first lady … actually is the town’s best party giver.” The president and first lady were the progenitors of a new kind of Washington social life. The very society that had spurned Kennedy’s parents and that he had been groomed to enter was beginning to die. In Washington it was the beginning of an era when achievement and celebrity brought one to the head of the list, not lineage and formal manners.
The president and first lady consciously celebrated what was best in American life, in antiques and music, in art and food. They signaled that this nation of nations should celebrate its freedoms and diversity not merely in speeches but in its culture. Jackie was a true admirer of the arts, and her husband rightfully deferred to her in these matters, enjoying credit for a taste that was largely his wife’s.
The president was no more the creator of this immense opening up of the American spirit than he was of the other social movements sweeping the world. But he identified with it, even though there were potential political costs in doing so. Freedom was dangerous, and a man who chose his own church and his own faith might choose none at all, or mindless nihilism, or despair. As for cultural pursuits, many Americans viewed fine art, fine foods, and fine