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

Surprise party at White House for President Kennedy’s 46th birthday

The president loved it. That too was typical of Mrs. Kennedy’s self-deprecating sense of humor. In giving the gift to her husband, she was simultaneously mocking herself, as well as the staff members and others who adulate the president.

That evening, Mrs. Kennedy had planned a truly special event for her husband’s birthday—a cruise on the Potomac aboard the beautiful presidential yacht, the USS Sequoia.

A classic teak and mahogany 104-foot motor yacht built around 1925, the Sequoia was operated by the U.S. Navy and had been made available to every president since Herbert Hoover. Due to her shallow draft of less than four and a half feet, the Sequoia wasn’t an oceangoing vessel, but she was ideal for cruises along the usually calm waters of the Potomac.

President Kennedy was happiest when he was on the water, and this night was no exception. Mrs. Kennedy had invited about twenty-four guests, who were told to arrive promptly for an 8:01 departure. We had Secret Service agents on a couple of security boats, but there were just three agents aboard the Sequoia —Floyd Boring and Ron Pontius from the President’s Detail, and myself.

Agents Ron Pontius, Floyd Boring, and Clint Hill on U.S.S. Sequoia

None of President Kennedy’s political advisors had been invited—the guest list included only family members and his closest friends: Bobby and Ethel, Sarge and Eunice, Teddy, the Bartletts, Ben and Tony Bradlee, the Fays, British actor David Niven and his wife, Florida senator George Smathers and his wife, Bill Walton, Lem Billings, and a few others.

It was a dreary, rainy evening, making the open-air top deck unusable, so everybody was crammed inside the main and aft salons. The interior of this classic yacht feels like a cozy gentleman’s library with low ceilings, varnished mahogany paneling and cabinetry, and fine fabric for the drapes and furnishings. The captain steers the boat with a large, classic wood and brass wheel, from the windowed pilothouse on the main deck. Behind the pilothouse there is the galley, the large main salon, which is connected to the smaller, cozier aft salon by a narrow hallway and bar area. At the rear is the fantail—sort of an outdoor covered porch.

The yacht is elegant and spacious, but with about twenty-four guests, three agents, the crew, and the three-piece band Mrs. Kennedy had arranged, on this night it was close quarters.

To accommodate all the guests for dinner, the mahogany Chippendale dining table was extended to fill the entire main salon, so drinks and hors d’oeuvres were served on the aft deck and covered fantail. While Agents Boring and Pontius and I stood post on the exterior walkways, the guests inside dined on roast filet of beef and 1955 Dom Pérignon champagne. People were in lively spirits to begin with, and as the night wore on, and the champagne flowed, the party got louder and livelier. There were plenty of toasts, and after birthday cake at the dining table, the president opened presents in the aft salon. Then the dancing started. They were doing the twist, the cha-cha, and everything in between. It was wild. I don’t think I had ever seen the president and Mrs. Kennedy having more fun. Nobody wanted the night to end, but the captain docked the Sequoia around 1:20 A.M., and finally, everybody went home.

Mrs. Kennedy was thrilled that the party had gone off so well.

IT’S BEEN A long time since I’ve thought about that night, that wonderful raucous night. I can still see the president’s surprise and amusement while opening his gifts. I can still hear the music, the guests singing along, and the president having such a wonderful time surrounded by his closest family and friends. What a privilege it was for me to have been there, to witness the joy and laughter. But always, when I remember that special birthday celebration on the Sequoia, I can’t help but think that it shouldn’t have been his last.

At forty-six, it shouldn’t have been his last.

President Kennedy opens gifts on U.S.S. Sequoia

20

Losing Baby Patrick

JFK conducts business during family photo session on Squaw Island, August 1963

On June 22 1963, President Kennedy departed on a two-week trip to Europe, with stops in England, Ireland, Italy, and Germany. It was history in the making and I have to admit that I was disappointed not to be able to join my colleagues on what I knew would be a challenging and significant trip.

When I saw the news reports about President Kennedy delivering what would forever be known as his “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech, all I could think about was the complex challenge faced by the Secret Service agents assigned to protect him. The photos showed hundreds of thousands of unscreened people—many watching from balconies and rooftops—as President Kennedy spoke, all alone at a podium on an open stage. He was a sitting duck.

How do you protect someone in that environment? All it takes is one lucky shot—and that first shot is free. You never know it’s coming. After that, all you can do is react.

This scene played itself over and over as the president traveled to Rome, Naples, and Dublin. I knew the guys on the detail had to have been living on pure adrenaline.

ONCE AGAIN THIS summer, the president and Mrs. Kennedy had rented a house on Squaw Island—very close to the house they’d rented the year before—still less than a mile from the Kennedy compound. The large, rambling, gray-shingled house was at the end of the narrow, one-lane gravel road on Squaw Island, set back on a heavily wooded piece of property so that you could barely see it from the road. A simple wooden sign hung over the front door with the moniker: BRAMBLETYDE. The home had ample space for the children to play outdoors, a stunning view of the Atlantic Ocean from the entire backside of the house, and a private beach. Plenty of privacy, and close enough—but not too close—to the rest of the family.

This was now the seventh house the Kennedys had occupied on a regular basis, outside the White House, in the two and a half years since Kennedy was elected. So once again the Secret Service and the White House Communications Agency had installed the extensive communications and surveillance equipment to ensure the security of the president and his family while in residence. A semipermanent trailer was placed at the base of the driveway to serve as the Secret Service Command Center and secretarial office. It had everything we needed—radios, telephones, and a typewriter to write up our daily reports—but unfortunately, not even a hint of an ocean view.

Once President Kennedy returned from Europe, he began the usual summer schedule in which he arrived at Hyannis Port on Friday afternoons, and left Monday mornings. There was always such a hubbub of activity during the weekends that when the president and his entourage left, the atmosphere during the week would return to a much slower, relaxed pace. Mrs. Kennedy continued to walk regularly, and often we would walk together from Brambletyde to the ambassador’s residence, where she would visit with her father-in-law on the porch—sometimes for hours at a time. He couldn’t speak, but you could see the joy in his eyes as she chatted away, or read aloud from magazines and newspapers.