The Dark Side of Camelot Read online

  5

  THE AMBASSADOR

  Joe Kennedy played by his own rules both in running his personal life and in amassing his personal fortune. He employed the same ruthlessness and secrecy with all---his wife, fellow businessmen, organized crime leaders, newspapermen, and political figures. He served the Roosevelt administration with distinction as chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission and, later, as chairman of the Maritime Commission, bringing the techniques and skills that worked so well in his business life to government service. His cherished ambition was to convince Franklin Roosevelt to nominate him as ambassador to Great Britain, the most socially prestigious post in the American government. "Being appointed ambassador to England," explained one Kennedy biographer, "would mean social preferment for the Kennedys and their offspring, and an opportunity to 'show' the Brahmins that he could 'get there' without their support. He would be their social superior---the social superior of Boston's snobbiest!" Kennedy spent months in 1937 lobbying for the appointment, with the continuing help of James Roosevelt, the president's son, whose presence had assured favored treatment when he accompanied Joe to seek British liquor contracts in 1933.

  The president and his aides understood the cynicism of Joe Kennedy's friendship with Jimmy, but made no attempt to intervene. Kennedy's influence on the president's son remained enormous. Kennedy was rich and attractive to women, and the young Roosevelt wanted to be both. The two collaborated on business deals and vague promises of partnerships. Roosevelt, trading on his father's fame, was working as an insurance broker, and at Prohibition's end, Kennedy allowed him to write policies on overseas liquor shipments. There were always women. While ambassador to England, Kennedy told an embassy aide that Jimmy Roosevelt was "so crazy for women he would screw a snake going uphill."

  In 1935, with Kennedy's help, Roosevelt was named president of the National Grain Yeast Corporation of Belleville, New Jersey, one of many companies that found themselves doing big business after the repeal of Prohibition. Yeast, of course, was essential for the mass production of beer, and it became one of the legitimate businesses that attracted former bootleggers. Roosevelt failed at the job and was out of work within six months.

  James Roosevelt's business disappointments no doubt figured in his father's decision, despite opposition from his advisers, to name him his personal secretary at the beginning of his second term. Kennedy, not surprisingly, continued to lavish attention, affection, and, undoubtedly, women on the president's son. "You know as far as I am concerned," Kennedy wrote Roosevelt and his wife in a January 1937 letter on file in the FDR Library, "you are young people and struggling to get along and I am your foster-father."

  Foster father was hyperbole, but James Roosevelt, as personal secretary to his father, played a major---and not fully known---role in assuring Kennedy's nomination as ambassador to England. The most extensive account of the machinations appeared in Memoirs, Arthur Krock's autobiography, published in 1968. Krock, then the columnist and Washington bureau chief of the New York Times, had a secret life. By the late 1930s he had become another of Kennedy's wholly owned subsidiaries---a journalist who vacationed at Kennedy's Florida home, shared in his lifestyle, and very often wrote whatever Kennedy wanted. It was a pattern that would be repeated again and again by the reporters covering Joe and, later, Jack Kennedy. In his autobiography, Krock told of a dinner with Kennedy, then chairman of the Maritime Commission, at which James Roosevelt arrived and took Kennedy into another room for an extended private conversation. Kennedy's nomination as ambassador was rumored at the time, and, Krock noted, there was sharp opposition inside the White House and from liberals in the Congress. After the meeting, a very angry Kennedy told Krock that young Roosevelt had proposed that he take an appointment as secretary of commerce. "Well, I'm not going to," Kennedy said. "FDR promised me London, and I told Jimmy to tell his father that's the job, and the only one, I'll accept."

  Kennedy got his nomination in December 1937 and arrived in prewar London full of ambition.

