She had been so excited about the trip just a couple of days earlier, and now it seemed she was rethinking everything. I wondered whether it really had to do with the Stevenson incident.
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get out of going to Johnson’s ranch?” I asked with a smile.
The details of the trip were still being worked out by the political staff, but the word was that Vice President Johnson and his wife had extended an invitation for an overnight visit at their ranch near Austin.
She looked at me and laughed.
“Well, that is rather frightening in and of itself . . . but really,” she said, turning serious, “I would like to know your opinion. Do you think the climate in Dallas is so . . . so hostile to the president that the people could mistreat us like they did Adlai?”
“Anything’s possible, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said. “But as far as I know, there are no more threats in Dallas or Houston or anywhere else in Texas than there would be in any other part of the South right now.”
“I suppose it seems rather silly to be worried about going somewhere in your own country, when I’ve gone to places like India and Pakistan and Morocco, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not silly, Mrs. Kennedy. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for any reason. But right now, if you’re asking my opinion, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t feel perfectly safe going to Texas with the president.”
“Well, that makes me feel a lot better.” She grabbed my hand and said, “Thank you, Mr. Hill. You always know exactly the right thing to say.”
Over the next few days, I had a feeling she was still wavering, but on November 7, White House Press Secretary Pierre Salinger made the announcement to the press:
It was official. We were going to Texas.
CAROLINE HAD BECOME quite the equestrienne after her lessons during the summer in Hyannis Port, and it became almost a daily activity for Mrs. Kennedy and Caroline to go riding together. Meanwhile, John, who was nearly three years old, would tramp around the woods in cowboy boots and an army helmet. The agents had set up an army tent near the edge of the woods, and John would play for hours with his toy swords and guns, marching around, giving orders to his “army nurse,” Miss Shaw.
Like clockwork, on Saturday, John would hear the telltale sound of the helicopter coming in—the impressive Army or Marine helicopter with the white top denoting the president was aboard—and he could hardly contain himself. There was nothing that boy loved more than helicopters. And he knew that when the chopper came in, that meant Daddy was coming.
We all got such a kick out of John and everybody would play along, saluting “General John” when he was in his military getup. He would salute back, giggling like crazy. The only problem was, he always saluted with his left hand. No matter how many times we told him to use his right hand, his instinct always seemed to be to use his left hand.
The weekend before Veterans Day, Mrs. Kennedy told John that Daddy was going to take him to a special ceremony on Monday, where he would get to see real soldiers, marching and saluting. She tried to explain that Daddy was the commander in chief of all the soldiers, and they would all salute him.
“Now John,” she said, “when you see the other soldiers salute Daddy, you can salute him, too.”
Agent Bob Foster was by little John’s side when the president silently placed a floral wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, at Arlington National Cemetery, and “wouldn’t you know it,” Bob told me later, “as soon as the uniformed military color guard saluted, John raised his hand—his right hand—and saluted his father, right on cue. I was proud of the little guy.”
TWO DAYS LATER, on Wednesday, November 13, John got to see another military spectacle, when the Scottish Black Watch Regiment’s Pipers and Band performed on the south grounds of the White House. Noteworthy because they were Britain’s first kilted regiment, the famous military troupe was on tour in the United States and Mrs. Kennedy had invited them to perform on the White House lawn. Wanting to ensure an appreciative audience, she arranged for 1,700 underprivileged schoolchildren, along with the families of White House staff, to attend the four o’clock performance. Throngs of press people had come to the event as well—not so much because of their interest in the marching bagpipe band, but more for the opportunity to photograph the president, Mrs. Kennedy, and the children together.
It was a cold and dreary November afternoon, and while the Scotsmen in the regiment were wearing their traditional plaid kilts, everyone in the audience was bundled in winter coats, hats, and gloves. The president and Mrs. Kennedy walked onto the lawn, and after shaking hands with the commander, the president made a short speech acknowledging the brave and proud history of the Black Watch Royal Highlanders, and the fact that the colonel in chief of the regiment was the Queen Mother of Great Britain. Quipping that in one war—the War of Independence—they fought against us, he solemnly added that more important are the wars in which they have fought alongside us: World War I, World War II, and Korea.
“Personally,” President Kennedy said, “the history of Scotland captured me at a very young age. The U.S., in fact all of us, love, I suppose in a sense, lost causes. And on occasion the history of Scotland has been a lost cause, but perhaps in some ways they have triumphed. Perhaps more today than ever before. We regard it as a great honor to have representatives of a great country to have as our guests here at the White House.”
The audience cheered as the president and Mrs. Kennedy walked back across the lawn, then walked up the steps to the South Portico porch, where John and Caroline were patiently watching and waiting.
All eyes were on the balcony as President and Mrs. Kennedy took their seats, and when Caroline jumped into the lap of her father, cameras were snapping like crazy. It was rare for the public to see the family like this together in such a relaxed setting—something I witnessed regularly—and they loved it.
As soon as they were situated, the performance began. And what a performance it was. Dressed in the dark navy, green, and black plaid kilts for which they are noted, with white boots, and magnificent headdresses made of black ostrich feathers, the regiment put on a spectacle like nothing that had ever been performed on the grounds of the White House. Trumpets, trombones, tubas, and drums harmonized together as a backdrop for the haunting sounds of the bagpipes. And as they played, the performers high-stepped and sword-danced in intricate maneuvers flawlessly timed to the tempo of the traditional Scottish tunes. For those of us who had the privilege of being there, it was something we will never forget. And in return, it was obvious that the Black Watch were incredibly honored to be able to perform in this prestigious setting, as the young American president sat on the balcony of the White House, surrounded by his family, tapping his hands on his knees to the rhythm of the drum.
ON WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 20, Mrs. Kennedy and I returned to the White House after another long weekend at Atoka. We were leaving the next morning for Texas, and while she was concerned with packing the proper wardrobe, I needed to get an update on the logistics and security arrangements.
I walked from my office in the Map Room, down the hall to the Secret Service office, and found Floyd Boring and Roy Kellerman, the two Assistants to the Special Agent in Charge of the White House Detail. Both of these men reported to Jerry Behn, the SAIC, and while Behn was taking a few well-deserved days off, they were the top men in charge.
“Hey, Clint,” Floyd said as soon as I walked in the door. “We were just discussing the Texas trip.”
“Great,” I said. “That’s what I wanted to talk about, too.” I held up my copy of the schedule. “Looks ambitious.”
They looked at each other and then Floyd said, “Clint, shut the door.”
It wasn’t unusual to close the door to the Secret Service room—there were lots of times our conversations needed to be confidential—but I wondered what was up.
“Listen, Clint,” Floyd said. “You know we just came back from Florida, right?”
“Yeah. The president was in Cape Canaveral, Tampa, and Miami, is what I recall.”
“That’s right,” Floyd said. “And something happened in Tampa you need to know about. I presume that since you’ve been at Atoka, you hadn’t heard.”
I shook my head. All I had heard was what had been transmitted over the radio. I didn’t recall anything out of the ordinary.
