Five Days in November

Clint Hill, Lisa McCubbin Hill

• Publisher: Gallery Books
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781476731513
• Topic: Politica e relazioni internazionali
• Subtopic: Biografie in ambito politico

Secret Service agent Clint Hill reveals the stories behind the iconic images of the five tragic days surrounding President John F. Kennedy's assassination in this 60th anniversary edition of the New York Times bestseller. On November 22, 1963, three shots were fired in Dallas, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, and the world stopped for four days. For an entire generation, it was the end of an age of innocence.That evening, a photo ran on the front pages of newspapers across the world, showing a Secret Service agent jumping on the back of the presidential limousine in a desperate attempt to protect the President and Mrs. Kennedy. That agent was Clint Hill.Now Hill commemorates the sixtieth anniversary of the tragedy with this stunning book containing more than 150 photos, each accompanied by his incomparable insider account of those terrible days. A story that has taken Hill half a century to tell, this is a "riveting, stunning narrative" ( Herald & Review, Illinois) of personal and historical scope. Besides the unbearable grief of a nation and the monumental consequences of the event, the death of JFK was a personal blow to a man sworn to protect the first family, and who knew, from the moment the shots rang out in Dallas, that nothing would ever be the same.

DAY TWO

NOVEMBER 22, 1963

11

---

Fort Worth

Hotel Texas

Sound asleep in my room at the Hotel Texas, immediately next door to President and Mrs. Kennedy’s suite on the eighth floor, I am jolted awake by the ringing of the telephone at six o’clock sharp. It’s the White House switchboard with the wake-up call I requested last night. Prompt and reliable as usual. Other than being famished, I feel refreshed and ready for the day.

I order room service—poached eggs, home fries, bacon, toast, orange juice, milk, and coffee. If yesterday was any indication of how today will go, it’s hard to say when I will have the opportunity to eat next.

I hear voices outside and walk over to the window. It is raining lightly, and although it’s still dark outside, hundreds of people are gathering in the parking lot across the street, around a small stage. Everyone is dressed in rain gear and most have umbrellas. There is nowhere to sit, and the president isn’t going to appear for at least another two hours.

Unbelievable.

While waiting for my breakfast to arrive, I shave, shower, and get dressed.

After devouring my breakfast, I go over the day’s schedule again. It’s a repeat of yesterday—just different cities, different speech sites, and we end the day at Vice President Johnson’s ranch. I’ve never been there before and I always find it interesting to see presidents and vice presidents on their home turf. That’s where they feel most comfortable, and when they are out of the public eye you usually get a better picture of what they’re really like.

Knowing Mrs. Kennedy, I am almost certain she will not join the president for the hastily scheduled outdoor speech—especially since it’s raining. Yesterday was an unremitting baptism to campaigning, and while she held up remarkably well, it was obvious she was exhausted by the time we got to Fort Worth. Since she doesn’t intend to go to the Chamber of Commerce breakfast, either, presumably she will take the opportunity to sleep in. Still, I need to check in with Kellerman and make sure nothing’s happened overnight that I should know about.

I quickly pack up my things so my suitcase is ready to go before I leave my room. Someone from the White House baggage detail will pick up my bag, make sure it’s on Air Force One and will be at the LBJ Ranch this evening when we arrive. At least I don’t have to worry about my luggage.

I check the closet, the bathroom, and every drawer to make sure I haven’t left anything. Double-check my pockets—commission book, wallet, sunglasses, the day’s schedule. Revolver in my holster.

We have set up a security post outside the president’s suite with a small table and a telephone that’s connected to the White House switchboard, and when I emerge from my room, Roy Kellerman and Agent Emory Roberts, the supervisor of the 8:00–4:00 shift, are there waiting to escort President Kennedy outside to the parking lot speech site.

Shortly after 8:30 A.M., the president comes out of the suite with his two closest aides, Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” the president says brightly, with a big smile on his face.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” we reply in unison.

The overwhelming and enthusiastic reception the president received yesterday in three Texas cities was clearly invigorating, and today he appears to be well rested and eager for more of the same. The only difference today, if it continues to rain, may be that the tops will need to be on the cars. But, as we saw last night, even rain doesn’t seem to deter his supporters.

Kellerman and Roberts get in the elevator with the president and his aides and they proceed down to the lobby. Once in the lobby, the other agents on the shift will move in, providing a loose wall of last-defense security around the president.

As I knock on the door to check on Mrs. Kennedy, I hear a roar of screams and thunderous applause coming from outside.

