The Fairest at the Fair

Just hearing it described last winter in Gstaad, Switzerland, made it sound like a perfect spring vacation. As Robin Duke, wife of U.S. Ambassador to Spain Angier Biddle Duke, pictured the annual fair in Seville, it was the essence of Spain, a six-day post-Lenten fiesta with superb bull fighting, Andalusian flamenco dancing all night long in the fair's tent village, colorful parades and a marvelous ball. What's more, the Duchess of Alba would be all too glad to have Jacqueline Kennedy as her guest.

Later, when Jackie flew to Rome, Spain's Vatican Ambassador Antonio Garrigues y Diaz Canabate, 62, became an ardent seconder.

And so last week, Jackie, who is increasingly emerging from her mood of widowhood, set out for what she hoped would be a carefree Spanish holiday.* But like all dreams of castles in Spain, reality turned out to be something else again. Not that the Duke and Duchess of Alba were ungracious; if anything, they seemed a bit awed. With sweeping Spanish hospitality, they installed her in their Palacio de las Duenas in the bed room once used by France's Empress Eugenie, great-grandaunt of the present duchess.

Jackie's first sortie was the annual Red Cross Ball, a glittering charity debutante party hosted by the Duke of Medinaceli in the courtyard of his Casa de Pilatos. There she ran full face into the 200 European photographers, reinforced by 50 locals, who were to crowd and jostle the guests and each other throughout the visit. An added chill to the evening was provided by a frosty Princess Grace of Monaco, officially presiding at the ball with Prince Rainier, who was obviously piqued at finding herself completely upstaged.

Lost in the Powder Room. It also be came quickly apparent during the melee after dinner that nobody was in charge of Jackie. The Albas occupied themselves with other guests; Princess Grace disappeared in the powder room; Rainier drifted outside to have a smoke with the Duke of Medinaceli. It was Ambassador Duke who finally took Jackie by the arm and steered her through the throng of 2,500 guests toward one of the antechambers set aside for late-night flamenco. It was so packed that they never did get in. At 2:45 a.m., Ambassador Duke drove her home in Alba's Citroen.

By Monday, Jackie was so fed up that she was reported ready to fly back to Madrid. Adding to her annoyance was the rumor that her whole Spanish holiday was only a disguised tryst with widower Antonio Garrigues, father of eight and a friend of the Kennedy family ever since Joe Jr. visited Madrid during the Civil War. As the rumors mounted, Angie Duke decided to call an impromptu conference on Jackie's behalf, saying: "I want to make it crystal-clear and completely understood that there is no basis in fact in rumors of an engagement."

Garrigues, cornered by reporters in Rome as he was about to set off for Seville, said stiffly: "It is the duty of a gentleman not to reply to such questions." In London, Jackie's mother, Mrs. Hugh Auchincloss, chimed in, calling the rumors "rubbish," and even the former Kennedy White House nanny, Maud Shaw (see BOOKS), got into the act. "I often told Mrs. Kennedy she should think of remarrying," Maud said. "But she would look at me so distressed and say, 'Oh, Miss Shaw, I just couldn't ever.' "

Upon a White Horse. Having weathered the initial storm, Jackie decided to stick it out, and her vacation began to pick up. In Seville's magnificent bullring, Spain's three leading toreros, El Cordobes, Paco Camino and El Viti, all bypassed Princess Grace, offered their hats and first bulls to Jackie in homage. In response, she hastily dispatched a U.S. embassy aide to nearby Moron Airbase for three Kennedy half-dollars, which she slipped inside the hats before returning them. Though she turned away when the picadors lanced the bulls, she watched each pass of the bulls with fascination. "This is the first time she has really understood bullfighting," said a friend. Jackie's verdict on the fight: "Exciting and beautiful."

By day, there were mule-drawn carriage rides through the gaily decked-out streets. By night, Jackie braved the crowds to see the flamenco dancers in the private casetas, or tents, set up on the outskirts of the city. By midweek, Garrigues had arrived from Rome to squire Jackie about Seville. Piling her into a car with two other guests of the Albas, Garrigues even managed to take Jackie on an incognita tour of the city, stopping off to visit the cathedral and the Alcazar without being recognized. Swinging into the spirit of the feria, Jackie donned the traditional comb and mantilla to accompany Garrigues to her second bullfight.

What had begun inauspiciously was finally turning out to be great fun, and, to prove the point, Jackie decided to stay an extra day before departing for Madrid and thence to the U.S. "To visit Seville and not ride horseback at the fair is equal to not coming at all," she declared. Whereupon, donning the traditional traje corto (black-trimmed red jacket, flowing chaps, flat broad-brimmed hat), she mounted a white horse and made a leisurely paseo of the fair. "I don't know what I'm doing," Jackie laughed, belying her superb equipoise, "but it's very exciting." She rode for a full half-hour through cheering crowds lining the streets, stopped to quaff a glass of sherry in the saddle. Jackie was obviously delighted and so were the spectators. "La Kennedy! La Kennedy!" they cried as she passed. "There she is!"

* Another indication of her lightened burdens: last week she asked Congress to reduce her governmental allowance from $50,000 to $30,000. The flood of letters, which reached 60,000 a day following President Kennedy's assassination, has since dwindled to around 100, and she has decided to cut back her staff and expenses accordingly.

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