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Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir (English Edition) Kindle版

英語版 Clint Hill (著), Lisa McCubbin Hill (著) 形式: Kindle版

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The #1 New York Times bestselling memoir by Clint Hill that Kirkus Reviews called “clear and honest prose free from salaciousness and gossip,” Jackie Kennedy’s personal Secret Service agent details his very close relationship with the First Lady during the four years leading up to and following President John F. Kennedy’s tragic assassination.

In those four years, Hill was by Mrs. Kennedy’s side for some of the happiest moments as well as the darkest. He was there for the birth of John, Jr. on November 25, 1960, as well as for the birth and sudden death of Patrick Bouvier Kennedy on August 8, 1963. Three and a half months later, the unthinkable happened.

Forty-seven years after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, the one vivid image that never leaves Clint Hill’s mind is that of President Kennedy’s head lying on Mrs. Kennedy’s lap in the back seat of the limousine, his eyes fixed, blood splattered all over the back of the car, Mrs. Kennedy, and Hill as well. Sprawled on the trunk of the car as it sped away from Dealey Plaza, Hill clung to the sides of the car, his feet wedged in so his body was as high as possible.

Clint Hill jumped on the car too late to save the president, but all he knew after that first shot was that if more shots were coming, the bullets had to hit him instead of the First Lady.

Mrs. Kennedy’s strength, class, and dignity over those tragic four days in November 1963 held the country together.

This is the story, told for the first time, of the man who perhaps held her together.

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著者について

Clint Hill is the New York Times bestselling author of Mrs. Kennedy and Me and Five Days in November. A former Secret Service agent who was in the presidential motorcade during the John F. Kennedy assassination, Hill remained assigned to Mrs. Kennedy until after the 1964 election. He then was assigned to President Lyndon B. Johnson at the White House and later to Richard Nixon, eventually becoming the Assistant Director of the Secret Service for all protection. He retired in 1975.

Lisa McCubbin is an award-winning journalist who has been a television news anchor and reporter, hosted her own radio show, and spent more than five years in the Middle East as a freelance writer. She is the coauthor of Mrs. Kennedy and Me, Five Days in November, and The Kennedy Detail. Visit her at LisaMcCubbin.com. --このテキストは、kindle_edition版に関連付けられています。

レビュー

"With clear and honest prose free of salaciousness and gossip, Hill (ably assisted by McCubbin) evokes not only a personality both beautiful and brilliant, but also a time when the White House was filled with youth and promise.

Of the many words written about Jacqueline Kennedy, these are among the best." --Kirkus starred review

"[Mrs. Kennedy and Me] conveys a sense of honesty and proves to be an insightful and lovingly penetrating portrait of the Jacqueline Kennedy that Hill came to know." --USA Today (3 1/2 stars)

"Talk about being unable to put a book down; I was enthralled with this memoir from start to finish." --Liz Smith --このテキストは、kindle_edition版に関連付けられています。

抜粋

1
Meeting Mrs. Kennedy

It was with great trepidation that I approached 3307 N Street in Georgetown on November 11, 1960. I was about to meet the wife of the newly elected president of the United States, who I had just been assigned to protect, and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Being on the First Lady’s Secret Service detail was the last place I wanted to be. Looking back, I’m quite sure that Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy was filled with even more anxiety about our meeting than I was. Neither of us had much choice in the matter. She could refuse to accept me—as she had done with the first agent assigned to her—but if I rejected the assignment, it would be the end of my career.

Just twenty-four hours earlier, I had been with outgoing President Dwight D. Eisenhower, as he played a post-election round of golf at Augusta National Golf Course. The fact that the Republicans had lost the election was still sinking in, and while the entire administration was about to change, one of the few things that would remain the same was the Secret Service. It had been a great honor for me to be on President Eisenhower’s Secret Service detail, and, while it would be bittersweet to see him leave office, I was excited for the challenge and experience of protecting the new president. It never entered my mind that my job might not be as secure as I thought it was.

