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

Agent Clint Hill, sir,” I replied as I shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Radziwill.”

“Please, call me Stash,” he said with a smile. Stash Radziwill was about five foot ten, had short dark brown hair, and a well-trimmed mustache that accentuated his smile. He spoke with a slight British accent, and although he was quite distinguished, he was very informal. I liked him immediately.

I turned to Lee and said, “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Radziwill.”

She nodded and smiled.

Mrs. Kennedy walked over to me and said, “It was so nice to arrive in Athens without all the press around.” She glanced at Agent Jeffries and said, “It was awful in Rome. There were photographers everywhere and all I could hear was”—she changed to a higher-pitched voice with an Italian accent—“‘Jack-ie, smile! Over here Jackie! Smile!’”

I could tell the incident bothered her, and the indication was that Jeffries hadn’t done enough to protect her from the overzealous paparazzi.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Kennedy. We’ve made the Greek officials aware that this is meant to be a private visit for you, and we’ll do our best to keep the press at bay.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hill. I do appreciate that.”

I proceeded to another area of the villa to confer with Agent Jeffries about the incident, and to give Mrs. Kennedy and her guests some privacy. Jeffries explained the incident, much as Mrs. Kennedy had, without making any excuses. Mrs. Kennedy was unharmed, and that’s what mattered.

I walked outside to the front of the villa, and ran into Ken Giannoules.

“Clint, you won’t believe what just happened.” He had a look of bewilderment on his face.

“What? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Ken said. “I was standing in the doorway when Mrs. Kennedy came up to me and asked, ‘Mr. Giannoules, is the lorry coming soon?’ I assumed she meant the truck bringing the luggage so I said, ‘Yes, Mrs. Kennedy, the luggage is on its way and will be here shortly.’”

“Did she seem upset that it was taking too long?” I asked.

Ken laughed. “No, not at all. She was just questioning. What I don’t understand, and can’t believe, is that she knew who I was, and she called me by name, and pronounced it perfectly. I’ve never met her before.”

“I think I may have mentioned to her that I would be assisted on the advance in Greece by an agent named Ken Giannoules whose family came from Greece,” I said. “But that was before I left for Paris. It is rather remarkable that she would remember.”

That really made an impression on Ken, and from that moment on, he had a newfound respect for Mrs. Kennedy.

Agent Jeffries remained at the estate, along with another agent who stood post overnight, while Giannoules and I returned to our hotel in Athens.

We got up early the next morning and drove back to the villa. The sun was just rising, but as we got to a point where we could see the bay below Nomikos’s villa, I could hardly believe my eyes.

“Oh crap,” I said. “What the hell is going on?”

The Northwind was anchored just offshore, and surrounding it were dozens of fishing boats, small sailboats, and other small craft. The boats were filled with tourists and press, eager to snap a photograph of Mrs. Kennedy. Fortunately, the Greek navy was well aware of the situation.

The navy boats were patrolling the area, forcing the tourist boats farther and farther away from shore. We could hear them yelling, “Not stop here! Not stop here! Mrs. Kennedy!” I was pleased that they were doing their best to deny access to the boats, but dismayed that, by announcing Mrs. Kennedy’s name, they were confirming that she was indeed in the residence at the time.

At one point, one of the boats containing members of the press tried to ignore the navy’s orders and the navy boat responded by ramming into the press boat. Later, members of the press complained to me about the “excessive aggressive behavior” by the Greek security forces.

I was pleased with the way the Greek navy had handled the situation and responded to the press, “Don’t try to enter areas in which you are not wanted, and you won’t have any more problems.”

They were not so pleased with my response.

By the time Mrs. Kennedy awakened, the navy had pushed the intruding boats a mile away from shore. She and her guests were able to relax at the villa, sunbathing and swimming in privacy, before it was time to board the Northwind.

The 130-foot Northwind was a magnificent motor yacht with polished teak decks and five staterooms for its onboard guests. Ten crew members took care of the yacht and the needs of the guests. Agent Jeffries would remain aboard the yacht with Mrs. Kennedy, while Giannoules and I would travel on the mainland by car on this portion of the trip to ensure the security of the area to be visited.

The first stop was Epidaurus, on the Peloponnesus, and which had the best-preserved open-air theater in Greece, dating back to the fifth century B.C. Epidaurus was just thirty-five nautical miles from Kavouri, but by car it was close to one hundred miles, along windy, seaside roads. It was a beautiful drive, but both Giannoules and I would have much rather been on the yacht.

We arrived at the harbor to find the mayor of Epidaurus and the entire village waiting for Mrs. Kennedy’s arrival. Even though Mrs. Kennedy would only be in Epidaurus for a few hours, the villagers had whitewashed all the buildings and had strewn flowers throughout the streets to welcome her.

A special rehearsal of a Greek tragedy had been arranged for her and her guests. We were just a few small figures in the enormous amphitheater, which could hold more than fourteen thousand people. Mrs. Kennedy seemed awestruck as she sat on the 2,400-year-old stone bench absorbed in the play, while I sat nearby, not understanding a word that was being said.

Later, as we