SPLITTING ROCKEFELLERS

Readers weigh in on warring Rockefellers; apologies to Cameron Diaz; Antarctic adventurers get some respect; bless you, Terry McAuliffe; Jacqueline Susann is given her due; Gia Prima stands up for husband Louis; Rugby, voilà!

As a primary-care physician of women, predominantly, I often see the effects of bad marriages—especially ones involving extramarital affairs—on the physical and mental health of my patients. The saga of Amy O'Neill ["Irreconcilable Rockefellers," by Lisa DePaulo, January] could be a case study on the effects of mental stress on the body. I was perturbed by the accusation made by her husband, George O'Neill, that she was unstable and an unfit mother because of a severe bout with postpartum depression. If this were grounds for losing custody of one's kids, there would be a glut of motherless children, as postpartum depression is almost to be expected to one degree or another.

I was also offended by George O'Neill's ruthless tactic of lumping his wife's personal history of depression with her family's history of suicide and schizophrenia. He is hoping to use general misconceptions about mental illness for his own

gain. Clearly, Amy was suffering from extreme physical and mental exhaustion when she cried for help by cutting herself. Who wouldn't be at her wit's end, given such depression, a lack of financial means, and an allegedly philandering, emotionally unsupportive husband?

PAT DANIELS, M.D.

Alexandria, Virginia

AMAZING, YET SO TYPICAL. Now Faith Whittlesey is "championing the rights of her daughter [Amy O'Neill] against the 'oppressive' Rockefeller empire." She admits, "It's enough to turn me into a socialist." This woman has no problem forcing her conservative views, shared and espoused by her buddies Rush Limbaugh, Pat Buchanan, et al., onto others, yet when her family is impacted by the Draconian attitudes of a submissive "barefoot and pregnant" ideology she is indignant at being oppressed.

DIAZ AND CONFUSED

JUST FINISHED READING the article on Cameron Diaz ["Frat-House Goddess," by Evgenia Peretz, January] and would like to offer my apology. You see, I was the pathetic guy from Virginia who so annoyed Ms. Diaz at the restaurant by taking her picture without her permission. My co-workers and I were in New York to attend an Internet trade show. Earlier in the day I had shot my mouth off to them that every time I go to New York I run into celebrities. They called me on this boast, and, sure enough, at the end of the night, we ran into Cameron Diaz.

We had a disposable camera with us, so I took a picture of my co-workers with Diaz in the background. As Diaz states, we did this without thinking of her feelings, and that was wrong. But her immediate, angry response made us realize that it was a stupid thing to do. All three of us apologized right away.

I said that in my pathetic life at work this picture would make me hero for a day. She laughed.

Though some may say that she should be used to this kind of thing, we still felt embarrassed. Sure enough, when she left the restaurant, she said good night to us and was really sweet.

One bit of irony. Upon arriving back in Virginia at National Airport, who should I see but John McCain rushing for a plane. I greeted him and he replied graciously. I guess five years in a P.O.W. camp makes you realize that the poorly timed attention of a fan isn't the worst thing in the world.

NEIL COHEN

Springfield, Virginia

MARK HANNAN

San Francisco, California

IT IS AMUSING that George O'Neill's mother, Abby, the chairman of the Rockefeller philanthropies, supports "economic justice for women" with foundation money. Well, charity begins at home, Abby. How could you claim to be "pro-woman" when your pregnant daughterin-law camped out for five months in a $68-a-night motel with your four small grandchildren while your married son reportedly chased skirts?

SARAH MILLER

Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania

WIFE, INTERRUPTED

Amy O'Neill, photographed on November 13, 1999, in the backyard of her home in Delray Beach, Florida.

I WONDER IF, when Amy O'Neill agreed to be interviewed by Lisa DePaulo, she knew the article would be a front for DePaulo's blistering disdain for all things Republican, and not, as she claims in her "Contributors" note, an effort to show "the elements of a sordid, Palm Beachstyle divorce." Really, DePaulo has a field day cloaking her portrayals of George O'Neill and Faith Whittlesey as rightwing puddingheads, and Pat Buchanan as a hate-filled racist, under the guise of a journalistic study of the privileged, something Dominick Dunne does so very well.

ALISON A. SHURTLEFF

Benicia, California

THE LAST EMPEROR

HOW REFRESHING to read Ned Zeman's article "Death Among the Emperors" [January]. After completing his piece, I wanted to go see these wonderful creatures myself. I also came away with a deep respect for Bruno Zehnder, a man who defied convention with an uncommon passion. It is nice to know that there are people out there with such courage.

In addition, the story offered a welcome break from Vanity Fair's stories about the world's billionaires and their supposed "problems."

WILLIE WILLIAMS

Miami, Florida

I HAD TO SMOTHER a derisive snort at Ned Zeman's clueless characterization of Ernest Shackleton and the crew of the Endurance, particularly his poke at Charlie Green, the expedition's cook, who was missing a testicle.

