People: Nov. 29, 1968

After her well-guarded honeymoon on the isle of Skorpios, Jacqueline Onassis was looking forward to a quiet trip home to Manhattan and her children, with a stop along the way to see her sister, Lee Radziwill, in England. But when a lady has been queen of the headlines for so long, no place can really be a castle. London newsmen trailed Jackie to Lee's 49-acre estate, where a photographer snapped her standing alongside Dancer Rudolf Nureyev, bundled against the chill in a shapeless and unbecoming brown beret, blue jacket and grey trousers. And one woman's page writer waspishly suggested that in future Jackie reserve such headgear for her bath. Back in New York, Jackie passed the word that she wanted to be left strictly alone: it was the fifth anniversary of Jack Kennedy's assassination and the week Robert Kennedy would have been 43. But whenever she put her head outside her Fifth Avenue apartment, there were the Jackie watchers. One afternoon, after collecting young John at school, Jackie found herself and her Secret Service escort followed by several carloads of reporters. Finally, after a wild chase, the Secret Service man managed to slew his white convertible across the roadway, forcing the reporters to a screeching halt while Jackie's Cadillac disappeared.

In Manhattan last week to receive the National Institute of Social Sciences medal for "distinguished services to humanity," Charles Lindbergh spoke with concern about man's relation to his environment. "In the short period of time after intellect gained domination over instinct," said Lindy, "it has made man the most destructive creature upon earth." Man, Lindbergh complained, now suffers from an "inability to choose the better from the worse in fundamental values." Let us, he pleaded, "agree to preserve some of the natural environment that formed us. It holds the wisdom to which our tyranny of intellect must turn if we are to maintain the balanced qualities essential to survival."

This is a story that every art collector, big and little, dreams of. At the flea market in Paris, a West German businessman buys a painting of two sunbathing nudes for $40. The picture is grimy, so he scrubs it with a strong solvent. Behold, a blue shimmer of paint appears below the surface, and a professional restorer uncovers a remarkable signature—"Claude Monet, 1877." Now fully restored, the canvas appears to be one of Monet's largest impressionistic versions of Paris' Gare St. Lazare. But how did Monet ever get covered over? Easy: it was the vogue, since impressionists were held in such low regard in the later 1800s. Value of the picture on today's market: at least $250,000.