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

from Carswell Air Force Base into downtown Fort Worth. Arrive Texas Hotel 11:05 P.M.

Nine and a half hours on the ground. Five motorcades in three major cities. If the weather permitted, the president and Mrs. Kennedy would be in an open-top car. That was the norm. It was going to be a high-adrenaline day for everybody—the president, Mrs. Kennedy, and the agents. And that was just day one. The next day, we flew to Dallas and Austin for more of the same.

I suddenly wondered if I should have tried to talk Mrs. Kennedy out of the trip. She had such high expectations, and sincerely wanted to be involved in the campaign, but it was going to be exhausting. The last thing I wanted was for something like this to set her back. She had only just started laughing again.

23

That Day in Dallas

Clint Hill walks beside car as President and Mrs. Kennedy depart Love Field

The White House was alive with activity when I arrived at 8:00 A.M. November 21. The fact that Mrs. Kennedy was going with the president added a whole different dimension to the trip. This would be her first domestic political trip since her husband had become president, and everybody wanted it to go well.

I immediately went to the lower level of the West Wing, where the White House Transportation Office was gathering baggage, and dropped off my suitcase. From this point on I wouldn’t have to worry about my bags. When I arrived at my hotel room that night, all of my stuff would be there, waiting for me. There was no such thing as lost or misplaced luggage when you traveled on Air Force One.

At about 10:40 I heard the unmistakable sound of the helicopter landing on the South Lawn. I put out my cigarette, gathered the portfolio with all the details of the trip, and headed to the Diplomatic Reception Room to prepare to board the presidential helicopter.

It was always an impressive sight to see the Marine helicopter land right there on the lawn at the White House. And no one loved it more than John. As if on cue, the tousle-haired little boy came running in with Agent Bob Foster, as the president and Mrs. Kennedy followed closely behind.

“Hey John,” I said. “Are you coming on the chopper?”

He looked up at me with the biggest grin you can imagine and said, “Yeah! Look!” He pointed out the French doors. “There it is!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and everybody laughed.

It had become habit now—almost every time the president left the White House, he would ask one of the children’s agents to bring John for the short ride to Andrews Air Force Base. President Kennedy got such a kick out of seeing John’s enthusiasm on the helicopter. I don’t know who enjoyed it more—the president or his son.

As soon as the chopper touched down, the pilot powered down the rotors. When the Navy aide standing at the portico gave us the “okay” sign, we filed into the helicopter, which, as soon as the president boarded, became Marine One.

It was a short six-minute ride to Andrews, where pilot Colonel Jim Swindal had the presidential aircraft ready to go, engines running. It certainly was an impressive plane—with the blue, silver, and white theme that Mrs. Kennedy had had a hand in designing—and the proud UNITED STATES OF AMERICA boldly painted on the side. At times I still had to pinch myself that I was one of the privileged few who got to ride on Air Force One—on a regular basis. Only the presidential party and the shift agents assigned to the president and first lady would ride on Air Force One. Paul Landis was assigned to the backup plane with the afternoon shift agents. The president’s midnight shift agents were already headed to Fort Worth to set up security for our arrival there later in the evening.

The entire day’s itinerary was timed to the minute, and we had left the White House a few minutes late, so there was no time to delay.

“Okay, good-bye, John,” the president said as he leaned over and gave his son a hug.

“I want to come,” John whined. Tears welled in his eyes.

Mrs. Kennedy kissed him on the cheek and said, “It’s just a few days, darling. And when we come back, it will be your birthday.”

Wiping away a tear, she added brightly, “Maybe we’ll have a surprise or two.”

This didn’t appease John in the slightest. He was really crying now. Oh, how he wanted to go on the big plane with Mummy and Daddy.

President Kennedy leaned over and gently patted his son on the leg. “John, like Mummy said, we’ll be back in a few days.”

Then the president stood up and looked at Agent Bob Foster, who had slid into the seat next to John.

“Take care of John for me, won’t you, Mr. Foster?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Foster replied. “I’ll be glad to do that.”

John continued to cry as the president and Mrs. Kennedy exited the helicopter. Before I got off, I gave a quick look around to make sure nobody had left anything.

“Bye-bye, John,” I said. “You have fun with Mr. Foster now, okay? We’ll be back in a few days.”

We’ll be back in a few days . . .

ON THE FLIGHT to San Antonio, I sat in the aft cabin next to Roy Kellerman, the Assistant Special Agent in Charge (ASAIC) of the White House Detail. Forty-eight-year-old Kellerman was the supervising Secret Service agent on the trip, and just as I would be with Mrs. Kennedy the entire time, so would Kellerman be with the president. Kellerman was in his twenty-third year with the Secret Service and was one of the agents we all really looked up to. Extremely detail-oriented and methodical, he had started as a shift agent with President Franklin D. Roosevelt, and had risen through the ranks while serving under presidents Truman, Eisenhower, and now Kennedy. At six foot four, with gray-streaked black