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

“Personally,” President Kennedy said, “the history of Scotland captured me at a very young age. The U.S., in fact all of us, love, I suppose in a sense, lost causes. And on occasion the history of Scotland has been a lost cause, but perhaps in some ways they have triumphed. Perhaps more today than ever before. We regard it as a great honor to have representatives of a great country to have as our guests here at the White House.”

The audience cheered as the president and Mrs. Kennedy walked back across the lawn, then walked up the steps to the South Portico porch, where John and Caroline were patiently watching and waiting.

All eyes were on the balcony as President and Mrs. Kennedy took their seats, and when Caroline jumped into the lap of her father, cameras were snapping like crazy. It was rare for the public to see the family like this together in such a relaxed setting—something I witnessed regularly—and they loved it.

As soon as they were situated, the performance began. And what a performance it was. Dressed in the dark navy, green, and black plaid kilts for which they are noted, with white boots, and magnificent headdresses made of black ostrich feathers, the regiment put on a spectacle like nothing that had ever been performed on the grounds of the White House. Trumpets, trombones, tubas, and drums harmonized together as a backdrop for the haunting sounds of the bagpipes. And as they played, the performers high-stepped and sword-danced in intricate maneuvers flawlessly timed to the tempo of the traditional Scottish tunes. For those of us who had the privilege of being there, it was something we will never forget. And in return, it was obvious that the Black Watch were incredibly honored to be able to perform in this prestigious setting, as the young American president sat on the balcony of the White House, surrounded by his family, tapping his hands on his knees to the rhythm of the drum.

ON WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 20, Mrs. Kennedy and I returned to the White House after another long weekend at Atoka. We were leaving the next morning for Texas, and while she was concerned with packing the proper wardrobe, I needed to get an update on the logistics and security arrangements.

I walked from my office in the Map Room, down the hall to the Secret Service office, and found Floyd Boring and Roy Kellerman, the two Assistants to the Special Agent in Charge of the White House Detail. Both of these men reported to Jerry Behn, the SAIC, and while Behn was taking a few well-deserved days off, they were the top men in charge.

“Hey, Clint,” Floyd said as soon as I walked in the door. “We were just discussing the Texas trip.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s what I wanted to talk about, too.” I held up my copy of the schedule. “Looks ambitious.”

They looked at each other and then Floyd said, “Clint, shut the door.”

It wasn’t unusual to close the door to the Secret Service room—there were lots of times our conversations needed to be confidential—but I wondered what was up.

“Listen, Clint,” Floyd said. “You know we just came back from Florida, right?”

“Yeah. The president was in Cape Canaveral, Tampa, and Miami, is what I recall.”

“That’s right,” Floyd said. “And something happened in Tampa you need to know about. I presume that since you’ve been at Atoka, you hadn’t heard.”

I shook my head. All I had heard was what had been transmitted over the radio. I didn’t recall anything out of the ordinary.

Floyd continued. “We had a long motorcade in Tampa, and it was decided that we should keep two guys on the back of the car for the entire route—just for added precaution.”

I nodded. That wasn’t all that unusual. There were steps and handholds built onto the back of the presidential limousine—the one we called “100X”—specifically for that purpose. Whenever there were heavy crowds, you wanted to have agents as close to the president as possible.

“So, we had Chuck Zboril and Don Lawton on the back of the car the entire way,” Floyd said. “But partway through the motorcade, in an area where the crowds had thinned, the president requested we remove the agents from the back of the car.”

“Really?” I asked. I had never heard the president ever question procedural recommendations by his Secret Service detail. “What was the reason?”

“He said now that we’re heading into the campaign, he doesn’t want it to look like we’re crowding him. And the word is, from now on, you don’t get on the back of the car unless the situation absolutely warrants it.”

“Okay,” I said. “Understood.”

We then moved on to discussing the logistics for the trip ahead, how Mrs. Kennedy was feeling, and how I thought she would cope with the trip. We were all surprised that she was going, but Boring and Kellerman agreed that the president and Mrs. Kennedy seemed so much closer since Patrick died, and we thought it might actually be beneficial for her to get out in public. There was no doubt it would benefit the president—his poll numbers had dropped considerably in key southern states, and he needed all the help he could get if he were going to get reelected.

I returned to my office and sat down at my desk. I picked up the schedule and read through it again.

We were to depart the White House at 10:45 A.M. and arrive at San Antonio International Airport at 1:30 P.M. local time. Motorcade through the city to Brooks Air Force Base. President dedicates a new Aerospace Medical Center. Motorcade to Kelly Field. Fly to Houston. Arrive Houston at 5:00 P.M. Motorcade through Houston to the Rice Hotel downtown. Brief appearance by President and Mrs. Kennedy. Back in the cars. Motorcade to Sam Houston Coliseum for a banquet in honor of Texas congressman Albert Thomas. Depart the Coliseum 9:45 P.M. Cars to airport. Fly to Fort Worth. Arrive Fort Worth 10:45 P.M. Motorcade