Caroline Kennedy SchlossbergChampion of civilityBy Romesh Ratnesar
July 26, 1999
Web posted at: 4:27 p.m. EDT (2027 GMT)
In 1960, on the night John F. Kennedy returned from the
Democratic National Convention as the party's nominee for
President, his two-year-old daughter Caroline toddled out of the
family's Hyannis Port home to greet her father. Immediately a
fusillade of photographers' camera bulbs went off, and the
frightened Caroline turned away. "Don't be afraid," J.F.K. told
her. "They won't hurt you." In the 39 years since, Caroline
Kennedy Schlossberg has rarely run willingly into the glare of
public attention. Instead she has allowed her cousins to inherit
the Kennedy legacy of political ambition and her younger brother
to assume the role of family icon. Meanwhile, she has tended to
her three children, walked anonymously through New York City's
streets and granted few extended interviews, except during
publicity rushes for her two books. "She is first and foremost a
wife and mother," says Paul Kirk Jr., chairman of the John F.
Kennedy Library Foundation and a family confidant. "That's a key
priority for her. She saw how important it was to her as a
child."
And yet if her life has been more guarded than her brother's was,
it is far from cloistered. Her mother was more glamorous and
socially adroit, but Caroline shares Jackie's cultivated charm
and has steadily expanded her own profile as a patron of culture
and the arts. And though not driven to politics as were J.F.K.
and his brothers, she has nonetheless compiled a ledger of quiet
but diligent service to the public, and to her father's legacy,
that reflects a commitment to civic life and a belief in the
value of rigorous, reflective debate. "She has a strong sense of
personal responsibility," says historian David McCullough, who
sits with Caroline on the panel that hands out the Kennedy
Library's annual Profile in Courage Awards. "She knows she has
serious work to do. And in that sense, I've always felt she is
very much a Kennedy."
Her political education came early. During Caroline's summers as
a Harvard undergraduate, her uncle Ted insisted that she work in
his Senate office as an intern. "He wanted her to understand how
the Senate operated and what her father's place was in it," says
a longtime Kennedy friend. "He made sure...she would meet the
players." After college, she worked for five years at the
Metropolitan Museum of Art, and met her husband, the
interactive-media designer Edwin Schlossberg. In 1988 she
graduated from Columbia Law School and gave birth to their first
child, Rose. Soon after, she began researching a book on the Bill
of Rights, In Our Defense, with her friend and law-school
classmate Ellen Alderman. The two canvassed the country,
interviewing professors, attorneys and prison inmates. "She was
very, very serious," says Richard Burr, a death-penalty expert
who advised the authors. "She had done a lot of homework on
specific cases already, which is rare." Rarer still was her
gentility. Both times she interviewed Jack Boger, then a lawyer
with the N.A.A.C.P. Legal Defense Fund, Caroline sent him a
handwritten thank-you note.
Caroline refused to exploit her mother's publishing contacts for
her book, but she wasn't disingenuous about her star wattage. "If
my name makes more people want to read it," she told an
interviewer in 1991, "that's fine." Says Vanden Heuvel: "She
understands that because she is well known, she can get attention
for the causes she's interested in. She is unpretentious about
it, but she knows what its benefit can be." With the book's
publication, Caroline stepped into a more visible role. After
Jackie's death in 1994, she assumed her mother's place in the New
York cultural scene, becoming an honorary chairwoman of the
American Ballet Theatre and in 1997 joining the board of the
Citizens Committee for New York City, which supports local
volunteer service groups. She took over as president of the
Kennedy Library Foundation in Boston. She rarely misses quarterly
board meetings and often phones library staff members with ideas
for new programs and exhibits.
She helped found, in 1989, the library's Profile in Courage
Awards, an honor given to public officials for acts of political
bravery. The 12-member panel meets every year for two days of
vetting the nominees; in those sessions, Caroline is known for
her intense preparation and affinity for discussion. She
personally telephones winners and presents the awards at an
annual ceremony at the library. This year's event, which honored
Senators Russ Feingold and John McCain, was Caroline and John
Jr.'s last public appearance together. Alan Simpson, the former
Wyoming Senator who is director of the Kennedy School's Institute
of Politics at Harvard, was reminded of Caroline's forebears.
"When I saw her step forward to make those awards, I saw the same
poise and warmth and desire to participate in politics and carry
on the Kennedy name."
Few think Caroline has designs on elected office, but she has
become more aggressive lately about promoting public service. In
May she touted the Profile in Courage Award on the Today show "as
a way of showing how important it is for people to continue to
celebrate and expect political courage." In politics, Caroline
picks her moments. She turned down an invitation to serve as
chairwoman of the Democratic National Convention in 1992, but she
stumped for Teddy and her cousin Patrick, a Rhode Island
Congressman, late in the 1994 campaign. In 1998 she lent her name
to the campaign against an anti-affirmative-action initiative in
Washington State and gave a speech at a U.N. ceremony in which
she implored the U.S. Senate to ratify an international treaty on
children's rights.
Even after John's death, she will probably stay behind the
curtain of the public stage, pouring her energies again into her
family life. Her most recent book with Alderman, The Right to
Privacy, was read by some as a veiled protest written by a woman
uneasy with the public's demands on her personal space. It is
actually much more--a scholarly but accessible work that aims, in
some small way, to raise public understanding of a complex legal
problem. "I hope it will show people there is a process for
working things out," she said in 1995. "To the extent that we are
all educated and informed, we will be more equipped to deal with
the gut issues that tend to divide us." It's a quaint notion,
perhaps more easily received in her father's time than our own.
Caroline's greatest public service has come in trying to revive
it.
--With reporting by John Cloud and Andrea Sachs/New York and
Ann Blackman/Washington
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Cover Date: August 1, 1999
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