In July 1983 Tony O'Reilly hosted Henry Kissinger, the American diplomat and former secretary of state to Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, in his beloved Castlemartin,Co Kildare. It was Kissinger and his wife Nancy's first time in Ireland and for two days, they enjoyed the 750- acre estate with O'Reilly.

According to The Player, O'Reilly's 1994 biography by Ivan Fallon, O'Reilly had organised a "serious programme" for Kissinger, which included a luncheon with the then taoiseach Garrett FitzGerald.

In the evening, the two men strolled together deep in conversation to O’Reilly’s father’s grave on the grounds of Castlemartin. O’Reilly was an engaging conversationalist who read voraciously, but his meeting with Kissinger was not all altruistic.

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"Heinz was now targeting China and O'Reilly wanted to hire Kissinger to advise on the best way of getting in," The Player recounted. Kissinger later did some work for Heinz in Washington and introduced him to Republican circles with the description of here was a "modern renaissance man".

Castlemartin was that sort of place: a splendid environment where international greats, goods and not-so-goods could be wooed.

It was also a family home, though, and a place to relax from relentless working. It was a labour of love, restored at a cost of many millions from being semi-derelict in 1972.

Later it was a working stud and an Irish base for O'Reilly as he spent more time in his homes in France and the Bahamas.

Having to sell Castlemartin to appease AIB cannot be easy for O'Reilly.

It was the scenes of many highs and some lows.

Anne Harris, the editor of the Sunday Independent, recalls visiting Castlemartin once a year, along with O'Reilly's other editors and senior staff, usually around the time of Independent News & Media's annual general meeting.

“Tony O’Reilly always greeted his guests personally,” she said. “He would have a marquee and you could meet anyone there. The taoiseach of the day was usually there.”

Harris said her relationship with O'Reilly was cordial but professional. "Tony O'Reilly never, ever interfered. He only had one rule and that was there would be no comfort to terrorists," she said. "He had a profound respect for journalists and journalism. It is a very rare commodity in proprietors."

Harris recalled meeting the then taoiseach Bertie Ahern in Castlemartin along with her late husband and predecessor as editor of the Sunday Independent, Aengus Fanning. That morning the Sindo had called for Ahern to resign in a front-page banner headline. "O'Reilly never said a word," she said.

“I do not subscribe to the idea that one billionaire is the same as another,” Harris added. “He was a leader who every year would visit the papers he loved.

“He really loved newspapers and everything about them,” Harris said. “I don’t subscribe to the ‘Tony O’Reilly is a saint’ view of the world either, but he has huge qualities as a human being.”

Martin FitzPatrick, former business journalist with the Sunday Independent, has a different view on the relationship between proprietors and editors in INM.

"O'Reilly chose his editors, so they understood him," he said. "I remember Mick Hand [editor of the Sunday Independent from 1976 until 1984] telling me about one story: 'Jesus, if O'Reilly sees that, he will be up my arse by 10 o'clock on Sunday morning'.")

FitzPatrick agreed, however, that O’Reilly was personable and was friendly with many of his journalists.

Castlemartin was also the scene of a great business low for O’Reilly.

In March 2009, O’Reilly announced that he planned to resign as chief executive of Independent News & Media after 36 years.

Arch rival telecoms billionaire Denis O’Brien had waged a corporate war against O’Reilly and, after building up a big stake in the company, he wanted big changes in the company.

Prior to the decision in Citywest, then INM’s corporate headquarters as well as its printing press, O’Reilly’s lieutenants, board members and executives gathered.

O’Reilly came on the line from his home in Castlemartin. He wanted to keep fighting O’Brien, but he knew it was damaging the company.

O’Reilly’s voice went around the room. He asked each person in turn, should he give in to O’Brien’s assault. Each, in turn, replied that he had to. A man for decades a winner on so many fields, he realised this game was irretrievably lost.

Within five years he would be forced to sell the very mansion around him and even some of the artworks on its walls.