Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir (38 page)

O
ne day, we were walking alone together in Palm Beach along the beautiful Lake Trail, which overlooks the Lake Worth Lagoon, when Mrs. Kennedy told me her plans for the upcoming months.

“When we get back to Washington, I told the president I plan on attending as few events as possible,” she said. “You know, only if there’s a state dinner or a reception or something for somebody important.”

“I understand, Mrs. Kennedy.”

I realized that she still wanted to keep the news of her pregnancy quiet, and at the same time, she was concerned about overexerting herself. I got the sense that the fear of losing this baby was always in the back of her mind.

“We have to move everything out of Glen Ora, you know,” she said, “but the new house at Rattlesnake Mountain isn’t finished yet.”

She paused, and turned to me with a questioning look on her face. “The president suggested we spend weekends at Camp David.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Mrs. Kennedy.” Truly, I was so glad to hear that she was considering Camp David. I had no doubt she would love it.

As we walked, with the smell of the ocean and the balmy breeze surrounding us, I tried to explain what it was about Camp David that was so unique. She had a keen sense of history, and I figured that she might be more excited about the prospect of spending time there once she understood how the retreat had been utilized by previous presidents.

The heavily wooded property is about 125 acres and sits on one of the highest elevations in the Catoctin Mountains in Maryland. Originally developed in the 1930s by the Works Progress Administration as a camp for federal government employees and their families, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt requested it be converted to a presidential retreat in 1942 and named it “Shangri-La.”

Roosevelt brought Winston Churchill there, and it was in this secluded environment that they planned the Allied invasion of Europe during World War II. When Eisenhower became president, he changed the name from Shangri-La to Camp David, after his firstborn grandson.

“The reason I think you will enjoy it, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said, “is because it is so private—much more so than Glen Ora.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. It’s operated by the U.S. Navy and the entire property is surrounded by a high wire fence that’s closely patrolled by armed Marine guards, as well as constant electronic surveillance. It is so secure and so private that President Eisenhower thought it the best place to confer with Premier Khrushchev about the Cold War. They spent two days at Camp David.”

“Yes, I knew that,” she said. “But I guess I never really thought about the reason why Eisenhower chose to entertain him there.”

“Believe me, Mrs. Kennedy, it is a unique place that very few people in the world have ever had the opportunity to experience. There are paths and trails throughout the woods—you can literally walk for miles and miles without seeing another human being. It’s really the only place where you and the children and the president can roam freely without Secret Service agents hovering over you.”

She broke into a smile and with a glimmer in her eye, she quipped, “Oh,
Mr. Hill, if you had told me that from the beginning, I probably would have gone there right after the Inauguration and never left!”

We laughed and continued walking and talking, and I got the feeling we would soon be spending a lot of time at Camp David.

O
N
S
UNDAY
, M
ARCH
3, I flew with Mrs. Kennedy, Caroline, and John on the
Caroline
back to Washington. When we landed in the section of the terminal for private planes, I was surprised to see President Kennedy waiting there to greet his family. It was somewhat unusual for him to make the effort to come to the airport, when we could easily make it back to the White House in less than ten minutes, but the president had clearly missed his family and was eager to see them.

The very next weekend, we were off to Camp David.

The president’s schedule didn’t allow him to come up until Sunday, but Mrs. Kennedy was eager to get out of Washington, so we drove her and the children up on Saturday.

Once you are on the grounds of Camp David, it is so secluded, so private, that you feel as if no one could ever find you, even if they tried. The views are spectacular, and the accommodations are elegantly rustic, with all the comforts befitting the President of the United States.

The centerpiece of the property is the large and luxurious presidential residence called Aspen Lodge, which has stunning views of the surrounding countryside. There is ample room for guests in well-appointed cabins that have names like Rosebud, Dogwood, and Holly, and the activities on the property are endless. There is a beautiful heated outdoor swimming pool, a putting green, driving range, a bowling alley, and even facilities for skeet shooting. Plus there are miles and miles of well-tended trails for walking and horseback riding. Brand-new stables had been built—complete with nameplates for Sardar and Macaroni—so that the horses could be boarded there when the president and Mrs. Kennedy were in residence. Meanwhile, Charlie the Welsh terrier came up in the car with the kids.

Everybody loved being at Camp David, just as I had anticipated. John loved tromping through the woods, finding sticks that immediately became imaginary swords or rifles, while Caroline would ride Macaroni around the athletic field or through the trails, as Mrs. Kennedy walked along.

From then on, Camp David became the regular weekend retreat for the
entire spring of 1963. President Kennedy would arrive sometime Saturday and leave Sunday afternoon or Monday morning, while Mrs. Kennedy and the children would normally arrive prior to the president. Both the president and Mrs. Kennedy were huge history buffs, and the location of Camp David allowed them to take Caroline and John to the nearby historic sites of Gettysburg and Antietam.

As it turned out, during the months of April, May, and June 1963, Mrs. Kennedy spent far more time at Camp David than at the White House. Frequently, the children would return with the president on Sunday, since Caroline had school, and Mrs. Kennedy would stay at Camp David a day or two longer.

The first time she decided to stay on after the president had left, I couldn’t help but tease her about it.

“So, Mrs. Kennedy, I guess Camp David isn’t as bad as you thought it would be.”

She smiled and said, “Oh, Mr. Hill, I just couldn’t have imagined that it would be so wonderful. It has everything one could want or need, and so beautiful, too. It’s strange, isn’t it? But I feel like I have a sense of freedom here more than anywhere else.”

She was the most idolized woman in the world, and she could have anything she wanted, but what she craved most was privacy.

