Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir (37 page)

Now, two weeks later, Mrs. Kennedy was calling me at eight o’clock in the evening with a special request—not just from her but from the president as well.

“Yes, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“You know Stash and Chuck Spalding are here with us, and they are going to go on a fifty-mile hike.”

“Oh really?” This was news to me.

“Yes, they’re going to walk on the new Sunshine Parkway, and the president and I plan to go out and check on them from time to time, so we would like for you to be there to make sure everything is okay. The president wants to make sure nothing happens to them.”

“Sure, Mrs. Kennedy. Whatever you need me to do.”

“Oh, Mr. Hill, you are so wonderful.”

“When do they want to start?” I asked.

“At twelve midnight, tonight. Will you be ready?”

“I’ll be ready, Mrs. Kennedy.”

As I hung up the phone, I thought,
What have I gotten myself into now? What will I wear? What about shoes?

The only shoes I had were my Florsheim wingtip dress shoes. They were well made and stood up well to the long hours spent standing, but I wasn’t sure how comfortable they’d be on a fifty-mile hike. I had no choice. They would have to suffice.

I didn’t have workout clothes. The most comfortable things I had with me were a pair of casual slacks and a sweatshirt. I got dressed, jumped in my car, and drove to the Paul residence.

The president and Mrs. Kennedy had gone to the Wrightsmans’ for dinner, so I telephoned their residence and informed Paul Landis what was going on. His response was a hearty laugh.

The Secret Service Command Center, when I notified them, had a similar reaction. Everybody was glad it was me, and not them, going through this ordeal. While they were laughing hysterically, at my expense, I was trying to think ahead to everything we might need.

I contacted the Army sergeant who was assigned to me to drive Mrs. Kennedy, and told him I needed him, the station wagon, and a big cooler with ice. Our station wagon had radio equipment so I could stay in touch with Palm Beach base and the Secret Service Command Center, and I figured the ice would come in handy one way or another.

I soon found out that Prince Radziwill and Chuck Spalding had been practicing for this hike for months. They had the best hiking boots money could buy. I also learned this whole escapade was the result of a bet. The president had challenged his buddies that they were not in good enough physical shape to do what Americans were doing all across the country. Me? I had only my Florsheims and my pride to do better than they did.

When we got together around 11:30, I also learned there would be a few important observers on this adventure: Professional photographer Mark Shaw, who had been with
Life
magazine, would be photographing the hike for posterity; and New York City doctor Max Jacobson and a Navy medical corpsman from the White House physician’s office would be on hand for medical assistance.

The newly completed Sunshine State Parkway was a north-south highway that ran from Miami to Fort Pierce, along the east side of Florida. It was not yet fully operational, which made it an ideal place to walk without having to worry about traffic.

So there we were, Prince “Stash” Radziwill, Chuck Spalding, and me, with our entourage, at midnight on the Sunshine State Parkway. We began shortly after midnight on February 22. We were all competitive, and knowing the attorney general had finished in seventeen hours, we were determined to beat his time. Fortunately the weather cooperated, with comfortable, cool air as we began the walk. After a few miles, we all realized we were working up quite an appetite.

“Can you have some food sent out to us, Clint?” Stash asked.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you want?”

“We need some protein,” Chuck said. “How about some steaks?”

Steaks?

“Come morning a glass of champagne with some orange juice would be nice,” added Stash.

This was obviously not your average fifty-mile hike. So, periodically, we would stop for a short rest, a cigarette—the three of us were all smokers—and I would radio back to the house and request certain things be sent out to us.

Steaks, orange juice, bottled water, champagne. When I asked, people responded. Everyone seemed to be in on this little jaunt and was eager to help.

We walked through the night, and shortly after the sun came up, Paul Landis brought Mrs. Kennedy and Lee out to see how we were doing. They walked with us for a while, verbally challenging Stash and Chuck Spalding to go faster. I was determined to stay ahead of the pack, and that just led to more jokes, more laughter. After about thirty minutes, they got back into their car to return to Palm Beach.

“We’ll be back to check on you!” Mrs. Kennedy called out. “Don’t give up!”

Every so often we would stop to eat, relieve ourselves, and rest. Chuck and the prince had come prepared with foldout mats to spread out on the grass, and a few hours later, they happened to be resting when Mrs. Kennedy and Lee returned, along with President Kennedy. Everybody was in good spirits, and the visit by the president gave us all renewed determination to finish what we had started.

President Kennedy jokes with Clint Hill during fifty-mile hike

By this time, the word had spread and soon the Florida State Police stopped by to encourage us. On and on we walked down the Sunshine State Parkway. Mile after mile after mile. Prince Radziwill and Chuck started to have problems with their feet, and when they took off their boots, big blisters were forming. I could feel the same thing happening to me, but I didn’t dare mention it. All of us were bound and determined to carry on.

At one point, Dr. Jacobson administered oxygen to Stash and Chuck to give them a boost. I declined the oxygen, but made the mistake of sitting down in the front seat of the station wagon during one of our breaks, and fell sound asleep. It lasted just long enough for Mark Shaw to take a photo, and then they woke me up and we were back to the walk.

Throughout the journey, I would radio back to the command post to advise of our progress. Somewhere around the forty-five-mile point, President and Mrs. Kennedy returned again to encourage us.

Finally, at about eight o’clock on the evening of February 23, we reached the fifty-mile point, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The adrenaline that had been flowing for the past twenty hours now stopped and I could feel the effects. Aches and pains in my back and legs, blisters on my feet. But, by God, we had finished.

On the drive back to the Paul residence, all I could think about was getting in a hot shower and going straight to bed. But when we pulled up, I was informed that the president and Mrs. Kennedy wanted me to come inside.

They were entertaining a small group of friends, and as soon as I walked in, President Kennedy handed me a tall glass filled with champagne.

“Congratulations, Clint!” he said.

Then he pulled out a handmade medallion made of purple construction paper that was attached to a ribbon of yellow crepe paper. As President Kennedy placed the mock medal around my neck, he read the inscription he had handwritten on the front:

“For Dazzle. February 23, 1963. The Order of the Pace Maker, He whom the Secret Service will follow into the Battle of the Sunshine Highway. John F. Kennedy.”

He looked at me and with a twinkle in his eyes, he added, “I even drew the presidential seal on there to make it official.”

Everybody laughed, and I was beaming. I was so impressed that the President of the United States had taken the time to prepare a handmade, personally inscribed medallion to me. It had been an arduous—some might say frivolous—task, but this simple, sincere gesture by President Kennedy made every step worth it.

The kid from the North Dakota Children’s Home has come a long way.

A few weeks later, a package arrived for me at my office in the White House. Inside was a leather-bound photo album. Engraved on the front in simple gold letters, it read:

FOR C.H. FROM M.S.

And on the spine:

THAT PALM BEACH 50

Inside were thirty original photos by Mark Shaw, all printed on heavy card stock, chronicling the fifty-mile hike.

It’s been fifty years since that momentous hike, and still that leather-bound book, and the handmade paper medal presented to me by President John F. Kennedy, are two of the most precious mementoes I have.