Carole Radziwill has opened a window into one of the most whispered-about yet least-seen celebrity weddings of the modern era, revealing rare photographs and personal memories from the 1996 wedding of John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette Kennedy. For decades, the event has carried an almost mythical quality — a union of political royalty and a fashion-world darling, executed in near-total secrecy and remembered for its understated elegance. Now, thanks to Radziwill, we are able to revisit that day through the eyes of someone who was there, who not only witnessed the quiet magic of the occasion but also captured moments that have been hidden from public view until now.
Speaking with CNN ahead of the network’s three-part series American Prince: JFK Jr., premiering August 9, Radziwill described the day in a way that feels like a secret being gently unwrapped. She recalls the wedding as intimate, spontaneous, and refreshingly devoid of overplanning. “It’s almost like they eloped with 30 of their closest friends. It was very much like that,” she told the outlet, reflecting on the ceremony held in a one-room church on the remote and windswept Cumberland Island in Georgia. This was no grand ballroom production or meticulously staged media event. Instead, it unfolded with the natural ease of a gathering among loved ones, where the beauty came from its lack of artifice.
The photos Radziwill shared are as much a testament to her personal closeness with the couple as they are to the unique atmosphere of that day. In one, John and Carolyn are cutting their three-tier wedding cake, smiling in a way that seems to block out the rest of the world. In another, John is pictured alongside a faith leader and his uncle Ted Kennedy, the legendary U.S. senator from Massachusetts who passed away in 2009. Perhaps the most endearing image is one of Carolyn dancing after the ceremony, draped in her new husband’s suit jacket — a picture of comfort, love, and the unguarded moments that define the best celebrations.
Radziwill’s camera also caught JFK Jr. in a lighter, more playful mood. One image shows him with his cousin — Radziwill’s husband, Anthony Radziwill — lounging in satin boxers and a tank top. It’s a rare, humanizing glimpse of a man who, to the outside world, was often the polished and impossibly poised son of a president. Meanwhile, Carolyn wore the now-iconic Narciso Rodriguez wedding gown that would influence bridal fashion for years to come: a minimalist slip dress that whispered sophistication rather than shouting opulence. Even in the still photographs, it’s clear that her style, much like the wedding itself, was rooted in simplicity and confidence.
For Radziwill, the friendship she shared with John and Carolyn was central to her life during that time. She and Anthony were part of their inner circle, a tight-knit group bound not just by high-profile backgrounds but by genuine connection. That intimacy is likely why John and Carolyn entrusted them with the privilege of attending such a private ceremony. As Radziwill recalls, secrecy was the couple’s top priority. Guests received almost no information ahead of the big day — not the location, not the timing — in an era before smartphones and social media made such stealth nearly impossible. This was deliberate. They wanted to keep the moment sacred, away from the endless curiosity of the public and the lens of the paparazzi.
“It became apparent pretty quickly that nobody in the world knew we were there or why we were there,” Radziwill said. There was no media stakeout, no swarm of photographers hiding in bushes, no aerial shots from helicopters. Just the sound of waves, the hush of a small congregation, and the exchange of vows between two people deeply in love. “That in itself was magical,” she added, emphasizing that the success of keeping the event under wraps was largely Carolyn’s doing. She was determined to be married privately, on her own terms, without the fanfare that had followed her and John since they first appeared together in public.
That determination reflected more than a preference for privacy — it spoke to the couple’s desire to protect their relationship from the pressures that came with John’s name and Carolyn’s growing fame. At the time, John F. Kennedy Jr. was not just a former president’s son; he was America’s golden boy, an heir to both political legacy and cultural fascination. Carolyn, a stylish and striking fashion publicist, had become a reluctant tabloid figure, with every outfit and outing scrutinized by the press. By choosing a remote island and a small guest list, they created a bubble, a pocket of life untouched by the noise.
Radziwill believes the simplicity of the wedding added to its beauty. “There was an elegance to the casualness that I think is hard to replicate — certainly now, and even then,” she reflected. That elegance wasn’t about lavish décor or showy displays; it was in the way the day felt authentic to who John and Carolyn were as individuals and as a couple. There’s a quiet confidence in doing things your own way, especially when the world expects spectacle.
