In today's world of social media, where everyone's
every little thing is on display, it is sometimes difficult to
recall a time when exhibitionism wasn't ubiquitous and was, in fact,
not admired.
Such are the inevitable thoughts upon perusing Kitty Kelley's
lovely new book - yes, lovely - about John F. Kennedy as seen
through the eyes, or more accurately, the lens of her friend,
photojournalist Stanley Tretick.
Kelley, notorious for her unauthorized biographies of such
luminaries as Jackie Kennedy Onassis, Frank Sinatra and more
recently Oprah, narrates the book, "Capturing Camelot," which is
essentially a photo album filled with about 200 images, including
many iconic shots (John-John under his father's desk), as well as
many never before seen. The narrative provides just enough fresh
information to justify yet another book about JFK.
Kelley inherited the photos, as well as memos and keepsakes, that
Tretick kept in a trunk and left to her upon his death in 1999.
Tretick once told Kelley playfully that the trunk was filled with
nude photos. Instead, she found a treasure trove.
Kelley's book is thus a story with many layers: Her own
friendship with Tretick; his with the Kennedys; the Kennedys among
themselves. Tretick's photographs and notes provide a wider angle
through which to glimpse the president and first lady, about whom we
already know so much.
Is there anything left to know about JFK?
A picture is worth a thousand words, we have heard a thousand
times, but some tell more than others. And sometimes the picture not
taken tells us even more. These would include photos Kennedy
specifically asked Tretick not to shoot. Not that Tretick always
acquiesced but the relationship between the president and the
photographer seems to have been one of mutual respect.
A photographer is perfectly positioned to reveal truths beyond
the camera. He is essentially an authorized peeping Tom. Unlike the
paparazzo who steals intimacy with a telescopic lens, the authorized
photographer is invited to a most-intimate gathering.
Part of what one discovers, or rediscovers, about Kennedy upon
reading Tretick's notes is that the man irrevocably associated with
womanizing (thanks in part to Kelley's own expose in "Jackie Oh!"),
was in most other ways a class act - humble, authentic, dignified
and uninterested in being an object of adulation.
How refreshing and, these days, how rare.
In one memo Kelley fished from the trunk, he described Kennedy as
"extremely polite, great sense of humor, quick as a rapier on the
uptake, hard to top, cannot stand posing for pictures, expresses
displeasure if he knows you caught him off guard in a photo that
might not be to his liking ... absolutely rebels at any photo that
shows him eating or drinking."
Kennedy also hated being photographed in hats because he felt
corny and silly. Among more-contemporary politicians, President
Obama seems to have harnessed this lesson better than most.
Memorable in the annals of unfortunate headwear was, of course, then-
Gov. Michael Dukakis, whose fate as a presidential candidate in 1988
may have been sealed by a photo of him wearing a military helmet and
taking a spin in a tank.
Kennedy also objected to public displays of affection, which was
commonly understood to be, well, common. Only people bereft of
education and what used to be known as manners displayed affection
in public. Whose business are one's emotions, anyway? Ah. But
they're everyone's today. We can hardly get through an hour without
expressing to online "friends," otherwise known as virtual
strangers, our every waking experience, from what food we've
consumed to who we spotted across the restaurant.
No one understood the value of image better than Kennedy, who
defeated Richard Nixon in 1960 by a mere 100,000 votes out of 68
million cast, in part because he was surpassingly telegenic compared
to the sweat-soaked Nixon. Even so - and impressively in our age
of photo-ops and endless spin - Kennedy wanted nothing captured on
camera that wasn't real. If it didn't happen, he wouldn't pose and
pretend that it had.
Again, refreshing and rare.
There's no telling how Kennedy would have navigated our 24/7
media world, in which everyone with a phone is a photographer, and
respect for personal space is nonexistent. As we ponder these what-
ifs, one is grateful that there was once a Camelot, if only in
America's idea of itself, so beautifully captured by a remarkable
photographer and given permanence by Kelley, who has a sweet side
after all.