There were just forty of us on the White House Secret Service detail—the elite team whose sole mission was to protect the president around the clock. We were not affiliated with any party or political group, and we were a tight group of men. The transition would require the Secret Service to adapt to the new president’s style, and even though I hadn’t yet met President-elect John F. Kennedy, it was obvious that protecting him was going to be a whole different ball game than it had been with Ike. We were going from a seventy-year-old former general who ran the White House with military precision, to an energetic forty-three-year-old Irish Catholic Democrat from Massachusetts with a lot of new ideas to take America into the 1960s.

I had been working the golf course with two other agents, and as soon as the president’s foursome finished the round, Jim Rowley, the Special Agent in Charge (SAIC) of the White House Detail, sent word that he needed to speak to the three of us. I had a feeling that this was probably my last game of golf with President Eisenhower and fully expected that Rowley was about to reassign the three of us to President-elect Kennedy.

When we walked into the office, Rowley explained that he had to shuffle the personnel in order to cover President Eisenhower, along with President-elect Kennedy, until the Inauguration in January.

First he addressed the other two agents, Jerry Blaine and Bill Skiles.

“Jerry and Bill, you’ll be on the president-elect detail. Mr. Kennedy is going to spend the next month and the holidays at his father’s estate in Palm Beach, Florida, so you guys need to get on a flight down there this evening.”

He warned that they would likely remain in Florida until the Inauguration, meaning they’d be away from their own families for Christmas and New Year’s, and suggested they have their wives arrange to get some warm-weather clothing to them. As I was listening to Rowley give Blaine and Skiles their new assignment, an uneasy feeling started to come over me.

Finally, Rowley turned to me and said, “Clint, Defense Secretary Tom Gates is here briefing the president and is returning to Washington shortly. I want you to fly back with him, then go to Secret Service headquarters and talk to Chief Baughman. The chief is expecting you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said with a nod. Why does Baughman want to speak with me? Why am I not going to Palm Beach with Skiles and Blaine? I had a dozen questions, but I would never question Rowley’s authority or decision: he was our leader. Still, I had a foreboding feeling that whatever lay ahead for me could not be good.

SECRET SERVICE HEADQUARTERS was located in the U.S. Treasury Building, right next to the White House on Pennsylvania Avenue. I had never been in the chief’s office before, and in fact, had never personally met Chief U. E. Baughman, who had been head of the Secret Service since 1948. I was more than a little apprehensive when I checked in with his secretary, but I tried to sound as confident as possible.

“I’m Special Agent Clint Hill. Here to meet with Chief Baughman.”

“Yes, Mr. Hill, the chief is expecting you,” she said. “You may go on in.”

As I walked through the doorway into the chief’s spacious office, the first thing I saw was a plaque hanging on the wall that said: You ain’t learning nothing when you’re talking. Sound advice, I thought.

Then, as I looked around the room, and saw not just Chief Baughman but his deputy chief and an assistant chief as well as two inspectors, a feeling of dread suddenly came over me. The entire top echelon of the Secret Service was standing there, apparently awaiting my arrival.

“Come on in, Clint,” Baughman said as he moved toward me and shook my hand. “Have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

His cordial manner seemed to be an attempt to help me relax, but I still had an uneasy feeling about why I had been summoned. After introducing me to the other men in the room, Baughman asked casually, “Clint, how long have you been in the Secret Service?”

“I started in the Denver Field Office on September 22, 1958, sir.”

“And when were you transferred to the White House Detail?” Baughman asked.

“Just over one year ago. On November 1, 1959.”

This is strange, I thought. Surely all of this information is in my file.

Baughman asked a couple of more innocuous questions, and then each of the other men began asking me things, all sorts of things about my past, both personal and professional, as well as my attitude about protective activities.

