Jackie Kennedy

By Sister ParishFebruary 03, 2025

Jackie Kennedy

I met Jackie at the Boston airport to take a short jump flight to Hyannisport. It was early spring and she was young, gay, and bursting with enthusiasm. Her husband was a Senator.

She had written to me that the cottage needed touching up. “Something gay, something fun.” I had several short letters from her describing the house. I wish I had those letters now, as they were so full of personality and charm. Jackie had drawn little pictures of herself on top of a ladder measuring for curtains. Next to the sketch she would write, “I’m a little confused,” and “2 inches to be on the safe side.” Then there would be a small sketch of a sofa with a note: “the man said 8 yards, but to be on the safe side, make it 10 yards. The exact size of a room could be 19’ x 19’, but I’m not quite sure” These uncertainties were the reason for my trip to Hyannisport

Their house in the framed compound was a typical, small Hyannis cottage with green shutters. The porch was pretty, with wicker furniture and a smaller terrace off of it. My first thought was that it desperately needed color and warmth. “Let’s call Mrs. Fish in Boston,” I said to Jackie after a brief tour. We’ll have her fill baskets with ferns and tubs with multicolored Foxglove. And she will send some of her marvelous, flowering Begonias and Gloxinia.

The living room, in spite of all of the wrong measurements, did turn out to be gay and cozy. We used a flower chintz, straw rugs, a hooked rug, new Staffordshire lamps, and lots of patterned pillows. With the flowers, Earthen Ware pots, woven baskets, knitted wall blanket to tuck under her chin, and a fire burning, Jackie now had a room that could be cheerful and cozy on those foggy Hyannis nights. She did seem pleased, for I have a telegram saying “you did the trick, and our trip was more than worthwhile. I feel happy. Love, Jackie“

Shortly after we had completed our small project in Hyannisport, I received a call from Washington. Their house in Georgetown had just been finished. It had been done by her sister, Lee, and Jackie assured me that it was very pretty. She then vented to tell me that it didn’t have the charm she longed for, and no color. Needless to say, I felt it was a delicate situation. The job had been completed, and the other decorator involved was hardly a stranger. But Jackie was very persuasive, so the following week I arrived from New York with a large canvas bag filled with all of the delicious things that Jackie had in mind. We had a glorious day at the Georgetown house, and we were overcome with our imaginings of what the enchanting outcome could be.

It did not take long before I had a call from Jackie, who was virtually in tears. The Senator had put his foot down. The house had been finished. A great deal of money had been spent. And that was that.

A few months went by, and Jackie called again. Her voice was filled with her old enthusiasm. Her husband had decided that she could do the house over after all. She wanted to start right away, and though I was very busy, we began our dream again. Who could resist Jackie?

It was not an easy project for me, though the result was quite wonderful. Jackie was joyful about every aspect of the job, but she was pregnant and not feeling well. The work was done during the summer and she was away most of the time. It was difficult getting her to make decisions and her husband had no inclination to make them for her.

Working in Georgetown during the summer was the very last thing I needed. Even then, Harry was begging me to stop working so that I could join him in Maine and be with the children. And of course he was right. My heart was in Dark Harbor, and how guilty I felt every day that I couldn’t be there. But the firm couldn’t well be run without me, for I was the firm. Jackie’s undertaking was just one of the many large jobs that had to be done. When I look back on those years, I miss downloaded how much I tried to do with so little help.

Thanks to my incredible team, we somehow got the Georgetown house completed by the end of the summer. Everything had been done over, the house vibrated with color, and Jackie was thrilled. The Senator seemed pleased as well, but he was too busy to enjoy it fully as he was running for president. That summer, I was lunching at a New York restaurant when I was called to the telephone. It was Mrs. Green, and I could tell that she was bursting with some piece of news.

“I am not allowed to use any names,” she said breathlessly, “but you have been asked to come to a big white house next month.” I did not take it in fully, and told her to be explicit. “It has big white columns in front,” she said.

I finally got it. Jackie‘s husband had just been elected President of the United States. Her next decorating job was about to begin. Mrs. Green wouldn’t even let me ask questions about it over the telephone–she had been given strict instructions to keep the project absolutely secret. I didn’t breathe a word to anyone when I got back to the table. Soon, letters went back and forth between Jackie and myself. I don’t know which one of us was the most naïve about the undertaking ahead of us. I told her I would buy all the books I could find concerning the White House, and go to the public library to look up any blueprints that might be there. It was quite funny. I did spend hours in the library and when I couldn’t find what I wanted, I would get terribly upset. It never occurred to neither Jackie nor me that the First Lady to be might simply call the White House and request any item she would like to see. It wasn’t until I had exhausted the library’s resources, which I found quite skimpy, that Jackie and I finally came to our senses. There was a slight problem of protocol involved with actually getting inside the White House, but Jackie was not easily deterred. By custom outgoing, Presidents and their wives are not required to divulge any plans regarding the arrangement of rooms or encourage the next occupants to come to the White House. But Jackie called Mrs. Eisenhower, and asked with the charm that only she could muster for special permission to see the White House. Her baby had just been born and she wanted to make sure there was a nice place next to the master bedroom where little John could sleep. Of course, Mamie Eisenhower said she would be delighted to have Jackie over.

