Preparations were conducted with all the secrecy of a military operation.
The rowdy media mob terrified Carolyn, and in a gallant effort to protect his wife John pleaded with the reporters and cameramen to back off and give her a chance to adjust to her new role as a celebrity. Normally, only supernovas of the magnitude of Madonna had to suffer through this kind of public ordeal. The editor of were eager to get Carolyn to pose for their covers.
But Carolyn was suddenly thrust into their celestial company. And Ralph Lauren tried to hire Carolyn as his personal muse.
But it turned out to be a doomed fairy tale, a nightmare of escalating domestic violence, suspicions of infidelity, and drugs—a union that seemed destined to end in one kind of disaster or another.
When the couple returned from their honeymoon, in the fall of 1996, they found a swarm of journalists camped outside their front door at 20 North Moore Street, in the heart of Manhattan’s Tribeca district.
Kennedy Jr., and he was sitting on the edge of a king-size bed, a phone cradled in the crook of his shoulder, pouring his heart out to a friend.