by Hill, Clint
10
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Traveling with the Kennedys: Europe
Around the time the Bay of Pigs disaster was unfolding, Mrs. Kennedy informed me that she was going to be joining President Kennedy on his first presidential trip to Europe, with stops in Paris, Vienna, and London. Additionally, Mrs. Kennedy had decided to tack on a personal vacation to Greece at the end of the official trip. This news came as somewhat of a surprise because Mrs. Eisenhower had rarely traveled internationally with Ike, and I assumed Mrs. Kennedy—especially with two young children—would not be traveling much either. I was extremely pleased when I was assigned to handle the advance—first in Paris and then, while she and the president went to Vienna, I would fly ahead to Athens to conduct the advance for her trip there.
Shortly before I departed for Paris, I got word that President Kennedy wanted to see me in the Oval Office. I had never been summoned to the Oval Office before; this was highly unusual. When I walked in, I was surprised to see not only the president but the attorney general—his brother Bobby—standing with him.
“Clint,” President Kennedy said, “I understand you will be doing the advance for Mrs. Kennedy in Greece.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” I answered. “That’s what I have been advised.”
President Kennedy glanced at the attorney general and then looked back at me.
“The attorney general and I want to make one thing clear . . . and that is, whatever you do in Greece, do not let Mrs. Kennedy cross paths with Aristotle Onassis.”
At the time, I had no idea why he would make such a request, but I simply answered, “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”
A TEAM INCLUDING White House press secretary Pierre Salinger, presidential aide Ken O’Donnell, and Secret Service director Jim Rowley had flown to Paris for a two-day pre-survey trip, during which they decided the agenda, the accommodations, protocol, and general security. They made connections with our French counterparts, returned to Washington, laid out the framework, and then it was up to the advance teams to do all the work.
President Kennedy’s main purposes for the visit were to get acquainted with President Charles de Gaulle; to promote greater unity within the Atlantic Alliance, the military partnership between the United States and Europe; and to seek common policies on disputes between the Soviet Union and the West. Meanwhile, Mrs. Kennedy and her social secretary, Tish Baldrige, had planned an elaborate schedule for her that overlapped with the president’s only for official functions. My biggest concern was that I didn’t speak a word of French, so I was fortunate that Tish, who spoke fluent French, would be with me on the advance. When we arrived in Paris along with the president’s advance team, we had only about a week to coordinate the thousands of details that go into a state visit. Everyone had their roles—security, press, communications, transportation—and we all worked long days to make sure this important visit went off without a hitch. I don’t think the general public has any idea what goes into planning a presidential visit, and it was on this trip—my first overseas advance—that I gained a tremendous amount of respect for the guys in the White House Army Signal Agency.
The WHASA team had gone over with the pre-survey group, and over the span of a few weeks they were tasked with preparing a complex telephone system that would serve the president, his staff, and the Secret Service while we were in Paris. Each of us would have a special telephone that was connected to all other extensions of the visiting party in Paris, but also connected directly to the White House switchboard in Washington. I had a room in the Quai d’Orsay, the headquarters of the Foreign Ministry, where President and Mrs. Kennedy would be staying, while the majority of the entourage—including more than one hundred White House correspondents and photographers and the majority of the Secret Service agents—would stay in nearby hotels. At each of these hotels and at the Quai d’Orsay, WHASA set up switchboards operated by their personnel, and when someone called, the switchboard operator would answer, “Paris White House.” Thinking back now, with the kinds of technology—or lack thereof—that we had back then, the work they accomplished was nothing less than brilliant.
As we conducted the advance, it became clear that the government of France wanted not only President Kennedy to be seen by as many people as possible but Mrs. Kennedy as well. Due in part to the pre-visit media campaign organized by Pierre Salinger, much was being made of Mrs. Kennedy’s affection for the country and the fact that her father’s ancestors—the Bouviers—hailed from France.