Jackie immediately called me with good news. I was to hurry to Washington and we could start work as soon as we had been through the White House. She had one caution, however. She told me that I was to pretend that I was her secretary. I was to follow her around the White House and look as though I was taking shorthand, while observing every single detail of the rooms.

Naturally, I was thrilled at the opportunity, but upon thinking it over, I decided that it was rather a strange way to start my undertaking at the White House. And, it occurred to me that it could be embarrassing for both of us if someone I knew happened to spot me entering the White House grounds as her secretary. I told her that she would just have to do without me.

Jackie went of course. Since she had just had the baby, she appeared in a wheelchair. She was personally shown through the White House by Mrs. Eisenhower.

She didn’t miss a thing. She called me as soon as she left, and it was then that I realized that Jackie did not have two big eyes–she had dozens. Every room was observed down to the last detail. Jackie had never sounded so excited, she had what she knew was a great challenge. Now we had only to wait for the inauguration. Jackie went to Palm Beach to be with her family, and I went to California to see my children and grandchildren.

I’d only been there for a few days when I received a call from Bill Walton, who was one of the President's staff and a close friend of his as well. He told me that Jackie had decided that she and the President needed a nice house in Middleburg, Virginia where they could go on weekends to escape the pressures of the White House.

He told me he was about to rent a country house for the Kennedys in Middleburg, although they had not seen it. I told him not to take any house until someone had seen it, for goodness sake, and I will return home right away. By the time I had returned East however, he had already rented the house for a year– completely furnished. So, another considerable undertaking was at hand.

My assignment sounded quite simple at first. Since they would be renting the weekend house and it was already furnished, I had only to arrange to have some furniture moved from the Georgetown house to the Middleburg house and see that it fitted with the existing furniture. I was assured that there couldn’t be any dramatic new decorating. The owner had specifically stated that the house had to be returned exactly to its original condition when the Kennedy‘s left. I was told that Jackie simply wanted me to make it “cozy.” When I returned from California, I went straight to Middleburg. Their house was named “Glen Ora.” It was charming, comfortable, and I thought it was perfect for what Jackie wanted.

But Jackie, with her love of houses and her feeling for color and comfort, could not be content with things as they were. She decreed that “new wallpaper was needed here, new curtains were needed there, wouldn’t this one be improved with lovely new rugs, and wouldn’t that rug be nicer with large, friendly chairs?” I kept reminding her that the house had to be returned to its original condition. Her answer was to suggest that we add an extra dressing room and bath, which we never did. And I’m sure that the original owner never considered what really happens to a house when a President moves in, even if it’s only for weekends. Hundreds of workmen started reviewing the house, rewiring the circuits, and putting in special telephone lines and security systems. Heaven knows what it cost to put it all in and I knew that it would cost even more to take it all out again. Soon Glen Ora had been completely transformed into Jackie‘s idea of a “cozy home” and ended the headquarters for the president and commander-in-chief. I went to Glen Ora for the last touches just after the inauguration. I had a White House car, which bravely carried me through the high banks of snow that remained after the inaugural blizzard. I had to admit that the house did look like Jackie. I fixed the flowers, left a bottle of champagne, and sent my love to Jackie and the President, who had never seen the house. It had all been a big risk, but I felt that they would be happy there. As I was closing the door to leave for Washington, suddenly the biggest helicopter I had ever seen dropped out of the sky. It was marked US Navy, and out stepped a dozen men, including Arthur Junior and most of the President's closest advisors. As they approached the house, I heard myself saying, “you cannot enter this house. It isn’t finished and I won’t allow a single soul to enter it until it is.”

A look of surprise mixed with anger came over their faces. “Who the hell are you?” One of them asked, his eyes icy. I told them my name was Sister Parish and orders were orders. They were not to enter.

It ended happily as they removed their shoes and agreed not to sit on anything. They even invited me back into their helicopter when their inspection was over. They asked me where I wanted to land, and for some inexplicable reason I said “The Pentagon.” That sounded fine to them, and they called ahead to have a White House car meet me at the door of the plane.