13
MY KNOWLEDGE OF J. EDGAR HOOVER’S LUNCH WITH JACK KENNEDY IS based on no more than the fact it took place and Kittredge told me about it. Nonetheless, I was to think of that curious meal many times over the years until it took on the incontrovertible confidence we usually reserve for the validity of a few uncommon memories. What I am offering, then, is a conceit, yet I am ready to pledge that it could not have been otherwise.
I do recall one detail that Jack imparted to Kittredge. It is no more than that Hoover refused an aperitif before lunch, but then one fossil bone is enough to give us the dimensions of a dinosaur.
“Well, I’ll drink to your health, if you won’t to mine,” said Jack Kennedy. “Sure you wouldn’t care for a Campari? I’ve heard you are partial to Campari.”
“That is not, I would say, highly accurate,” was the reply. “I have been known on rare occasions to say yes to a martini during the midday break, but for today, soda.” After a sip from his glass, Hoover proceeded to say, “I am disappointed that Mrs. Kennedy is not joining us for lunch.”
“She went up to Hyannisport yesterday with the children.”
“Yes, now that you remind me, I heard as much. I suppose her trip to India had to take something out of her.”
“It’s just you and me,” said Kennedy, “per your request.”
“At my request, yes it was. Well, I regret not being able to say hello to your beautiful wife. I thought, incidentally, she was most impressive in that tour she provided of the White House for our television audience. In my opinion, she is a notable asset to the White House.”
“Certainly is,” said Kennedy, and asked, “Do you have time, Mr. Hoover, to watch television?”
“As much as work and engagements permit, which is not frequently, but I do enjoy TV.”
“Oh. Tell me. What might be your favorite program?”
“A couple of years ago it was The $64,000 Question. I confess to thinking that I might have won no inconsiderable sum if I had ever appeared on such a show in a category suitable to myself.”
“I expect you would have done famously.”
“We aren’t going to have the opportunity, are we? It was so discouraging to me, as one of untold millions of viewers, to find out that the producers were rigging the results. What a sordid example of corruption in supposedly respectable places. I really cannot forgive Charles Van Doren.”
“That’s interesting,” said the President. “Why do you single him out?”
“Because there’s no excuse. How can a boy with all his advantages engage in felonious activity? Ethnic people are always claiming that their poverty is their excuse, but what claim can Charles Van Doren make for accepting the winning answers in advance? I lay it at the feet of Ivy League permissiveness.” He sipped at his soda. “To happier subjects. I can tell you I was enthralled by John Glenn’s three orbits. No doubt the Russians now feel our breath on their back.”
“I am glad to hear you see it that way,” said Kennedy, “because it sometimes feels like we’re a mile behind them in a five-mile race.”
“I have no fears. We will catch up.”
Into lunch they went.
Over the vegetable and barley soup, the President referred to the one hundred points that Wilt Chamberlain had scored in an NBA game.
“When was that?” asked Hoover.
“About three weeks ago. You must have heard. It is an astonishing feat.”
“Well, I did,” said Hoover, “hear of it, but do you know, basketball is not a sport to elicit my interest.”
“Really?”
“It’s boring. Every twenty-four seconds, ten giants leap up in the air for the ball.”
“Yes,” said Kennedy, “and there is not much to do about it, is there?”
“Well, I don’t know what you mean exactly.”
“I, for one, am impressed with the way colored athletes seem to be taking over the game,” said Kennedy.
“Aren’t you leading my conclusion?” asked Hoover. “I did not say they were Negro giants going up for the ball.”
“For fact, you didn’t.”
“I am ready to champion the more respectable Negro aims, but, then, you may have touched on the problem. These people seem to show more aptitude for producing great athletes than great leaders.”
A Yankee pot roast was served with boiled potatoes and peas. When the waiter, who was black, had left the room, Jack Kennedy said, “I don’t know that I would hesitate to name Martin Luther King as a great leader.”
“Well, I would,” said Hoover. “I would have a ton of hesitation about naming him anything positive.”
“You are expressing a strong reaction, Mr. Hoover.”
“I never employ strong language until I do, Mr. President. Martin Luther King is the most notorious liar of our time, and I can prove it. If the day should ever come when you may need it, I warrant that I have enough on Martin Luther King to cool off a few of his more outrageous demands.”
“Yes,” said Kennedy, “and one of these days you are going to let me into those special files, aren’t you, Mr. Hoover?”
“Actually,” said Hoover, “as it happens, I am here today because of my concern on just such another matter in my files.”
“Revolving, in particular, about what, might you say?”
“Well,” said Hoover, “it does revolve in some particular around the associations of one of your friends.”
“Which one,” asked Jack Kennedy, “of my friends?”
“Frank Sinatra, I would say.”
“Frank does have a wide range of associations.”
“Mr. President, this is not a pumped-up newspaper case of an entertainer shaking hands at various tables in a nightclub. This concerns Sinatra’s ongoing ties with Sam Giancana, one of the very top figures in the Mafia. It also concerns a young lady who seems to have shared her favors with both gentlemen, and we have reason to believe, with others as well.”
Kennedy was silent.
Hoover was silent.
“Would you like coffee?” asked Kennedy.
“I think I would.”
The President rang a bell and the colored waiter brought it in. When he was gone, Kennedy said, “This, then, is the size of it. You are suggesting that my friend Frank Sinatra ought to watch his association with Sam Giancana.”
“Yes,” said Hoover, “that would take care of most of it. There could be one loose end.”
“How loose?”
“I would call it loose. The young lady with promiscuous connections is named Modene Murphy, and she seems to be most friendly with one of the President’s secretaries here in the White House.”
“How extraordinary. I will have to look into that. I can’t imagine how you could pick up anything on our lines.”
“We can’t. We wouldn’t. You may sleep soundly on that. It’s just that given Miss Murphy’s continuing link with Sam Giancana, we thought it requisite to obtain entrance into her telephone traffic. That was not routine. Mr. Giancana sends his people around regularly to check her equipment. However, we did obtain enough short-term insertion to be able to verify that she is, on occasion, in contact, sometimes for a few days consecutively, with White House circuits.”
He sipped his coffee. “I will let the matter rest at your discretion,” he said and stood up. “When Mrs. Kennedy comes back from Hyannisport, please give her my regards.”
They talked about spring training as they walked to the door. Mr. Hoover was going down to St. Petersburg to catch a few days with the Yankees, and Jack Kennedy asked him to convey his regards to Clyde Tolson, who would accompany Mr. Hoover. Mr. Hoover said he would.