The setting itself seemed to echo that sentiment. Cumberland Island, with its wild horses, unspoiled beaches, and sprawling oak trees, is a place that resists overdevelopment. Its raw, untouched beauty mirrored the organic feel of the ceremony. Guests didn’t arrive via red carpet; they arrived by boat, stepping into a landscape that felt removed from modern life. The small church, modest in size but rich in history, became the heart of the day — a place where vows could be exchanged without the weight of cameras clicking or news headlines forming.
For those who attended, the day wasn’t just memorable because of who was getting married. It was memorable because of how it unfolded. Friends and family mingled without the usual trappings of high-society events. There were no formal seating charts or elaborate programs, just a natural flow of moments that seemed to belong entirely to the people in the room. Radziwill’s photographs capture that ease — the way smiles looked unforced, the way laughter seemed to ripple through the group without self-consciousness.
And yet, the images also carry a bittersweet undertone, knowing now how the story would end. Less than three years later, John and Carolyn would die in a plane crash along with Carolyn’s sister, Lauren. The tragedy froze them in time, their love story forever framed by both its beauty and its brevity. For Radziwill, those wedding photographs are not just keepsakes; they are reminders of a friendship and a moment that can never be repeated.
She has spoken before about the loss, about how both John and Anthony — who died of cancer in 1999 — were central figures in her life. The wedding photos, therefore, hold layers of meaning for her: they are a glimpse of joy before loss, a record of a private happiness shared among a chosen few. Sharing them now, decades later, is not just about showing the world a hidden chapter of a famous couple’s life; it’s also about honoring that joy, making sure it isn’t forgotten amid the tragedy.
For the public, these images and Radziwill’s recollections offer something rare — not the glossy, filtered version of celebrity life we’re used to seeing, but an authentic slice of it. In a media landscape that thrives on overexposure, the idea of a high-profile couple successfully pulling off a secret wedding feels almost mythical. And yet, that’s exactly what John and Carolyn did. They crafted a day that belonged entirely to them, defined by their choices and their values, not by the expectations of others.
It’s worth noting how radical that felt then, and how impossible it might feel now. In today’s world, where every moment can be documented, shared, and dissected within seconds, the notion of keeping a celebrity wedding entirely under wraps is almost unimaginable. Social media posts, leaks from vendors, and drone footage have made privacy a luxury few can afford. But in 1996, with careful planning and the loyalty of their inner circle, John and Carolyn managed to do what many couples dream of — exchange vows surrounded only by the people they loved, in a place where they could be fully present.
In the end, what Radziwill’s memories and photographs reveal is that the wedding was never meant to be a spectacle. It wasn’t about living up to a Camelot myth or creating a headline-worthy event. It was about John and Carolyn, about two people choosing to commit to each other in a way that felt true to who they were. The images of them cutting cake, dancing together, or sharing quiet moments aren’t just wedding photographs — they are pieces of a story that belongs to them and to those who knew them best.
The release of these photos ahead of American Prince: JFK Jr. feels timely. The series will undoubtedly explore the many facets of John’s life — his public image, his private struggles, and his enduring legacy. But Radziwill’s contributions remind us that beyond the public persona was a man who, at least for one day, lived entirely in the present with the woman he loved, away from the flashbulbs and the scrutiny.
For those who admire John and Carolyn from afar, these glimpses into their wedding day are a gift. They offer a reminder that love, in its purest form, doesn’t need spectacle to be significant. It needs intention, connection, and the courage to block out the noise of the world. On Cumberland Island in 1996, John and Carolyn had all of that. They had friends who protected their privacy, a setting that embraced them, and a love that — even in its brevity — left an indelible mark on everyone who witnessed it.
Radziwill’s words and photographs don’t just show us what the day looked like; they make us feel what it was like to be there. The quiet joy, the sense of being in on a secret, the relief of knowing that — for once — this was a moment the world didn’t get to intrude upon. And maybe that’s why the wedding remains so compelling all these years later. It wasn’t the grandeur that made it unforgettable; it was the intimacy, the simplicity, and the fact that, for a brief time, John and Carolyn got to live their love story entirely on their own terms.