A grand motorcade procession was planned for President and Mrs. Kennedy’s arrival, in which President Kennedy and President de Gaulle would ride together in an open-top limousine. The wives would follow in a car with a hardtop, under the assumption that the ladies wouldn’t want to risk rain or wind messing up their hair.
Tish Baldrige and I were in a meeting when one of the French officials seemed to be distressed about something. I looked at Tish, questioning what was being said, and she interpreted for me.
“He says the people of France are just as eager to see Madame Kennedy as well as her husband. Hundreds of thousands of people will be lining the streets of Paris, and they will surely be disappointed if Mrs. Kennedy is not visible.”
An idea suddenly struck me. “It would be ideal to have a bubbletop like our Secret Service car 4-B,” I said to Tish.
Tish translated, and the French officials loved the idea so much that they decided to take a new Citroën sedan, cut off the metal top, and insert a Plexiglas roof in its place, thus giving Mrs. Kennedy maximum exposure as she traveled to various venues in Paris. I was impressed by their desire to do everything possible to make this a memorable visit, and even more impressed that, within days, they had created the Citroën bubbletop.
Meanwhile, back in Washington, an army of specialists in the State Department was also working long hours to prepare extensive briefings for the president, his staff, and the traveling press. When the president arrived in Paris, he would know specifics about the current condition of France’s social, economic, political, and military situations, as well as the names and backgrounds of President de Gaulle’s top advisors.
President and Mrs. Kennedy arrived in Paris on the morning of May 31, and the French put on an incredible spectacle that rivaled any state visit I had ever seen for President Eisenhower. There was a full military ceremony at the airport, followed by a motorcade through the streets of Paris that included more than one hundred police motorcycle escorts and another hundred Republican Horse Guards in full military regalia.
It was estimated that two million Parisians lined the streets. There were people hanging out windows and packed on balconies, and the wide boulevards of the city were filled with people holding welcome signs and cheering “Vive le présidente Kennedy!” But even more frequently you would hear voices in the crowd yelling “Vive Jac-qui! Vive Jac-qui!”
In the past, first ladies were seen but seldom, if ever, heard. Here in Paris, Mrs. Kennedy accompanied the president to the Hôtel de Ville—Paris’s City Hall—helping to translate for her husband when he met with French officials, and at the spectacular white-tie dinner at Versailles, as she conversed in French with the notoriously surly President de Gaulle, there was no doubt she helped ease relations between the two men. At one point during the trip, President Kennedy appeared at a luncheon for four hundred journalists and said, “I do not think it altogether inappropriate to introduce myself. I am the man who accompanied Jacqueline Kennedy to Paris. And I have enjoyed it.”
The two-country summit in Paris was reported as an enormous success, and representatives from both France and the United States stated publicly that after six in-depth meetings between Kennedy and de Gaulle, the relationship between our two countries was stronger than ever.
From Paris I went directly to Athens, Greece, while President and Mrs. Kennedy flew on to Vienna for a summit with Premier Khrushchev. I was not in Vienna, but by all accounts afterward, the meetings between Kennedy and Khrushchev were a disaster for President
Kennedy. Coming just six weeks after the Bay of Pigs fiasco in Cuba as they did, the president needed to show that he was up to the task of leading America on the world stage. Just the opposite happened. Instead, Khrushchev took the opportunity to lecture President Kennedy on U.S. foreign policy and warned him about surrounding the Soviet Union with military bases.
By treaty we had free access from West Germany to West Berlin, deep inside East German territory. The Communists wanted to stop the exodus of East German people and skilled manpower passing freely into West Berlin and beyond into West Germany by signing a peace treaty with East Germany that would impinge on Western access to Berlin. Khrushchev threatened that our resistance could lead to war.
Indeed, after the failed summit, both sides made sudden and dramatic moves that had perilous implications. The U.S. Congress approved an additional $3.25 billion in defense spending, a tripling of the draft, a call-up of the reserves, and a strengthened civil defense program. The Soviets resumed above-ground nuclear tests and began building the Berlin Wall. The following year, they would begin installing nuclear missiles in Cuba.
