Free Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir by Clint Hill, Lisa McCubbin Page B

or the ballet.
    “Great. I love New York,” I said.
    “Oh, have you spent much time in New York, Mr. Hill?” she asked.
    In fact, the last time I had been in New York City was as part of the advance team for President Eisenhower when he went to New York to help Vice President Richard Nixon in his campaign to defeat John F. Kennedy just before the election in 1960, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
    “Oh yes, I’ve been to New York City a number of times,” I replied. “Where will you stay?”
    “I’ll stay at our apartment at the Carlyle Hotel.”
    Their apartment at the Carlyle Hotel? Who has their own apartment at a hotel? I had never heard of such a thing.
    I was glad to get this information well ahead of time so that we could alert the New York City Field Office of Mrs. Kennedy’s pending visit. Protecting her on the streets of New York was going to require much more assistance than in Middleburg or Palm Beach. As soon as I had the opportunity, I notified Agent Jeffries of Mrs. Kennedy’s plans.
    Whenever the president or Mrs. Kennedy traveled to New York, we would rely on the New York Field Office (NYFO) for their expertise in navigating the area. Whether it was to restaurants, a Broadway show, museums, or shopping on Fifth Avenue, they knew the right people to contact in advance of Mrs. Kennedy’s arrival. The NYFO was one of the largest Secret Service offices in the country and they would provide us with extra manpower, and would handle the perimeter security at the Carlyle Hotel.
    On Monday, March 19, Mrs. Kennedy, her sister, Lee, Agent Jeffries, and I flew on the Caroline from Washington to LaGuardia Airport, where we were met by agents from the NYFO.
    The Secret Service had an agreement with the Ford Motor Company, and they had provided a Lincoln Town Car to transport the first lady, as well as a station wagon for us to use as a follow-up car.
    So we headed off to the Carlyle with Agent Jeffries in the front passenger seat and Mrs. Kennedy and her sister in the back of the Lincoln, while I drove behind them in the follow-up car. The previous times I had been to New York with President Eisenhower, it had been a highly publicized visit, which required a police escort. Because Mrs. Kennedy preferred to keep her trips private, most of the time we never told anybody where we were going or what we were doing. From the perspective of the Secret Service, this was the preferred way to handle a trip. The fewer people who knew your intended destination or route, the better. A police escort would have just drawn attention to us, so we kept the motorcadeto as few vehicles as possible. Of course, Mrs. Kennedy’s luggage was always a concern and there usually had to be an additional car and handler just for her bags. She did not travel lightly.
    I had never been to the Carlyle before, and as I realized we were getting close, I noticed this beautiful structure that seemed to rise up from the city, overlooking Central Park, unobstructed by any other tall buildings. Built in the Art Deco style, the hotel has a distinct look, most notably marked by the octagonal green tiled roof that is topped with what looks like a giant gilded thimble. As we pulled up to the stunning hotel that rose forty stories high, I thought back to my youth in North Dakota wheat country where the highest structures were grain elevators standing four or five stories tall, and I thought, That sure would hold a lot of wheat.
    Agents from the New York office had secured the area in anticipation of our arrival. The general manager of the hotel, Mr. Samuel Lewis, was there to greet Mrs. Kennedy and escort her to the Kennedys’ apartment on the thirty-fourth floor.
    “Welcome back, Mrs. Kennedy,” said Mr. Lewis as he bowed his head slightly.
    “Thank you, Mr. Lewis,” Mrs. Kennedy said with a smile. “It feels like I’m coming home.”
    “We hope you do think of this as home, Mrs. Kennedy. And so nice to see you, too, Princess Radziwill,”