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

on duty while Agent Jeffries went to Woody’s Motel to check in. A few hours later, Mrs. Kennedy called down to the command post.

“Mr. Hill, I want to go to Worth Avenue and do some shopping. I haven’t had a chance to do any Christmas shopping, and I’d like to see what is in the stores this season. The press is concerned about the president’s health at the moment, so hopefully no one will pay any attention to me.”

“Okay, Mrs. Kennedy. I’ll get the car ready.”

The spur-of-the-moment shopping trip was typical of her. I knew there was no chance she would go unnoticed, but I sensed that she just wanted to go out and try to be a “normal” person. She knew that Agent Jeffries was not on duty, and I realized that, more and more, she would call me specifically for things, rather than following the protocol of going through Jeffries, who was the Agent in Charge of her protection. It was pretty evident to everybody that she and I had a comfortable rapport, while she and Jeffries just didn’t connect.

We drove to Worth Avenue, and I parked the car on a side street, hoping to at least avoid immediate attention. I got out, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door for her, taking her hand gently as she stepped out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” she said with a smile. “I do hope I can raise John to be such a gentleman.”

The sun felt good as we walked down Worth Avenue. I stayed close to her to make it appear as if we were a couple, which would look less conspicuous than if she were walking a few steps ahead of me. My eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, constantly scanned the other people on the street. At first no one noticed us, and I thought maybe she was right after all.

She stopped in front of a store window and asked, “What do you think of that dress, Mr. Hill?”

It looked like something she would wear, and would look attractive on her tall, slim figure.

“It’s very nice. That color would look great on you. Do you want to go in?”

“Yes, let’s go have a look.”

I opened the door, scanned the store quickly, and then allowed her to walk in ahead of me.

As soon as she walked in, the woman behind the checkout counter dropped whatever she was holding and put her hands up to her mouth, gasping in utter shock. There was a chain reaction, and within seconds, everyone in the store was staring at us—at her.

It’s Jackie!

Oh my God! Jackie Kennedy is in the store!

Mrs. Kennedy tried to ignore the gasps and stares, going from one rack to the next, but soon it became too uncomfortable for her. She grabbed my arm and whispered, “Let’s go.”

We proceeded to walk into a few more shops, but everywhere we went the reaction was the same. Word spread like wildfire and soon there were people gathering on the sidewalk. I felt sorry for her and wished there was something I could do.

It wasn’t long before we were back in the car, headed back to the Paul residence, having got very little shopping done.

President Kennedy was supposed to have flown back to Washington right away to prepare for a critical meeting in Bermuda with Prime Minister Harold Macmillan of the United Kingdom, but because of his severe cold, he decided to stay overnight in Palm Beach.

THE NEXT MORNING, the president felt well enough to return to Washington, and the ambassador, never able to get enough time with his son, joined the president in the car for a last-minute chat on the way to the airport.

A short while later, Mrs. Kennedy informed me she wanted to go to the ambassador’s residence.

“The ambassador has gone golfing and I’m going to go swimming with Caroline,” Mrs. Kennedy said.

“I’ll get the car,” I said. Paul Landis came along for Caroline’s protection.

The ambassador’s residence was still well secured, so Paul and I tried to give Mrs. Kennedy and Caroline as much space as possible, while staying within eyesight in case there were any problems.

Not long after we arrived, Ambassador Kennedy returned to the residence.

I knew he couldn’t have finished a round of golf in that time, and he appeared to be walking more slowly than usual, like he was completely worn-out.

He walked toward the house and Mrs. Kennedy called out to him, “You’re home early. Is everything all right?”

“I’m just feeling very tired,” the ambassador said. “I’m going to go upstairs and lie down.”

Shortly after one P.M., Mrs. Kennedy called the command post and said, “Please call an ambulance right away. Something is wrong with Mr. Kennedy.”

An ambulance arrived within several minutes and the president’s father was whisked to St. Mary’s Hospital in Palm Beach.

I could tell Mrs. Kennedy was deeply concerned about her father-in-law. She kept her thoughts to herself, but there was worry written all over her face.

When we got to St. Mary’s Hospital, we were notified that the ambassador had suffered a stroke, a blood clot in the brain. He was partially paralyzed and his speech was severely impaired.

Mrs. Kennedy’s eyes welled with tears as she walked into the ambassador’s hospital room to join Rose Kennedy and his beloved niece Ann Gargan by his bedside.

Mrs. Kennedy stayed in there for nearly an hour, conferring with the doctors. When she came out of the room, I could see the emotional strain on her face, and I sensed that the ambassador’s condition was even worse than she had expected. She looked so incredibly sad, standing there alone, and it pained me because I knew what a special relationship she had with her father-inlaw. I walked toward her and looked into her eyes. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to reach out and hug her, like I would any friend in a time of need, but I knew it wasn’t appropriate.

“It’s going to be okay, Mrs. Kennedy. It’s going to