Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir

16

The Third Palm Beach Christmas

Around the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, there was another crisis that Mrs. Kennedy had to deal with on a personal level.

“Mr. Hill,” she said, “I just got word that Mrs. Tartiere is not going to renew our lease for Glen Ora, and she wants to move back in as soon as possible.”

She was visibly upset and I could understand why. Middleburg was the one place she really felt comfortable and could completely relax.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Kennedy. I know how much you enjoy being here.”

“Yes, this really came as a surprise and I just don’t know what to do. I love this area so much. I so enjoy being able to ride with the hunts, and it’s such a wonderful place for the children, and for the president to come and relax.”

“Well, you know Camp David is always available for you. I know it doesn’t have the ambience of Middleburg, but it certainly affords you privacy.”

“Yes, I know we have Camp David,” she said. Then she got that look on her face, that sort of mischievous look, as if a bright idea had just popped into her head. Her eyes widened, and she said, “Let’s just see what we can come up with.”

Over the past year and a half, as Mrs. Kennedy and I drove through the Virginia countryside, she had often commented about how much she liked the area and how wonderful it would be to have a place of their own someday. She had in fact looked at some property that was for sale, and I figured this was what she had in mind.

It wasn’t too long after this that we were at Glen Ora for the weekend, when she told me she had found out about some land that she wanted to go look at.

“It’s quite close to Bunny Mellon’s and it’s called Rattlesnake Mountain. Isn’t that a great name?”

“I suppose,” I said, “if you are partial to rattlesnakes in your backyard.”

She laughed and said, “I’ve made arrangements to go look at the property. It’s owned by Hubert Phipps, and I told him we’d meet him there this afternoon.”

“Okay. That sounds great. What’s the address?”

“There’s no address per se, but I told Mr. Phipps you would be able to find it.”

I checked with the state police and determined that Rattlesnake Mountain was not far from Middleburg, and near a little general store called the Atoka Store. So we got in the station wagon and drove out to meet Mr. Hubert Phipps at Rattlesnake Mountain.

I soon learned that Phipps was a gentleman farmer who owned about a thousand acres and was willing to sell about forty of them to the Kennedys. When we got there, I couldn’t believe we were in the right place because there was no mountain in sight. It turned out Rattlesnake Mountain was just an undeveloped piece of land slightly more elevated than the surrounding area.

As we traipsed around the brush and grass, I kept my eyes peeled for rattlesnakes, my hand on my revolver, just in case. The property was far enough off the road and somewhat shielded by trees so that it had the secluded atmosphere Mrs. Kennedy wanted. Its best selling point was a beautiful view of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance, which Mrs. Kennedy loved.

A week or so later, the president and Mrs. Kennedy’s sister, Lee, came out to tour the property. Mrs. Kennedy was already planning the house, how it would sit, where the man-made lake stocked with fish would go, and I thought, Mr. President, whether you like it or not, you are about to own property on Rattlesnake Mountain.

Sure enough, the property was purchased, architectural plans based upon Mrs. Kennedy’s own sketches were decided upon, and construction began. The house would not be finished until the spring of 1963, but fortunately, in all the trips I made with Mrs. Kennedy to view Rattlesnake Mountain, we never came across a snake of any kind.

THANKSGIVING DAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1962, was spent, as usual, in Hyannis Port, and by mid-December we were back in Palm Beach. This was my third Christmas in Palm Beach and by this time I was very comfortable with the Kennedys’ traditions and routine. Once again the president and Mrs. Kennedy rented the Paul residence, and this year Lee and Stash and their two children came to spend the holidays with them, while the rest of the extended Kennedy family congregated at the ambassador’s residence. Provi brought her son Gustavo down, and he played with John and Caroline, just like another cousin. Stockings were hung from the mantel of the fireplace in the living room, and the children were eager with anticipation for Santa Claus to come.

Mrs. Kennedy wanted to find a place to take the children to see Santa, so Agent Landis located a Santa Claus at Burdines department store in West Palm Beach, and off we went for a visit. Both Caroline and John sat on Santa’s lap, telling him their gift requests.

“I want a talking doll,” Caroline said.

“And I want a toy helicopter!” John piped in. It was a priceless scene, but Mrs. Kennedy insisted no photographs be taken, and the store complied with our requests.

The next week was typical Palm Beach activity. The children would go with the agents and Miss Shaw to the Lake Trail to play, while Mrs. Kennedy would swim in the saltwater pool at the ambassador’s residence, or remain at the Paul residence sketching, reading, or writing notes about future projects.

Meanwhile, the president had been to New York City and to Nassau, Bahamas, for a four-day conference with Prime Minister Macmillan of the United Kingdom to discuss the complex Cold War issues. It wasn’t until December 21 that he was able to join the family in Palm Beach, and Mrs. Kennedy decided she wanted to surprise him.

Air Force One landed and while a group of local politicians greeted the president, I waited with Mrs. Kennedy, John, and Caroline off to the side of the arrival area, hidden from view. John and Caroline thought this was great fun and could hardly contain themselves.

Just as the president was about to get into the official car that was waiting for him, Mrs. Kennedy said, “Okay, John and Caroline, now go surprise your daddy.”

The two children ran to greet their father with hugs and kisses. It was a charming family reunion after the trauma of the Cuban Missile Crisis and having been apart for much of the pre-holiday season.