What did you do prior to becoming an agent? Where did you grow up? Where did you go to college? Are you married or single? Do you have any children? Do you swim? Do you know how to play tennis? Have you ever ridden horses? I answered the barrage of inquiries as honestly and candidly as possible, but each new question increased my anxiety, as I still had no idea what this was all about. My mind was spinning as I replayed the events of the last couple of weeks, trying to figure out what I could have done wrong, and though my stomach was in knots, I did my best to stay calm and composed.

At times, the men would go off into a corner of the room and confer, just out of earshot, so I couldn’t hear what was being discussed. I was thoroughly convinced that I was about to be fired. Why else wouldn’t I have been sent to Palm Beach?

The interrogation went on for nearly one and a half hours. One and a half hours in which I’d done all the talking, and just like it said on Baughman’s plaque, I hadn’t learned a damn thing.

Finally, Baughman said, “Clint, we have made a decision. You are being assigned to protect Mrs. John F. Kennedy. Jim Jeffries is the leader of the First Lady’s Detail and you’ll be his assistant.”

I was too stunned to speak. The First Lady’s Detail? Me? But why?

“Yes, sir,” I said. There was nothing more to say. I was relieved that I wasn’t being fired, but I was deeply disappointed that I wasn’t going to be with the new president.

Baughman told me to report to 3307 N Street Northwest, to the Kennedy home in Georgetown. Mrs. Kennedy would soon be arriving from Hyannis Port, Massachusetts.

My mind was spinning as I left the chief’s office. Why was I selected for this assignment? What actions or experience in my background caused them to make this decision? It felt as though I had been demoted from the starting lineup to the bench. From grade school to college, in all my years playing football, basketball, and baseball, I’d always been a star player, and now, in the most important game of my life, I’d just been kicked off the first team. I was devastated.

The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. I had been on the White House Detail for just over a year and had traveled with President Eisenhower on several unprecedented trips that took us throughout Europe, Asia, and South America. At the time, I was twenty-seven years old and had never flown in a jet aircraft. Having grown up in the high plains of North Dakota, I could never have imagined I would accompany the President of the United States to ancient cities I’d only read about in history books: Rome, Ankara, Karachi, Kabul, New Delhi, Tehran, Athens, Tunis, Toulon, Paris, Lisbon, and Casablanca. To top things off, I was issued a diplomatic passport, which allowed for preferential treatment, as if I were a dignitary myself. I felt so privileged and I thrived on the constant activity.

One of the things I most enjoyed was the camaraderie among all the agents as we worked together as a team. Now all that excitement was over, and I could just envision what lay ahead. While my buddies on the President’s Detail would be right in the middle of all the action, I knew where I was going to end up: fashion shows, afternoon tea parties, and the ballet. I felt as if my career had come to a screeching halt.

I pulled my Secret Service commission book out of my suit coat pocket and held it in my hands. The impressive midnight blue grosgrain leather case was engraved on the front cover with the gold five-point Secret Service star. Within the star it read: UNITED STATES SECRET SERVICE.

As I went over and over in my mind what had just transpired, the only conclusion I could come to as to why I’d been chosen for this assignment was that Mrs. Kennedy and I were fairly close in age—I was now twenty-eight and she was thirty-one—and that I had a child nearly the same age as her three-year-old daughter Caroline. I couldn’t come up with any other reason.

I finally realized I had no recourse. I was a Secret Service agent on the White House Detail, and the first lady required protection. Somebody had to do it. So I pulled myself up, grabbed the keys to one of the Secret Service sedans, and headed to the historic streets of Georgetown.

THE THREE-STORY REDBRICK townhouse at 3307 N Street stood so close to the street that the front door was just two steps up from the sidewalk. The house was not very big—just three windows across on the upper two floors and two windows next to the front door on the ground floor.

The Secret Service agent posted in front of the house had been alerted to my arrival and allowed me inside without difficulty. Agent Jim Jeffries was waiting inside and came to the door to greet me.

Agent Jeffries was about five foot ten, the same height as me, with a medium build, and was about thirty-two or thirty-three years old. He had light, reddish hair, and a ruddy complexion, which I imagined would burn to a crisp if he spent more than a few minutes in the sun. As he approached me, he had a serious, almost stern look on his face that didn’t do much to calm the apprehension I was already feeling.