It was a sober lesson for President Kennedy—that in a dangerous world, the perception of weak American leadership can embolden our enemies to take aggressive action. Khrushchev came away with the opinion that the new American president was weak and inexperienced, while President Kennedy, in an interview with James Reston of the New York Times, said the summit meeting had been “the roughest thing in my life.”
Meanwhile, Mrs. Kennedy had become a star on the world stage, which made protecting her all the more challenging. Her trip to Greece had been highly publicized, and as soon as she arrived people would swarm around us, trying to get close to her. After touring the historic sites in Athens with intrusive crowds following her every step, she decided to spend the rest of her holiday in the seaside town of Kavouri. She stayed in a private villa, where we also had use of the owner, Markos Nomikos’s, private yacht, the Northwind. It was on this trip that I began to realize being on the first lady’s detail wasn’t nearly as bad as I had envisioned it would be.
I never did figure out a good explanation for President Kennedy’s request to keep Mrs. Kennedy away from Aristotle Onassis other than the fact that Mr. Onassis had been in legal trouble with the United States, and perhaps the president was concerned about repercussions should the press have gotten photos of Onassis and Mrs. Kennedy together.
On that trip in 1961 however, Mrs. Kennedy did not cross paths with Aristotle Onassis.
11
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Hyannis Port
Just as Ambassador Kennedy’s residence in Palm Beach became the Winter White House, the Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, became the Summer White House. I had never been to Cape Cod before, but it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with this New England beach haven, about seventy miles from Boston, where the extended Kennedy family spent their summers. The centerpiece for the family’s gatherings was Ambassador Kennedy’s home—a large, rambling, white-shingled house with a huge front porch that overlooked an expansive lawn that became the playing field for football games as well as the landing pad for the presidential helicopter. Behind the main house were three smaller homes in the same Cape Cod style, which belonged to JFK, Eunice Kennedy Shriver, and Robert Kennedy. There was always something going on—touch football, water-skiing, swimming, tennis, golf, sailing. I had never seen such a close family, or a family with so much energy and competitiveness. And there I was, right in the middle of it all.
We set up the Secret Service command post in a little guest cottage between Bobby’s and the president’s houses. From noon on Mondays to noon on Fridays, the president would be in Washington, while Mrs. Kennedy, John, and Caroline stayed in Hyannis Port.
At noon on Friday, the whole routine changed. For the next forty-eight hours, activity on the compound was at its maximum. Almost like clockwork, President Kennedy would arrive at Otis Air Force Base on Air Force One. From there he would transfer to an Army or Marine helicopter—military green with a white top, denoting it was a presidential chopper—and fly to Hyannis Port, landing in the front yard of Ambassador Kennedy’s residence.
The helicopter arrival was a huge event for the children. The kids would all come running when they heard the distinctive sound of the rotors getting louder and louder overhead. As soon as the chopper touched down, the door would open and the president would bound down the steps. Caroline would be first in line, followed by all her cousins, running to meet him. President Kennedy would be laughing, a look of sheer joy on his face, as if the sight of the children and his beloved Hyannis Port made all the worries of his office disappear for one brief moment. We would have a golf cart waiting in the driveway, and he’d go straight for it, hop behind the wheel, and yell, “Anyone for ice cream?”
Ten or twelve kids would pile onto the cart, and the president would take off down the driveway, a huge grin on his face as he cut across the lawn behind Bobby’s house in an effort to lose the Secret Service follow-up car. He’d end up at the tiny News Store, where he’d buy ice cream cones for all the children.
Lunchtime cruises were almost a daily event—either on the Marlin, Ambassador Kennedy’s fifty-two-foot motor yacht, or the presidential yacht (previously the Barbara Anne), which Kennedy had renamed the Honey Fitz after his maternal grandfather, who had been given the nickname “Honey Fitz” because of his personal charm and charisma. We would create a security perimeter around the yacht consisting of one or two Coast Guard boats and two Navy jet boats, all operated by military personnel under the direction of the Secret Service agents on board. I always worked one of the speedy jet boats, and I have to say that some of my best and happiest memories are of those weekends in Hyannis Port.