Inside the suite, George Thomas, President Kennedy’s valet, is busy packing the president’s things, while Mary Gallagher is helping Mrs. Kennedy. There is no hurry because Mrs. Kennedy isn’t going to the Chamber of Commerce breakfast. Her next function will be the motorcade to Carswell Air Force Base and the flight aboard Air Force One to Dallas. She peers out the window to watch what’s going on down below, careful to keep her face hidden behind the curtain.

More applause, and then the president’s voice ascends from the loudspeakers.

“There are no faint hearts in Fort Worth!” he declares.

A voice calls out amid the applause and laughter, “Where’s Jackie?”

There’s a brief pause. “Mrs. Kennedy is organizing herself. It takes her a little longer, but of course she looks better than we do when she does it.” The crowd loves it.

In order to give Mrs. Kennedy as much privacy as possible, I return to the security post in the hallway outside the suite.

Soon Agent Paul Landis joins me.

“It’s a madhouse down there,” he says. “Five thousand people outside in the rain, and another twenty-five hundred in the Grand Ballroom. The president is in there now.”

About five minutes later, the security phone rings.

“Agent Hill,” I answer.

“Clint, it’s Duncan.” Bill Duncan is the senior advance agent for the Secret Service in Fort Worth. “I’m down here at the breakfast with the president. He wants you to bring Mrs. Kennedy down, right now.”

I pull out her schedule, and right next to the breakfast listing she has made a check mark in red pencil and written: JBK won’t attend.

“But Mrs. Kennedy isn’t intending on going to the breakfast.”

“The president just told me to tell you to get her down here now. Everyone is waiting for her.”

“Okay, Bill. We’ll be right there.”

I walk into the suite and call out, “Mrs. Kennedy? The president wants you down at the breakfast. Are you ready?”

“Come on in, Mr. Hill,” she replies from the bedroom.

She’s standing in front of the mirror, running a comb through her hair. She is dressed in her pink suit with the navy collar—one of her favorites—but I can tell she’s not nearly ready. Clearly there’s been a misunderstanding about her appearance at the breakfast.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well,” she says cheerfully.

“We’ve got another long day ahead,” I say. I don’t want to rush her, but the president’s message was clear. “Did you know that the president is waiting for you at the breakfast?”

She looks at me quizzically. “I wasn’t planning on going to the breakfast.”

“I know, Mrs. Kennedy, but I just got an urgent message that the president wants you down at the breakfast, right now.”

She seems a bit surprised. “Okay, I just need to put on my hat.”

Mary Gallagher helps her adjust her hat, pinning it on just so.

“Oh, and my gloves . . .”

I look at my watch. It’s been seven minutes since Duncan called. Finally she’s ready, and Paul Landis and I escort her down to the mezzanine level. I lead the way, walking briskly, with Mrs. Kennedy following and Landis behind her. The instructions are for us to proceed through the kitchen and enter the Grand Ballroom through a rear door. When we arrive at the door to the ballroom, I peek in to see what is happening. The room is filled to capacity with finely dressed women and men seated at rows and rows of long, narrow tables, and the master of ceremonies is drawling through the introductions of the dignitaries seated at the head table. There’s Vice President and Mrs. Johnson, the Connallys, and a litany of local politicians and their wives. As soon as the MC’s finished, I step into the doorway so he can see Mrs. Kennedy behind me.

His face lights up as if all his prayers have been answered and gleefully announces, “And now the event I know all of you have been waiting for!”

As Mrs. Kennedy walks into the room, all 2,500 people jump to their feet, applauding and cheering. The suddenness of the noise appears to startle Mrs. Kennedy, and it gives me goose bumps.

The room is so jam-packed, I can’t believe the fire marshal would allow this many people in here. My goal is to get her as quickly to the dais as possible, following the narrow, clear path, without giving anyone the opportunity to grab her attention. Beneath the reverberating sounds of clapping hands, low voices divulge the impression she’s already making. “Oh, isn’t she lovely?” “My, she’s even prettier in person!” “Look at that stunning suit!”

Everyone at the head table is standing as well, and as she walks across the raised stage, she looks out to the audience and smiles in appreciation of the rousing ovation. The president seems relieved that she’s finally here—albeit twenty minutes late.

The people in the audience are buzzing—they don’t care that she’s late. They know what a rare opportunity this is to see the handsome president and his wife together, not whizzing by in a motorcade, but right here in the same room.

President Kennedy is introduced and he steps up to the podium.

“Two years ago, I introduced myself in Paris by saying that I was the man who had accompanied Mrs. Kennedy to Paris.” Holding back ...