I held back for the invite-only lunch. An aide neared but Trump nodded... I was allowed to stay
SHORTLY after the Taoiseach’s foot-in-mouth episode, our Capitol Hill escorts ushered us working journalists out of the Rayburn Reception Room to allow the VIPs to eat their lunch in private. I stayed. With so many journalists and photographers crammed into the packed room it was chaotic. We were all packed behind a rope at the back of the room to cover the pre-lunch remarks of President Donald Trump, Taoiseach Leo Varadkar and Speaker Paul Ryan.
As the Irish press corps dutifully exited, I slipped under the rope and stood by some Secret Service men and White House officials.
I feigned putting my finger to an imaginary ear piece and did my best Secret Service officer impression. It must have been good because nobody seemed to notice me.
Trump was the only guest given a straw
I was now the only uninvited guest at the exclusive lunch.
A White House aide moved towards me but President Trump, who I’d earlier chatted to in the Oval Office about his Doonbeg golf course, nodded, as if to leave me there.
And that’s how I ended up mere yards from the table of Trump and Varadkar for the entire two hours of the lunch.
There, in the high ceilinged, windowless room, the Irish Mail on Sunday got an exclusive view of the president of the United States behind closed doors.
I also saw how our Taoiseach behaves in the company of world leaders when the TV cameras are gone.
Trump, who entered frontline politics only three years ago, was gregarious and charismatic. Varadkar, the career politician, looked stunned after inexplicably meandering into a foul-mouthed boast about interfering in the planning process. Always shy and awkward, he only really comes alive for the TV camera. But, here, he seemed more understated than usual.
The seating in the Rayburn Room made things even more awkward. As Trump and Varadkar were Speaker Ryan’s guests on Capitol Hill, he sat between the two men. To Varadkar’s left was house chaplain Fr Patrick Conroy. To Trump’s right was Irish ambassador Daniel Mulhall and, to Mulhall’s right, was congressman Peter King.
Trump didn’t eat his crab starter, which was taken away untouched by one of the white-coated waiters. He also refused a bread roll when the basket was offered.
A waiter poured Diet Coca-Cola from a small bottle into a stemmed glass for the president. He was the only guest in the room given a straw and he enthusiastically sucked his regularly topped-up drink through this comical child’s straw for the entire meal.
Varadkar drank red wine and water, nervously, and he ate heartily but distractedly.
Trump spoke about his golf resort and his trip to Ireland. When he spoke to all, he held the attention of all at the table. He was the senior politician and Varadkar appeared intimidated.
At the start of the meal the president spoke mostly in quiet tones to Ryan, his nominal fixer on Capitol Hill.
As the lunch continued, Varadkar concentrated on his food or spoke to Ryan. He didn’t speak much to Fr Conroy – indeed the following day, when I asked, he had forgotten the priest’s name. Although he did recall he was a Jesuit who had once been to Ireland.
Out came the beef main course and, again, Varadkar tucked in.
Trump has an unusual method of eating, more customary in America. He cuts the meat, then lays down his knife from his right hand and transfers the fork from left to right. Then he uses the fork backhanded to put the food gingerly in his mouth. He continued in this manner until his dish was taken away, unfinished.
For a lot of the meal, Trump’s black socked right foot was out of his black, highly polished shoe. Often, when talking to Ambassador Mulhall and Congressman King he folded and unfolded his arms. He used hand gestures to illustrate his points.
At the adjacent table sat Varadkar’s chief of staff Brian Murphy and Government secretary general Martin Fraser. Vice-president Mike Pence and his wife sat at this table too. Murphy and I are from the same north Dublin town and he smiled over at me when he realised I’d remained in room – which was strictly forbidden. Waterford TD, special envoy – and talented golfer – John Deasy sat at a table with the new scion of the Kennedy dynasty, Joseph Kennedy III. Except for the red hair you could have been looking at a young Ted Kennedy.
In a small group of youthful, familiar friends Varadkar can be good company and has a sense of humour. But he’s not comfortable with people he doesn’t know – a handicap for a politician. He is awkward, gauche and perfectly happy to stare into space saying nothing while in company.
Gossip about his uneasy manner is increasing among ministers and Government Buildings’ staff who are only getting to know him.
When meeting Trump in Washington this week, Varadkar was further handicapped because, as an aide told me: ‘Leo has no interest in golf or strippers.’
Golf is the game of the rich in the United States. Trump bought the classic links course in Doonbeg in Co. Clare in 2014. I asked Trump as I was leaving the Oval Office earlier whether he’d like to come to north Dublin to play and he responded: ‘You know Doonbeg? Come to Doonbeg.’
Trump’s golf resort was back on the agenda at the pre-lunch press conference. In his speech, Trump mentioned his mysterious discussion with Varadkar and then left it hanging. When it was the Taoiseach’s turn to speak, standing under the imposing portrait of