from the Palm Beach Post Office for sorting, examination, inspection, and distribution. Unfortunately, this process causes a delay.”
She tilted her head and looked at me quizzically. “All the mail has to be inspected?”
I didn’t want to scare her, but I thought she should know exactly why we took this precaution.
“We need to ensure that there is no hidden explosive material or poisons prior to delivering letters and packages to you and the president-elect. And, of course, we screen for any mail that is threatening in nature.”
What I didn’t tell her was that we also weeded out the “hate” mail, of which there was plenty. The fact that President-elect Kennedy would be the first Catholic president did not sit well with many Americans. There was a fear that, as president, Kennedy’s decisions would be based on his religion and dictated by the pope. Additionally, Kennedy’s support for civil rights was unpopular in many parts of the country, and the violent nature of his opponents was of great concern to the Secret Service. Nothing was left to chance.
“But what about personal letters from my friends and family?” she asked. “Obviously those letters are safe, and it’s important that I receive them in a timely manner.”
We discussed a few options but none of them made me feel completely comfortable. Finally, I came up with an idea that I thought might work.
“How about if you have your friends and family put my name, ‘Clint Hill,’ along with your name as the addressee? This way, you can control who has this special access, and the post office can easily separate those letters and packages.”
She seemed delighted with this idea. “It will be so clandestine. My friends will find it amusing, so secretive!”
Rather than the postal workers and me having to learn the names of all her friends, I thought this would be the easiest and quickest way to solve the problem. It also meant that every morning, my first stop of the day was the Palm Beach Post Office to go over incoming mail for the Kennedys and pick out those with my name on them. I would then hand carry them to Mrs. Kennedy. It became a regular routine and worked very well. I soon learned that Mrs. Kennedy had a large number of family and friends—I had never received so much mail in my life.
Meanwhile, some threatening letters had been intercepted by the Secret Service in Washington, which had everybody on high alert.
The first Sunday after our arrival in Palm Beach, the president-elect had decided to attend Mass at St. Edward Church, a Catholic parish in Palm Beach. Mrs. Kennedy was still recuperating, and while she didn’t plan to join her husband, she and Caroline walked with him to the front gate of the estate, where some well-wishers had gathered outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the family. Mrs. Kennedy waved to the onlookers before retreating into the privacy of the grounds, as Secret Service agents escorted the president-elect to the church, just a short drive away.
Four days later, a seventy-three-year-old man named Richard Pavlick was arrested by Palm Beach police following an intensive search based on letters Pavlick had written threatening to turn himself into a “human bomb” to kill President-elect Kennedy. Pavlick believed Kennedy’s father had bought the election and Pavlick thought he’d be seen as a hero for killing John F. Kennedy before he was inaugurated. Police found dynamite, detonating caps, and battery wiring in Pavlick’s car and at his West Palm Beach motel room. The mentally unstable man stated he had planned to set off the bomb outside the Kennedy residence as the president-elect was leaving for church the previous Sunday. He had parked his car on a nearby side street with the intention of ramming it into Kennedy’s car, but the sight of Mrs. Kennedy with young Caroline made him reconsider his plan. He had no intention of harming the president-elect’s family, so he decided to wait for another opportunity when Kennedy was alone.
President-elect Kennedy was informed of the incident, and it was left up to him to decide whether it was something he should share with his wife. I never discussed it with Mrs. Kennedy, but the knowledge that we had come so close to an assassination attempt prior to the Inauguration gave each of us a reason to be more vigilant and determined to ensure the maximum security possible even in this relaxed environment. Nothing could be left to chance.
Mrs. Kennedy gradually began to gain strength and her activities increased. One day she decided to accompany the president-elect to the Palm Beach Country Club to get some exercise walking the fairways, while he played a round of golf. This was not only good for her but for me as well. Inactivity was not my forte. She would watch intently as her husband hit the ball, but didn’t intrude on her husband’s conversations with the other members of the foursome as they discussed cabinet posts and other transition issues.
DURING THIS TIME in Palm Beach, there were people constantly coming and going. The president-elect’s mother and father, Rose and Ambassador Joe Kennedy, were staying in the residence, while his younger brother Robert, known as “Bobby,” was staying in a nearby home with his wife, Ethel, and their seven children. Both President-elect and Mrs. Kennedy were choosing the people they would have as their staff and advisors, and it was important for the Secret Service agents to be able to recognize and get to know everyone who would have access to the president and his family, as a matter of respect as well as security. Some of their choices surprised me.
For the important position of attorney general, President Kennedy announced that he was appointing his brother Bobby. Thirty-five-year-old Bobby had been the campaign manager for Jack’s presidential campaign, but his only government experience was as counsel of the Senate Rackets Committee. It was the first time in U.S. history that a president or president-elect had chosen a brother for his cabinet. While it was not illegal, the decision certainly raised eyebrows throughout the political arena. JFK would later confront the controversy head-on, in his inimitable way—while speaking to a Washington social and political organization, he quipped about his choice of Bobby as attorney general.
Looking down for an instant, as if the thought had just come to him, he said, “I don’t see what is wrong about giving him a little legal experience before he goes out and practices law.”
He broke into a big grin, the crowd roared with laughter, and the critics had no comeback.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Kennedy announced that twenty-three-year-old Pamela Turnure, one of her husband’s former secretaries, would become her press secretary. She didn’t have much experience and I thought she was an odd choice. But at the time Mrs. Kennedy still didn’t grasp the interest the public had in her. “I can’t imagine why I will even need a press secretary,” she said at one point.
For her social secretary, Mrs. Kennedy chose her longtime friend and former classmate Letitia Baldridge, who turned out to be well-suited for the job. “Tish,” as she was known by her friends, had attended both Miss Porter’s School and Vassar, two years ahead of Mrs. Kennedy, and she came with a wealth of experience. She had been the social secretary to the wife of U.S. Ambassador David K. E. Bruce in Paris, as well as the social secretary to U.S. Ambassador Clare Boothe Luce in Rome, and was fluent in French and Italian. Standing six feet tall, Tish was a striking woman with a strong, confident personality. I liked her, and found that she would be another close ally.
As Christmas drew near, the realization that I would not be home for the holidays started to hit me. Caroline was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Santa Claus, and knowing I would not be able to share the excitement of Christmas morning with my four-year-old son, Chris, was difficult. Fortunately, I was able to use the White House switchboard at the Palm Beach Command Post to call home occasionally because there was no way I could afford to pay for long-distance telephone calls from a pay phone or from the motel. But hearing Chris’s little voice on the phone really tugged at my heart.
All of the agents staying at Woody’s Motel that Christmas were missing their families, so we tried to make the best of it together. We all took our jobs seriously and felt privileged to be on the White House Secret Service detail. Missing holidays with our families was just part of the job. With Christmas and New Year’s behind us, the one thing we all had to look forward to was the Inauguration. The transition of power from one president to the next, in a free and peaceful manner, has always been a great symbol of American democracy. Not only would we be back in Washington with our families, but we’d also be participating in history.
For me, it would be my first presidential transition, and even though I would be protecting the first lady, rather than the president, I was filled with anticipation for the activities of January 20, 1961.
A FEW DAYS before we were to depart for Washington, Jerry Behn, the acting Special Agent in Charge (SAIC) of the president-elect detail, took me aside in the Palm Beach Command Post.
“Clint,” he said, “the president-elect and Mrs. Kennedy have decided that they won’t bring Caroline and John back to Washington for the Inauguration. The children will be staying here with Miss Shaw, so we have decided to
