by Clint Hill
The event was originally to have taken place here at the Rice Hotel, but so many tickets were sold—more than 3,300—that at the last minute it had to be moved to the larger venue.
Agent Paul Landis and I are assigned to Room 525, next door to President and Mrs. Kennedy, but we barely use it. There just isn’t time to transport baggage for the entire party, so although our shirts and suits are soiled with dirt and sweat, the best we can do is wash our faces and hands. This is but a pit stop, and we still have several more movements before the night is over.
The agents from the day shift—8:00 A.M.–4:00 P.M.—are en route to the Houston Coliseum to secure the venue for this evening’s activities. They’ve been providing security at the Rice Hotel until our arrival, and now the current shift, the 4:00 P.M.–midnight shift, takes over. The number of agents is so small, a constant juggling act is required to adequately secure the venues and protect the president and Mrs. Kennedy at each location. The day and evening shifts will both work at least several hours of overtime, and for Landis, Kellerman, and me, it will be a sixteen- to eighteen-hour day.
At 8:40 P.M., President and Mrs. Kennedy emerge from their suite. They have both changed clothes—the president is wearing a fresh shirt, suit, and tie, and Mrs. Kennedy has put on an elegant black cut-velvet dress with a three-strand pearl necklace. As Agent Kellerman and I escort them down to the second-floor ballroom, hotel employees stand at attention along the hallway, breaking into huge smiles when the president and first lady oblige their outstretched hands with fleeting handshakes.
The brief appearance at the Latin American group has, of course, been planned all along, the security tightly coordinated, but it’s designed to appear as an impromptu visit. When President and Mrs. Kennedy walk through the doors of the grand ballroom, the shock from the seven hundred guests is palpable.
Hoots and hollers, cheering and clapping, are accompanied by gasps of disbelief. The president makes his way to the stage, smiling with delight at the overwhelming welcome, and steps up to the podium. He speaks for a few minutes about the important relationship between the United States and the Latin American countries, and then offers the crowd a surprise.
“Well, I’m glad to be here today,” he says. “And in order that, uh, my words can be even clearer, I’m going to ask my wife to say a few words to you also.”
Applause and cheers reverberate off the walls as Mrs. Kennedy makes her way to the podium. Smiling shyly—she’s not used to being in the spotlight like this—she takes her place at the podium and delivers her memorized speech in Spanish, stumbling just once over one word, but is otherwise flawless. She speaks for just thirty-five seconds, but that is enough for this crowd, and instantaneously everyone is on their feet, cheering as if this were the most eloquent, inspiring speech they’ve ever heard.
“Viva Jackie! Viva JFK!”
President Kennedy is beaming, and as he and Mrs. Kennedy exchange glances, the adoration they have for each other is evident. He couldn’t be more proud, and she is so pleased with the reaction from the people. Vice President Johnson steps up to the podium, grinning as big as can be—for the first lady’s Spanish-speaking ability reflects well on him, too—and acknowledges that whatever he has to say will be very insignificant in light of what Mrs. Kennedy has said.
The mariachi band behind them breaks into a rousing number, and while the schedule calls for us to depart immediately, the president, Mrs. Kennedy, and Vice President and Mrs. Johnson stay a while longer to shake hands and sign the group’s guest book.
You can feel the joy and pride from every single person in this room, for it is the first time the Latin American community has been formally and personally acknowledged by a president of the United States.
9
* * *
Houston Coliseum
Congressman Albert Thomas Dinner
At 8:55 P.M. the presidential party piles into the cars again for the short drive to the Sam Houston Coliseum. It is dark, making it difficult to see the passengers inside, but still, curious crowds line the streets, people straining to catch a view of their president and first lady. Driving in open-top cars, in the dark, makes for a tense situation for the Secret Service.
I’m straddling the left-side door, and up ahead, as we approach the Coliseum, a group of protestors begins chanting, waving placards denouncing President Kennedy’s policy—or lack thereof—with regard to Cuba. The demonstrators appear nonviolent, but we are mindful of how quickly attitudes can change, especially with dissenting groups. We’ve seen it plenty of times before—all it takes is one instigator to turn a manageable crowd into sheer chaos. Glaring at the picketers, I move to a sidesaddle position, freeing both my arms, and ready to jump in a split second. The chants continue as we come to a stop in front of the Coliseum, and we whisk the president and Mrs. Kennedy inside.
The sold-out event is a tribute to Congressman Albert Thomas, who has served his district for more than thirty years and is credited with bringing the Manned Spacecraft Center to Houston. The dinner, attended by supporters of Congressman Thomas, is an opportunity for President Kennedy to bring together the various factions within the Democratic Party in Texas in time for the 1964 presidential election.
When President Kennedy steps up to the podium, no one in the audience could guess what a grueling day he’s had to this point, for he appears completely relaxed, even energized by the enthusiastic reception he has received here and in San Antonio. He speaks glowingly of Congressman Thomas and of the space program, which is so important not only to him but to this local audience.
“Next month, when the United States of America fires the largest booster in the history of the world into space, for the first time giving us the lead—fires the largest payroll”—he realizes that’s not the word he meant to say, and immediately corrects himself—“payload into space, giving us the lead.” His mind is so quick that he turns this slight gaffe into a sharp-witted remark. Looking down, and forcing back a smile, he quips, “It will be the largest payroll, too.”
The audience bursts into unanimous laughter, and he can’t help but laugh now as well. It is the best line of the night, so typical of his easygoing personality, his ability to laugh at himself. It is his signature inimitable charm. The evening concludes with wild applause, another standing ovation, and as soon as the benediction is over, we hustle the president and Mrs. Kennedy through the crowd, out the lobby, and into the waiting cars.
