Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir by Clint Hil (love letters to the dead TXT) 📗

contrasted with the white snow that blanketed everything below. On the ground, a slough of reporters and photographers had joined President and Mrs. Kennedy at National Airport to greet their children. Mrs. Kennedy eagerly took baby John, who was bundled in a white blanket, from Maud Shaw’s arms, as President Kennedy scooped up Caroline, smothering her with kisses.

It had stopped snowing, but the strong wind sent the banks of snow drifting in every direction. Mrs. Kennedy pulled John close to her to shield his face from the biting cold, and I quickly moved into a position to try to block the wind from hitting them.

“Welcome back, Mr. Hill,” she said, as we strode toward the limousine.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy. It’s good to be back.”

She looked up at me with a glimmer in her eye and said, “Really? I was just thinking you’d probably rather be back in the warm weather and sunshine in Palm Beach!”

I laughed and said, “Well, I have to admit, I did get used to the weather down there. It sure beats this.”

Agent Jeffries was waiting with the back door open and as soon as Mrs. Kennedy was settled, I joined the contingent of Secret Service agents in the follow-up car, and we sped away to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

When we arrived at the White House, there was a big surprise waiting for Caroline. The head gardener had built a life-size snowman that stood at the edge of the driveway, its arms stretched out as if in a welcoming embrace to the new young members of the household. Caroline was delighted with her new “friend,” who was adorned with coal buttons, a carrot nose, a Panama hat, and a bow tie made of red ribbons. She jumped out of the car and gingerly walked up to the smiling snowman that was more than twice her size, and as she reached out to touch him, White House photographer Abbie Rowe captured the precious scene.

After a brief meeting with Agent Jeffries about the schedule for the upcoming week, I drove the six miles to my two-bedroom apartment in Alexandria, Virginia, for my own reunion with my wife and son. This was the longest I’d been away from home, and the transition was not easy. My wife’s perspective was that I had been on vacation in Palm Beach for two months, while she had been handling everything—paying the bills, maintaining the house, taking care of our very active four-year-old son—completely on her own. I knew it was rough on her, as it was on all the agents’ wives, and I did my best to empathize, but also explain that this was just part of the job. Unfortunately my suntanned face and arms didn’t help my case. I tried to reassure her that now that the Kennedys had moved into the White House, we would get into a routine, and presumably, I would be home more. What I didn’t realize was that Mrs. Kennedy was already planning to be away from Washington as much as possible. And where Mrs. Kennedy went, I went.

Six days later, I was en route to Middleburg, Virginia.

MIDDLEBURG IS ONLY about forty-two miles from Washington, and typically an easy drive, but the consistently bad weather had left the country roads nearly impassable because of the six- to eight-foot banks of snow along the plowed roadways. Thus it was decided that Mrs. Kennedy’s first trip to Glen Ora should be by helicopter. As Agent Jeffries was the lead agent on Mrs. Kennedy’s detail, he rode in the chopper with Mrs. Kennedy and Caroline, while I drove a Secret Service Mercury to be there waiting when they arrived.

The entrance to Glen Ora was marked by two simple stone pillars on either side of the driveway that looked like they’d been there since the Revolutionary War. The left pillar had a stone block engraved R. F. TARTIERE and the right, GLEN ORA FARM. You couldn’t see the house or any other buildings from the main road, and if it weren’t for the brand-new guard shack that had been erected at the entrance, you wouldn’t take a second glance at the place.

The three-quarter-mile dirt driveway had been cleared for our arrival, but like the rest of the roads, the snow was piled so high on both sides that the approach to the residence felt like you were driving through a tunnel.

The unpretentious eighteenth-century stucco and brick main house was painted a golden yellow with creamy white shutters and trim, and had numerous chimneys sticking out of the gray slate roof. Even though the residence contained six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, and library, it wasn’t overly large, and was, in my opinion, not nearly as luxurious as the residence at Camp David.

Glen Ora residence, Middleburg, Virginia

The White House Army Signal Agency (WHASA) provided the communication for the Secret Service as well as for the president. They brought in a trailer and placed it near the stables where we had established our Secret Service Command Post. Inside the trailer, they set up a telephone switchboard that had the capability of connecting to any telephone in the world. It also provided secure typewritten messaging and radio communication. Although our person-to-person communication was limited due to the size and weight of equipment available in those days, our car-to-car and car-to-base radio communication was excellent. All provided by WHASA.

Another issue was how to handle the press. The isolation and quaintness of Middleburg that Mrs. Kennedy found so appealing was not at all desirable to the White House press corps. The only lodging near Glen Ora was the Red Fox Inn, a historic tavern that dates back to 1728, and it had a limited number of rooms available, which meant that the reporters were forced to share twin-bedded rooms—something they weren’t used to and weren’t happy about. WHASA worked with the local telephone company to install additional telephone lines at the inn, while Western Union provided the necessary lines for