Each and every "scalawag," "half-wit," and "loser" on that trip lived to tell of an ordeal the majority of us could never comprehend, much less withstand. For his part, Green managed to keep 28 men fed, day in and day out, using whatever was at hand (be it penguin, seal, or dog pemmican), under conditions so merciless as to be insane. Moreover, he performed quickly and in good cheer. In fact, it is possible that ultimately he possessed more balls than most men with both testicles intact.

LISA ZEIMER

Shoreline, Washington

THE POPE SAYS HI

MY FAVORITE TERRY McAULIFFE story has nothing to do with money ["Clinton's Midas King," by Marjorie Williams, January].

I met Terry in Washington, D.C., in the late 1980s—I was working as a journalist, and a mutual friend thought we should be introduced. Over lunch at the Irish Times, near Union Station, McAuliffe was in full boyo mode—greeting the waitresses loudly by their first names, practically breaking into "Danny Boy" for nearby diners. He was so entertaining, it was like hanging out with Jimmy Cagney. Naturally, at the end of our meal we had tea. "And don't forget to boil the water!" he shouted merrily as our waitress headed for the kitchen.

Terry told me he was going to meet the Pope the next week, on a fund-raising mission for American University. The Pope, I thought quickly. "Would you mind getting my rosary blessed?" Of course not, he answered.

I happened to have my rosary with me and handed it over. And Terry, true to his word, had it blessed and returned it to me in a week or so. I later learned that so many friends and journalists (half of Time magazine, as I recall) made the same request, he had to carry their various religious talismans to Rome in a brown paper bag and spread them out on a table for His Holiness to bless.

Since I have not given a dime to either of the Clintons, I disagree with your thesis that McAuliffe is motivated purely by money. He is so innately generous that, who knows, maybe he is answering to an even greater voice than Bill Clinton's. And while I may or may not be in Terry's vaunted 4,000-person Rolodex ("Religious Artifacts, Blessed by Pope"), I welcome his call.

PAMELA CLARKE KEOGH

Old Brookville, New York

JACKIE, OH!

THANK YOU for your balanced and informative profile of novelist Jacqueline Susann, a woman whom I have admired for years ["Once Was Never Enough," by Amy Fine Collins, January]. Like millions of others, I grew up reading her sensational books. I never dismissed them as "trash," because I understood her underlying message: "A woman in a ranch house with three kids had a better life than what happened up there at the top." Sadly, Jackie herself was, in the end, proof of this. Despite being such a major presence in the 60s and early 70s, she has been terribly underrated in recent years. I hope that your fascinating article and the Bette Midler movie will give Jacqueline Susann the recognition and critical approbation she deserves.

MICHAEL SAWER

Ajax, Ontario

COME OUT SWINGING

I WAS MARRIED to Louis Prima from 1963 until his death in 1978.

Obviously, I read David Kamp's article on my late husband ["They Made Vegas Swing," December] with great interest. It correctly pointed out the tremendous resurgence of popular interest in the music of Louis Prima. I believe that Louis would have been pleased that his music was being enjoyed by yet another generation (or two) of music fans.

However, the statement that Louis "divorced" his children was unfair in that it reflected only one—and perhaps a stillembittered—side of a complicated matrimonial breakup. In addition, the article's relating of gossip regarding Louis's alleged relationships with women and the odd degree of interest in his physique seemed to have little real purpose. In this respect, I thought that, unfortunately, the article fell prey to the "tabloid" approach to journalism that is currently in vogue.

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The simple truth about my husband is that he was a kind man, a doting father to our children, and a wonderful musician and entertainer.

GIA. PRIMA

Island Heights, New Jersey

AS A YOUNG BOY, some 60-plus years ago, I just cracked up at the Marx Brothers' movies. I'd see some of them four or five times, as it was only a dime to go.

Then, one night in the late 50s, I stopped in at the Sahara and caught the lounge show with Louis Prima and Keely Smith. The band members all wore monkey costumes and were just hilarious. I had to leave the room because my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. Now, if that weren't enough, about an hour later Sammy Davis Jr. walked into the lounge, and the audience applauded so wildly that he stayed on the stage for well over 30 minutes. All of this for a two-drink minimum.

I just thought Keely was the best, and I have almost every album she ever recorded. Isn't it funny that the article was written by David Kamp?

DAVID CAMP

Belmont Shore, California

THE SPORTING LIFE

I WOULD SUGGEST that the sport depicted on the fantastic mirror shown on page 95 of your article on Keith McNally's new restaurant, Pastis ["Paris, New York," by Matt Tyrnauer, January], is Rugby, not soccer, as you say. The gentleman in the foreground who is grasping the ball with his hands—quite a no-no in soccer—appears to be scoring a try, the Rugby equivalent of a touchdown. A correction may be all the more appropriate, given the inspiring Rugby match France won in October against New Zealand, the heavy favorite for the Rugby World Cup. Long live glorious French Rugby, and French cuisine!

AILISH JOHNSON

Oxford, England

EDITOR'S RESPONSE: The sport depicted is, in fact, soccer. The player in question is a goalie, and goalies are allowed to touch the ball with their hands.

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