“Come on in, Clint,” he said, in a clipped voice. “I’m Jim Jeffries. Glad to have you aboard. Let me go find Mrs. Kennedy and introduce you.”

“Great. I’m looking forward to meeting her,” I said, with as much sincerity as I could muster.

As Jeffries walked out, I looked around the living room to try to get a feel for Mrs. Kennedy’s tastes and what kinds of things she liked. The room was elegantly decorated, but it had a feeling of warmth to it as well. Dark wood antiques were mixed with light-colored upholstered pieces and the furniture seemed as if it were arranged in such a way to invite guests to stay for long, lingering evenings by the fireplace. Built-in bookshelves were filled with a mixture of books and decorative ornaments that had a distinctly European feel. Everything seemed to be placed just so, and I got the feeling that should an object be moved ever so slightly, it would be noticed immediately. It was a home for tea parties and ladies’ luncheons. Just thinking about it made the feelings of disgust and disappointment wash over me again in a sudden wave.

After a few minutes, Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy walked into the room, with Agent Jeffries a few steps behind.

I’d seen newspaper photographs of her, of course, but in person she was much more striking than I had imagined. She was tall—about five foot seven inches—but it was the way she carried herself, almost gliding into the room with a dancer’s erect posture, that exuded an air of quiet confidence. Her chin-length, dark brown hair was perfectly coiffed, and she wore just a touch of makeup, enough to accentuate her dark brown eyes and full lips but still look natural. She was very attractive, very gracious, and very pregnant.

“Mrs. Kennedy,” Jeffries said matter-of-factly, “this is Clint Hill. He will be the second agent for your personal protection.”

Mrs. Kennedy approached me and smiled warmly as she offered her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hill,” she said in a soft, breathy voice.

“It’s very nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said with a smile, as I shook her hand and looked directly into her eyes. She returned my gaze for an instant, then blinked and looked away, giving me the impression that, while she wanted to appear confident, on the inside she was rather shy.

The three of us sat down in the living room, as Agent Jeffries took the lead in explaining our duties, and how we would need to work with Mrs. Kennedy and her staff.

“There will be various agents assigned to handle the perimeter security of your residence—whether that’s here, the White House, Palm Beach, or Hyannis Port—at all times. Either Mr. Hill or I will be with you whenever you leave the residence, and if you travel outside of Washington, both of us will accompany you.”

The smile had worn off Mrs. Kennedy’s face as she resigned herself to the fact that, from now on, she would never be alone.

Calmly, in a measured tone, her voice almost whisper-like, she said, “Well, you don’t have to worry about me traveling in the next few weeks. My baby is due in a month and I plan to stay here in Washington. My biggest concern, really, is maintaining as much privacy as possible—not only for me, but for Caroline and the new baby, as well. I don’t want us to feel like animals in a zoo, and I certainly don’t want someone following me around like a puppy dog.”

Her gaze transferred between Jeffries and me, making sure that both of us understood her wishes.

“I also know that as soon as the baby is born, the press will be overbearing. They can be so intrusive.” She pressed her lips together, turning her mouth into a sly smile, and looking directly at me, she added, “I used to be one of them, you know, and I’m well aware of how they operate.”

In that instant, I realized that Mrs. Kennedy was a lot more intuitive and in control than her public image at the time suggested.

“Yes, Mrs. Kennedy,” I replied. “Part of our job will be to protect you from the press, and to make sure that you and your children can live as normal a life as possible. Believe me, we don’t like the press any more than you do.”

Her smile widened for an instant, and then she stood up and said, “It’s been lovely meeting you, gentlemen. Now I have some things to attend to.”

Jeffries and I stood up as Mrs. Kennedy walked out of the room. She had decided the meeting was over.

