Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir (13 page)

Ever since this trip to Paris and Vienna had been announced, anybody that had ever been associated with the White House was vying for a place on Air Force One or the press plane. It was not just President and Mrs. Kennedy’s
arrangements that needed to be worked out, but hotel and transportation for the dozens of accompanying staff that included Provi, National Security Advisor McGeorge Bundy, and everybody in between. I worked with Tish and conferred with members of the U.S. Embassy, but mostly dealt with government officials, especially the Sureté Nationale—France’s national police force.

The biggest problem I had was that I could not speak the language. When Tish and I were in meetings together, she would carry on in fluent French while I sat there and tried to pick up the gist of what was being said from hand gestures and various common words. In most cases, I wouldn’t find out until after the meeting was over what had actually been agreed upon. Fortunately, when I dealt with the law enforcement officials, the U.S. Embassy provided an interpreter. There were times when I felt at an extreme disadvantage, but I had no choice other than to rely on the people who could translate for me.

The Sureté Nationale was extremely competent, but they were very set in their ways. The French slang for their own presidential bodyguards was “gorillas” and I was fearful that their intense and smothering approach to personal protection would completely overwhelm Mrs. Kennedy. Over the previous six months, with all the time we had spent together, I had learned that the best way to deal with Mrs. Kennedy was to give her as much space as possible, so that she almost forgot you were there. Sometimes Agent Jeffries would hover a bit too close, and it had become evident to me that she wasn’t nearly as comfortable with his style as she was with mine. The last thing I wanted was for something to happen on this trip that would hinder the trust she had in me. I explained to them her shy nature and desire for as much freedom as possible. They seemed to understand and I could only trust that the interpreter was being accurate when he translated, “Yes, Mr. Hill, we will do as you suggest.” They could just as easily have been saying, “Hell no, you can shove it up your ass” and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

The details and logistics were endless, so there was little time for anything other than work. I never did get a chance to get back to Les Halles for that French onion soup, but finally, with all the minor details worked out, and everyone satisfied with the plan that had been laid out, we were ready for President and Mrs. Kennedy’s arrival on May 31, 1961. The biggest concern was on the diplomatic side. President de Gaulle had a reputation of being distant and arrogant with foreign leaders, and it was feared that he would be tough on President Kennedy, largely because the new American president was so much younger, and had limited political experience. I was glad I didn’t have to worry about that—I just had to make sure nothing happened to Mrs. Kennedy.

T
HERE WAS A
chill to the air, but the sun was shining when President and Mrs. Kennedy arrived at Orly Airport promptly at 10:30
A.M.
Thousands of enthusiastic spectators stood behind the fence line waving American flags as President and Mrs. Kennedy descended the stairs of Air Force One to full military honors. A police motorcycle escort that numbered at least one hundred strong led the motorcade through the streets of Paris. Waiting at the Place des Pyramides were a hundred Republican Horse Guards in full regalia to replace the motorcycles and lead the procession the rest of the way to the Quai D’Orsay, where President and Mrs. Kennedy would be staying in the royal suite. It was a sight to behold. The French put on an incredible spectacle that rivaled any state visit I had seen. But nobody loved it more than Mrs. Kennedy.

More than two hundred thousand Parisians lined the streets, most of them waving little American flags. There were people hanging out of windows and packed on balconies, eager to catch a glimpse and snap a photo of the handsome American president and his glamorous wife. All along the route people held up welcoming signs and cheered, “Vive le président Kennedy!” But more frequently you would hear the voices in the crowd yelling, “Vive Jac-qui! Vive Jac-qui!” She waved graciously, smiling the entire way, and the French fell madly in love with her.

After a formal luncheon and a visit to a child care center, Mrs. Kennedy returned to the Quai d’Orsay so that she could have a rest and prepare for the state dinner at the Élysée Palace a few hours later. She was tired, but elated.

“Oh, Mr. Hill, wasn’t it magnificent? All the horses and the pageantry! Can you believe they have done this just for us?”

Mrs. Kennedy wasn’t someone who sought the limelight, but the fact that the French had welcomed her with such enthusiasm clearly meant a lot to her.

Meanwhile, President Kennedy and President de Gaulle rode down the Champs-Élysées in another grand motorcade, to the Arc de Triomphe. The blue skies that had greeted the Kennedys in the morning, suddenly turned gray and in the pouring rain, President Kennedy laid a large wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, in front of the eternal flame.

T
HIS TRIP TO
France was like a homecoming for Mrs. Kennedy. She had studied in Grenoble and at the Sorbonne in Paris, and had lived with a French family, which enabled her to immerse herself not only in the language but the
culture as well. I watched in awe as she spoke comfortably in French to President and Madame de Gaulle, as well as everyone else with whom she came in contact. I had known, of course, that she spoke fluent French, but to watch her in action only increased the respect and admiration I had begun to have for her.

