My Moment with "Jackie"

The non-stop stories this week about the JFK assassination as we near the 50^th anniversary, brought back so many memories that I was compelled to get in front of a keyboard and get it recorded.  As I did it, more memories came back from dark corners where they had been stored.  Then I published my recollections on my blog and folks responded with even more memory-stoking remembrances. 

Of course, a huge element of the JFK presidency and the “Camelot” mystique was his beautiful wife, Jacqueline.  She captivated me when I was a little boy, and a lot of my friends, and my mother and her friends.  She had sparkling eyes, beautiful hair, and a dazzling smile, carried herself beautifully and rarely spoke.  It was a visual crush we had. Suddenly, a lot of American women wanted to emulate “Jackie” – her hair, her clothes, her interest in the arts and her role as an intelligent female who was a full partner with her husband and involved in his career.

She’s also remembered for her strength and courage in the aftermath of the JFK assassination – how she maintained her composure was amazing to many.

As I watched the hours of footage about JFK, I remembered that I had encountered her once, and decided I would write an account of that moment. The time when, for a few seconds, I shared a spot on earth with what could be said is the most famous First Lady of contemporary times.

My fateful path-crossing with Jackie occurred in Arlington, Virginia, at Washington National Airport (now called Reagan National Airport).  It was in 1980, now 33 years ago.  I had been working there for a couple of years.

Some background:  I attended college in my hometown of Omaha, NE, switched my major and graduated in 1977 on what we called the “5 year plan”.  My father had left Omaha in 1974 after becoming the victim of obsolescence in his trade of printing.  He was fortunate to get a job at the US Government Printing Office in Washington, DC.  When I graduated, he offered me the chance to come east to seek my fortune.  I took a lot of tests and the first appealing opportunity was as an Airport Police Officer, working for the Federal Aviation Administration, who managed the Washington, DC airports at that time.  The training was good, at the new Federal Law Enforcement Training Center in Glynco, GA.

A policeman’s life can be described similarly to that of a pilot, fireman and other edgy occupations:  “Hours and hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror” – or, in some rare cases, “excitement”, could be substituted for the terror aspect.  Because I worked at an airport in a major city, it wasn’t unusual for me to see stars, politicians, influential business, government and military people.

It was after ten p.m. one evening. My shift ended at 10:30 and I was tired.  I was on foot patrol and was slowly making my way back to the station.  By that time of night, air traffic had slowed down considerably and there were few flights arriving.

The airlines each had their own respective group of gates.  USAIR (which had morphed up from Allegheny Airlines and would ultimately become the present US Airways) was in a wing by itself, stretching down a long dead end corridor in the ground floor of the terminal building.  They served the northeast US corridor.

A flight arrived and the usual throng of people came down the corridor toward me in usual fashion, like a herd of stampeding cattle.  No doubt they were trying to get their luggage, get to their hotels, meet their loved ones.  People become anxious in airports.  It was a condition I saw time and again. 

The people filed by me and then they were gone.  A minute or so went by and I figured the plane had emptied out.  I was weary and killing time on the last few minutes of my shift.  The corridor was completely still. 

Then, down the empty corridor, I heard the sound of high heels.  I looked up and saw someone walking toward me from 30 yards away.  As a policeman, you are trained and learn to observe and categorize appearances analytically, because you never know when you will receive, or be asked to give, a description of someone or something.  My mind instinctively went down the human appearance checklist:  White female, slender build, 5’7”, Dark hair -- shoulder length, pearl necklace, black high-heeled shoes, brown trench raincoat, wrinkled.  When I had completed my instinctive inventory, satisfied, I lowered my gaze.  The female continued to approach.

Suddenly, something flashed in my mind.  Something was unusual!  As the sound of the footsteps grew louder, I snapped my head up to see what my senses were shouting at me to consider.  What could it be?  There were no other people in the area -- just me…and this woman approaching.  Why was I having the “fight or flight” heart-pumping reaction?  

My brain had processed the picture my eyes had taken one second ago, found something deep in my gray matter and raced it into my conscious, and was screaming at me to take note of it.  Was it a suspect…some sort of danger? My eyes focused on the target, and suddenly, unbelievably, I knew why I was getting these signals.