Twenty-three minutes later we are back at Houston International Airport, where Colonel Jim Swindal has Air Force One’s engines running so that we can depart as soon as all the passengers have boarded. There is still a throng of people here—whether it is a new crowd or the same people that were here on arrival, I have no idea. A row of Houston police officers is lined up on the tarmac, at President Kennedy’s request, so he can personally thank a few of the hundreds who have done such a fine job during this brief visit. It is meaningful to the officers, and a wonderful gesture, but in the darkness it’s far more difficult to scan the boisterous crowd, and we wish he would just move straight to the aircraft.
Finally seated on the plane, I look at my watch and note in my pocket-size daily diary the time we depart Houston: 10:15 P.M.
Sitting next to me, Kellerman looks as weary as I feel. The adrenaline has been pumping hard all day long, and we’re not done yet. He pulls out the survey report for our arrival in Fort Worth.
“We’ve got leased cars again,” he says. “Land at Carswell Air Force Base, then motorcade into downtown Fort Worth. Fortunately it’s nearly midnight, so I can’t imagine there will be big crowds.”
Still, for the Secret Service, a motorcade with leased cars, at night, in an unfamiliar city is about as tense a situation as you can get.
10
* * *
Fort Worth
Carswell Air Force Base Arrival
There is a misty drizzle as Air Force One touches down at precisely 11:05 P.M., which means at least we won’
t have the tops down on the convertibles. But as Colonel Swindal brings the aircraft to the designated spot, I look out the window and I can hardly believe my eyes.
“Roy,” I say to Kellerman, “take a look at that.”
Standing in the pitch-black night, oblivious to the rain, is a crowd nearly as big as the one in Houston this afternoon.
“I’ll be damned,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “What do you think? Five, six thousand?”
“At least.”
Once again Mrs. Kennedy heads down the ramp first, with the president a step behind. It’s the standard routine now. There’s no question that Mrs. Kennedy is a big reason for these massive crowds, and the president knows it. These are the photos that will be priceless for the campaign.
Governor and Mrs. Connally follow the Kennedys, and Kellerman and I are right behind. Once again, Vice President and Mrs. Johnson are there on the tarmac, welcoming President and Mrs. Kennedy to Fort Worth, another bouquet of flowers. Johnson reaches out to Mrs. Kennedy, smiling as big as can be, so proud of how his home state has come out for them. Kellerman and I race down the ramp, eager to get on the ground and get the motorcade under way. The cheering, shrieking crowd drowns out the loud jet engines and I go into a zone where I’m scanning every face as fast as I can while constantly keeping Mrs. Kennedy within an arm’s length.
I’m stunned to see so many young children in the crowd. For God’s sake, it’s eleven o’clock on a cool, drizzly night. Seeing the president and first lady obviously means a great deal to the parents in order for them to want their children to witness this. I suppose because I’m around the president and Mrs. Kennedy all the time, and I’ve come to see them as normal human beings, this idolatry just seems crazy to me.
President Kennedy dives into the crowd, with Mrs. Kennedy in tow, reaching out, touching and making eye contact with as many as possible before Kellerman finally convinces him it’s time to go.
I help Mrs. Kennedy get into the backseat with the president and Governor Connally while Mrs. Connally slides in between driver Bill Greer and Kellerman. The doors close and I join the other agents in the follow-up car. This is our sixth motorcade of the day.
Fort Worth has gone all out to welcome these special guests. Buildings are decorated with Christmas lights and all the way into the city, men, women, and children stand at the side of the roadways in raincoats, holding umbrellas, waving. Unbelievable.
Fifteen minutes later we arrive at the Hotel Texas. The placard above the main entrance reads:
WELCOME TO FT WORTH
WHERE THE WEST BEGINS
But it’s not the sign I notice, it’s the crowd. Four thousand drenched people are pressed together, ready to burst beyond the flimsy barricades—the only thing standing between us and them. Fort Worth police officers are posted strategically, but they, and we, are vastly outnumbered.
The president gets out of the car and waves to the people calling out his name. I help Mrs. Kennedy out of the car and out of the corner of my eye I see the president walk briskly toward the delirious mob.
Dutifully, Mrs. Kennedy follows as women shriek at the sight of the handsome president and still others in the crowd call out, “Jackie! Jackie! We love you!”
The president stays with the crowd just a few short minutes—long enough that they can’t say he snubbed them—and heads into the hotel. The lobby is jammed. Every inch of space is filled by a body, and still more are packed onto the open stairway. This can’t meet fire code, I think to myself.
We push through the mass of humanity and get the Kennedys safely into the elevator and up to their room, Suite 850. Kellerman and I make sure the president and first lady are secure in their room and turn over the protective responsibility to the midnight–8:00 A.M. shift agents, who arrived earlier in the day and hopefully have had time to rest.
“Clint,” Agent Kellerman says, “I’ve been advised that the president is adding another speech tomorrow morning, before the Chamber of Commerce breakfast. It’s going to be outside, across the street in the parking lot, around eight thirty or so. As far as I know, Mrs. Kennedy isn’t expected to be there, but you never know.”
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll let you know if she tells me otherwise.”
It is approaching midnight in Texas, but my mind and body are still on Washington, D.C., time, where it is nearly one o’clock in the morning.
Since leaving the White House at 10:50 A.M., we have traveled on one helicopter flight, three airline flights, driven in six motorcades, stopped at three speech sites, and encountered hundreds of thousands of people, if not a million, along the way. I realize that since breakfast at my home in Arlington, Virginia, this morning, other than a light lunch on Air Force One between Washington and San Antonio, I’ve had nothing to eat. I’m tired and hungry.
It has been a very long day.
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.