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

Karamanlis. I could tell that she was sincerely impressed, and despite the curious onlookers, she had truly enjoyed herself.

On Tuesday, June 13, Mrs. Kennedy and Prince and Princess Radziwill went to the Tatoi Palace for a private luncheon hosted by King Paul and Queen Frederika. The ten-thousand-acre royal summer residence was located just outside of Athens. After an exchange of gifts, we were preparing to leave the estate when Prince Constantine, the twenty-one-year-old heir to the Greek throne, drove up in his brand-new, dark blue convertible Mercedes sports car.

“Would you like to go for a ride, Mrs. Kennedy?” he asked.

“I’d love to!” she said. She glanced quickly at me, and without saying anything, hopped into the car, and the prince sped off.

Oh God.

Ken Giannoules had rejoined us for the mainland security portion of the trip and was waiting near the follow-up car. “Get in the car,” I said calmly to Giannoules, as I strode to the car. Nick Damigos was already in the driver’s seat with the engine running, so I jumped in the passenger seat, while Giannoules climbed into the back.

The king’s military aide, a colonel, had been standing nearby, and shouted, “I’m coming with you!”

The colonel jumped in the back and Nick stomped on the gas.

“Whatever you do, don’t lose him,” I said. The prince was driving so fast that we had already lost sight of the blue convertible, but we finally caught up just as he was turning onto the main road outside the palace.

I could see Mrs. Kennedy laughing as the car turned and the prince once again put it into high gear.

We had no idea where the prince was taking her, so we simply followed the racing blue car around the curving roads toward the port of Piraeus. Fortunately, Nick Damigos knew these roads well and was able to keep up with the prince and Mrs. Kennedy, so they were never out of our sight.

After stopping at the Royal Yacht Club to show her his sailboat, in which he had won a gold medal in the 1960 Olympics, Prince Constantine drove Mrs. Kennedy back to Nomikos’s villa at Kavouri.

We pulled up behind the convertible and Mrs. Kennedy had an enormous grin on her face. She knew she had put us to the test, and she loved it.

The colonel, however, was furious. He stormed over to Prince Constantine and bawled him out. I couldn’t understand the exact words in Greek, but there was no mistaking the message he was sending to the young man. Sheepishly, the prince got out of the car and said good-bye to Mrs. Kennedy as the colonel got into the passenger seat of the sports car, the veins in his neck still bulging. I felt sorry for the poor kid and was quite sure his ride back to the palace wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

I knew it wouldn’t be the last time she tried something like this. She despised schedules and loved to live spontaneously. For the agents who protected her, it was our job to react to whatever situation developed.

On June 15, we all boarded a commercial flight back to Washington and as the wheels went up, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. We had managed to keep the press at bay, the gawkers were kept under control, and I would be able to report to the president that Mrs. Kennedy had not crossed paths with Aristotle Onassis. Not yet, at any rate.

Mrs. Kennedy and Prince Constantine of Greece

7

A Summer in Hyannis Port

President and Mrs. Kennedy leave church in Hyannis Port, escorted by Clint Hill (right)

In the seven months since I had been assigned to Mrs. Kennedy, I had spent eighty percent of the time away from Washington, D.C., and from my family. Palm Beach, Middleburg, Paris, Greece. Now I had to tell my wife, who was pregnant with our second child, that I would be gone all summer, with Mrs. Kennedy, in Hyannis Port. This did not go over well.

I had come to realize that the Kennedy family had a regular routine when it came to holidays. Christmas, New Year’s, and Easter were always in Palm Beach; May 29, the president’s birthday, was usually celebrated in Hyannis Port, marking the beginning of the summer; Labor Day weekend was often spent at Hammersmith Farm in Newport, Rhode Island, the home of Jacqueline Kennedy’s mother and stepfather; then, Thanksgiving it was back to Hyannis Port.

The summer months were all about Hyannis Port. For the extended Kennedy family, this was home, and this was where all the activity took place. And boy was there activity. Rose and Joe, their children, and God knows how many grandchildren—the number was always rising—were gathered together, and there was always something going on. Touch football, waterskiing, swimming, tennis, golf, sailing. I had never seen such a close family, or a family with so much energy and competitiveness. Their laughter and cohesiveness was contagious, and there I was, right in the middle of it all.

Hyannis Port is a sleepy village on the south side of Cape Cod, about seventy miles from Boston. President Kennedy’s father owned a large, rambling, white shingled house that was the centerpiece for the family’s gatherings. Located at the very end of Marchant Avenue, overlooking the entrance to Lewis Bay off Nantucket Sound, the home was three stories, plus a lower basement level that opened to the expansive lawn leading down to the beach. A covered porch wrapped around the house from the front door to the ocean side of the house, providing an outdoor living area with a great view of the frequent family football games, sailing, and beach activities. There was a circular driveway with a tall flagpole in the middle, where the American flag was proudly displayed, constantly flapping with the ocean breeze. When the president was in residence, the presidential flag was also raised. Alongside the driveway was a large, flat piece of lawn that was ideal for landing the presidential