the Roosevelt Room to await the appointed time.
Soon the door opened and we were escorted across the hall and into the Oval Office.
President Clinton strode toward me as Agent Carpenter said, “Mr. President, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Clint Hill.”
Smiling genuinely, President Clinton reached out his hand.
“Mr. Hill, it is an honor to meet you. Welcome back to the White House.”
An honor? To meet
As I shook his hand, I said, “Mr. President, trust me, the honor is all mine.”
He was extremely gracious and made me feel as if I were the most important person on his agenda that day.
“Mr. Hill,” President Clinton said, “we have learned that Mrs. Onassis’s condition is extremely critical and deteriorating. I wanted to personally thank you for your service to her and for your distinguished career with the Secret Service.”
We talked briefly about Mrs. “Onassis”—I still can’t bear to call her that—to me she will forever be Mrs. Kennedy. We discussed her terrible disease, the various tragedies she had endured, and what a great lady she was.
As I looked around the room, I realized the desk being used was the same one young John Jr. had been photographed peering out from those many years ago. Memories of times past came flooding back through my mind. Both good and bad. How I met Mrs. Kennedy back in 1960 shortly after the election. Going through the last stages of her pregnancy before John was born. That joyous event. Her first visit to the White House as a future first lady. Time spent in Palm Beach before the Inauguration. The adjustment to White House life. The first trips to Glen Ora in Middleburg—the estate she rented to get away from the confines of the White House. Summers in Hyannis Port and cruises on various yachts in the Mediterranean. Christmases and Easters in Palm Beach. Adventurous visits to New York City and the wonderful experience of staying at the Carlyle Hotel. The trips to India, Pakistan, Italy, Greece, Morocco, Paris, London, San Juan, Mexico City, Bogota, and Caracas. Such wonderful, memorable times. Yes, the sad and tragic times, too. The joyous birth and then tragic death of Patrick Bouvier Kennedy. The horrible memory of that dreadful day in Dallas as the president was assassinated in her presence. The grief and sorrow that followed as I struggled with my own emotions and tried my best to provide strength and support to her, Caroline, and John. The going-away party she and her staff arranged for me. The memories came flooding back like a fast- moving motion picture swirling inside my head as I stood there with President Clinton in the Oval Office.
Having served five presidents, I knew how valuable the president’s time was, and after about ten minutes, I could tell he was leading the conversation to a close.
We shook hands, and again the president thanked me for my service and reiterated what an honor it was to meet me. Agent Carpenter escorted me back to my car, and I drove home.
All afternoon and into the evening, I couldn’t get the memories out of my mind. I went into the dark basement of my home where I’ve kept my emotions buried for all these years, and flipped on the old television that sits next to my desk. It wasn’t all that long ago that I’d have sat here all alone on the tattered sofa with a bottle of scotch and a carton of cigarettes, trying to forget the painful past. So many years wasted. Now I just sit here, alone with my memories, thinking about Mrs. Kennedy, and wishing I could speak to her again, wishing I could hear her say, one more time, “Oh, Mr. Hill . . .”
I knew I should just go to bed, but I had become a man with a routine. I always watched
I COULDN’T BELIEVE she was gone. I always expected I’d be dead long before her. God knows I should have been. I never imagined what it would feel like to no longer have her in the world. Hardly a week has gone by without a photo of her in some magazine, some tabloid—the kinds she always used to have me buy so she could see what was being said about her. And every time I saw a paparazzi-snapped picture, I knew exactly what she was thinking in every shot. I could see it in her eyes. There were no secrets from me in those eyes.
We had gone through so much together, Mrs. Kennedy and me.
I sat there, staring at the television set, the images of her playing over and over, my memories right there on the screen. I was overcome with a deep sense of loss. The tears streamed down my face, and I was not ashamed.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We would not have been able to write this book without the assistance and encouragement of many people. First and foremost, we must acknowledge former Secret Service agent Paul Landis. Your willingness to share and relive the good and bad times of those four unforgettable years made the writing of this tribute possible. You opened your home and your notes to us without question, and supported us every step of the way. Our friendship with you and Mary Jo is priceless.
Louise Burke, Jen Bergstrom, and Mitchell Ivers at Gallery/Simon and Schuster—your suggestion to write and bring to life the close relationship between Mrs. Kennedy and Clint Hill was the impetus for this project, and we are grateful you convinced us to do it. We truly appreciate your sincere interest and support throughout the process. Mitchell—we are so fortunate to have you in our corner.
To our publicists, Mary McCue and Jen Robinson, we hope you know how much we appreciate your tireless efforts, creativity, and enthusiasm. Thank you also to Natasha Simons, Sally Franklin, Larry Pekarek, Jaime Putorti, Lisa Litwack, and Alexandre Su for your behind-the-scenes efforts to help make this book one of which we are very proud.
To our literary manager, Ken Atchity, thanks for believing we could do it and for your ongoing efforts to bring this story to life.
To former Secret Service agents Tom Wells, Ron Pontius, and Ken Giannoules—your memories and retained notes and reports were of immeasurable assistance, and we can’t thank you enough.
To our editor-in-chief extraordinaire, Wyman Harris, and his wife, Gay, your assistance, guidance, and encouragement were invaluable. We are grateful for your limitless gift of time and keen eye for detail. You kept us on track. A special thank-you to Connor McCubbin, our intern for the summer of 2011, for your research skills and proofreading.
One of the most enjoyable yet arduous tasks was sorting through the thousands of photos of the Kennedy White House years, and choosing which ones to include in the book. Thank you to Mindy Parsons for your tenacious research and liberal gift of time to help source the photographs. To David Shaw and Juliet Cuming, thank you for allowing us to use those wonderful images from the Fifty Mile Hike taken by David’s father, Mark Shaw. And to Tom Putnam and the staff at the John F. Kennedy Library, including Laurie Austin, Maryrose Grossman, Amy MacDonald, and many others—your pride in what you do is evident, and we are so grateful for your support, enthusiasm, and generous assistance.
To Gary Silversmith, you are to be commended for your care and restoration of the USS
To Managing Director Erich Steinbock and the incomparable staff of the Carlyle Hotel in New York City, thank you for helping us remember those glorious days in the 1960s when the Kennedys were in residence by experiencing it ourselves. It is wonderful to know that the Carlyle’s unparalleled service and timeless elegance is the same as it always has been.
Finally, to all the men and women we encountered in our travels who told us, “I can’t wait to read it!”—your enthusiasm gave us the much-needed push to keep moving forward.
LISA McCUBBIN: Thank you to my sons, Connor and Cooper—you are the lights of my life—and I am grateful to you for your strength and support during this difficult year. To Clint, well, I think you know how I feel about you. It has been an honor and a privilege to work with you on this story. Your trust in me, and your willingness to open your heart to relive this part of your life, made this a rewarding experience I will never forget. You are
