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

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HE CALLED HER MRS. KENNEDY. SHE CALLED HIM MR. HILL. For four years, from the election of John Fitzgerald Kennedy in November 1960 until after the election of Lyndon Johnson in 1964, Clint Hill was the Secret Service agent assigned to guard the glamorous and intensely private Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. During those four years, he went from being a reluctant guardian to a fiercely loyal watchdog and, in many ways, her closest friend.
Now, looking back fifty years, Clint Hill tells his story for the first time, offering a tender, enthralling, and tragic portrayal of how a Secret Service agent who started life in a North Dakota orphanage became the most trusted man in the life of the First Lady who captivated first the nation and then the world.
When he was initially assigned to the new First Lady, Agent Hill envisioned tea parties and gray-haired matrons. But as soon as he met her, he was swept up in the whirlwind of her beauty, her grace, her intelligence, her coy humor, her magnificent composure, and her extraordinary spirit.
From the start, the job was like no other, and Clint was by her side through the early days of JFK's presidency; the birth of sons John and Patrick and Patrick's sudden death; Kennedy-family holidays in Hyannis Port and Palm Beach; Jackie's trips to Europe, Asia, and South America; Jackie's intriguing meetings with men like Aristotle Onassis, Gianni Agnelli, and AndrÉ Malraux; the dark days of the year that followed the assassination to the farewell party she threw for Clint when he left her protective detail after four years. All she wanted was the one thing he could not give her: a private life for her and her children.
Filled with unforgettable details, startling revelations, and sparkling, intimate moments, this is the once-in-a-lifetime story of a man doing the most exciting job in the world, with a woman all the world loved, and the tragedy that ended it all too soon— a tragedy that haunted him for fifty years.
Review
"With clear and honest prose free of salaciousness and gossip, Hill (ably assisted by McCubbin) evokes not only a personality both beautiful and brilliant, but also a time when the White House was filled with youth and promise.
Of the many words written about Jacqueline Kennedy, these are among the best." --
starred review
"[
] conveys a sense of honesty and proves to be an insightful and lovingly penetrating portrait of the Jacqueline Kennedy that Hill came to know." --
(3 1/2 stars)
"Talk about being unable to put a book down; I was enthralled with this memoir from start to finish." --Liz Smith
About the Author
Clint Hill Lisa McCubbin
New York Times
The Kennedy Detail

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We arrived at Brooks Air Force Base, where another nine thousand people cheered as President and Mrs. Kennedy entered the stage area. The president made a speech to dedicate the Aerospace Medical Center, the program concluded, and we were back in the vehicles for another motorcade to Kelly Air Force Base where Air Force One, the vice president’s plane, and the backup plane had been moved from the San Antonio airport.

At this point, the 4:00–midnight shift took over the president’s protection, and the morning shift—Emory Roberts’s 8:00–4:00 shift—headed to the venue in Houston to set up security in advance of the president’s arrival. Paul Landis and I didn’t have any replacement shift, so we carried on—me handling the motorcades and Paul moving ahead to our destination.

Everybody boarded their respective planes and flew to Houston—a thirty-five-minute flight. The first stop had been a success, and on board Air Force One, the president was thrilled. When we landed in Houston, we did the whole routine all over again—complete with Vice President and Mrs. Johnson and Governor and Mrs. Connally greeting the President and Mrs. Kennedy as they got off Air Force One.

There was a large, friendly, and enthusiastic crowd at the airport—nearly twice as many people as had been in San Antonio. And as before, President and Mrs. Kennedy willfully went to the fence line to greet the people who had come out to give them such a warm welcome.

I guess this is how you win votes and elections—shaking as many hands as possible, hoping that brief personal connection will turn into a vote.

I could tell Mrs. Kennedy was a bit tired, but she really seemed to be enjoying it.

After several minutes, it was time to pile into the cars again for the motorcade into the city to the Rice Hotel. There hadn’t been time to securely transport SS-100-X and the follow-up car, so they were sent on to Dallas, to be used the following day. In Houston, the cars were standard Lincoln convertibles loaned to the Secret Service by the local dealer. The presidential vehicle was a bit tight as President and Mrs. Kennedy and the governor squeezed into the backseat, while Mrs. Connally was jammed in the front seat between driver Agent Bill Greer and ASAIC Kellerman. Not much room to move.

The follow-up was also a standard Lincoln convertible, which was not very efficient for the agents working the motorcade. I sat on top of the car frame, with my legs straddling the door, one inside and one out. When the crowds were bigger, and I thought I might have to jump off quickly, I’d move to a sidesaddle position. It was awkward, and uncomfortable as hell. Running alongside the presidential vehicle was preferable, but it was impossible to run and keep up the entire way.