S
OON IT WAS
Easter, and we were back to Palm Beach, back to the C. Michael Paul residence. Mrs. Kennedy remained secluded, venturing out only for our frequent walks, and the daily cruise on the
Honey Fitz
with the president and other guests. She decorated Easter eggs with the children, and spent time almost every day visiting her father-in-law, Ambassador Kennedy. She was consumed with final preparations for the house at Rattlesnake Mountain, and would sit by the pool, her ever-present yellow legal pad in hand, writing instructions and notes as to how she wanted things done. No longer appreciating the implications of “rattlesnake,” she began calling the house Atoka in reference to the area in which it was located.

When we were in Palm Beach, Mrs. Kennedy didn’t have her normal social and secretarial staff with her, so often Paul Landis and I would act as the go-betweens, whether it be with staff, friends, family, or even the president on occasion. The truth was, Mrs. Kennedy was very hard to resist. We adored her. Our
job was to protect her, and as long as nothing interfered with that mission, we would walk on water if she asked. And she knew it.

P
RESIDENT
K
ENNEDY ATTENDED
pre-Easter services at St. Ann’s and St. Edward catholic churches, but on Easter Sunday the family celebrated the holy day with a private Mass at Ambassador Kennedy’s residence, as they had done the previous year. It was a sign of the tremendous respect the president had for his father to make these special arrangements—so that the elder Kennedy, wheelchair-bound and unable to communicate, could worship with his son, the President of the United States, in privacy.

By this point, Mrs. Kennedy was well into her pregnancy, and much as she would have liked to simply remain in hiding until the birth, she acquiesced that it was time to go public. On Monday, April 15, Pierre Salinger held a press conference in which he read a statement that said, “The White House announced today that Mrs. Kennedy is expecting a baby in the latter half of August. Mrs. Kennedy has maintained her full schedule for the past few months. Because of this active schedule, her physicians have now advised her to cancel all her official activities.”

Within minutes, newspapers around the country reprinted their headlines for the evening editions.

Telegrams and congratulatory presents and cards came pouring in from around the world. The public’s excitement over Mrs. Kennedy’s pregnancy was enormous. Of course the publicity and interest were exactly what Mrs. Kennedy didn’t want, but as I explained to her, this would be only the second baby born to a sitting U.S. president, the last being when Grover Cleveland’s wife had a baby girl in 1893. Mrs. Kennedy’s “condition”—as we referred to it in those days—was big news.

After the announcement, Mrs. Kennedy’s public appearances were rare. She attended a play at the National Theater, and participated as hostess at the state
dinner for the president of India, who had so graciously hosted her the previous year. When His Majesty Hassan II, King of Morocco, came to Washington, Mrs. Kennedy accompanied the president to greet him, and rode in the motorcade from the airport to Blair House, the official guest residence across the street from the White House. This was very unusual for her, but I soon learned why. After the king’s visit, Mrs. Kennedy told me that Morocco was one of the places she had always dreamed of visiting someday, and after meeting Hassan II, she was even more intrigued.

Mrs. Kennedy would visit Morocco much sooner than she ever imagined.

T
HE MONTH OF
April meant the end of Glen Ora and the movement of things into the almost-ready new residence. Finally, on May 6, 1963, Paul Landis and I took Mrs. Kennedy to Atoka for a one-night stay. Mary Gallagher and a few of the White House domestic staff came along to help get the interior of the house in shape. There were pages and pages of notes on what was to go where. No detail had been overlooked.

Furniture was being moved, plants positioned, and paintings hung. Among the paintings were some I recognized from Mrs. Kennedy’s 1962 trip to India. They were very small in size, very colorful, and very erotic. The paintings depicted couples in various positions while making love. She and Mary spent a great deal of time trying to determine how best to arrange the paintings, which were going on a prominent wall,
in the dining room.

Once they were hung, Mrs. Kennedy looked at me with a mischievous look in her eyes. She was starting to “show” a bit by this time—she was still very slim, but there were the telltale signs—and her face had that beautiful glow a woman has when she is expecting a child.

“What do you think of these Kama Sutra paintings, Mr. Hill?” she asked.

I don’t think I had ever blushed before in my life. But damn if I didn’t feel my face get hot.

“I think they’re fine, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said, trying not to smile. “At least they’ll be a great conversation starter. They’ll have tremendous shock value.”

She just laughed and said, “Oh, Mr. Hill.”

I thought the paintings seemed more appropriate for a private area like the master bedroom, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. I was certain she hung them there for the exact reason I had stated. Shock value. Pure and simple.

The next day it was back to the White House and then on to Camp David. With all the time and effort Mrs. Kennedy had put into building this house, and trying to make everything perfect, I was surprised to learn that Atoka would not be the residence of choice—at least for the near future. President and Mrs. Kennedy decided to rent out the house for the summer of 1963, which caused some consternation to the Secret Service and the White House Communications Agency because of the extensive security and communications equipment that had been installed as the house was being built.

Mrs. Kennedy’s original intent was to go to Hyannis Port for the entire summer, beginning around the president’s birthday or shortly thereafter, but she enjoyed Camp David so much that the date to go to Hyannis Port kept getting pushed back.

In early 1963, Letitia Baldridge had informed Mrs. Kennedy that she was resigning from her job as social secretary. Like so many White House staffers, she worked long hours, typically six or seven days a week, with no time for a personal life. I knew the past year had been tough on Tish—she thought Mrs. Kennedy should have attended more White House social functions, and hosted more ladies’ luncheons and teas. But that wasn’t Mrs. Kennedy’s style. And there had been plenty of times in which Tish was thrown into a frenzied search for a replacement when Mrs. Kennedy declined to attend a function at the last minute. They both knew it was time for Tish to move on, and as far as I knew, there were no bad feelings about her resignation.