by Clint Hill
I walked into the suite and said, “Mrs. Kennedy, the president wants you down at the breakfast. Are you ready?”
“Come on in, Mr. Hill,” she answered, not noting the urgency in my voice. I walked into her bedroom, where Mary was hurriedly packing Mrs. Kennedy’s suitcase.
Mrs. Kennedy was dressed in her pink suit, the one with the navy collar. But I could tell she wasn’t completely ready. She hadn’t planned on going to the breakfast.
“Good morning, I hope you slept well,” she said cheerfully.
“We’ve got another long day ahead,” I said, trying to subdue my urgent attitude.
“Yes, I never realized how tiring campaigning could be,” she said. “I guess I didn’t do too much of it the last time.”
“Mrs. Kennedy, did you know that the president is waiting for you at the breakfast?”
“I wasn’t planning on going to the breakfast,” she said.
“I know, Mrs. Kennedy, but the president wants you down at the breakfast right now.”
She looked in the mirror and said, “Okay, I just need to put on my hat.”
There was a matching pink pillbox hat laid out on the dresser next to some gloves. She put it on, looked in the mirror to adjust it, and then asked Mary to help her with the buttons on her wrist-length gloves.
Now she was ready. I opened the door and we walked out of the suite, toward the elevators.
Paul Landis had received the message and was waiting in the hall near the elevators.
“Good morning, Mr. Landis,” she said with a smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kennedy, another busy day ahead for you.”
“Yes, we will all be ready to relax tonight, won’t we?”
The three of us got into the elevator and began the descent to the mezzanine level.
I led the way, walking briskly, with Mrs. Kennedy following, and Paul behind her. As we entered the Grand Ballroom, the place erupted with applause. The room was packed with people sitting at long tables. They had utilized every square foot of space available and about two thousand people were in attendance.
I could hear people commenting as she walked by: “Oh, isn’t she lovely?” “Oh my goodness, she’s even prettier in person!”
I led her to the dais and she was guided to her seat at the head table.
President Kennedy stepped up to the podium and said, “Two years ago, I introduced myself in Paris by saying that I was the man who had accompanied Mrs. Kennedy to Paris. I am getting somewhat that same sensation as I travel around Texas.”
He paused, as the entire audience laughed.
Then, he added, glancing at Mrs. Kennedy, “Nobody wonders what Lyndon and I wear.”
Mrs. Kennedy blushed and displayed that girlhood smile of innocence she had perfected. The president, in his inimitable way, had hidden what I knew was his displeasure with her lateness, turned the situation into a compliment of his wife, added a dose of humor, and the crowd loved it.
The breakfast concluded with gifts to both the president and Mrs. Kennedy, and we escorted them back to the suite. They had about a half an hour to relax before we headed to Dallas.
IT HAD BEEN raining lightly that morning in Fort Worth, so ASAIC Kellerman called Agent Win Lawson, the advance agent in Dallas, to check on the weather. It hadn’t yet been determined whether SS-100-X would have the Plexiglas bubbletop on or off. It took some time to attach the bubbletop, and Sam Kinney, the driver agent in charge of the vehicles, would need to know as soon as possible.
Lawson reported it was clearing up and should be nice.
ASAIC Kellerman said, “Tell Sam, top off.”
That was the standard motorcade situation during the Kennedy administration. It was the same whether he was in Berlin, Dublin, Honolulu, Tampa, San Antonio, or San José, Costa Rica. Unless it was raining or there were other adverse weather conditions, the president wanted the top off during parade-type motorcades. He wanted maximum exposure with no evidence there was anything between him and the people. People felt a connection to President Kennedy when they saw him in person. That’s what had gotten him elected, and now he needed to get reelected.
AT 10:40 A.M. we left the Hotel Texas and headed for Carswell Air Force Base, where Air Force One, the vice president’s plane, and the backup plane were ready to go. We used standard Lincoln convertibles again, but it had stopped raining, so the tops were off.
There were large crowds all along the thirty-minute route back to Carswell, and again a large crowd was waiting at the air force base. More shaking hands, and finally it was time to go.
