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

Within minutes, newspapers around the country reprinted their headlines for the evening editions.

JACKIE’S EXPECTING 3RD CHILD

KENNEDYS ARE ELATED: CHILD DUE IN AUGUST

Telegrams and congratulatory presents and cards came pouring in from around the world. The public’s excitement over Mrs. Kennedy’s pregnancy was enormous. Of course the publicity and interest were exactly what Mrs. Kennedy didn’t want, but as I explained to her, this would be only the second baby born to a sitting U.S. president, the last being when Grover Cleveland’s wife had a baby girl in 1893. Mrs. Kennedy’s “condition”—as we referred to it in those days—was big news.

After the announcement, Mrs. Kennedy’s public appearances were rare. She attended a play at the National Theater, and participated as hostess at the state dinner for the president of India, who had so graciously hosted her the previous year. When His Majesty Hassan II, King of Morocco, came to Washington, Mrs. Kennedy accompanied the president to greet him, and rode in the motorcade from the airport to Blair House, the official guest residence across the street from the White House. This was very unusual for her, but I soon learned why. After the king’s visit, Mrs. Kennedy told me that Morocco was one of the places she had always dreamed of visiting someday, and after meeting Hassan II, she was even more intrigued.

Mrs. Kennedy would visit Morocco much sooner than she ever imagined.

THE MONTH OF April meant the end of Glen Ora and the movement of things into the almost-ready new residence. Finally, on May 6, 1963, Paul Landis and I took Mrs. Kennedy to Atoka for a one-night stay. Mary Gallagher and a few of the White House domestic staff came along to help get the interior of the house in shape. There were pages and pages of notes on what was to go where. No detail had been overlooked.

Furniture was being moved, plants positioned, and paintings hung. Among the paintings were some I recognized from Mrs. Kennedy’s 1962 trip to India. They were very small in size, very colorful, and very erotic. The paintings depicted couples in various positions while making love. She and Mary spent a great deal of time trying to determine how best to arrange the paintings, which were going on a prominent wall, in the dining room.

Once they were hung, Mrs. Kennedy looked at me with a mischievous look in her eyes. She was starting to “show” a bit by this time—she was still very slim, but there were the telltale signs—and her face had that beautiful glow a woman has when she is expecting a child.

“What do you think of these Kama Sutra paintings, Mr. Hill?” she asked.

I don’t think I had ever blushed before in my life. But damn if I didn’t feel my face get hot.

“I think they’re fine, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said, trying not to smile. “At least they’ll be a great conversation starter. They’ll have tremendous shock value.”

She just laughed and said, “Oh, Mr. Hill.”

I thought the paintings seemed more appropriate for a private area like the master bedroom, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. I was certain she hung them there for the exact reason I had stated. Shock value. Pure and simple.

The next day it was back to the White House and then on to Camp David. With all the time and effort Mrs. Kennedy had put into building this house, and trying to make everything perfect, I was surprised to learn that Atoka would not be the residence of choice—at least for the near future. President and Mrs. Kennedy decided to rent out the house for the summer of 1963, which caused some consternation to the Secret Service and the White House Communications Agency because of the extensive security and communications equipment that had been installed as the house was being built.

Mrs. Kennedy’s original intent was to go to Hyannis Port for the entire summer, beginning around the president’s birthday or shortly thereafter, but she enjoyed Camp David so much that the date to go to Hyannis Port kept getting pushed back.

In early 1963, Letitia Baldridge had informed Mrs. Kennedy that she was resigning from her job as social secretary. Like so many White House staffers, she worked long hours, typically six or seven days a week, with no time for a personal life. I knew the past year had been tough on Tish—she thought Mrs. Kennedy should have attended more White House social functions, and hosted more ladies’ luncheons and teas. But that wasn’t Mrs. Kennedy’s style. And there had been plenty of times in which Tish was thrown into a frenzied search for a replacement when Mrs. Kennedy declined to attend a function at the last minute. They both knew it was time for Tish to move on, and as far as I knew, there were no bad feelings about her resignation.

Tish gave a generous four months’ notice, and in that time, Mrs. Kennedy decided to hire an old friend of hers from Miss Porter’s school, Nancy Tuckerman. Like Tish, Nancy had exquisite taste and style, but her calmer personality was much more compatible with Mrs. Kennedy.

On Tish’s last day, Mrs. Kennedy and the staff threw her a going-away party in the China Room—the room on the ground floor of the mansion where all the china from previous administrations is displayed in glass cases. There was champagne and beautiful, thoughtful parting gifts, including a small round table made by the White House carpenters, on top of which was an inlaid piece of paper that had been signed by the senior staff, as well as President and Mrs. Kennedy, Caroline, and a scribble by John. But perhaps one of the most memorable moments was when Mrs. Kennedy ushered in the Marine Band, and they sang a tongue-in-cheek tribute to Tish that Mrs. Kennedy herself had written. That was typical of Mrs. Kennedy—always taking the time to write or draw something personal and befitting to the recipient.

Clint Hill, Pam Turnure, Tish Baldridge, and Mrs. Kennedy

As it happened, Tish’s last day, May 29, 1963, was also President Kennedy’s forty-sixth birthday. He had a typically full schedule with back-to-back meetings, but the staff managed to throw him a surprise birthday party late that afternoon in the Navy Mess.

Located on the lower level of the White House, the Navy Mess is a simple dining hall where the staff eats meals—prepared and served by Navy stewards. It’s not a place the president normally went, but around 5:45 that afternoon, somebody escorted him down there. Mrs. Kennedy and I were there waiting, along with Nancy Tuckerman—her first day on the job—and most of the president’s staff.

As soon as the president walked in, somebody handed him a glass of champagne, and we all started singing “Happy Birthday.” He broke into a big smile and acted as though he were surprised. In reality, I think he must have known what was going on. It is very difficult to surprise the president—any president. The last thing a president wants is to be surprised. He relies on his top staff to keep him well informed, and if they don’t, they are soon out of a job.

But the president played along, as he was presented with an array of gag gifts. There was a miniature rocking chair, boxing gloves to deal with Congress, “Debate Rules” from Richard M. Nixon. But the biggest laugh came when Mrs. Kennedy presented her gift—a basket of dead grass.

“Mr. President,” she deadpanned, “on behalf of the White House Historical Society, it is with great honor and with the utmost respect, that I present to you genuine antique grass from the antique rose garden.”