Even though Christmas carols played on the radio and garland and lights were strung all over town, it never really felt like Christmas to me in Palm Beach. This was the tradition for the Kennedys, however, and they so enjoyed being together during these great big family gatherings. There were definitely times when it was difficult to be on the outside looking in, looking at this happy, beautiful family as they laughed and played. I can still see the joy on President Kennedy’s face as he played with John and Caroline and their new toys on Christmas Day, 1962.

It would be the last Christmas John and Caroline would spend with their father. The last Christmas Mrs. Kennedy would spend with her husband. I was thirty years old. And for me, too, Christmas would never be the same again.

ONE IMPORTANT PIECE of the Cuban Missile Crisis was the quiet negotiations for the release of the Bay of Pigs prisoners. President Kennedy had vowed that the United States would not invade the island of Cuba and in return Fidel Castro had agreed to release the 1,113 men who had been held captive in Cuba since the failed invasion twenty months earlier, for the ransom of $53 million in food and medical supplies.

On December 27, 1962, President Kennedy invited five leaders of the Cuban brigade who had just landed on U.S. soil to meet with him privately at the Paul residence in Palm Beach.

After the president had spoken with the men for about an hour, he told me to bring Mrs. Kennedy, John, and Caroline down to the patio to say hello.

I could tell that Mrs. Kennedy had briefed the children on who these men were, and when their father introduced them, they shook hands with the men with wide-eyed curiosity. Mrs. Kennedy spoke to the Cuban brigade leaders in Spanish and while I couldn’t understand a word that was being said, the pride and appreciation in the men’s eyes was evident.

“They are such brave men,” she told me. “I wanted John and Caroline to meet them so that when they are old enough to understand, they will remember them, and the sacrifices they made.”

As the group left, President Kennedy thanked them once again for their valor and added, “I hope someday to visit a free Cuba.”

Two days later, we flew to Miami on the presidential helicopter to the Orange Bowl so that President and Mrs. Kennedy could publicly honor all the 1,113 Bay of Pigs survivors who had just been freed. I was surprised when Mrs. Kennedy told me she would be joining the president to this very public event, making an appearance before a mass audience, and it was a clear indication of how close the two had become during and after the Cuban Missile Crisis. Additionally, she knew that her ability to speak Spanish to the crowd could only help her husband in overcoming what remained the biggest regret of his presidency.

Some forty thousand people jammed the Orange Bowl stadium to welcome home the brave freedom fighters, all of whom were dressed in their khaki uniforms—many of them missing arms and/or legs. The ceremony was wrought with emotion as President Kennedy was presented with the brigade’s war-torn flag, which had flown during the three-day battle at the Bay of Pigs, and which had been carefully saved as “their most treasured possession.”

As he graciously accepted the flag, President Kennedy stepped up to the microphone and boldly proclaimed, “I can assure you that this flag will be returned to this brigade in a free Havana.”

The stadium erupted into a thunderous roar.

Then Mrs. Kennedy stepped to the microphone and spoke, without notes, in fluent Spanish.

There was barely a dry eye in the audience as she concluded her brief remarks, and again the audience roared with applause. Then the president and Mrs. Kennedy got into a white convertible and as the car slowly drove out of the stadium, they stood and waved to the exuberant crowd.

At Orange Bowl, Agents Jerry Blaine, Ken Giannoules, Clint Hill, and Paul Landis work left side of car

I and the other agents jogged alongside the car, constantly scanning the crowd for any sign of disturbance or disruption, as we headed toward the waiting helicopter outside the arena. I helped Mrs. Kennedy out of the car, and as we walked toward the helicopter, the president came alongside her.

“You were wonderful, Jackie,” he said with a beaming smile on his face. “They loved you. Your remarks were just perfect.”

Under normal circumstances, I would never interject myself into a conversation like this, but I had to quell my curiosity.

“Mrs. Kennedy,” I said, “you got such an ovation that I have to ask . . . what exactly did you say?”

She and the president laughed and before she could answer, President Kennedy said, “Great question, Clint. I’d like to know myself.”

I knew that, more than likely, Mrs. Kennedy had shown her husband her intended remarks prior to the speech, so he was just ribbing her, and she knew it.

We reached the helicopter and as soon as we got aboard, Mrs. Kennedy pulled out the piece of lined yellow paper on which she had handwritten her remarks, and read them, in English: “It is an honor to stand here today with some of the bravest men in the world—and to share in the joy of their families who have hoped and prayed and waited so long. I am proud that my son could meet your officers. He is too young to realize what you did—but I will tell him your story as he grows up. My hope for him is that he will be a man a fraction as brave as the members of Brigade 2506.”

It was a lovely and heartfelt sentiment. Brief, but extremely meaningful and personal. Finally, it seemed, the president could put the failed invasion behind him, and move forward with a renewed sense of purpose and pride.

On New Year’s Eve, President and Mrs. Kennedy attended a lavish party, for the second year in a row, at the residence of Charles and Jayne Wrightsman. It was the social event of the season. The Dom Pérignon was flowing, and the party lasted until three o’clock in the morning. As we entered 1963, it seemed there was much to celebrate.

There was something different about Mrs. Kennedy, though. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but there was a sparkle in her eyes, like she was keeping a secret.