  Kennedy's rise and fall as ambassador in London has been often told: a brief honeymoon with the British press and public, much of it revolving around his highly social and photogenic children, and then a relentless fall from grace. Kennedy was reviled for his defeatism. His widely quoted belief was that Great Britain had neither the will nor the armaments to win a war against Nazi Germany. And he was ridiculed for his perceived cowardice during the intensified Luftwaffe bombing of London in 1940, when he chose to spend his nights at a country estate well away from the targeted city centers. German Foreign Ministry documents published after World War II show that Kennedy, without State Department approval, repeatedly sought a personal meeting with Hitler on the eve of the Nazi blitzkrieg, "to bring about a better understanding between the United States and Germany." His goal was to find a means to keep America out of a war that he was convinced would destroy capitalism.

  There is no evidence that Ambassador Kennedy understood in the days before the war that stopping Hitler was a moral imperative. "Individual Jews are all right, Harvey," Kennedy told Harvey Klemmer, one of his few trusted aides in the American Embassy, "but as a race they stink. They spoil everything they touch. Look what they did to the movies." Klemmer, in an interview many years later made available for this book, recalled that Kennedy and his "entourage" generally referred to Jews as "kikes or sheenies."

  Kennedy and his family would later emphatically deny allegations of anti-Semitism stemming from his years as ambassador, but the German diplomatic documents show that Kennedy consistently minimized the Jewish issue in his four-month attempt in the summer and fall of 1938 to obtain an audience with Hitler. On June 13, as the Nazi regime was systematically segregating Jews from German society, Kennedy advised Herbert von Dirksen, the German ambassador in London, as Dirksen reported to Berlin, that "it was not so much the fact that we wanted to get rid of the Jews that was so harmful to us, but rather the loud clamor with which we accompanied this purpose. He himself understood our Jewish policy completely." On October 13, 1938, a few weeks before Kristallnacht, with its Brown Shirt terror attacks on synagogues and Jewish businesses, Kennedy met again with Ambassador Dirksen, who subsequently informed his superiors that "today, too, as during former conversations, Kennedy mentioned that very strong anti-Semitic feelings existed in the United States and that a large portion of the population had an understanding of the German attitude toward the Jews."*

  Kennedy knew little about the culture and history of Europe before his appointment as ambassador and made no effort to educate himself once in London. He made constant misjudgments. In the summer of 1938, for example, he blithely assured the president in a letter, described in the published diaries of Harold Ickes, FDR's secretary of the interior, that "he does not regard the European situation as so critical." Diplomats serving on the American Desk in the British Foreign Office quickly came to fear---and hate---Kennedy. They compiled a secret dossier on him, known as the "Kennediana" file, which would not be declassified until after the war. In those pages Sir Robert Vansittart, undersecretary of the Foreign Office, scrawled, as war was spreading throughout Europe in early 1940: "Mr. Kennedy is a very foul specimen of a double-crosser and defeatist. He thinks of nothing but his own pocket. I hope that this war will at least see the elimination of his type."

  The Foreign Office notes also included many allegations of Kennedy's profiteering once the war began. Kennedy, still very much in control of Somerset Importers, was suspected of having commandeered valued transatlantic cargo space for the continued importation of British scotch and gin; it was further believed that he was abusing his position of trust as a high-level government insider to support his Wall Street trading. No proof of such business activity was then available to the British Foreign Office---officially, at least---but Kennedy was worried that he might be doing something illegal: in April 1941, shortly after his return to the United States, he telephoned the State Department and inquired whether there were rules governing pr
ivate financial transactions of U.S. officials serving abroad. Kennedy was told that Congress had passed legislation in 1915 making any business dealings for profit illegal.

