paintings depicted couples in various positions while making love. She and Mary spent a great deal of time trying to determine how best to arrange the paintings, which were going on a prominent wall,
Once they were hung, Mrs. Kennedy looked at me with a mischievous look in her eyes. She was starting to “show” a bit by this time—she was still very slim, but there were the telltale signs—and her face had that beautiful glow a woman has when she is expecting a child.
“What do you think of these Kama Sutra paintings, Mr. Hill?” she asked.
I don’t think I had ever blushed before in my life. But damn if I didn’t feel my face get hot.
“I think they’re fine, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said, trying not to smile. “At least they’ll be a great conversation starter. They’ll have tremendous shock value.”
She just laughed and said, “Oh, Mr. Hill.”
I thought the paintings seemed more appropriate for a private area like the master bedroom, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. I was certain she hung them there for the exact reason I had stated. Shock value. Pure and simple.
The next day it was back to the White House and then on to Camp David. With all the time and effort Mrs. Kennedy had put into building this house, and trying to make everything perfect, I was surprised to learn that Atoka would not be the residence of choice—at least for the near future. President and Mrs. Kennedy decided to rent out the house for the summer of 1963, which caused some consternation to the Secret Service and the White House Communications Agency because of the extensive security and communications equipment that had been installed as the house was being built.
Mrs. Kennedy’s original intent was to go to Hyannis Port for the entire summer, beginning around the president’s birthday or shortly thereafter, but she enjoyed Camp David so much that the date to go to Hyannis Port kept getting pushed back.
In early 1963, Letitia Baldridge had informed Mrs. Kennedy that she was resigning from her job as social secretary. Like so many White House staffers, she worked long hours, typically six or seven days a week, with no time for a personal life. I knew the past year had been tough on Tish—she thought Mrs. Kennedy should have attended more White House social functions, and hosted more ladies’ luncheons and teas. But that wasn’t Mrs. Kennedy’s style. And there had been plenty of times in which Tish was thrown into a frenzied search for a replacement when Mrs. Kennedy declined to attend a function at the last minute. They both knew it was time for Tish to move on, and as far as I knew, there were no bad feelings about her resignation.
Tish gave a generous four months’ notice, and in that time, Mrs. Kennedy decided to hire an old friend of hers from Miss Porter’s school, Nancy Tuckerman. Like Tish, Nancy had exquisite taste and style, but her calmer personality was much more compatible with Mrs. Kennedy.
On Tish’s last day, Mrs. Kennedy and the staff threw her a going-away party in the China Room—the room on the ground floor of the mansion where all the china from previous administrations is displayed in glass cases. There was champagne and beautiful, thoughtful parting gifts, including a small round table made by the White House carpenters, on top of which was an inlaid piece of paper that had been signed by the senior staff, as well as President and Mrs. Kennedy, Caroline, and a scribble by John. But perhaps one of the most memorable moments was when Mrs. Kennedy ushered in the Marine Band, and they sang a tongue-in-cheek tribute to Tish that Mrs. Kennedy herself had written. That was typical of Mrs. Kennedy—always taking the time to write or draw something personal and befitting to the recipient.
As it happened, Tish’s last day, May 29, 1963, was also President Kennedy’s forty-sixth birthday. He had a typically full schedule with back-to-back meetings, but the staff managed to throw him a surprise birthday party late that afternoon in the Navy Mess.
Located on the lower level of the White House, the Navy Mess is a simple dining hall where the staff eats meals—prepared and served by Navy stewards. It’s not a place the president normally went, but around 5:45 that afternoon, somebody escorted him down there. Mrs. Kennedy and I were there waiting, along with Nancy Tuckerman—her first day on the job—and most of the president’s staff.
As soon as the president walked in, somebody handed him a glass of champagne, and we all started singing “Happy Birthday.” He broke into a big smile and acted as though he were surprised. In reality, I think he must have known what was going on. It is very difficult to surprise the president—any president. The last thing a president wants is to be surprised. He relies on his top staff to keep him well informed, and if they don’t, they are soon out of a job.
But the president played along, as he was presented with an array of gag gifts. There was a miniature rocking chair, boxing gloves to deal with Congress, “Debate Rules” from Richard M. Nixon. But the biggest laugh came when Mrs. Kennedy presented her gift—a basket of dead grass.
“Mr. President,” she deadpanned, “on behalf of the White House Historical Society, it is with great honor and with the utmost respect, that I present to you genuine antique grass from the antique rose garden.”
The president loved it. That too was typical of Mrs. Kennedy’s self-deprecating sense of humor. In giving the gift to her husband, she was simultaneously mocking herself, as well as the staff members and others who adulate the president.
That evening, Mrs. Kennedy had planned a truly special event for her husband’s birthday—a cruise on the Potomac aboard the beautiful presidential yacht, the USS
A classic teak and mahogany 104-foot motor yacht built around 1925, the
President Kennedy was happiest when he was on the water, and this night was no exception. Mrs. Kennedy had invited about twenty-four guests, who were told to arrive promptly for an 8:01 departure. We had Secret Service agents on a couple of security boats, but there were just three agents aboard the
None of President Kennedy’s political advisors had been invited—the guest list included only family members and his closest friends: Bobby and Ethel, Sarge and Eunice, Teddy, the Bartletts, Ben and Tony Bradlee, the Fays, British actor David Niven and his wife, Florida senator George Smathers and his wife, Bill Walton, Lem Billings, and a few others.
It was a dreary, rainy evening, making the open-air top deck unusable, so everybody was crammed inside the main and aft salons. The interior of this classic yacht feels like a cozy gentleman’s library with low ceilings, varnished mahogany paneling and cabinetry, and fine fabric for the drapes and furnishings. The captain steers the boat with a large, classic wood and brass wheel, from the windowed pilothouse on the main deck. Behind the pilothouse there is the galley, the large main salon, which is connected to the smaller, cozier aft salon by a narrow hallway and bar area. At the rear is the fantail—sort of an outdoor covered porch.
The yacht is elegant and spacious, but with about twenty-four guests, three agents, the crew, and the three-piece band Mrs. Kennedy had arranged, on this night it was close quarters.
To accommodate all the guests for dinner, the mahogany Chippendale dining table was extended to fill the entire main salon, so drinks and hors d’oeuvres were served on the aft deck and covered fantail. While Agents Boring and Pontius and I stood post on the exterior walkways, the guests inside dined on roast filet of beef and 1955 Dom Perignon champagne. People were in lively spirits to begin with, and as the night wore on, and the champagne flowed, the party got louder and livelier. There were plenty of toasts, and after birthday cake at the dining table, the president opened presents in the aft salon. Then the dancing started. They were doing the twist, the cha-cha, and everything in between. It was wild. I don’t think I had ever seen the president and Mrs. Kennedy having more fun. Nobody wanted the night to end, but the captain docked the
Mrs. Kennedy was thrilled that the party had gone off so well.