Thirty feet away from me, and striding closer, all alone, was Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.  I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and my breath came in a gasp.  I’m not sure, but I believe my mouth dropped open.  I stood with my feet cemented to the ground, and with my gaze fixed and tracking this woman.

She looked every bit the iconic image that I had seen in magazines and on television when I was a child and she was the First Lady. 

By this time in my career, my celebrity wow-factor had become somewhat jaded.  I had shaken hands with Richard Nixon, George H.W. Bush, Colonel Sanders, hung out and smoked Marlboros with Louis Gossett Jr., exchanged pleasantries Astronauts, chatted with Dr. Joyce Brothers, Dear Abby, Rick James, Meatloaf, Pat Boone and many more  -- but this encounter left me completely star struck.

My gregarious nature leads me to interact with people and I’m not afraid to speak up, say hello, ask them if they need any help, etc.  At this moment, I was frozen.  It was like seeing a spirit; a vision rather than a real person.

She had been out of my consciousness for so long.  I was 7 years old when she became First Lady, 9 years old when JFK was killed.  I read about her from time to time, but she was not a media celebrity, in fact, she shunned publicity and tried to lead an average life.  But, her image was burned into my neurons deeply.  The amazing organ known as the brain had done its job well.

Perhaps it was because she looked so perfectly like her media images.  Many times when I met celebrities, I was a bit surprised that they didn’t look like their on-camera image.  In this moment, it was like Jackie had stepped out of LIFE magazine and into my personal space.

Her pace was quick, but she moved with style and grace.  I’m sure she was used to being noticed, and realized I had recognized her.  A lot of the paparazzi photos of the time showed her wearing her famous “Jackie O” Gucci sunglasses and a bandana on her head, but on this night, she was just out there.  Her hair was somewhat straight; her signature pearls were in place.  She had been traveling, her coat was a little wrinkled, but that famous aura was all around her.  She kept moving and didn’t seem to notice me.  I'm sure that coming to Washington stoked memories for her.  She had been at this airport with JFK back in the campaign era.  Maybe she wanted to move quickly through, and away from it.  

Then, as she passed by me, she turned her head toward me and looked at me over her left shoulder.  Her hair flipped back as she did it.  For a second, she laid those big eyes right on me and flashed me that famous, brilliant smile.  Yes, Jackie O, fantasy woman of a schoolboy’s dreams, acknowledged me!  It was her way of saying, “Hi. Yes, it’s me!”  I might have drawn a breath, but I still couldn’t move.  My usual gregarious persona didn’t kick in, and all I could to was look at her. 

Then, as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.  I watched her walk by, quickly ascend the steps to the second floor, and disappear.  I still couldn’t believe it.

I went to the station and told my Sergeant, who was an old Army veteran, and very much an old school patriot.  He sat up in his chair, his eyes opened up and his mouth gaped a bit when I told him what I had just seen.  “Mrs. Kennedy?” he said.  “I wonder what SHE is doing here?”  I could tell that he felt, like I did, that she was some piece of American royalty.  Maybe we were both surprised that she was traveling alone and unguarded.

Jackie managed to make quite a few more headlines.  She continued to be a champion of the arts and of architectural preservation.  She saved New York City’s famous Grand Central Station from the wrecking ball and was instrumental in its renovation.  She was a mover in New York and frequented the east side of Central Park.  She worked as a book editor for many years.  We know that she was a caring and careful mother to her children, and guarded their privacy judiciously.

The inside scoop was that she was a chain-smoker, who would never been seen smoking in public, but always had a cigarette lit in her office or home.  She ended up with cancer and yet another chapter of our wonderful American Camelot concluded with a not-so-great ending.  She passed away in 1994. 

There have been moments when I’ve wished that I had approached her, said something, shaken her hand – I could have taken one stride and been right next to her.  But even though I had been familiar with a lot of other notable people, this lady stopped me in my tracks and left me speechless. 

Maybe it was for the best that I just stayed put.  Jackie had walked out of fantasy in into my reality, even if it was only for a moment.  I’ll always have that. 

Thanks for that head toss and that smile, Jackie.  It makes my day every time I think about it.  I got to “meet” the girl of my youthful dreams.  You were certainly one of a kind. 

Even though people may be well known, they hold in their hearts the emotions of a simple person for the moments that are the most important of those we know on earth:  birth, marriage and death. -- Jackie Kennedy