It was clear that she wasn’t excited about having two Secret Service agents around, and I realized that, if I was going to be able to do my job effectively, I would have to earn her trust.

“Let’s go outside and discuss how we’ll handle the schedule,” Jeffries said. “With just two of us on her protection, we’re going to be working a lot of overtime.”

Agents temporarily assigned from field offices would handle the perimeter security of her residence, no matter her location. One of us had to be available whenever Mrs. Kennedy was awake, and be prepared to perform whatever task was required to provide a secure environment in which Mrs. Kennedy could function in her capacity as wife of the President of the United States. Whether it was work or play, it was our job to make sure she could do the things she wanted or needed to do, safely. That included each and every location she visited. In order for either of us to have a day off, it required the other agent to work a full day, with no relief. When Mrs. Kennedy traveled outside the Washington, D.C., area, we both would have to work a full day in order to provide adequate coverage. A full day meant we worked during the periods Mrs. Kennedy was up, awake, and active. When she slept, we slept.

Thus began my new assignment.

I HADN’T BEEN briefed on Mrs. Kennedy at all, so I had very limited knowledge of her background, her likes and dislikes, or what activities were of interest to her. I didn’t like this feeling of being unprepared and I knew it was going to require a great deal of research to become knowledgeable about my new protectee. In those first few days, I collected newspaper and magazine articles to find out as much about Mrs. Kennedy as I possibly could. The more I read, the more I realized that her background and mine were about as different as they could possibly be.

Jacqueline Lee Bouvier had grown up on the East Coast in a sophisticated environment, learning social graces and developing an appreciation for art and literature from a young age. She was born on July 28, 1929, in Southampton, Long Island, to Jack and Janet Bouvier, and while her father instilled in her a love of horses and horseback riding, her mother developed her interest in painting, reading, and foreign languages. She had a sister named Lee, who was four years younger, and when the two were around eleven and seven years old, their parents divorced. Two years later, Janet Bouvier remarried a very wealthy man named Hugh Auchincloss.

The young Jacqueline Bouvier attended Miss Porter’s School, an exclusive boarding school in Farmington, Connecticut, where she was a straight-A student. Upon graduation from Miss Porter’s, she enrolled in Vassar College, in Poughkeepsie, New York, and in 1948 she was named “Debutante of the Year.” Summers were spent at her stepfather’s estate—a twenty-eight-room oceanfront “cottage” in Newport, Rhode Island, called Hammersmith Farm.

She became fluent in French when she spent her junior year of college in France, studying at the Sorbonne in Paris and the University of Grenoble. Upon her return from Europe, Jackie enrolled for her senior year at George Washington University in Washington, D.C., where she graduated, in 1951, with a bachelor of arts degree in French literature.

Two years later she married John Fitzgerald Kennedy, a junior senator from Massachusetts, in a highly publicized wedding in Newport that was deemed the “social event of the year.” Twelve hundred guests attended the lavish reception, which was held at Hammersmith Farm.

I, on the other hand, grew up in North Dakota in a very small town called Washburn. It was a farming community, with a large Norwegian population, and my father, Chris Hill, was the county auditor. My mother, Jennie, was a homemaker, and was devoted to my older sister, Janice, and me. My mother was hearing impaired and we, as family, made adjustments to cope with that situation. We spoke louder and always spoke in front of her so she could see that we were talking to her. She handled this difficult problem very well, but from a young age, I learned to anticipate her needs and was always protective of her.

My mother had long, dark brown hair that hung straight down her back—so different from my jet-black hair that grew in tight curls—but I never thought anything about it, until, when I was about six years old, the girl who lived across the street told me I was adopted.

I didn’t know what “adopted” meant, so I ran inside the house to ask my mother. She tried to explain it in six-year-old terms—how she and my father had driven 240 miles to Fargo in our 1929 DeSoto to the North Dakota Children’s Home for Adoption to choose me from all the other babies, how my aqua blue eyes beckoned to them—but it certainly wasn’t the way she had planned on me finding out. It turned out my sister was also adopted, and my mother was fearful that we wouldn’t feel as loved as if we had been her natural children. The truth was, I was lucky to have been raised in such a loving, stable home.

