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Despite the high caloric content of his Parisian dining, the President had room for two breakfasts—one, of orange juice, rolls and coffee, gulped down at a strategy conference aboard his plane—on the morning of his flight to Vienna. Despite the wet weather, more than 70,000 Austrians turned out along Kennedy's 15-mile journey from Schwechat to Alte Hofburg, the palatial residence of Austrian President Dr. Adolf Scharf. Khrushchev, grinning his cordial peasant best, had not done nearly so well; the Soviet leader drew fewer than 50.000 during his ceremonial motorcade to visit Scharf. Along the way, low whistles (the Viennese version of the Bronx cheer) punctuated thin, tired applause. But Khrushchev seemed not to notice, expressed his hope that "the good atmosphere of peace-loving and neutral Austria will favorably influence the results of our forthcoming meeting."
After his courtesy call on Dr. Scharf, Kennedy drove to the embassy residence of Ambassador H. Freeman Matthews.
Nervously, he paced the halls, conferring with Secretary of State Dean Rusk, Ambassador to Moscow Llewellyn Thompson. Then Khrushchev came. While photographers wrestled desperately for shots, Kennedy stood back from his guest, bluntly and openly surveying him from head to toe. But Kennedy also offered a dab of graceful deference. When cameramen shouted for another handshake, Kennedy turned to his interpreter: "Say to the Chairman that it is all right to shake hands if it is all right with him." Khrushchev beamed wider than ever, stuck out a fleshy hand for the pose. The formalities out of the way, the two men headed for the embassy's red and grey music room for their first talk. It, too, went well—luncheon was delayed for 30 minutes so the discussion could continue.
A host of Soviet and U.S. diplomats—headed by Secretary of State Dean Rusk and Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko—joined Kennedy and Khrushchev at the table. After a cocktail (Khrushchev downed a bourgeois martini, Kennedy a Dubonnet), the two leaders exchanged champagne toasts, regaled each other with political anecdotes and lighthearted comparisons of the Communist and capitalist ways of life. After the luncheon, in a now familiar Kennedy routine, the President took his guest by the arm, suggested a short walk in the garden, alone but for their interpreters. As they strolled around the garden's tree-shaded pond, Kennedy stuffed his hands in his coat pockets; Khrushchev occasionally launched an animated gesture.
No Concession. All afternoon, the two leaders talked, with their interpreters, in (privacy. Toward 7 o'clock, Kennedy and Khrushchev walked out of the embassy residence to meet the press; both men were smiling. Although Khrushchev had not yielded an inch on the major question—the future of Laos—raised during the long afternoon, Kennedy's spirits were up. He enjoyed sparring with the Soviet Premier, felt that he was holding his own, and even scoring a few sharp counterpunches. Trying hard not to build up any false hopes, U.S. observers said only that the talks were "frank, courteous and wide-ranging"; but to the Russian group, the initial encounter seemed "fruitful."