  In 1992 Harvey Klemmer, an ex-newspaperman who served as Joe Kennedy's personal public relations aide at the Maritime Commission and had the same role in London, acknowledged in a British television interview that the Foreign Office suspicions more than fifty years before were valid: Kennedy, in fact, did continue to be a major investor and speculator on Wall Street, placing buy and sell orders by telephone through John J. Burns, a former justice of the Massachusetts State Supreme Court who was retained by Kennedy to run his New York office, a practice he continued into the 1950s. Klemmer, depicted by one British diplomatic reporter as Kennedy's "brains trust," remained silent about Joe Kennedy until a few months before his death, from cancer, in 1992, when he did a brief on-air interview with television producer Phillip Whitehead on Thames TV. Klemmer, who was severely disfigured from his cancer, also granted Whitehead an extraordinary interview on audiotape---much of it never made public until it was obtained for this book. The unedited transcripts of the two interviews provide a rare inside look at the Kennedy embassy. "Kennedy continued to do business as usual while in London," Klemmer told Whitehead. One night, while out at dinner, the ambassador left the table for a telephone call. "He was gone a long time. When he came back, he said, 'Well, the market's going to hell. I told Johnny [Burns] to sell everything.'" Also at the dinner, Klemmer recalled, was "a Jewish friend of his and mine.... In a little while [the friend] began to fidget and finally excused himself on the basis that he had something important to do and left. As soon as he had left, Kennedy said, 'Watch the son of a bitch go out and sell. Actually the market is doing very well and I told Johnny to buy.'"

  Kennedy was equally unprincipled in his use of ambassadorial perquisites. Klemmer told Whitehead that one of his principal duties at the embassy was shipping Kennedy's liquor. "Using his name and the prestige of the embassy and also my connection with the Maritime Commission, I was able to get shipping space for up to, I think, around 200,000 cases of whiskey at a time when shipping space [from England to the United States] was very scarce." Kennedy's abuse of office on behalf of Somerset Importers was so extreme, Klemmer said, that "a British friend in the Ministry of Shipping came to see me one day and said, 'You'd better lay off with the ambassador's whiskey, because some of the other distillers, who can't get shipping space, are going to have the question raised in Parliament. He's using the influence of the American Embassy to preempt shipping space.' So," Klemmer concluded, "we kind of tapered off a little bit after that." Kennedy ignored the widespread gossip about his whiskey dealing, Klemmer added: "He just brushed it off.... His stock reply to any criticism was 'To hell with them.'... He didn't take things like that seriously."

  London's concerns about the American ambassador went far beyond defeatism and profiteering. British policy, after the failure of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain's appeasement of Hitler at Munich, was unstated but nonetheless clear: to somehow get the United States into the war against Germany. In May 1940, with France on the verge of defeat, Winston Churchill, who had been serving as first lord of the Admiralty, replaced the failed Chamberlain. A few days later, while shaving, Churchill announced to his son, Randolph: "I think I can see my way through." Randolph, recalling the conversation in a 1963 memoir, asked, "Do you mean we can avoid defeat or defeat the bastards?" His father, flinging his razor into a washbasin, proclaimed, "Of course I mean we can beat them." Asked how, the new prime minister simply said, "I shall drag the United States in."

  It was clear even before Churchill became prime minister that Joe Kennedy, with his access to Roosevelt, his desire to meet personally with Adolf Hitler, and his eagerness to avoid American involvement in the war at all costs, had become a national security risk to England. Historians are in agreement that Kennedy was a priority target of Britain's famed MI5, its counterintelligence service, and was subjected to physical surveillance as well as extensive wiretapping. No such files have been declassified and released by the British government, despite repeated requests.

  Harvey Klemmer knew firsthand, though, about MI5's close surveillance. Kennedy was seeing a wealthy English divorcée who was in touch with Sir Oswald Mosley, a leading British fascist. The woman, Klemmer said in his interview, "told me that Joe had asked her to initiate ... contact with Mosley," in the mistaken belief that the fascists in England were more numerous than they were. "So one day [Kennedy] asked me to take her home and it was in one of her cars. So I did. And on the way back I was stopped by a man in uniform who said there was an air raid or invasion drill in progress. I would have to leave my car for a while and take refuge with them in a nearby country home.... I wondered if there was something going on, and so I arranged my gloves on the seat in a certain way, and I arranged some of the papers in the glove compartment." After an hour, when Klemmer was given the all-clear sign, "I looked and I could see the car had been searched.... I knew I was under suspicion" by British intelligence, Klemmer said, "because of my association with him. My files at the embassy were searched," as was, he believed, his London apartment. He and others at the embassy did learn later, Klemmer told Whitehead, that "the British had Kennedy's telephone tapped."

