by Hill, Clint
Advance teams had been sent to each city about ten days earlier to coordinate the political and security logistics—a relatively short amount of time, considering the countless details that needed to be arranged—and on the final schedule, everything was planned to the minute. President Kennedy had just returned late Monday night from a three-day trip to Florida that was centered around a visit to Cape Canaveral—where he saw a test launch of a Polaris missile and got an exceptionally encouraging briefing on the space program—but the trip also was politically motivated. With the 1964 presidential election only a year away, the president’s staff had set up the trips to Florida and Texas to get a feel for Kennedy’s popularity in each of those key southern states. Monday, November 18, was nonstop activity, with multiple motorcades and speeches in Tampa and Miami. The venues were overflowing with supporters, and although there were pockets of protestors challenging the administration’s stance on Cuba and civil rights at various points along the motorcade routes, the crowds were larger and more enthusiastic than anyone had expected. By all accounts it had been an enormously successful trip.
Meanwhile, I had been with Mrs. Kennedy for another long weekend at the new home in Atoka. When we returned to the White House on Wednesday, I checked in with my supervisors to get a better handle on what to expect for the trip to Texas.
Before we got into that, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Floyd Boring informed me of something that had happened in Florida.
“We had a long motorcade in Tampa,” Floyd said, “and it was decided that we should keep two guys on the back of the car for the entire route—just for added precaution.”
That wasn’t anything uncommon. SS-100-X had steps and handholds built onto the back specifically for that purpose. The idea was to have agents as close to the president as possible in that type of situation. If there was a sudden problem, our training was to “cover and evacuate.”
“So,” Floyd continued, “we had Chuck Zboril and Don Lawton on the back of the car the entire way. 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.”
That surprised me. I had never heard the president 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.”
“Understood,” I said.
The conversation replayed in my mind as I was sitting in my office in the Map Room, going over the schedule one more time, when President Kennedy came out of the elevator directly across the hall. Seeing me through the doorway, he called out cheerfully, “Good morning, Clint.”
“Good morning, Mr. President,” I said as I snuffed out my cigarette in the ashtray.
Walking toward me, he said, “Clint, just so you know, John will be riding with us to Andrews.”
“Yes, sir. I figured that might be the case. I’ll make sure Agent Foster is aware.”
Agent Bob Foster was one of three agents on the children’s Secret Service detail—the Kiddie Detail, as we called it—and it had almost become routine for the president to bring John, who would turn three on November 25, on the short flights between the White House and Andrews Air Force Base whenever possible.
At exactly 10:50 a.m. we lifted off from the White House grounds, landing six minutes later at Andrews, where pilot Colonel Jim Swindal had the presidential aircraft with tail number 26000, ready to go, engines running. As soon as the chopper landed on the tarmac alongside the presidential plane, young John’s whole demeanor changed. He had been told he wasn’t going with Mummy and Daddy on the big plane today, and now it was time to say good-bye. There were lots of tears, and while you could see that President Kennedy hated to leave his son like this, we all knew he couldn’t come with us.
Agent Bob Foster slid into the seat next to John and was trying to calm him down when the president, standing in the doorway of the helicopter, took one last look at his inconsolable son and said, “Take care of John for me, won’t you, Mr. Foster?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Foster replied. “I’ll be glad to do that.”
As the last one off the helicopter, I took a quick look around to make sure nobody had left anything. Poor John was still sobbing. I felt so sorry for him.
“Bye-bye, John,” I said. “You have fun with Mr. Foster, now, okay? We’ll be back in a few days.”
That’s one memory that still chokes me up, every time.
IT WAS 1:30 local time when we landed at San Antonio Airport. Hundreds of people were packed onto the rooftop of the airport terminal, screaming and cheering, and when President and Mrs. Kennedy emerged from the rear door of the aircraft, the crowd went wild. At the bottom of the stairs, Vice President and Mrs. Johnson and Texas governor John Connally and his wife were lined up to greet them in a formal receiving line. There was a standard protocol we followed so that arrivals like this were almost always the same. On this particular trip, the Connallys were the official hosts, so they would be traveling with President and Mrs. Kennedy, riding in the presidential limousine and on Air Force One throughout Texas.
The presidential car, SS-100-X, and the Secret Service follow-up car, which we called “Halfback,” had been flown to San Antonio by cargo plane and were lined up ready to go, with the other vehicles that would carry the vice president, other dignitaries, and the press staggered in procession behind.
Unlike the motorcades in foreign countries, for which we had to negotiate and compromise with the host country’s security forces, when we were in a parade-type situation in the United States, the Agent in Charge always rode in the right front passenger seat of the presidential vehicle, while the rest of the agents in the motorcade rode in Halfback. Like SS-100-X, the follow-up car had been modified with some special features. It could hold nine people in seats and had running boards along both sides, which, when you were standing on them, provided an elevated vantage point to observe the crowds. The running boards also served as launching platforms to get off of and onto the vehicle. Handholds attached to the edge of the windshield frame aided in our movement back onto the car. Behind the front seat, built into the divider, was a cabinet that held additional weapons.
