we reached the marina, and fortunately I managed to avoid being sick. I disembarked and proceeded to the villa to meet Princess Irene Galatzine—I was a bit windblown and sunburned, but no worse for the wear.
The princess was a strikingly beautiful woman, very tall and elegant, and I felt somewhat like the hired help, literally just off the boat, but she was extremely gracious, and eager to go shopping for Mrs. Kennedy. I had never heard of her before the previous night’s dinner, but Mrs. Kennedy had informed me that she was famous for designing trousers for evening wear, known as “palazzo pants.” Apparently she was quite well known in the fashion world. So, there we were, Princess Irene Galatzine and me, shopping together in the upscale boutiques on the Isle of Capri.
We selected an assortment of dresses, trousers, gauzy blouses, jewelry, shoes—you name it. We had a whole damn wardrobe for Mrs. Kennedy. By the time we finished and returned to the villa, it was getting dark, so going back to Amalfi across that rough body of water was out of the question.
“You’ll have to stay here at the villa,” the princess said. “I’ll make sure the boat driver is informed and have him available for you first thing in the morning.”
“Well, thank you very much,” I said.
She showed me to a guest bedroom and told me to make myself at home. “And you must have dinner with me, Mr. Hill.”
“Oh, no,” I protested. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“I insist,” she said. “Truly, it will be a pleasure.”
I hadn’t intended on staying overnight and I had no clothes to change into for dinner, so I just went into the bathroom and washed up as best as I could.
When it came time for dinner, I was surprised to find that it would just be the princess and me dining alone. It was a simple meal of seafood and pasta with a salad and excellent Italian bread. Princess Irene made me feel comfortable, but being a participant—rather than an observer waiting in the wings—was something I wasn’t used to.
So, that’s how I ended up spending the night at the home of Princess Irene Galitzine. My life had been one adventure after another. It sure was a long way from the North Dakota Children’s Home to the residence of a princess on the Isle of Capri. I felt like the luckiest man in the world.
In the morning, after some juice, extremely dark coffee, and a biscotti I was ready to leave. I now had in my possession a large trunk filled with purchases the princess had made on Mrs. Kennedy’s behalf. We loaded it on the boat and off to Amalfi I went. The trip back was smoother than the one to Capri, no whitecaps, and we made good time. Arriving at the beach house, we were met by the caretaker, who carried the trunk up to the house. Mrs. Kennedy and Lee were there and very glad to see me, and especially the trunk full of goodies. It was as if Christmas had arrived in August.
Mrs. Kennedy insisted I stay as she and Lee went through the various items of clothing. When I began to tell them about the wild boat ride across the choppy waters, they started laughing hysterically.
“I want you to tell me everything, Mr. Hill,” Mrs. Kennedy said with childlike delight in her voice. “From the moment you left here. Every detail. What Irene said, where you shopped, what you ate for dinner. Don’t leave anything out.”
So, as Mrs. Kennedy and her sister gave me an impromptu fashion show, I regaled them with details of my adventure on the high seas, and the night with the princess on the Isle of Capri.
THUS FAR, I had managed to protect Mrs. Kennedy while also keeping things in line with the president’s instructions. Then one evening Mrs. Kennedy informed me that she, along with Lee, Stash, and their guests, was going to go to Positano—to a nightclub.
The president’s words immediately popped into my head.
“Okay, Mrs. Kennedy, whatever you want. I’ll handle it,” I said.
We left Ravello and traveled down the coast to Positano, yet another picturesque town on the Amalfi coast. We had alerted the police and advised them to provide a contingent of officers dressed in plainclothes, to make our large group, which included Mrs. Kennedy, several friends, and several Secret Service agents, as inconspicuous as possible. The nightclub was crowded, and while Mrs. Kennedy did not go unnoticed, we managed to keep the paparazzi outside. Everyone was dancing and laughing, having a great time, into the wee hours of the morning. I remember watching Mrs. Kennedy enjoying herself so much with her friends. Oh how I wished I could be out there on the dance floor with them, a participant rather than a bystander.
AS THE DAYS went by, everybody fell more in love with Ravello. It was so picturesque, so charming, the people so warm and friendly. Finally, on August 31, we bid farewell to Italy. The three weeks on the Amalfi coast had been nothing less than enchanting, and all of us, especially Mrs. Kennedy, were sad to leave. When I think back and remember those special times, one of the things that stands out is the memory of the view in the evening, looking down the coastline. Anchored in the harbor at Amalfi, a thousand feet below Ravello, the fishing boats and private yachts were decorated with strands of tiny white lights throughout the rigging, so that it looked like a hundred thousand candles dancing in the water. It was magical.
15
After a month in Hyannis Port and three weeks in Italy, I assumed we would return to Washington, but we ended up flying straight from Rome to New York to Quonset Point, Rhode Island, where the president met us, along with an enormous crowd and full press coverage. It was a wonderful, happy family reunion, and from there we were off to Hammersmith Farm for the next several weeks.
While Mrs. Kennedy typically spent September weekends at Hammersmith Farm, the president was particularly interested in being there in September 1962 because the America’s Cup yacht races were being held off the coast of Newport in Narragansett Bay. The America’s Cup is the oldest active trophy in international sport, a series of races between the defender—the yacht club that last won the title—and the challenger. This year, America’s team from the New York Yacht Club was defending its title against Australia—the first time the challenger was from a country other than Great Britain or Canada. There were plenty of social events surrounding the races, including a reception for crew members at Hammersmith Farm and a black-tie dinner in honor of the Australian and American competitors, which created plenty of work for the Secret Service.
After spending so much time on the
Also around this time, a new yacht joined the mix of boats the president had at his disposal. The USS