At the Rice Hotel another huge crowd was waiting to greet President and Mrs. Kennedy. More hand-shaking in the crowd, and then up to the suite that had been arranged for them to rest and relax for a few hours before the evening’s activities.

Mrs. Kennedy’s hair was windblown from having been in the open-top cars, and I could see in her eyes that she was somewhat drained.

“How are you doing, Mrs. Kennedy?” I asked. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Hill, I’m fine. It’s been such a wonderful day, hasn’t it? I do need a rest, though, or I imagine I’ll collapse later this evening.”

“Well, just let me know if you need anything.”

I waited outside the suite with ASAIC Roy Kellerman as various people came and went. Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers, the special assistants to the president—and both longtime friends—conferred with President Kennedy, while Mary Gallagher assisted Mrs. Kennedy. They rested, ate dinner, and changed clothes. At one point the president called for Vice President and Mrs. Johnson to join them in the suite, and after a short visit the Johnsons left to attend the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) dinner within the hotel.

The schedule called for the president and Mrs. Kennedy to drop by the LULAC reception at 8:20 P.M. On my copy, Mrs. Kennedy had written in red pencil: Speech?

At 8:40 P.M. the president and Mrs. Kennedy came out of the suite, smiling, and joking with Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers.

Mrs. Kennedy had changed into an elegant black cut-velvet dress, with long sleeves and a neckline that accentuated her three-strand string of pearls. She had touched up her makeup and her hair was once again perfectly coiffed. She looked stunning.

Members of the hotel staff had lined the corridor, and as we walked past them to the elevators, the president smiled and said “Hello” as he guided Mrs. Kennedy, his hand gently on her elbow.

Kellerman and I escorted them to the LULAC dinner on the second floor of the hotel for a surprise visit. The president spoke briefly and then introduced Mrs. Kennedy, who proceeded to address the group in Spanish. They loved it. The crowd gave her a standing ovation and shouted “Viva Jackie!” and “Viva Kennedy!” as the president stood by, looking admiringly at his wife, and obviously elated by the response of the crowd.

We departed the Rice Hotel and drove to Sam Houston Coliseum to pay tribute to Congressman Albert Thomas. When the speech was finished we departed for Houston International Airport and once again boarded Air Force One. It was 10:15 P.M. when we departed Houston for Carswell Air Force Base, near Fort Worth.

Vice President and Mrs. Johnson were once again there to greet the Kennedys as they arrived at Carswell after the fifty-minute flight. It was now 11:05 P.M. and thousands of people were there to view the arrival, including a lot of young children. Considering the late hour, this was somewhat of a surprise to me. The crowd was boisterous, quite enthusiastic, and very pro-Kennedy. Once again President and Mrs. Kennedy willingly approached the crowd and expressed their thanks for the outpouring of affection. They entered the vehicles—again the standard Lincoln convertibles—but this time, because of the darkness, the top was up, making it feel that much more crowded.

There were some people standing alongside the road on the way into town, but when we pulled up to the Hotel Texas at 11:50 P.M., it was mobbed. There had to be four thousand people standing in the street and parking lot outside the hotel.

I couldn’t believe it.

It’s nearly midnight and here all these people are standing outside just to catch a glimpse of the president and the first lady? These people are crazy.

When President and Mrs. Kennedy got out of the car, the crowd went nuts.

Sure enough, the president dove into the crowd, Mrs. Kennedy followed, and I went right along beside her.

Finally, we escorted President and Mrs. Kennedy up to Suite 850. ASAIC Kellerman and I got them settled and made sure everything was all right before we turned their security over to the midnight shift.

It had been a long day for everybody.

I went down to the lobby to see if I could locate something to eat. The clock read almost 1:00 A.M., which meant by my body clock it was almost 2:00 A.M. East Coast time. I hadn’t eaten for over thirteen hours. I had a craving for a nice big juicy burger and some fries. At the moment, I couldn’t think of anything but food.

Paul Landis and a few of the other agents who had come in on the backup plane were in the lobby with some of the press corps. Everybody was famished. The Fort Worth Press Club was nearby and the newsies said the agents could join them.

Merriman Smith from the UPI was the senior member of the press corps, and I knew him quite well.

“Come on along, Clint,” he said. “We’ll get you fed.”

We all walked over to the Press Club only to find the food was all gone.

They had some peanuts, so I had a scotch and soda and some nuts, bought a couple packs of cigarettes, and left. We heard there was a place called the Cellar Club nearby that served food. We went there only to find the only thing they were serving was some kind of homemade fruit drink. It was horrible. I went back to my hotel room, right next to the presidential suite—disappointed and hungry.

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