It wasn’t until many years later—after the world crashed in around me and I was searching for something to cling to—that I returned to North Dakota to meet my birth mother, and learned, as she lay on her deathbed, how I happened to become available for adoption.

Clint, Jennie, Janice, and Chris Hill, circa 1943

I was the sixth child of Alma Peterson, born January 4, 1932, in Larimore, North Dakota. Seventeen days after my birth, on a cold, snowy day, which happened to also be Alma’s thirty-ninth birthday, she had me baptized in a Lutheran church in Fargo, and then turned me over to the Children’s Home.

By the time I met her, she had suffered a stroke, and the details of the story were told to me by one of my half sisters. It wasn’t clear who my father was, she said, but she remembered Alma sending her to a French Canadian man named Vassau, who was the proprietor of the hotel where Alma was a maid, to collect some money for my birth.

Growing up in Washburn, though, I didn’t know any of this, and it didn’t really matter. I had a great childhood. Even though I never had my own room—I shared the porch with my grandfather and kept my belongings in one drawer of a dresser that was jammed next to the piano—I never went hungry, and was always supported by my family. My adoptive parents were very conservative—they didn’t smoke or drink alcohol—and were quite religious. Our whole family was active in the Evangelical Lutheran Church, where my sister played piano and I was an altar boy.

I attended the public schools in Washburn and was involved in many school activities: I played trumpet in the high school band, sang in the glee club, acted in plays, and played football and basketball and ran on the high school track team. I also played baseball for the Washburn American Legion team and, in my junior year of high school, had the great honor of being selected to attend the Boys State leadership program as the representative from Washburn. In 1950, I graduated from high school and when I left Washburn that fall to attend Concordia College, in Moorhead, Minnesota, the sign at the edge of the city read: WASHBURN POP. 912.

Now, ten years later, I was responsible for protecting the wife of the president-elect of the United States. I realized I had nothing to complain about, and I might just as well get used to it. Little did I know that life with Mrs. Kennedy was going to be anything but dull.

Clint Hill family home, Washburn, North Dakota --このテキストは、kindle_edition版に関連付けられています。

登録情報

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B005GG0M0G
出版社 ‏ : ‎ Gallery Books (2012/4/3)
発売日 ‏ : ‎ 2012/4/3
言語 ‏ : ‎ 英語
ファイルサイズ ‏ : ‎ 12900 KB
Text-to-Speech（テキスト読み上げ機能） ‏ : ‎ 有効
X-Ray ‏ : ‎ 有効
Word Wise ‏ : ‎ 有効
付箋メモ ‏ : ‎ Kindle Scribeで
本の長さ ‏ : ‎ 354ページ

Amazon 売れ筋ランキング: - 399,026位洋書 (洋書の売れ筋ランキングを見る)
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上位レビュー、対象国：日本

レビューのフィルタリング中に問題が発生しました。後でもう一度試してください。

白チョコボ

古き良き時代のホワイトハウス

2017年1月19日に日本でレビュー済み

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ジャクリーン・ケネディ・オナシスの一面が垣間見える一冊。
ホワイトハウスに必要な「クラス」を持った稀有なファーストレディだったと思う。
邦訳版も出ているが、彼女の正確なセリフが掲載されている原書をお勧めしたい。
世間で思われているスキャンダラスなイメージとは違った彼女の人柄が滲み出ている。
ゴシップ的な意味を期待している読者には本書は合わない。

1人のお客様がこれが役に立ったと考えています

役に立った

阿部則子

Carolineが駐日大使に決まった今読むのに、とてもタイムリーな一冊だと思います。

2013年10月27日に日本でレビュー済み

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読みやすい英語でとても良かったです。
一般の生活とは　かけ離れていて、夢物語を読んでいる様でした。

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Bumblebee64

Beautiful story of courage, respect and the enduring power of government service!

