Clint Hill - Mrs. Kennedy and Me - An Intimate Memoir

Admittedly, I’d never given it much thought, but Mrs. Kennedy was so intent on this project, almost to the point of being obsessed with it. I also knew, from J. B. West, that the entire fifty-thousand-dollar appropriation given to incoming presidents for redecorating the White House had already been used up on the family quarters.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Mrs. Kennedy. The problem is, getting the money to do what you want to do. The Secret Service can barely buy a new car without Congress signing off on it.”

“Yes, the president has told me the same thing. But . . .” She turned to me with a glint in her eye. “I have an idea. I’m going to form a committee.”

“Well, Washington loves committees,” I said with a laugh. “You’ll be in good company.”

It turned out to be a brilliant idea. Mrs. Kennedy developed the Fine Arts Committee for the White House, which was basically a fund-raising committee to purchase antiques and period furnishings as permanent gifts to the White House. She convinced Henry du Pont—a wealthy collector and qualified authority of American antiques who had turned his estate in Wilmington, Delaware, into a museum known as Winterthur—to be chairman of the committee. Du Pont’s involvement added prestige and credibility to the project, as well as inroads to the connected people who would be interested in donating gifts and money to the cause of beautifying and restoring the White House.

Mrs. Kennedy soon learned many items that had been used in the White House at one time or another were kept in storage at Fort Washington. We would walk through disorganized rooms where furniture and boxes were stacked and shoved randomly together. Mrs. Kennedy would suddenly stop at what appeared to me to be a pile of dusty junk and point to a table stacked with boxes.

“Look at the beautiful carved legs on that table,” she’d say with whispery excitement. We’d get the item pulled out so she could have a better look and it would turn out to be a table used during President James Monroe’s administration or John Quincy Adams’s. She had an eye for detail and instinctively knew what would look perfect in every space of the White House rooms.

In mid-March, Mrs. Kennedy informed me she would be going to New York City.

“I’m going to spend several days in New York City with my sister Lee before she flies back to London,” she said. “And,” she added, “I’ll be meeting with some antiques dealers—for the White House restoration.”

Wonderful. Shopping for antiques. I was quite sure the guys on the President’s Detail would never set foot inside an antiques shop. At least she didn’t mention fashion shows or the ballet.

“Great. I love New York,” I said.

“Oh, have you spent much time in New York, Mr. Hill?” she asked.

In fact, the last time I had been in New York City was as part of the advance team for President Eisenhower when he went to New York to help Vice President Richard Nixon in his campaign to defeat John F. Kennedy just before the election in 1960, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“Oh yes, I’ve been to New York City a number of times,” I replied. “Where will you stay?”

“I’ll stay at our apartment at the Carlyle Hotel.”

Their apartment at the Carlyle Hotel? Who has their own apartment at a hotel? I had never heard of such a thing.

I was glad to get this information well ahead of time so that we could alert the New York City Field Office of Mrs. Kennedy’s pending visit. Protecting her on the streets of New York was going to require much more assistance than in Middleburg or Palm Beach. As soon as I had the opportunity, I notified Agent Jeffries of Mrs. Kennedy’s plans.

Whenever the president or Mrs. Kennedy traveled to New York, we would rely on the New York Field Office (NYFO) for their expertise in navigating the area. Whether it was to restaurants, a Broadway show, museums, or shopping on Fifth Avenue, they knew the right people to contact in advance of Mrs. Kennedy’s arrival. The NYFO was one of the largest Secret Service offices in the country and they would provide us with extra manpower, and would handle the perimeter security at the Carlyle Hotel.

On Monday, March 19, Mrs. Kennedy, her sister, Lee, Agent Jeffries, and I flew on the Caroline from Washington to LaGuardia Airport, where we were met by agents from the NYFO.

The Secret Service had an agreement with the Ford Motor Company, and they had provided a Lincoln Town Car to transport the first lady, as well as a station wagon for us to use as a follow-up car.

So we headed off to the Carlyle with Agent Jeffries in the front passenger seat and Mrs. Kennedy and her sister in the back of the Lincoln, while I drove behind them in the follow-up car. The previous times I had been to New York with President Eisenhower, it had been a highly publicized visit, which required a police escort. Because Mrs. Kennedy preferred to keep her trips private, most of the time we never told anybody where we were going or what we were doing. From the perspective of the Secret Service, this was the preferred way to handle a trip. The fewer people who knew your intended destination or route, the better. A police escort would have just drawn attention to us, so we kept the motorcade to as few vehicles as possible. Of course, Mrs. Kennedy’s luggage was always a concern and there usually had to be an additional car and handler just for her bags. She did not travel lightly.

I had never been to the Carlyle before, and as I realized we were getting close, I noticed this beautiful structure that seemed to rise up from the city, overlooking Central Park, unobstructed by any other tall buildings. Built in the Art Deco style, the hotel has a distinct look, most notably marked by the octagonal green tiled roof that is topped with what looks like a giant gilded thimble. As we pulled up to the stunning hotel that rose forty stories high, I thought back to my youth in North Dakota wheat country where the highest structures were grain elevators standing four or five stories tall, and I thought, That sure would hold a lot of wheat.

Agents from the New York office had secured the area in anticipation of our arrival. The general manager of the hotel, Mr. Samuel Lewis, was there to greet Mrs. Kennedy and escort her to the Kennedys’ apartment on the thirty-fourth floor.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Kennedy,” said Mr. Lewis as he bowed his head slightly.

“Thank you, Mr. Lewis,” Mrs. Kennedy said with a smile. “It feels like I’m coming home.”

“We hope you do think of this as home, Mrs. Kennedy. And so nice to see you, too, Princess Radziwill,” he added as Lee got out of the car.

The hotel’s lobby had the feel of the entryway to a magnificent home. The floor was black-and-white marble in a striking rectangular pattern that looked like a carpet of black glass surrounded by a white-and-gold border. Beautiful flower arrangements, in the simple style Mrs. Kennedy liked to have at the White House, were on every table. And as we walked in, uniformed employees were standing by to render whatever assistance we required, nodding a polite, “Welcome back, Mrs. Kennedy,” as she walked by.

Directly to the thirty-fourth floor we went, nonstop. The NYFO agents had secured the apartment prior to our arrival and, as the doors opened, a New York Secret Service agent was standing there.

The apartment occupied the thirty-fourth and thirty-fifth floors, and I must say, I was really impressed. I had been in presidential suites in other hotels in New York City and all around the world, but the magnitude and majesty of this apartment residence was almost overwhelming. The spacious apartment had two terraces with fabulous views of Central Park, Manhattan, and New Jersey. The lower floor contained a living room, dining room, kitchen, and study, while upstairs there were two bedrooms with separate baths, and a glassed-in solarium. The Carlyle staff had taken great care to customize the apartment with borrowed eighteenth-century French antiques and original paintings by Pissarro, Murillo, and Degas.