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

been heckled while giving a speech on world peace in Dallas. Then, when he emerged from the auditorium, a group of anti–United Nations protesters attacked him with placards, and someone reportedly spat on him. The police had to force back the protesters, and by all accounts, it was an ugly scene.

“Yes, I did hear about that,” I answered.

“I had dinner with the Roosevelts last night, and they tried to talk me out of going—especially to Dallas. What do you think?”

She had been so excited about the trip just a couple of days earlier, and now it seemed she was rethinking everything. I wondered whether it really had to do with the Stevenson incident.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get out of going to Johnson’s ranch?” I asked with a smile.

The details of the trip were still being worked out by the political staff, but the word was that Vice President Johnson and his wife had extended an invitation for an overnight visit at their ranch near Austin.

She looked at me and laughed.

“Well, that is rather frightening in and of itself . . . but really,” she said, turning serious, “I would like to know your opinion. Do you think the climate in Dallas is so . . . so hostile to the president that the people could mistreat us like they did Adlai?”

“Anything’s possible, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said. “But as far as I know, there are no more threats in Dallas or Houston or anywhere else in Texas than there would be in any other part of the South right now.”

“I suppose it seems rather silly to be worried about going somewhere in your own country, when I’ve gone to places like India and Pakistan and Morocco, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not silly, Mrs. Kennedy. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any reason. But right now, if you’re asking my opinion, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t feel perfectly safe going to Texas with the president.”

“Well, that makes me feel a lot better.” She grabbed my hand and said, “Thank you, Mr. Hill. You always know exactly the right thing to say.”

Over the next few days, I had a feeling she was still wavering, but on November 7, White House Press Secretary Pierre Salinger made the announcement to the press:

Mrs. Kennedy will accompany the president on the entire Texas trip. The trip is expected to include Houston and Austin and perhaps San Antonio, Fort Worth, and Dallas.

It was official. We were going to Texas.

CAROLINE HAD BECOME quite the equestrienne after her lessons during the summer in Hyannis Port, and it became almost a daily activity for Mrs. Kennedy and Caroline to go riding together. Meanwhile, John, who was nearly three years old, would tramp around the woods in cowboy boots and an army helmet. The agents had set up an army tent near the edge of the woods, and John would play for hours with his toy swords and guns, marching around, giving orders to his “army nurse,” Miss Shaw.

Like clockwork, on Saturday, John would hear the telltale sound of the helicopter coming in—the impressive Army or Marine helicopter with the white top denoting the president was aboard—and he could hardly contain himself. There was nothing that boy loved more than helicopters. And he knew that when the chopper came in, that meant Daddy was coming.

We all got such a kick out of John and everybody would play along, saluting “General John” when he was in his military getup. He would salute back, giggling like crazy. The only problem was, he always saluted with his left hand. No matter how many times we told him to use his right hand, his instinct always seemed to be to use his left hand.

The weekend before Veterans Day, Mrs. Kennedy told John that Daddy was going to take him to a special ceremony on Monday, where he would get to see real soldiers, marching and saluting. She tried to explain that Daddy was the commander in chief of all the soldiers, and they would all salute him.

“Now John,” she said, “when you see the other soldiers salute Daddy, you can salute him, too.”

Agent Bob Foster was by little John’s side when the president silently placed a floral wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, at Arlington National Cemetery, and “wouldn’t you know it,” Bob told me later, “as soon as the uniformed military color guard saluted, John raised his hand—his right hand—and saluted his father, right on cue. I was proud of the little guy.”

TWO DAYS LATER, on Wednesday, November 13, John got to see another military spectacle, when the Scottish Black Watch Regiment’s Pipers and Band performed on the south grounds of the White House. Noteworthy because they were Britain’s first kilted regiment, the famous military troupe was on tour in the United States and Mrs. Kennedy had invited them to perform on the White House lawn. Wanting to ensure an appreciative audience, she arranged for 1,700 underprivileged schoolchildren, along with the families of White House staff, to attend the four o’clock performance. Throngs of press people had come to the event as well—not so much because of their interest in the marching bagpipe band, but more for the opportunity to photograph the president, Mrs. Kennedy, and the children together.

It was a cold and dreary November afternoon, and while the Scotsmen in the regiment were wearing their traditional plaid kilts, everyone in the audience was bundled in winter coats, hats, and gloves. The president and Mrs. Kennedy walked onto the lawn, and after shaking hands with the commander, the president made a short speech acknowledging the brave and proud history of the Black Watch Royal Highlanders, and the fact that the colonel in chief of the regiment was the Queen Mother of Great Britain. Quipping that in one war—the War of Independence—they fought against us, he solemnly added that more important are the wars in which they have fought alongside us: World War I, World