The president’s Secret Service detail had changed shifts at 8:00 A.M. I boarded Air Force One with ASAIC Kellerman and the 8:00–4:00 shift agents, while Paul Landis rode with the 4:00–midnight shift agents in the backup plane. The vice president’s plane and the backup plane would arrive a few minutes before Air Force One, and we’d go through the same routine as we had the day before, with Vice President and Mrs. Johnson waiting at the bottom of the steps to greet President and Mrs. Kennedy as they came off Air Force One. Meanwhile, the midnight shift was already on its way to Austin to prepare for the arrival and overnight at LBJ’s ranch.
With everyone on board, Air Force One was wheels up for Love Field in Dallas, and fifteen minutes later we were there.
There was a large crowd waiting behind a chain-link fence as Air Force One pulled up to its arrival point at Love Field. I checked my watch and noted the arrival time in the little black datebook I always carried: 11:40 A.M. Central Standard Time.
President and Mrs. Kennedy exited the plane, USAF 26000, through the rear doors and as they walked down the stairs, the crowd was delirious. Flags were waving, people were applauding and calling out—it was another exuberant welcome in yet another Texas city. At the bottom of the steps, Vice President and Mrs. Johnson and Dallas mayor Earle Cabell and his wife were there to greet President and Mrs. Kennedy. I stood an arm’s length away as Mrs. Cabell presented Mrs. Kennedy with a large bouquet of red roses.
It seemed strange to have the vice president and his wife continually greet the Kennedys at each arrival point in Texas. In this case they had just seen each other a few minutes earlier in Fort Worth. But this was the beginning of a campaign and strange things are done strictly for the photo opportunity. Our destination in Dallas was the Trade Mart, where 2,600 people had paid to have lunch with President and Mrs. Kennedy, and to hear him speak. It would have been much quicker to drive direct from Fort Worth to the Trade Mart in Dallas. Instead we drove from the Hotel Texas in Fort Worth to Carswell Air Force Base, boarded Air Force One, flew to Love Field in Dallas, then drove to the speech site. All of this to get a photo of President and Mrs. Kennedy coming off Air Force One in Dallas and to have a motorcade for maximum exposure. It seemed like a waste of time and money to me, but then politics and security really don’t mix well. Kind of like oil and water.
As soon as they had gone through the receiving line, the president looked toward the crowd.
Without hesitating, the president headed straight for them. I waited for Mrs. Kennedy’s reaction, and with her red roses in her arms, off she went behind him to greet the public. Paul and I stayed as close to Mrs. Kennedy as possible, looking into the crowd for any telltale sign of trouble. She and the president moved along the fence line shaking hands for about five minutes, much to the great delight of the people who had come to greet them.
Finally, they took their places in the presidential limousine—SS-100-X. Mrs. Kennedy sat in the left rear seat, the president in the right rear. After they were seated, Governor and Mrs. Connally folded down the jump seats—with Mrs. Connally directly in front of Mrs. Kennedy, and the governor directly in front of President Kennedy.
Agent Bill Greer was in the driver’s seat. A native Irishman, and a Catholic, Greer and the president had become good friends in the past three years. Greer spoke with a bit of a brogue, and had a great sense of humor. But most important, he knew SS-100-X better than anyone. He ha
d driven it in motorcades all over the world, and knew how it handled in every type of situation. When Greer was driving, there was no question the president was in good hands.
ASAIC Roy Kellerman was the last one in the car, as he took his place in the right front passenger seat. I was standing next to Mrs. Kennedy, my right hand holding on to the door, scanning the crowd, as Bill Greer started driving forward.
ASAIC Kellerman radioed to base and all units, “Lancer and Lace departing.”
It was 11:55 A.M. in Dallas.
Leading the motorcade, ahead of SS-100-X, was an unmarked sedan, driven by Dallas police chief Jesse Curry, with our advance agent Win Lawson in the front passenger seat. The only way Bill Greer knew where to go was to follow the lead car.