It was a cloudless, sunny day—perfect weather for a political parade—and as we drove from the airport through San Antonio to our destination at Brooks Air Force Base, it seemed that half the city had come out to see President and Mrs. Kennedy. In fact, a presidential visit was such a rare occasion that the local schools had declared the day a holiday so the students could have the opportunity to see their president in person.
At Brooks Air Force Base, eleven thousand people had been waiting in the hot sun for a couple of hours before President Kennedy arrived. He made a brief speech, and when the audience erupted into a standing ovation, the president grabbed Mrs. Kennedy by the hand and headed straight for the crowd. The people went wild, pushing and screaming as the president and first lady intermingled with them, while we, the agents, stayed as close as possible. We finally got everyone back into their respective vehicles for the motorcade to Kelly Air Force Base, and then it was on to the next city.
It was a thirty-five-minute flight to Houston, and when we landed, we did the whole routine all over again. There was a welcome reception at the airport, and a large, boisterous crowd pushing against the rope line.
President and Mrs. Kennedy waved to the enthusiastic crowd, and when a group behind the fence line beckoned them to come closer, sure enough, President Kennedy strode toward them, with Mrs. Kennedy following behind. A bunch of people were waving KENNEDY IN 64 placards, and as the president got close the crowd roared. Ladies were shrieking at the sight of President Kennedy, while others yelled out “Jackie! Jackie!”
There hadn’t been time to securely transport SS-100-X and the follow-u
p car, so they had been sent on to Dallas, to be used the following day. In Houston, the local Lincoln Mercury dealer had loaned us cars, so there were no running boards or handholds like we had on our customized Secret Service cars. Using a standard Mercury convertible as the follow-up car, I sat on top of the car frame with my legs straddling the door, one inside and one out. When the crowds were bigger and I thought I might have to jump off quickly, I would move to a sidesaddle position. It was very awkward and uncomfortable, but the only other option was to run alongside the presidential vehicle the entire way.
A huge crowd was waiting at the entrance of the Rice Hotel, so we had to push through to get the president and Mrs. Kennedy into the elevator and up to the suite that had been arranged for them to rest and relax in for a few hours before the evening’s activities. I waited outside the suite with ASAIC Roy Kellerman as various people came and went. At 8:40 the president and Mrs. Kennedy came out of the suite, both of them having showered and changed into evening attire. They made a brief appearance at a reception being held by the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) at the hotel, and then we were back in the cars and off to the Coliseum for a dinner honoring Congressman Albert Thomas. Another grand entrance, a speech by the president, and then back into the cars headed for Houston International Airport.
At 10:15 Air Force One took off from Houston, finally headed to the last stop of the day—Fort Worth—where we would be spending the night. Vice President and Mrs. Johnson had arrived a few minutes before and were waiting at the bottom of the airplane steps to welcome the Kennedys and the Connallys to Carswell Air Force Base after the fifty-minute flight.
It was dark and drizzling, an hour before midnight, and yet thousands of people were standing there in the rain—mothers and fathers with children, students, and senior citizens—all waiting to see President and Mrs. Kennedy. It was almost beyond my comprehension why people would go to these lengths, especially at such a late hour, just for a brief glimpse of their president and first lady, but I suppose I had become somewhat jaded. I was around them all the time, and to me they were just regular people. But for these folks, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be able to say that they had seen President John F. Kennedy the night he came to Fort Worth, Texas.
It was 11:50 when we pulled up to the Hotel Texas, but you could hardly see the entrance because of the mass of humanity standing outside. The Fort Worth police had set up some temporary barricades to try to corral the people, but it was obvious they hadn’t expected this number. There had to be close to four thousand people outside, and when President and Mrs. Kennedy emerged from the car, the crowd erupted with excitement. People were pushing and tugging each other to get into a better position, and although at first President Kennedy dove into shake a few hands, I think he quickly realized this crowd was one snap away from becoming a stampede, so he allowed us to move him and Mrs. Kennedy inside the hotel as quickly as possible.
We had to push through yet another large crowd inside the lobby, but finally we got them up to the eighth floor, away from the screams and hollers and hands to Suite 850, where they would spend what would turn out to be their last night together.
WITH THE PRESIDENT’S midnight shift in place, I was finally off duty. It had been a long day for everybody. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. local time, but by my body clock it was 2:00 a.m. I hadn’t eaten in over thirteen hours, and except for the short airplane rides between cities I’d been on my feet the entire time.
After checking into my room, which was immediately next door to President and Mrs. Kennedy’s suite on the eighth floor, I went down to the lobby to see if I could locate something to eat, but the hotel restaurant was long since closed, and back in 1963 there was no such thing as a twenty-four-hour fast-food joint. Paul Landis and a few of the other agents who had come in on the press plane were in the lobby with some of the press corps, and everybody had the same idea. We were all famished.
Word was that the Fort Worth Press Club was nearby, and there might be something to eat there. Merriman Smith from United Press International (UPI) grabbed me by the arm. “Come on along, Clint,” he said. “We’ll get you fed.”
So we all walked over to the Press Club, only to find that the local newsies had cleaned out the buffet, and nothing was left. The bar was still open, so everybody decided we might as well at least have a drink. I ordered a scotch and water, which didn’t do anything to quell my hunger pangs, but at least it helped me wind down after running on pure adrenaline for the better part of the day.