Frequently, the president would sail the Victura, the twenty-five-foot Wianno Senior sailboat his parents gave him for his fifteenth birthday. He loved that boat. He could maneuver it with such grace and ease that it was almost like it was an extension of himself. We would surveil him and prevent anyone from venturing too close, but basically he was on his own, with no telephones, no advisors, nothing to interrupt an hour or so of respite from the enormous responsibility that comes with being President of the United States.
One day, the president and his good friend Chuck Spalding were sailing the Victura close to shore, just off the dock from the ambassador’s residence. They were in the midst of a deep conversation and didn’t realize they were coming upon some rocks. Suddenly, the boat stopped dead in the water as it got wedged between the rocks.
I was in a jet boat nearby, watching the scene unfold, fully expecting the president to get the boat moving again with ease, but the boat wasn’t budging. President Kennedy dropped the mainsail to let the wind out of it, stood up, and turned toward me.
“Hey, Clint, can you give us a little help? We seem to be stuck.”
“I’ll be right there, Mr. President,” I said as I jumped into the water.
We were so close to shore that the water was only up to my thighs, so I waded over to the stuck sailboat. I couldn’t tell what the problem was, due to the glare on the water, so I took a deep breath and went under the boat. Sure enough, the hull was wedged in between two good-sized boulders.
“Looks like you’re wedged in between two big rocks, Mr. President,” I said. “Let me see if I can rock the boat to get it moving. You may want to sit down.”
The president laughed and said, “Good idea. But I’m more concerned about the boat than Chuck and myself.”
I placed my feet on top of one of the boulders and squatted with my back against the bottom of the hull. “Hang on, Mr. President,” I said. “Here we go.”
I began to rock up and down, and as the boat started to move I gave one big thrust upward with my body while simultaneously pushing down with my legs. As I did so, the Victura slid off the rocks, causing my feet to slip down each side of the rock on which I was standing. The rock was shaped somewhat like a cone,
and that final thrust caused me to go straight down, with the cone-shaped rock crashing into my groin area.
I gritted my teeth to keep from yelling out in pain as the president immediately raised the sail and turned the tiller, allowing the boat to slowly glide away.
“Thanks, Clint!” the president called back to me, unaware of what had just occurred under the water.
“No problem, sir,” I replied. “Glad I was able to help.”
I walked gingerly through the water back to the jet boat, and as I climbed over the side I noticed blood running down my legs. I had almost crushed a very important part of my anatomy. Pained and bloody, I continued on for the rest of the day.
I didn’t realize that Cecil Stoughton, one of the White House photographers, happened to catch the ordeal on film, and apparently word got back to the president that I had been injured. A few days later I received an 8-by-10 photo of the president and Chuck Spalding standing on the Victura as I waded through the water toward the stuck boat. The president had signed the photo with the inscription:
For Clint Hill
“The Secret Service are prepared for all hazards”
John F. Kennedy
There was always some kind of activity going on, including those legendary football games on the lawn. Somebody would start rounding up players and picking teams, and I’d get a call at the command post from Bobby or Teddy.
“Clint, come on down here. We need another guy for our team.”
They treated me just like one of them—almost like part of the family. I thoroughly enjoyed it—not just for the sport, but also because it gave me the opportunity to occasionally throw a good hard block across certain family members. It was all in good fun.
The typical routine was that President and Mrs. Kennedy would go to Newport, Rhode Island, after Labor Day to spend time with Mrs. Kennedy’s mother, Janet, and stepfather, Hugh Auchincloss. The Auchinclosses had a large home with a dock overlooking Narragansett Bay, and the presidential yacht would be sailed from Hyannis for the family to use. The weather in the fall could be unpredictable, though, and fog was sometimes a problem.
