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

when Mrs. Kennedy told me she would be joining the president to this very public event, making an appearance before a mass audience, and it was a clear indication of how close the two had become during and after the Cuban Missile Crisis. Additionally, she knew that her ability to speak Spanish to the crowd could only help her husband in overcoming what remained the biggest regret of his presidency.

Some forty thousand people jammed the Orange Bowl stadium to welcome home the brave freedom fighters, all of whom were dressed in their khaki uniforms—many of them missing arms and/or legs. The ceremony was wrought with emotion as President Kennedy was presented with the brigade’s war-torn flag, which had flown during the three-day battle at the Bay of Pigs, and which had been carefully saved as “their most treasured possession.”

As he graciously accepted the flag, President Kennedy stepped up to the microphone and boldly proclaimed, “I can assure you that this flag will be returned to this brigade in a free Havana.”

The stadium erupted into a thunderous roar.

Then Mrs. Kennedy stepped to the microphone and spoke, without notes, in fluent Spanish.

There was barely a dry eye in the audience as she concluded her brief remarks, and again the audience roared with applause. Then the president and Mrs. Kennedy got into a white convertible and as the car slowly drove out of the stadium, they stood and waved to the exuberant crowd.

At Orange Bowl, Agents Jerry Blaine, Ken Giannoules,Clint Hill, and Paul Landis work left side of car

I and the other agents jogged alongside the car, constantly scanning the crowd for any sign of disturbance or disruption, as we headed toward the waiting helicopter outside the arena. I helped Mrs. Kennedy out of the car, and as we walked toward the helicopter, the president came alongside her.

“You were wonderful, Jackie,” he said with a beaming smile on his face. “They loved you. Your remarks were just perfect.”

Under normal circumstances, I would never interject myself into a conversation like this, but I had to quell my curiosity.

“Mrs. Kennedy,” I said, “you got such an ovation that I have to ask . . . what exactly did you say?”

She and the president laughed and before she could answer, President Kennedy said, “Great question, Clint. I’d like to know myself.”

I knew that, more than likely, Mrs. Kennedy had shown her husband her intended remarks prior to the speech, so he was just ribbing her, and she knew it.

We reached the helicopter and as soon as we got aboard, Mrs. Kennedy pulled out the piece of lined yellow paper on which she had handwritten her remarks, and read them, in English: “It is an honor to stand here today with some of the bravest men in the world—and to share in the joy of their families who have hoped and prayed and waited so long. I am proud that my son could meet your officers. He is too young to realize what you did—but I will tell him your story as he grows up. My hope for him is that he will be a man a fraction as brave as the members of Brigade 2506.”

It was a lovely and heartfelt sentiment. Brief, but extremely meaningful and personal. Finally, it seemed, the president could put the failed invasion behind him, and move forward with a renewed sense of purpose and pride.

On New Year’s Eve, President and Mrs. Kennedy attended a lavish party, for the second year in a row, at the residence of Charles and Jayne Wrightsman. It was the social event of the season. The Dom Pérignon was flowing, and the party lasted until three o’clock in the morning. As we entered 1963, it seemed there was much to celebrate.

There was something different about Mrs. Kennedy, though. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but there was a sparkle in her eyes, like she was keeping a secret.

PART FOUR

1963

17

Mona Lisaand New York City

On January 8, 1963, we returned to Washington on Air Force One, and arrived back at the White House by helicopter just a few hours before President and Mrs. Kennedy were due at the French Embassy for an eight o’clock dinner in honor of the unveiling of the Mona Lisa at the National Gallery. I barely had time to go home, shower, and change into my tuxedo before returning to the White House.

When Mrs. Kennedy came out of the elevator from the residence on the arm of the president, she looked more stunning than I had ever seen her before. She wore a flowing, pale pink gown and no jewelry but for a pair of exquisite diamond earrings that hung like sparkling raindrops from her ear to her jaw. The dinner at the French Embassy was an elegant affair for about one hundred people, hosted by Ambassador Herve Alphand and his wife. The guests included France’s minister of culture, André Malraux, and his wife, as well as many members of the Kennedy family, among them the president’s mother, Rose. After the dinner, the schedule called for everyone to be transported to the National Gallery of Art, where more than one thousand other invited guests were waiting to see the unveiling of the most famous smile in the world.

Everything was going like clockwork until we got into the elevator at the gallery. The poor elevator operator took one glance at Mrs. Kennedy, and I could tell he was really flustered. He pushed the wrong button and then got even more flustered and somehow the elevator wouldn’t budge. We were on a tight time schedule, and the president said, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to walk up the stairs.”

Mrs. Kennedy’s dress was designed so that it hung nearly touching the floor in the front, and actually had a short train in the back that dragged along the ground. She had on high heels, and I was worried that she was going to trip.

“Mrs. Kennedy,” I said as