Someone said there was another place nearby where the kitchen might still be open, so after one drink, I bought some cigarettes and walked over there with a few of the other guys. Once again, no food; all they were serving was some kind of fruit drink, which tasted horrible, so I went back to my hotel room and—after arranging for a wake-up call from the White House switchboard—promptly fell sound asleep.
17
* * *
Dallas
The morning of November 22, I got the wake-up call at six o’clock sharp. The sun had not yet risen and it was raining lightly, but outside hundreds of people were already gathering in the parking lot across the street. The president planned to make a few remarks—a last-minute addition to the schedule prior to the Chamber of Commerce breakfast—and a stage was already being erected for that purpose. By the time I had finished my breakfast, there were thousands packed into the square. Just like the night before at Carswell, there were people of all ages—including families with young children—standing in the drizzling rain for hours just so they could see President Kennedy for a few precious minutes.
While the president spoke to the cheering crowd in the parking lot, and then proceeded inside to the hotel ballroom for the Chamber of Commerce breakfast, I waited outside the presidential suite for Mrs. Kennedy to get ready. She had indicated to me that she would not attend the breakfast with the president, but at 9:10 I got an urgent call from Agent Bill Duncan.
“Clint, I’m down here at the breakfast with the president. He wants you to bring Mrs. Kennedy down, right now.”
“Mrs. Kennedy isn’t intending on going to the breakfast,” I said.
“The president just told me to tell you to get her down here now,” Duncan replied. “Everyone is waiting for her.”
I went into the suite and informed Mrs. Kennedy of the situation, urging her to hurry. Fortunately she was already dressed, but she hadn’t finished her makeup. Seven minutes later, she emerged wearing a pink hat that matched the two-piece pink suit she had chosen to wear to Dallas, and a pair of wrist-length white gloves. No one would ever guess she hadn’t planned to attend the breakfast function.
Inside the Grand Ballroom, the 2,500 guests were visibly restless, wondering why Mrs. Kennedy hadn’t yet appeared. The event was now more than half an hour late getting started. Paul Landis and I escorted Mrs. Kennedy through the kitchen, as we’d been instructed, and then I opened the door leading to the rear of the ballroom so the master of ceremonies could see Mrs. Kennedy behind me.
Clearly elated to see her, the MC leaned into the microphone and enthusiastically declared, “And now the event I know all of you have been waiting for!”
The sight of Mrs. Kennedy brought the entire room to a standing ovation.
As I led her to her seat on the dais between her husband and Vice President Johnson, I glanced at the president. He seemed relieved that she was finally here, and after allowing the applause to continue for a little while longer, he stepped up to the podium.
“Two years ago, I introduced myself in Paris by saying that I was the man who had accompanied Mrs. Kennedy to Paris. I am getting somewhat that same sensation as I travel around Texas.”
The audience burst into laughter. They loved him. Then he added, glancing at Mrs. Kennedy, “Nobody wonders what Lyndon and I wear.”
Mrs. Kennedy blushed as the audience howled with laughter. It was so typical of President Kennedy—to speak off-the-cuff, using humor to connect wi
th the crowd—and from that moment on, Mrs. Kennedy’s tardiness would be forgotten, and all anyone would remember was the inimitable charisma of John F. Kennedy.
AT 10:40 A.M. we left the Hotel Texas and motorcaded to Carswell Air Force Base, where Air Force One, the vice president’s plane, and the backup plane were ready to go. It was a short, fifteen-minute flight to Love Field in Dallas—we had barely reached flying altitude before we began the descent—but this was all about politics. Our destination in Dallas was the Trade Mart, where 2,600 people had paid to have lunch with President and Mrs. Kennedy and to hear him speak. It would have been much quicker to drive directly from Fort Worth to the Trade Mart in Dallas. Instead we drove from the Hotel Texas in Fort Worth to Carswell Air Force Base, boarded Air Force One, flew to Love Field, then drove through downtown Dallas toward the speech site. All of this to get a photo of President and Mrs. Kennedy coming off Air Force One in Dallas and to have a motorcade for maximum exposure.
It would be nearly fifty years before I could recount the details of what happened in Dallas—not because I was sworn to secrecy or because I had anything to hide. The reason is simple: the memories were just too damn painful. To this day, every moment is still vivid in my mind.
There was a large crowd waiting behind a chain-link fence as Air Force One pulled up to its arrival point at Love Field. I checked my watch and noted the arrival time in the little black datebook I always carried: 11:40 a.m. Central Standard Time.
President and Mrs. Kennedy exited the plane through the rear doors, and as they walked down the stairs the crowd went wild. Flags waving, people applauding, and calling out—it was another exuberant welcome in yet another Texas city. As soon as they had gone through the receiving line, the president headed straight for the crowd behind the fence, with Mrs. Kennedy following closely behind. The two of them moved along the fence line shaking hands for about five minutes, much to the great delight of the people who had come to greet them, while the other agents and I formed an envelope of security around them, constantly scanning the crowd for signs of trouble.
