High life
Stuck in the mud
Taki
Leave it to good old Ted Kennedy to come up with the best line since Willie Sutton, the famous American bank robber, said he robbed banks because that's where the money was. When asked last week why he had not been named as a suspect in the obstruction of justice investigation, only as a witness, the Massachusetts senator and state champion underwater swimmer answered: 'I was never, never told that 'I guess Nelson turned a blind eye.' weekend that there would be an alleged charge of rape against Willy Smith. They told me it was only an allegation of sexual harassment against my nephew.'
`Only sexual harassment' is the key phrase. Smith having allegedly only sexual- ly harassed a young woman, I guess it was right and proper for the senator to be hazy about his nephew's whereabouts to the fuzz, fly out of Palm Beach and pretend everything was hunky-dory until the alarm bells went off.
And speaking of alarm bells, my tele- phone has not stopped ringing since 13 April. That was when my Spectator article about Teddy and Willy first appeared, revealing that Willy was and is not the saint his mother and the Kennedy clan make him out to be. More to the point, and in case you missed it, back in 1984 William Kennedy Smith beat up an English girl of 21 badly enough for her to leave America for England, never to return.
When the latest Kennedy outrage took place, I immediately got on the telephone to her and begged her to come forward. This she frankly refused to do. There are reasons for it. Seven years ago Miss X, like a lot of upper-crust girls, was a bit mixed up. She has since not only straightened her- self out, she has also got married and is liv- ing a happy and useful life. The last thing she needs is a rehash of a horrible incident, one that scared her so much that for a while she feared for her life.
This is where the press comes in. I have received at least 80 telephone calls from the US and from here, asking me to reveal Miss X's name. A lot of tricks have been tried, but having done my bit for Greek military intelligence her name has remained Miss X. The one who tried the hardest was some slob from the Big Bagel Times. He almost hinted it was my duty to spill the beans. Betray and be a hero type of thing. I sent him packing. The most understanding have been the women reporters. 'If you were in her place, would you like it if I gave your name away and had the hacks go out digging for dirt and the Kennedys slinging mud?' I asked them. To a woman, they've all understood.
Not so the boys. Which brings me to the point I want to make. If the press were not so eager to invade one's privacy by repeat- ing any rumour, however wild, perhaps more women would come forward in rape cases. Better yet, if the hacks gave a witness the kind of break they gave Ted Kennedy back in 1969 when he was caught telling the Big Lie, maybe fewer people would be afraid of their character being assassinated and step up with the truth.
The trouble is, of course, that this is not how it works. A skeleton in one's closet, however tiny, takes on gigantic proportions when the press gets hold of it. Most people do not possess the Kennedy family's PR machine. So they do the next best thing. They keep mum. The only one to benefit would be the perpetrator of the crime.
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