Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir

have you remain here in Palm Beach to supervise their security.”

As the words came out of his mouth, I felt like I was being punched in the gut.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Whatever you need me to do.”

“Jeffries will work Mrs. Kennedy alone during the inaugural activities.”

I was surprised my supervisors only felt the need for one agent to be with Mrs. Kennedy during the very active period of January 18, 19, 20, and 21, but they were the ones in charge. I was just the worker. Once again I felt the sense that I was back on the second team. While my colleagues were being a part of history, I would be Chief Babysitter of the Diaper Detail.

On January 18, I escorted Mrs. Kennedy and Agent Jeffries from the Palm Beach residence to the local airport, where the Caroline was waiting to take her to Washington for the Inauguration. Word had leaked out that she was departing, and an enthusiastic crowd had gathered at the small airport.

Mrs. Kennedy waved graciously but stayed well away from the people. I stayed close to her as I scanned the crowd looking carefully at the eyes and the hands from behind my dark sunglasses. You look at the eyes for an unusually intense gaze, and at the hands for a flash of a knife or gun, or a sudden movement into a pocket or purse. Even though Mrs. Kennedy was very popular, the hate mail directed toward her husband was often vicious. No matter how positive and cheerful a crowd might be, you had to continually be on the lookout for that one lone lunatic who wanted to make a name for himself. Or herself. There was just as much a chance that a woman might try to harm Mrs. Kennedy as a man.

As we got to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Caroline, Mrs. Kennedy turned to me and said, “Thank you for staying with the children, Mr. Hill. I know they’ll be in good hands.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Kennedy. Enjoy the festivities and I’ll see you in Washington after the Inauguration.”

As the Caroline taxied away I stood on the tarmac, alone and dejected, wishing I were making the trip.

On Inauguration Day, I joined Miss Shaw and Caroline inside Ambassador Kennedy’s residence to watch the live coverage on television. Being from Great Britain, Miss Shaw was not familiar with the inaugural process, so I sat down with Caroline to try to explain what was happening.

“See your daddy, Caroline?” I pointed to the television as her father stood to take the oath of office.

She looked at the television and watched for a brief moment, her legs dangling from the sofa, as her father placed his left hand on the Bible and raised his right hand.

I John Fitzgerald Kennedy do solemnly swear . . .

“Where’s mommy?” she asked.

That I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States.

“Mommy’s there, too. I’m sure they’ll show her on the television in a minute.”

And will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.

“I want to finish my finger painting,” she said as she jumped down from the chair.

So help me God.

“Your daddy has just become the thirty-fifth president of the United States, Caroline,” I said gently. I patted the chair and said, “Now he’s going to make a very important speech. Come sit back down and let’s watch.”

Begrudgingly, she climbed back up on the sofa.

Eight inches of snow had fallen in Washington, D.C., the night before, blanketing the city with a mix of ice and snow. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and a thousand District of Columbia employees had worked overnight to clear the streets and remove hundreds of abandoned cars so the inaugural parade could proceed as planned. By noon on Inauguration Day, the snow had stopped and the sun emerged against a brilliant blue sky. The temperature did not climb above 22 degrees, however, and the hundreds of thousands who had come to witness this historic event were bundled up with heavy coats, gloves, hats, and mufflers in an effort to stay warm. As President Kennedy stood before the American people to give his Inaugural Address, you could see his breath hanging in the frigid air.

“I want to finger-paint some more,” Caroline said, once again jumping off of the sofa.

I realized that, at three years old, Caroline could not possibly understand the importance of this moment, nor was it likely she would remember her father’s historic speech.

“Okay, Caroline, go on outside with Miss Shaw and paint a nice picture for your mommy and daddy.”

I turned back to the television and watched the rest of President Kennedy’s speech. I could see U. E. Baughman, the chief of the Secret Service, seated just behind the president on one side, and SAIC Jim Rowley on the other side. Mrs. Kennedy was seated to the left of the podium, dressed in an ivory coat and matching hat, beaming proudly as her husband addressed the nation and requested citizens to ask not what the country could do for them but what they could do for the country.

As the president stepped away from the podium, the audience rose to its feet and burst into thunderous applause. The torch had been passed.

It was a powerful speech and you couldn’t help but be moved by it. For me it had an even greater impact because I had also had the privilege of seeing him as an ordinary man. I’d seen his elation at the birth of his son, heard his laughter while playing with Caroline in the pool at Palm Beach, and witnessed the light in his eyes when he greeted his wife after they’d been apart. It hit me then that perhaps I had been looking at my assignment all wrong. I was serving the president, and the country, with an important task. I was responsible for protecting the things that were most important to him, personally—his wife and his children.

I had assumed that we would be taking Caroline and John back to Washington as soon as the Inauguration festivities were over, but Mrs. Kennedy wanted the children’s rooms in the White House to be ready prior to their arrival, and that would be at least two more weeks. I got daily updates from Agent Jeffries about what was happening, about all the changes Mrs. Kennedy was making and how he was having a tough time getting used to her impulsive nature and lack of a schedule.

The funny thing was I realized that her spur-of-the-moment ideas and impromptu activities were what I missed most about not having her around.

I anticipated there would be new challenges with the first lady, and I looked forward to settling into a process of never knowing what was going to happen next, because that was the way Mrs. Kennedy preferred to operate. Spontaneity was what she thrived on. Everyone had to be on their toes. As time went on, I could anticipate what she might do or request, but she never failed to surprise me.

It has taken me many years to be able to remember the good times of that first winter in Palm Beach. It used to be—and it still happens occasionally—that the mere mention of Palm Beach would send my mind back to the day when the pain was too much for me to bear, when I couldn’t face her anymore, when the laughter and hope had been washed away, like waves over a child’s sand castle. But in December 1960, none of us could have imagined the way our lives would change.

PART TWO

1961

4

Glen Ora

Saturday, February 4, 1961

President Kennedy and family enter White House for first time together

In a repeat of the snowstorm that immobilized Washington, D.C., for the Inauguration, a massive weather system had engulfed the East Coast from New York to Virginia the day before we were scheduled