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

There was a long procession of cars, family members, members of Congress, and Secret Service agents. Pennsylvania Avenue had been closed off, and as we departed the White House, I was shocked by what I saw. As far as the eye could see, there were people. Standing in the cold, along Pennsylvania Avenue all the way to the Capitol, it was a mass of people. Hundreds of thousands. But as we slowly proceeded, following the horse-drawn carriage, the only sound you could hear was the clop-clop of the horses’ hooves hitting the pavement, and the steady beating of the military drums.

I scanned the crowd, as I always did, but I’d never seen a crowd like this before. There were no screams, no shrieks, no requests to stop and shake hands. There was just dead silence, somber faces, and tears.

When we got to the Capitol, Paul and I stayed in position on either side of Mrs. Kennedy. With the American flag high atop the Capitol at half-mast, the military band played the most moving version of “Hail to the Chief” I had ever heard.

Mrs. Kennedy, wearing a sheer black veil over her face, tried to hold in the tears. But it was impossible. Standing next to her, with John and Caroline by her side, I too was struggling to keep my emotions in check.

Nine military pallbearers removed the flag-draped casket from the caisson and began to carry it up the thirty-six steps at the east side of the Capitol. I could see the strain on the faces of the men, and I felt for them. I knew how heavy it was, and the pressure they felt to carry the president with dignity. We walked behind them—Robert Kennedy, Caroline and John, Paul Landis, Mrs. Kennedy, and me.

The casket was placed in the center of the Rotunda, and as members of the Congress, family, and friends observed, the moving ceremony began.

During one of the eulogies, John became rambunctious. He didn’t understand what was going on, why he wasn’t allowed to talk. He had been told, of course, that his father was gone, and not coming back, but he really didn’t understand at all. So two of the children’s detail agents took him to a nearby office to try to keep him occupied.

Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield stepped up to the podium, just a few feet away from Mrs. Kennedy and Caroline, and began to speak.

“There was a sound of laughter,” he began. “In a moment, it was no more. And so she took a ring from her finger and placed it in his hands.

“There was a wit in a man neither young nor old,” Mansfield continued, “but a wit full of an old man’s wisdom and of a child’s wisdom, and then, in a moment it was no more. And so she took a ring from her finger and placed it in his hands.”

His voice started to break, but he continued.

“There was a husband who asked much and gave much, and out of the giving and the asking wove with a woman what could not be broken in life, and in a moment it was no more. And so she took a ring from her finger and placed it in his hands, and kissed him and closed the lid of a coffin.

“A piece of each of us died at that moment.”

Mansfield went on to speak of the things President Kennedy gave to all of us, the things he stood for. It was incredibly moving and emotional for all who were there.

A large presidential wreath was brought out, and President Johnson, with his head bowed, placed it at the end of the casket.

The room was silent as Mrs. Kennedy, holding hands with Caroline, walked up to the casket. Mrs. Kennedy touched the casket with her black-gloved hand and knelt, as Caroline, watching her mother, did the same with her own little white-gloved hand. They knelt together and kissed the flag that covered the casket, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

The ceremony concluded, and we returned to the White House. Now the president’s body would lie in state, allowing the public to file past and pay their respects. The funeral and burial would take place the next day, Monday, November 25.

I KNEW MRS. Kennedy wanted to walk some of the way in the funeral procession but I did not know the details. SAIC Behn called me and said, “Clint, are you aware of what Mrs. Kennedy intends to do during the funeral procession?”

“Well, yes, she has mentioned that she intends to walk part of the way.”

“That is really going to create a problem,” he said. “We have I don’t know how many heads of state coming from all over the world, not to mention every high-ranking official in the U.S. government, including President Johnson. And if she walks, they will feel compelled to walk.”

“Believe me, I understand, Jerry. But, if that is her intent, rest assured that is what she will do.”

“Listen, we really need your help. This funeral is going to stretch our security capabilities to the max as it is. Will you please try to talk her out of it? You are the only one who even has a chance.”

“I’ll try Jerry, but when she makes up her mind to do something, there’s little chance of talking her out of it.”

She was upstairs in the residence, so I called and told her I needed to speak with her.

“Come on up. I’ll be in the Treaty Room,” she said.

I took the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hall to the Treaty Room. She was waiting in there for me.

“Hello, Mr. Hill. Come in,” she said. She was pale and drawn; her face looked incredibly sad. It was like she was there, but she wasn’t. She was cordial, and in control, and clearly capable of making decisions, but her spirit was gone.

I suppose some people may have said the same thing about me.

“Mrs. Kennedy, I’ve been told you intend to walk in the funeral procession tomorrow and I wanted to clarify what exactly it is that you intend to do.”

“Oh Mr. Hill, you are always looking for the little details in everything. Are you concerned?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Well, don’t worry, I’ve decided not to walk all the way, only from the White House to St. Matthew’s.”

“Mrs. Kennedy, there is a lot of concern about other people who might decide to walk, if you walk. Heads of state, for example.”

“Well, Mr. Hill, they can ride or do whatever they want to. I’m walking behind the president to St. Matthew’s.”

I knew that determination in her voice. Oh how well I knew it. She had made up her mind, and nobody was going to be able to talk her out of it.

“Okay, Mrs. Kennedy. Thank you for telling me your plans.”

I left, returned to my office, and called SAIC Behn.

“Jerry, I’ve talked to Mrs. Kennedy and she does intend to walk during the funeral procession tomorrow, but only from the White House to St. Matthew’s.”

“No chance to talk her out of it, Clint?” he asked.

“Believe me, Jerry. Nothing is going to change her mind. She is walking.”

LATER THAT DAY, Prince Radziwill, Mrs. Kennedy’s brother-in-law, arrived from Europe. I was in my office the evening of Sunday, November 24, when the phone rang.

“Clint Hill,” I answered.

“Oh, Mr. Hill,” the familiar voice began—which meant to me, I was about to be asked to do something not in my job description—“Stash has just arrived from Europe and really wants to pay his respects to the president. Do you think you can arrange it?”

“I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Kennedy,” I replied. “What exactly does he want to do?”

“He wants to go to the Capitol and I’ve heard you can’t get in for hours. Can you help him?”

“When does he want to go?”

“He is ready now.”

“Tell him to come down to the Diplomatic Reception Room and I’ll take him to the Capitol.”