I got a midnight call on February 3, 1971, from the Chez Vito maître d’ urging me to come over. Jacqueline Onassis was in a rendezvous with Rudolf Nureyev, one of the most celebrated ballet dancers of our time. I dashed to the high-wattage East Side restaurant to find Jackie in tete-a-tete with the ballet star at a dining table in the bar area. I was surprised to see her husband, Aristotle Onassis, at the end of the table, with an eye on his wife and her late-night date. The gallant gentleman that I am, I asked her if I may take a photo. Big mistake. Naturally she could only say no. Invited by the house to shoot, but repulsed by the star, I sulked all the way out the door. I waited by their limousine until they emerged, one by one. Onassis smiled as I snapped his picture. Then came Nureyev in a luxurious full-length fur coat, who struck a narcissistic pose for my camera. Finally Jackie appeared but dashed into the car and vanished into the night.