I jogged alongside 100X, next to Mrs. Kennedy, until Greer started picking up speed and the crowds had dissipated on our way out of Love Field. Then I dropped back and jumped onto the left running board of Halfback.
Driver Agent Sam Kinney was at the wheel of the Secret Service follow-up car. His job was to stay as close as possible to the presidential vehicle—keeping no more than five feet between the two cars—at all times. Both Kinney and Greer were highly experienced, and they had been working together as a team for a long time.
Assistant to the Special Agent in Charge Emory Roberts was the supervising agent sitting in the right front seat of the follow-up car. In the rear passenger compartment were George Hickey, responsible for the AR-15; Glen Bennett from the Protective Research Section, handling intelligence; and presidential assistants Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers. Manning the running boards were Agents Jack Ready and Paul Landis on the right side, responsible for the right side of the presidential vehicle. On the left side were Tim McIntyre and myself, responsible for our side. Specifically, I was responsible for Mrs. Kennedy.
We traveled on Mockingbird Lane to Lemmon Avenue with four Dallas police motorcycle officers riding alongside the presidential vehicle, two on each side. The purpose is to create an extra barrier between the president and the crowd, but presidents generally do not like this arrangement because of the loud noise emanating from the motorcycles. It makes conversation within the vehicle very difficult.
The number of spectators was quite few as the motorcade began its journey toward downtown Dallas, and Agent Lawson, in the lead car, had Chief Curry increase the speed. Bill Greer followed the lead, and as 100X increased speed, so did Halfback. Agent Kinney was keeping the two cars very close together. He kept his eyes on the back of the presidential vehicle and the gap between the two was never more than five feet.
Amazing, I thought. I wonder how many times Sam has done this and never had an accident.
The closer we got to downtown Dallas, the larger the number of spectators became. Groups formed along the way, some bearing signs, one of which read PLEASE MR. PRESIDENT STOP AND SHAKE OUR HANDS! President Kennedy could not turn down an opportunity like this, so he requested Bill Greer stop the car.
Suddenly the people with the sign charged toward the car. Roy Kellerman bolted out of the front seat of 100X, and those of us on the follow-up car jumped off and moved to our designated positions. It was our job to deny access to the presidential vehicle, but the president was standing up, smiling, shaking as many hands as he could. Loving every minute.
Mrs. Kennedy looked more uncomfortable when the people came at the car, but she went right along with it, smiling, waving, and shaking hands when we stopped.
It was always interesting to watch how different agents maneuvered themselves to get off or on the follow-up car while it was moving. Successfully going from a moving vehicle—the follow-up car—onto a fixed, stationary surface—the street—was a real challenge. The faster the vehicle speed, the more difficult it became. You had to have great balance and quick feet or you would end up going head over heels onto the street. To get from Halfback to the presidential vehicle while both were moving meant throwing yourself forward with your feet and legs going a similar speed as the vehicles. Not easy to do.
And when you dropped back to the follow-up car, you had to time it right, and jump with confidence, because if you fell, there was a damn good chance you were going to get run over.
The crowds became denser as we neared the center of town. People were yelling and clapping, waving banners and signs—it was an enthusiastic reception. Between the noise of the motorcycles, and the people, you could hardly hear yourself think. I didn’t like being so far behind Mrs. Kennedy in this situation so I made a sudden decision and jumped off Halfback, ran to catch up to 100X, and leapt onto the rear step of the car. The president glanced back at me, but he didn’t say anything. I knew he didn’t want us on the back of the car, but I had a job to do. I would answer later if necessary.
When the crowds dissipated, I returned to Halfback.
Crowds spill onto Main Street in Dallas on 11/22/63
As we turned onto Main Street, the spectators really increased. Both sides of the street were packed—ten to twenty people deep on each side, spilling into the street. Bill Greer, driving 100X, kept the car to the left to keep President Kennedy, who was in the right rear, as far away from the crowd as possible. Because of the crowds, the motorcycles were having a hard time staying alongside the president’s car.
That put Mrs. Kennedy, seated in the left rear, right up next to the people. I immediately jumped from Halfback and got on the left rear of 100X to be near Mrs. Kennedy.
