Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir, Clint Hil [large ebook reader TXT] 📗

we approached the narrow stairwell, “I’m going to hold your dress up in the back to make sure you don’t step on it, okay?”

I could tell that she was a bit put out by having to climb the stairs, but as soon as I said this, she seemed to relax.

Smiling, she said, “Oh, thank you Mr. Hill,” and we proceeded up the stairs, with me behind her, uncomfortably holding her dress like an attendant at a wedding.

Mona Lisa’s visit to the United States was an enormous success, both politically and culturally. After three weeks in Washington, she was transferred to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, and by the time she returned to France, more than one and a half million Americans had personally viewed Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece. Mrs. Kennedy was absolutely delighted with the outpouring of interest in this important work of art. Her lobbying efforts with President de Gaulle and Minister Malraux had paid off, and the result was that there was a renewed appreciation of culture and fine arts in America.

A few weeks after the Mona Lisa’s arrival, I was walking with Mrs. Kennedy at Glen Ora when she shared some exciting news with me.

“Mr. Hill, I suppose you have noticed that I haven’t been horseback riding like I normally do.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kennedy, I had noticed that.” I looked at her and smiled. “And also that you didn’t water-ski when we were in Palm Beach.”

She broke into a big grin and said, “I can’t keep any secrets from you, Mr. Hill, can I?”

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Kennedy. I know you too well. I’m so happy for you. When will the blessed event occur?”

“Doctor Walsh says sometime in mid-September.”

“That’s wonderful news, Mrs. Kennedy.”

And that’s how I found out that the president and Mrs. Kennedy were expecting their third child.

Nineteen-sixty-two had been an amazing year—filled with wonderful memories and historic events which I had the privilege of witnessing. With the political successes of the previous months, and now the news of the impending birth of the Kennedys’ third child, it seemed that 1963 was only going to be even better.

Mrs. Kennedy had informed me that she wanted to keep the news of her pregnancy quiet for the time being, so few people outside the close family knew about it beyond Paul Landis and myself. She did make it clear, however, that she was planning to curtail her activities quite a bit.

“Sorry, Mr. Hill,” she told me one day, “but I don’t foresee any trips to Ravello or Greece in the near future.” Then, smiling, she added, “You’ll just have to suffer with me in Palm Beach and Hyannis Port.”

I laughed. “That will be just fine, Mrs. Kennedy.”

The trips we had taken over the past two years had been wonderful, but I was glad to hear that she planned to take it easier now that she was pregnant. What I did notice, however, was that she was walking more than she ever had before. Any time she could find an opportunity to walk, she would walk. I didn’t ask her directly, but I assumed that since she could no longer water-ski, ride horses, or play tennis, she was concerned about keeping fit, and not gaining excess weight. Thus, she walked. And when she walked, I walked.

Being physically fit was something that was important to President Kennedy as well. Shortly after he was elected, he published an article in SportsIllustrated titled “The Soft American,” in which he noted how the television set, the use of cars to travel everywhere, and a myriad of other modern conveniences had resulted in a generation of people who were not used to strenuous physical activity. He ended the article noting that parents must be responsible for instilling this in their children. “We do not want our children to become a generation of spectators. Rather, we want each of them to be a participant in the vigorous life.”

President Kennedy and Mrs. Kennedy, and indeed every member of the Kennedy family, lived by this philosophy. Whether it was swimming, playing tennis or touch football, horseback riding, waterskiing, or taking a vigorous walk, exercise was part of their daily lives.

In those early months of her pregnancy, when Mrs. Kennedy and I walked together, we talked about all sorts of things, and this was frequently when I found out about her upcoming plans. A few days after telling me she was going to curtail her activities, and that we weren’t going to travel much this year, she informed me that she planned to take Caroline to New York City the first week of February.

“We’ll just visit friends and do some shopping. I think Caroline is old enough now that she will really enjoy it,” she said. The one thing she insisted on, however, was that the trip be kept as quiet as possible. She had always been private, but now that she was pregnant, I sensed a vulnerability in her that I hadn’t seen in the past two years. It went unsaid, but I knew that there was always the underlying fear that she might lose the baby she now carried. And if God forbid it did happen, she certainly didn’t want to have to deal with it in the public eye.

The night before we were to leave for New York City, I was at home, packing for the trip, when I got a phone call from the agent on duty at the White House.

“Clint,” he said, “we just had some unusual activity here that I thought you should know about.”

Unusual activity?

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well, the President and Mrs. Kennedy decided to take a spur-of-the-moment walk outside the White House grounds.”

“Spur of the moment?”

“Yes, that’s right. It was completely unannounced. They just came down the elevator, and walked out the Southwest Gate. We had to scramble all the agents from their posts to provide protection.”

This was highly unusual. In the two years President and Mrs. Kennedy had been in the White House, I’d never known