Gathering of the Clan

This time of year, the treacherous, ice-slick road from Denver to the ski town of Aspen takes longer than six hours to drive, but at least one passenger last week was not too weary to thank the man behind the wheel. "I really like you," said four-year-old John-John Kennedy, throwing in a whack to the driver's ribs to show he meant every word of it, and followed his mother off the bus.

Earlier, he had followed her, along with Sister Caroline and Uncle Stephen Smith, off a TWA jet flight from New York; United's No. 253, arriving five minutes later, brought Bobby Kennedy, the four oldest of his eight children (Ethel, awaiting the ninth, stayed at home), plus a friend of theirs, a governess, and a sizable collection of trunks. Since Aspen was socked in by snow, the chartered DC-3 stayed in the hangar.

Sound of War. Instead, the Kennedys piled into the bus, which was hastily stocked with balloons and bubble gum, along with more usual supplies like blankets, sandwiches, coffee, tea and hot chocolate. The adults sat in back, the kids in front, where they napped, snapped, fought and popped balloons like any other children on a long ride ("It sounded like a war going on back there," said Driver Jimmy Campbell). In between sat three Secret Service men (five more came on duty in Aspen), intended to make sure that the eight-day ski trip, the family's first real holiday since the assassination, would be spent in at least a modicum of privacy.

Aspen, however, is used to all manner of celebrities (last week's assortment included such non-Kennedys as Actor Rock Hudson, Singer Julie London, and Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara). A throng of 900 greeted the Kennedys in Denver. But on their arrival at the 44-room Aspen Meadows, the only one on hand was the lodge's proprietor. And except for an occasional amateur shutterbug few vacationers took the time to figure out who was behind which dark glasses, doing what, on which slope and with whom.

On the Foothills. Sunday morning, Senator Kennedy was up early. He took his own children plus Caroline and John-John to 7 o'clock Mass, then on to breakfast in the Copper Kettle Restaurant, one of the best in the U.S. Jackie stayed in and breakfasted in her room, a custom she liked so well that she made an everyday routine of it. Most other routine activities took place on the slopes. Bobby and his skilled crew headed for the steeper, south side of Mount Aspen, while Jackie accompanied her instructor part way up the gentler slopes of Buttermilk Mountain, leaving her children, each with an instructor, on the foothills lower down. She lined up with everybody else for a cafeteria lunch. Then John-John, accompanied by a Secret Service man, was bundled back to the lodge for a nap, while Jackie and Caroline buckled on their skis again. By midweek, Jackie had progressed to stem Christies, ventured to the top of Buttermilk and slid safely down. She was also varying her mealtime routine. One day she lunched at the Aspen Alps Club on a Bloody Mary and a cheeseburger. One evening she dined at the private mountain lodge of Robert O. Anderson, an old friend who is head of the Aspen Institute for Humanistic Studies, owns extensive oil and banking properties in New Mexico and Dallas.

Price of Freedom. In general, the Kennedys found all the privacy they could wish. Nobody paid any attention at all to Bobby, or to his sister, Mrs. Stephen Smith, who flew into Aspen with her husband a day later. Jackie negotiated a deal with the frustrated press photographers by agreeing to a ten-minute session provided she would then be free. Gawkers were at a minimum, and the Secret Service men found little to do. When Jackie and the kids were on the practice slope, two of them stood guard, calling out "No pictures" to anything in a parka that came too close. One night two agents accompanied Bobby, Jackie and the Smiths on a brief visit to two Aspen taverns. On another evening, the clan joined the McNamaras at the Golden Horn. On both occasions, the jukeboxes raised the only uproar. "Who's got time for the Kennedys?" demanded one Aspenite. "I've got invitations to six cocktail parties tonight, and I can't go to any of them because I'm giving one myself."

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