2018年2月22日にカナダでレビュー済み

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Beautifully written book! I felt so many emotions reading this book. It was sometimes funny...reverent....and so sad when Mr. Hill takes us along on his journey.... knowing what the outcome will be. I believe Mr. Hill when he says the assassination changed his life. I saw an interview with him and he said it has taken a toll on his life and his family. You Mr. Hill were a hero on that dreadful day of November 22, 1963! Loved the book! Such a tribute to Jackie and what she had to endure. Jackie was lucky to have you as her secret service agent for those years....Bravo Mr. Hill....I highly recommend this book!

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Chandana Ghosh

Book review

2019年7月3日にインドでレビュー済み

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I like the book.

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Lynda Kelly

Such An Interesting Insight

2018年8月9日に英国でレビュー済み

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What a fascinating read. I've read tomes about the Kennedys and always think I must know all about them now, and then another book is released and (sometimes) I learn I don't at all. This is one of those times. I've waited over a year for this to become more affordable for me so was delighted when the price finally dropped from its £14+ inception cost !! I am a big fan of the Publisher's Font used in this as well. It's a really nice and very readable one. Wish my Kindle had one the same.
It's written so well and he brings Jackie to true life better than any other writer has.....it was nice to hear of her lighting up a cigarette (I did use the f word here but Amazon bounced it back to me) in the backseat of the car with him and other mischief she caused.....he had his work cut out for those years but I would hazard a guess those were his favourite years of his illustrious career at the White House. It was nice to see some photos I hadn't seen before as well.
The Secret Service certainly scrimp on their operatives....for all his time with her he only ever had one fulltime person with him and at times did the job on his tod which I found pretty staggering !! I was also shocked to read that Texas in November 1963 was the first and only time Jackie ever accompanied JFK on a domestic political trip !! This I found a poignant passage and I shed a few tears:
"Three shots had been fired in Dealey Plaza. And the world stopped for four days."
I was drawing some parallels with Princess Diana reading this.....compare the difference of JFK joking about accompanying Jackie Kennedy to Paris to Prince Charles' po-faced chops when crowds went wild over his lovely wife.....and there was the Al Fayed spectre in her life whereas Jackie had Onassis wanting to make a name for himself. I'd not realised that Jackie had done the solo Taj Mahal photo first, either, on the same spot, although looking happier. I did have the odd snivel again reading about JFK's last birthday and how Clint referred to it.
I spotted the odd apostrophe mistake along with these hyphen mistakes.....comprehen-sion and father-inlaw and Aaron Copeland is spelt like this and Aga Khan not Agha....but that was it, which is pretty good going.
I plan to get hold of his other book set in these same times, too. It's also written with Lisa McCubbin so I am sure will be as interesting as this one was.

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Paddl

Wow!

2016年12月8日にドイツでレビュー済み

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Das Buch war wirklich toll. Ich könnte es gar nicht mehr weglegen und musste mich am Ende echt bremsen, um es nicht zu schnell fertig zu haben. Clint Hill ist einfach ein bemerkenswerter Mann, der viel miterlebt hat und bei vielen geschichtlichen Events dabei war. Ich hätte nicht gedacht, dass mir das Buch so gefallen würde, aber es ist eines der besten, die ich je gelesen habe. Ganz klare Empfehlung!

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NJfromLA

Beguiled - A Secret Service Agent's Love Story

2012年4月5日にアメリカ合衆国でレビュー済み

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To my surprise this book is a love story. Not a salacious inappropriate smut filled account, but rather one with stories of growth, fun times, laughter, dedication, respect! A story of sorrow and sadness that is uplifting because of caring and friendship. This book is a warm modern portrait the Mr. and Mrs. John F. Kennedy and their children from someone who was close to them with no axe to grind. Even the sad events are presented with compassion. There's a lot of love in this book.

