Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir

Nick had already arranged a meeting for us with the Greek minister of the interior, who controlled the police agencies, so we headed straight to his office. After the introductions, the rest of the conversation was conducted entirely in Greek. There was a lot of laughter mixed in with serious discussions, and while I tried to remain attentive, I could not understand a single word.

Just as I had in Paris, I felt at a disadvantage because I didn’t understand the language, but once we were back in the car, both Ken and Nick assured me the meeting had gone well and the minister had guaranteed the full support and cooperation of the Greek police and military agencies. You couldn’t buy better publicity than having Jacqueline Kennedy visiting your country, and it was evident that all of Greece, from the prime minister at the top, to the worker cleaning the street, was going to make sure this was a successful visit.

When we were back at the hotel, Ken informed me that he had discussed Onassis with Nick Damigos, and without divulging the reasons behind his inquiry, hadn’t been able to learn too much. Onassis had amassed an enormous fortune in the shipping industry, and a few years earlier had founded Olympic Airlines. He had been under investigation for some time by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and, in 1955, Onassis had been fined $7 million by the United States government for the illegal operation of U.S. war surplus ships. A criminal indictment that charged Onassis with eight counts of conspiring to defraud the United States through false statements made when buying the war surplus ships had been dropped.

We decided we’d keep our ears open for more information, but thus far, it didn’t appear as if Mrs. Kennedy would have any reason or opportunity to see Aristotle Onassis, and I still didn’t understand why the president was so concerned about him.

Over the next few days, as Ken Giannoules, Nick Damigos, and I worked with Greek authorities to make all the necessary preparations, Onassis became less of an issue than the language barrier. It turned out that all the official meetings were held in catharevousa—the formal Greek—as opposed to the everyday Greek language that had been used in the Giannoules household. At times, Ken had to rely on the body language of the Greek officials and quickly learned that an upward flick of the head meant “no” to our requests, while a roll of the head with raised eyebrows meant “but of course, you morons.” As it turned out Greek was Greek to the Greek.

While we were preparing every little detail for Mrs. Kennedy’s upcoming trip to Greece, she was creating as much of a stir in Vienna as she had in Paris. The news stories contrasted her young, chic, fashionable appearance with that of the dowdy Mrs. Khrushchev, and to prove the point there was a photo of Mrs. Kennedy leaning in close to Premier Khrushchev splashed on the front page of newspapers all over the world. Taken at a formal evening event at the Schonbrunn Palace, in which Mrs. Kennedy looked as glamorous as could be in a sleek white sleeveless gown, she appeared to be whispering into Khrushchev’s ear, and he had the biggest, leering, smile on his face—you could practically read what was going through his mind. By all accounts the official talks between Kennedy and Khrushchev had gone from congenial to heated, but the Soviet Premier was so taken with Mrs. Kennedy that she became the lead story.

The president and Mrs. Kennedy flew from Vienna to London to participate in the christening of Lee and Prince Radziwill’s firstborn daughter, Anna Christina, and then the president returned to Washington. June 7, Mrs. Kennedy finally arrived in Greece.

Mrs. Kennedy, her sister, Lee, and Prince Radziwill had flown by commercial jet from London to Rome, and then from Rome to Athens, where I was waiting at Ellinikon Airport to greet them upon their arrival. The weather in Athens was much warmer than it had been in Vienna, and even at six o’clock in the evening it was about 80 degrees.

“Welcome to Athens, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said as she stepped out of the plane.

She looked around somewhat timidly, and then smiled and said, “Hello, Mr. Hill.”

“Prime Minister and Mrs. Karamanlis are here to greet you, along with a representative from King Paul and Queen Frederika,” I said. “We have a car waiting to take you and the Radziwills to the villa in Kavouri.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said. “I’m looking forward to some relaxation.”

When we arrived at the villa, Mrs. Kennedy was upbeat and excited. The villa had a beautiful view of the Mediterranean, and on this summer evening, the water was calm and the color of azure.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Mrs. Kennedy remarked to her sister as she looked out to the sea.

Prince Radziwill approached me, reached out his hand, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Stash, Mrs. Kennedy’s brother-in-law.”

“I’m Special Agent Clint Hill, sir,” I replied as I shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Radziwill.”

“Please, call me Stash,” he said with a smile. Stash Radziwill was about five foot ten, had short dark brown hair, and a well-trimmed mustache that accentuated his smile. He spoke with a slight British accent, and although he was quite distinguished, he was very informal. I liked him immediately.

I turned to Lee and said, “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Radziwill.”

She nodded and smiled.

Mrs. Kennedy walked over to me and said, “It was so nice to arrive in Athens without all the press around.” She glanced at Agent Jeffries and said, “It was awful in Rome. There were photographers everywhere and all I could hear was”—she changed to a higher-pitched voice with an Italian accent—“‘Jack-ie, smile! Over here Jackie! Smile!’”

I could tell the incident bothered her, and the indication was that Jeffries hadn’t done enough to protect her from the overzealous paparazzi.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Kennedy. We’ve made the Greek officials aware that this is meant to be a private visit for you, and we’ll do our best to keep the press at bay.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hill. I do appreciate that.”

I proceeded to another area of the villa to confer with Agent Jeffries about the incident, and to give Mrs. Kennedy and her guests some privacy. Jeffries explained the incident, much as Mrs. Kennedy had, without making any excuses. Mrs. Kennedy was unharmed, and that’s what mattered.

I walked outside to the front of the villa, and ran into Ken Giannoules.

“Clint, you won’t believe what just happened.” He had a look of bewilderment on his face.

“What? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Ken said. “I was standing in the doorway when Mrs. Kennedy came up to me and asked, ‘Mr. Giannoules, is the lorry coming soon?’ I assumed she meant the truck bringing the luggage so I said, ‘Yes, Mrs. Kennedy, the luggage is on its way and will be here shortly.’”

“Did she seem upset that it was taking too long?” I asked.

Ken laughed. “No, not at all. She was just questioning. What I don’t understand, and can’t believe, is that she knew who I was, and she called me by name, and pronounced it perfectly. I’ve never met her before.”

“I think I may have mentioned to her that I would be assisted on the advance in Greece by an agent named Ken Giannoules whose family came from Greece,” I said. “But that was before I left for Paris. It is rather remarkable that she would remember.”

That really made an impression on Ken, and from that moment on, he had a newfound respect for Mrs. Kennedy.

Agent Jeffries remained at the estate, along with another agent who stood post overnight, while Giannoules and I returned to our hotel in Athens.

We got up early the next morning and drove back to the villa. The sun was just rising, but as we got to a point where we could see the bay below Nomikos’s villa, I could hardly believe my eyes.

“Oh crap,” I said. “What the hell is going on?”

The Northwind was anchored just offshore, and surrounding it were dozens of fishing boats, small sailboats, and other small craft. The boats were filled with tourists and press, eager to snap a photograph of Mrs. Kennedy. Fortunately, the Greek navy was well aware of the situation.

The navy boats were patrolling the area, forcing the tourist boats farther and farther away from shore. We could hear them yelling, “Not stop here! Not stop here! Mrs. Kennedy!” I was pleased that they were doing their best to deny access to the boats, but dismayed that, by announcing Mrs. Kennedy’s name, they were confirming that she was indeed in the residence at the time.

At one point, one of the boats containing members of the press tried to ignore the navy’s orders and the navy boat responded by ramming into the press boat. Later, members of the press complained to me about the