Mrs. Kennedy and Me

A friend recently told me she read a biography of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis which left her conflicted: in awe of the life she led and what she managed to accomplish, but also put out with the manipulative, prima donna that she so often seemed to be. My friend couldn't particularly recommend the book she'd read - it was poorly organized and focused a little too heavily on JFK's many affairs for her taste. Our conversation was still on my mind when I had a few hours to kill in an airport recently and so undertook a pretty intensive browsing of the bookstore. Mrs. Kennedy and Me by Secret Service agent Clint Hill jumped out at me and I figured: why not?

It's a relatively short book, with a casual, conversational style, and plenty of photographs throughout. We meet Mrs. Kennedy - and Mr. Hill - in November 1960, just after the election and before the birth of JFK, Jr. In the course of the book, the reader travels with Mrs. Kennedy and the ever-present Mr. Hill from Pakistan to Greece and Italy to Morocco. The travels, the descriptions of these exotic lands circa 1960, are a high point, along with the visits to the various Kennedy homes and the even grander Newport pile where Jackie Kennedy grew up. My only real complaint with the book came at the end, in the chapter about the trip to Texas, where the reader is treated to - or bored with - seemingly every word spoken from the time the presidential party left for San Antonio until the hours after JFK's assassination.

As for the protagonists, I have to say that I concur with my friend's opinion of Jackie Kennedy. In fact, the more I read of the book, the less I liked her. From the beginning of JFK's presidency, she was determined, essentially, that she would not be the first lady. She regularly would agree to host or attend an event in her official capacity and then back-out, to the point that the social secretary did eventually resign. She made no bones about hating the White House and spending as little time there as possible. I couldn't help but think it was no wonder JFK was having all those affairs since he never even saw his wife. (Which isn't to say that perhaps the reason she didn't want to be at the White House is because she knew what was going on.)

In any case, the portrait of Jackie Kennedy that emerges is not an especially pretty one - and JFK doesn't come off all that well, either. The longer I read, the sorrier I felt for the agent, Mr. Hill, who was clearly wrapped around her finger and dedicated to his Mrs. Kennedy to the point of rarely seeing his own family. Did she lead a fascinating life? Absolutely. Would I want to have dinner with her? Probably not.