Secret Service Agent Clint Hill begins his association in late 1960 with the Kennedy administration in a fearful place. Fearful that after a couple of years of what he believed was success on President Eisenhower's detail, he's suddenly removed from the "main action" of protecting the president. Is this a demotion he bemoans? Like any macho Secret Service dude seeking to advance, Mr. Hill naturally dreads moving to the First Ladies detail with its potential daily doses of "fashion shows and the ballet." Yet, both loving his job and having a young family to support, Mr. Hill accepts his fate and reports to 3307 N Street, Georgetown, to meet (be approved by??!!) the young First Lady-elect (she's already rejected one perspective agent!!).

Disappoint quickly turns to beguilement, as Clint Hill is thoroughly charmed and enchanted by this beautiful, fun, witty, intelligent, adventurous, sporty, irreverent and yeah, a bit of a spoiled rich girl (who knows how to get her way). Heck, he even learns to not mind the occasional fashion show (so long as it features the First Lady!), ballet in New York and even personally shopping for ladies apparel in Ravello, Itally!!!! Who woulda thunk it.

No, I've not overdone it on the adjectives and yeah, this isn't your typical "Kennedy" bio. Mr. Hill doesn't criticize or attack, but showers his subject with affection. He and all the agents, because of the nature of their jobs, seemingly abandon their own lives and families in their service to the first family and all who they protect. One can see how the close private contact and the enormous amount of time spent away from the agent's loved ones can lead to feelings that are deeper and more personal towards the subject of their protection.

Mr. Hill (and she's "Mrs. Kennedy - she adheres to proper address at all times) not only loves the First Lady, but he also very much cares for her husband and their children too. He just plain loves the Kennedy first family period - and says that despite what's been written, they were a loving and playful family. He even is amused by the extended Kennedy clan and their friends!!

Mr. Hill doesn't portend to sell more books by detailing alleged unsavory dalliances and missteps. You will find no recollections or opinions about the first couple's sex life (apart from a remembrance about some suggestive art that the First Lady picks up in India...humorous not amorous). While Mr. Hill does mention a certain controversial birthday featuring a drunken female movie star and her singing, and he does hint at a certain rat pack crooners' rather inappropriate interest in Mrs. Kennedy's personal activities (this was new to me - and I've read at least 50 bios on the K's), Mr. Hill doesn't go further than what he truly knows to be true - which is that Mrs. Kennedy never shared her feelings about either.

I felt his writing in this way showed not only respect for his subjects, but a certain truth missing in most other biographies that serve rumor as fact, and seem to relish ripping their subjects apart. Well, there's no ripping here.

If one reads between the lines, here is a portrait of a woman who undoubtedly loves her place in life with her powerful, public servant, handsome husband (whatever his warts), and yet thrives on the one thing that is the antithesis of his job (and perhaps his entire being) - privacy. A lady who is tough and yet wears her vulnerabilities in "her espresso-colored eyes." A lady who claims to dislike the "fish bowl" existence inherent in the White House, yet secretly enjoys reading the gossip magazines featuring herself.

Topics that Mr. Hill offers an accounting:

Why Mrs. Kennedy spent so much time away from the White House (Mr. Hill says she spent about eight percent of her time AWAY from the White House during one time period in 1961).

Mrs. Kennedy's various vacations and partying amongst the creme de la creme of the European social set without her husband (according to Mr. Hill, usually with her SISTER - and nothing out of line - except for the time she jumps in the sports car of a very, very young Greek Count who engages Mr. Hill and his fellow agents on a high speed chase...but that was about fun - not illicit romance).

Onassis! I didn't know that President Kennedy felt so strongly about Mrs. Kennedy having nothing to do with Onassis as early as her visit to Greece in 1961!!! Mr. Hill felt very uneasy about the Greek tycoon.

Despite the fun and adventures, in the end, this is a story about great pain, loss and sorrow. Also, about one man's journey to learning to forgive himself. This book is a great success for no other reason than its finally allowed Mr. Hill peace of mind.

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Clint Hill

Lisa McCubbin

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