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

“Caroline will address you as Mr. Hill,” Mrs. Kennedy told me from the outset. “And she is to be respectful at all times. If there are any issues, I want to know about them immediately.”

Despite her public role and growing responsibilities, Mrs. Kennedy was adamant that there would always be time each day with her daughter. She was a very attentive mother, and her eyes had a special sparkle when she was with Caroline—almost as if she were constantly in awe of her child’s view of the world. Watching the two of them interact, I saw a playful and spontaneous side of Jacqueline Kennedy that, thus far, only came out when she was with her daughter. But most of the time Mrs. Kennedy spent with Caroline was activity-related. When it came to the day-to-day caring for her child—the dressing, bathing, feeding, and playground dates—she relied heavily on the family’s nanny, Maud Shaw.

Originally from Great Britain, Miss Shaw was quite the contrast to Provi, but yet another wonderful ally for me. She was in her mid-fifties and spoke with a proper British accent, in a sort of singsong voice. Her hair was a light reddish color, streaked with tinges of gray, and it always seemed to be just a bit mussed, as if she had begun to brush it, then got interrupted, and never could be bothered to have another look in the mirror.

Standing about five foot two with her shoes on, Miss Shaw wasn’t a big person by any means, but with her matronly, methodical manner, she exuded an air of gentle authority, and in many ways seemed more like a grandmother than a nanny. Her standard uniform was a crisply ironed dress that hung just below her knees, paired with sensible shoes that allowed her to romp with Caroline. She had been in the employ of the Kennedy family since Caroline was a newborn, but it was clear to me that Miss Shaw understood her position as an employee and not a substitute mother. She and Mrs. Kennedy were cordial, but there was no question that Mrs. Kennedy was in charge.

As the wife of the president-elect, Mrs. Kennedy had a sudden onslaught of responsibilities, the first and most important of which was preparing for the Inauguration. Even though, at eight months pregnant, she would often become physically tired, she seemed to have an endless amount of mental energy. From the planning of the pre-inaugural gala to the formal balls and the finalization of the guest lists and the invitations, she was intent on putting her touch on everything, and she was well aware that the eyes of the world would be on her.

I was somewhat surprised by the level of attention the media was already paying to the new first family—especially to Mrs. Kennedy. The press had rarely covered anything President Eisenhower’s wife, Mamie, did, but suddenly the American public seemed to have an insatiable appetite for any news at all about Jacqueline Kennedy. At thirty-one years old, she was the youngest first lady in seventy-five years to occupy the White House, and American women, in particular, were fascinated by what she wore, where she shopped, and what her interests were.

This intense interest by the public was also one of the biggest problems Agent Jeffries and I had to contend with in terms of protection. Whenever we took her anywhere, she’d immediately be recognized, and before we knew it there would be a swarm of people gawking, and often approaching her to shake her hand. She would smile graciously and offer a polite greeting, but as soon as we were alone, she’d quip, “You’d think I was somebody important, for heaven’s sake.”

She didn’t enjoy being the center of attention in these situations, and I quickly realized that one of the best ways for me to protect her, and to gain her confidence in me, was to come up with creative ways for her to do the things she wanted, with as much privacy as possible.

Getting exercise in some form—preferably outdoors—was something that was important to Mrs. Kennedy. She really enjoyed, and seemed to need, a certain amount of physical activity each day. She didn’t have a set schedule, but she would take walks in the various parks, and through the streets of Georgetown. I knew she had previously had one miscarriage and had also delivered a stillborn child, and it was obvious that she was cautious to not overexert herself. In those first days I tried to remain close, but unobtrusive, rarely initiating conversation, but allowing her to take the lead. I wasn’t there to be a friend—my job was to protect her.

One day we walked down Thirty-fourth Street toward the Potomac River, just a couple of blocks from the Kennedys’ home, to the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal towpath. This gravel trail was situated down a steep set of stairs built into the bank alongside the canal, which parallels the Potomac. Heavily wooded and very secluded, the path was quiet and peaceful—a slice of nature hidden from the noise and bustle of the city—and it soon became our route of choice. Usually it would be just the two of us, unless Caroline and Maud Shaw came along, and it was on these walks that both of us began to let our guards down with each other.

She set the pace and, although she was pregnant, she had excellent posture. She walked very erect, with a brisk yet cautious stride.

“Mr. Hill,” she explained, “I have to take it somewhat easy because of my pregnancy, as my doctor has advised me. But I need to get as much exercise as possible to maintain my strength, and I do think that being in the fresh air is so good for one’s well-being.”

Most of the time the path was wide enough for us to walk side by side, but at times it would narrow and I would allow her to walk ahead, while I walked behind, constantly scanning our surroundings. This allowed me to see what was happening in front of us yet also be in a position to protect her from behind.

I never initiated conversation, but waited for her to take the lead. Sometimes we would walk for a while in silence and then she’d suddenly say something like, “My, the river is really flowing today. Isn’t that a lovely sound?”

She was very aware of her surroundings and appreciative of nature—the sound of the birds, the changing colors of the leaves, the rush of the river. I, too, enjoyed being outdoors, but she made me more aware of the aesthetics of our surroundings. It was as if she were walking in a living painting, conscious of how the colors and textures worked together.

She was also very curious as to how the Secret Service operated and how it would impact her life. She had endless questions about protocol and what kinds of things needed to be cleared by the Secret Service. This was all new to her and I got the feeling that, while she didn’t like the fact that she could no longer go anywhere alone, if she had to be with someone, I was acceptable company.

There was a continuous flow of people in and out of the residence as decisions were made regarding the selection of the new White House staff. We as agents had to learn who these people were and for what position they were being considered. This was the first change of administration I had witnessed, and I found it very interesting to watch how various people jockeyed for the prime positions.

The first two weeks went by quite rapidly as I settled into somewhat of a routine with my new assignment. The more time Mrs. Kennedy and I spent together, the more comfortable our relationship became. I sensed that she was slowly beginning to trust me and I was beginning to realize that she was not going to be a first lady who was going to merely stand in the shadows of her husband.

The day after the election, President-elect Kennedy had flown directly to Palm Beach, Florida, where his father had an oceanfront estate, to focus on the transition and selection of his cabinet and staff. Meanwhile, Mrs. Kennedy, despite being eight months pregnant, was handling a myriad of decisions and new responsibilities, with the world watching, and she appeared to be fearless. I was impressed not only with her capabilities, but also the fact that she was dealing with all of this completely on her own.