I crouched on the step, in an effort to be less conspicuous, yet still be in proximity should anything happen. I constantly scanned the crowd. People were everywhere—yelling, cheering, clapping. There were people on rooftops and balconies and fire escapes. People hanging out of windows. It was a beautiful sunny day, and warm. Windows were open all along the route.
Again I saw the president glance my way but not say anything. I stayed there, on the rear step of the limousine, all the way down Main Street.
Main Street came to an end, and the car turned right, onto Houston. At this point the number of spectators diminished considerably. I noticed on the right side of Houston that there were office buildings, and on the left was what appeared to be a plaza. Some concrete columns and a grassy area with a few people, but not many.
Clint Hill crouches on back of limousine on Main Street, Dallas, 11/22/63
I looked back at Halfback, let go of the handhold, jumped off 100X onto the pavement, and in one fluid motion, jumped back to my position on the left running board.
Immediately in front of us as we traveled down Houston Street was a red brick building about seven floors high. Some windows were open in the building, but there was no indication of any problem. Windows had been open all along the route.
We turned left onto Elm Street. It was an unusually sharp turn, and because 100X was no ordinary vehicle, Greer had to slow down considerably. Halfback had similar problems and Kinney maneuvered slowly through the turn.
The vehicles straightened out and began to return to our normal parade pace of about ten miles per hour. I was scanning to the left at the grassy area when I heard a sudden explosive noise, over my right shoulder, from the back of the motorcade.
I turned my head toward the noise, and as my eyes moved across the president’s car, I saw President Kennedy grab at this throat and lurch to his left.
I jumped off the running board and ran toward 100X. I wasn’t thinking, only reacting. Somebody had fired a shot at the president, and I had to get there. I had to get on the car and get myself between the shooter and the president and Mrs. Kennedy.
I was running as fast as I could. Nothing else mattered.
I have been told there was a second shot, which occurred at this time. I did not hear it. My feet were hitting the pavement; the motorcycle engines were loud in my ears.
I’m almost there. Mrs. Kennedy is leaning toward the president. I’m almost there.
I was almost there. And then I heard the shot. The third shot. The impact was like the sound of something hard
hitting something hollow—like the sound of a melon shattering onto cement. In the same instant, blood, brain matter, and bone fragments exploded from the back of the president’s head. The president’s blood, parts of his skull, bits of his brain were splattered all over me—on my face, my clothes, in my hair.
My legs were still moving. I assumed more shots were coming. I reached for the handhold and grabbed it.
Just as I grabbed it, the car lurched forward. Bill Greer had stepped on the gas, and the car reacted with a jolt. I slipped. I was gripping with all my strength, my feet now back on the pavement. My legs kept moving, as I held on, trying to keep up with the rapidly accelerating car. Somehow—I honestly don’t know how—I lunged and pulled my body onto the car, and my foot found the step. In that same instant, Mrs. Kennedy rose up out of her seat and started climbing onto the trunk.
What is she doing? What is she doing?
The car was accelerating—we were really speeding up.
Good God, she’s going to go flying off the back of the car! Her eyes were filled with terror. She didn’t even know I was there. She was reaching for something. She was reaching for a piece of the president’s head.
I thrust myself onto the trunk, grabbed her arm, and pushed her back into the seat.
When I did this, the president’s body fell to the left onto her lap.
As I peered into the backseat of the car, I saw the president’s head, in her lap. His eyes were fixed, and I could see inside the back of his head. I could see inside the back of the president’s head.
“My God! They have shot his head off!” Mrs. Kennedy screamed.
Blood was everywhere. The floor was covered in blood and brain tissue and skull fragments.
“Get us to a hospital! Get us to a hospital!” I screamed at Bill Greer.
I wedged myself between the left and right side of the vehicle, on top of the rear seat, trying to keep my body as high as possible to shield whatever shots might still be coming. I had my left hand on the top of the left door frame and my left foot wedged against the inside of the right frame, my right foot hanging over the top of the car frame on the right.