There are people – and I know some of them – who make a pious cult out of Jackie Kennedy, but I am not worthy to join them because I never think about Jackie Kennedy at all except when I am in Manhattan. In New York I think about her far too often, and I think this problem dates back to 1986 when I lived for the first time in New York for one whole summer. And in 1986 Mrs. Kennedy Onassis was very much a living presence on the scene. I met dozens of New Yorkers that summer and every single one of them told me the story of a Jackie-sighting. Of course I never saw her. And now she is gone, may she rest in peace.
The Met was showing several other equally upbeat Warhols.