  Given his precarious position in London, some of Kennedy's actions seem stupefying.

  In the spring of 1939, shortly after Germany's occupation of Czechoslovakia, Kennedy---despite being instructed not to do so by Washington---encouraged a bizarre and little-known scheme being actively promoted by a naive American automobile executive who had been told in Berlin that the Nazi regime would agree to peace concessions and a general disarmament in return for an Anglo-American gold loan totaling between $500 million and $1 billion. The American, James D. Mooney, president of General Motors Overseas, flew to London to discuss the German proposal with an equally impressed Kennedy at the American Embassy. According to Mooney's unpublished memoir, made available for this book, Kennedy urged Mooney to return to Berlin and inform the Germans that he would "certainly like to have a talk with them, quietly and privately." Mooney's papers reveal that it was agreed that Kennedy would meet secretly in Paris with Dr. Helmut Wohltat, a high-level Nazi official who was a deputy to Field Marshal Hermann Göring. Only after Kennedy made the commitment to Mooney did he send a vaguely worded cable to the State Department, wondering whether there would be "any objections" to his flying to Paris to meet with Mooney and "a personal friend of Hitler." He was emphatically denied permission to make the trip by Secretary of State Cordell Hull. Mooney, still eager to involve Kennedy, returned to London and presented the ambassador with the list of the promised German concessions that would result from the gold loan. "What a wonderful speech could be built up from these points back home!" Kennedy exclaimed, according to Mooney's notes. Kennedy then took his case for a meeting directly to President Roosevelt, and was told once again to have nothing to do with the proposal.

  Nonetheless, Kennedy met in secret with Mooney and Wohltat at a hotel in London on May 9, 1939. "Each man made an excellent impression on the other," Mooney recorded in his unpublished memoir. "It was heartening to sit there and witness the exertion of real effort to reach something constructive." Within days, London's Daily Express blew everyone's cover by reporting on its front page, under the headline "Goering's Mystery Man Is Here," that Wohltat had arrived in London "on a special mission." Neither Kennedy nor Mooney was named in the article, but a few days later Kennedy was singled out for censure in The Week, a radical weekly newsletter. Its editor, Claud Cockburn, wrote that Kennedy, in his talks with Germans, "uses language which is not merely defeatist, but anti-Rooseveltian.... Mr. Kennedy goes so far as to insinuate that the democratic policy of the United States is a Jewish production, but that Roosevelt will fall in 1940." The article was reprinted in the New York Post and eventually brought to Roosevelt's attention by Harold Ickes. In his diaries, Ickes noted that "the President read this and said
to me: 'It is true.'"

  Kennedy's indiscretion knew no limits. After Munich he had summoned a group of American journalists to the embassy and, among other things, briefed them off the record about a most secret plot by a group of dissident German generals to overthrow Hitler. James Reston of the New York Times summarized the briefing in Deadline, his 1991 memoir: "It was known in London on the eve of Munich that ... a group of German officers led by Generals Halder and Beck had a plan to overthrow the Führer. Fearing war on three fronts, these conspirators informed officials in Westminster [the British Foreign Office]---so Ambassador Kennedy told us---that they would arrest Hitler if the British and French took military action to block the invasion of Czechoslovakia." It would not become publicly known until after the war that the plotters, General Ludwig Beck, then chief of the German General Staff, and his deputy, Franz Halder---their lives very much at stake---had approached the British Foreign Ministry. The Beck-Halder partnership was the most serious early resistance to Hitler and also involved, by some accounts, a plan to assassinate Hitler.*