In the past, first ladies were seen, but seldom if ever heard. With the exception of Eleanor Roosevelt, most had not contributed a great deal except for their visual appearance at the necessary functions. Mrs. Kennedy seemed to realize on this trip to Paris that perhaps her growing celebrity status could be used for a great deal of good.

She went to an
école de puériculture
, a child care and training center, visiting the children and raising awareness about problems associated with the health and well-being of children throughout the world. She accompanied the president to the Hôtel de Ville—Paris’s City Hall—and helped translate as her husband met with French officials. She met with female members of the press corps. Agent Jeffries accompanied Mrs. Kennedy to all of these events, while it was my job, as the advance man, to be at every venue ahead of time, making sure everything was secure and ready for her arrival. Everything went like clockwork, and it was satisfying for me to see how much Mrs. Kennedy was enjoying the trip.

She would see me standing in a doorway as she entered and even if she were in deep conversation with whomever she happened to be walking with, she would make eye contact with me. I had gotten to the point where I could read her mood by her eyes, and she was clearly having a wonderful time.

The event that captured her most was the spectacular white-tie dinner at Versailles. As is customary for Europeans, the evening event didn’t begin until 8:00
P.M.
I was waiting at Versailles—about a thirty minute drive outside of Paris—to be there when the President and Mrs. Kennedy arrived. As she stepped out of the limousine, I thought she looked like a queen. She had on an ivory silk overcoat that she removed as soon as she entered the palace, revealing an exquisite sleeveless floor-length dress that had been hand embroidered with pastel flowers on the bodice. She had arranged for a Parisian hairdresser to style her hair in a bouffant piled on top of her head, accented by a diamond hair clip. President de Gaulle couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and I daresay neither could any of the other guests—men or women. My job was not to watch her, but to watch what was going on around her.

A long rectangular dining table had been set up in the Hall of Mirrors, set with beautiful flower arrangements and huge candelabras that provided a magical ambience as the flickering flames of the candles were multiplied by the mirrors on either side of the room. President de Gaulle sat between President
Kennedy and Mrs. Kennedy, but spent the majority of the evening conversing with Mrs. Kennedy. Even from a distance I could see that he was captivated by her. Not only was she fluent in the language, but she was also well educated in French art and history. There was no doubt that Mrs. Kennedy’s intelligence and charm, combined with her ability to converse in French throughout the previous two days, often acting as translator for her husband and the French president, made the notoriously difficult de Gaulle much more receptive to President Kennedy’s ideas. The evening concluded with a ballet performance in the Louis XV Theater, a perfect ending to a night that encapsulated so much of what Mrs. Kennedy loved—history, the arts, intelligent and witty conversation—in an exquisite environment. At the time, I don’t think Mrs. Kennedy realized the tremendous influence she had, but for those of us around her, it was impossible not to recognize. Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy had become a star.

Mrs. Kennedy and Charles DeGaulle at Versailles

President Kennedy certainly noticed. At a luncheon in which he spoke to four
hundred journalists, President Kennedy began his short speech with: “I do not think it altogether inappropriate to introduce myself. I am the man who accompanied Jacqueline Kennedy to Paris. And I have enjoyed it.” The crowd roared with laughter. It was typical of JFK—to point out the obvious, and find the humor in it. He would use that line again, two and a half years later, when Mrs. Kennedy accompanied him to Texas.

O
N
J
UNE
2, as President and Mrs. Kennedy were saying their good-byes at Orly Airport, preparing to board Air Force One for the flight from Paris to Vienna, Mrs. Kennedy reached out her hands to me and said, “Oh, Mr. Hill, it was all just magical. I couldn’t have imagined anything better. Thank you so much for making everything go so smoothly.”

“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I guess I’ll see you in Athens, then?” she asked.

“I’m on my way this afternoon,” I replied. “I’ll see you there in a few days.”

What Mrs. Kennedy didn’t know was that the president had made an unusual request of me regarding her trip to Greece.

Shortly before I left for Paris, I got word that President Kennedy wanted to see me in the Oval Office. I couldn’t imagine what this was about. I had never been summoned to the Oval Office before.

When I walked in, President Kennedy was standing there, with his brother Bobby, the attorney general.

“Clint,” the president said, “I understand you will be doing the advance for Mrs. Kennedy in Greece.”

“Yes, Mr. President, that’s what I have been advised.”

The president glanced at the attorney general and looked back at me.

“The attorney general and I want to make one thing clear . . . and that is, whatever you do in Greece, do not let Mrs. Kennedy cross paths with Aristotle Onassis.”

I had heard the name Onassis before, but I honestly didn’t understand the significance, or why the president would be telling me this.

“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” I answered.

“Okay then,” he said. “Have a great trip.” And with that, I walked out of the Oval Office.

The Paris trip really had gone off marvelously, but as I watched the presidential plane take off for Vienna, all I could think about was what President Kennedy had said to me in the Oval Office.

Whatever you do, do not let Mrs. Kennedy cross paths with Aristotle Onassis.