BJ: I think I follow you.
RFK: I know you do. I’m only mentioning it because I’ve known Lenny for a long time, and he seems sad and nervous tonight, and I’ve never seen him that way before. I’d hate to think that Peter put him up to–
BJ: I don’t like Peter. I had a fling with him several years ago, and I broke it off when I saw that he was really no better than a toady and a pimp. I came to this party because Lenny needed a date and I thought it would be nice to spend a cool winter evening at the beach and maybe meet the Attorney General and President of the United States–
RFK: Please, I didn’t mean to offend you.
BJ: You didn’t.
RFK: When I get hornswoggled into evenings like this, I find myself checking out the anomalies from a security standpoint. When the anomaly is a woman, well, you see what I mean.
BJ: Given the other women here, It’s good to be an anomaly.
RFK: I’m bored and two drinks over my limit. I don’t normally get so personal with people I just met.
BJ: Want to hear a good joke?
RFK: Sure.
BJ: What did Pat Nixon say about her husband?
RFK: I don’t know.
BJ: Richard was a strange bedfellow long before he entered politics.
RFK (laughing): Jesus, that’s a riot. I’ll have to tell that to–
Garbled (airplane flying overhead). Remainder of BJ–RFK conversation lost to static.
11:05–11:12: Hi-fi noise & car noise indicate that BJ is walking thru house & that people are leaving the party.
11:13–11:19: BJ talking directly to microphone. (Tell her not to do this. It’s a security risk.)
BJ: I’m out on this deck overlooking the beach. I’m alone, and I’m whispering so people won’t hear what I’m saying or think I’m crazy. I haven’t met the Big Man yet, but I noticed him notice me and nudge Peter like he was saying, who’s the redhead? It’s freezing out here, but I dug a mink coat out of a closet, and now I’m nice and warm. Lenny’s drunk, but I think he’s trying to have a good time. He’s schmoozing with Dean Martin now. The Big Man is in Peter’s bedroom with two blondes. I saw Bobby a few minutes ago. He was eating out of the fridge like a starving man. The Secret Service men are looking through a stack of Playboy Magazines. You can tell they’re thinking, boy, I’m sure glad stodgy old Dick Nixon didn’t get elected. Somebody’s smoking pot out on the beach, and I’m thinking hard to get’s the way to play this. I’m thinking he’ll find me. I heard Bobby tell one of the Secret Service men that the Big Man didn’t want to leave until 1:00. That gives me some time. Lenny said Peter showed him my infamous Nugget Magazine foldout from November, 1956. He’s about 6’ or 6’1”, so with flats on he’ll have a few inches on me. I have to say that Hollywood trash aside, this is one of those moments that young girls write about in their diaries. Also, I declined three invitations to Twist, because I thought it might rip my microphone loose. Did you hear that? The bedroom door behind me just shut, and the two blondes snuck out, giggling. I’m going to shut up now.
11:20–11:27: silence. (Wave noise indicates that BJ has remained on the beach deck.)
11:28–11:40: BJ & JFK.
JFK: Hi.
BJ: Jesus.
JFK: Hardly, but thanks anyway.
BJ: How about, hello, Mr. President?
JFK: How about, hello, Jack?
BJ: Hello, Jack.
JFK: What’s your name?
BJ: Barb Jahelka.
JFK: You don’t look like a Jahelka.
BJ: It’s Lindscott, actually. I work with my exhusband, so I kept my married name.
JFK: Is Lindscott Irish?
BJ: It’s an Anglo-German bastardization.
JFK: The Irish are all bastards. Bastards, cranks and drunks.
BJ: Can I quote you?
JFK: After I’m re-elected. Put it in the portable John F. Kennedy, next to ‘Ask not what your country can do for you.’
BJ: Can I ask you a question?
JFK: Sure.
BJ: Is being President of the United States the biggest fucking blast on earth?