At 6.50 p.m. on October 11th, 1979, I found myself standing outside room 140 of the Marriott Hotel in Hunt Valley, Maryland. Inside was Governor Ronald Reagan of California, closeted with fundraisers, writes Conor O'Clery in New York
He was then a long-shot for the Republican nomination in the 1980 presidential election. His aide, Dick Adams, had promised me a five-minute interview on Reagan's Irish policy.
But the meeting over-ran and Adams told me that as there were 300 impatient supporters waiting for Reagan in the lobby he was changing the plan.
"The governor will emerge at 7.10," he said. "You will be introduced, you will now interview the governor as he walks down the corridor."
A suntanned Reagan in a dark suit appeared with a warm smile and a firm handshake. "Your paper is Dublin, that's south of the Border, right?" he asked as we walked down the corridor to the elevator.
I assured him it was and asked if there was a role for the United States in resolving the Northern Ireland problem.
"Well, we should always be willing to help, but it would have to be at the invitation of the two adversaries. I would draw the line at interfering, at sticking our noses in where we are not wanted," he said.
A man in his pyjamas opened a bedroom door and called out, "Mr Reagan, you and Frank Sinatra, you are the greatest". Reagan waved and went on: "It's tragic that so much is being done in the name of God, and it's the same God..." - we stepped into an elevator - "...but anything in our capacity that would help end the bloodshed, yes."
The lift hummed downwards. "Given your ancestry, what are your views on eventual Irish unity?" I asked. "I have no views on Irish unity," he said.
"Would you underpin a settlement with American investment?"
I persisted, as the lift doors opened and applause burst out from a waiting crowd. "Yes," he said over his shoulder. "With economic aid?" I called out, as a hand prised me away. "Yes," he said as he plunged in among the fans.
Ronald Reagan then had little more than sentimental interest in Ireland.
He liked telling anecdotes about the Irish though. In his speech in Hunt Valley that evening he got laughs for his story of an Irish hod-carrier running up and down a ladder all day, who was asked why he worked so hard and replied, "I'm fooling the boss. He thinks I'm working hard but I'm carrying the same load all the time."
Reagan certainly then did not see himself then as an Irish American in the way Ted Kennedy did, though his hard-drinking father, John Edward (Jack) Reagan, a Catholic with roots in Co Tipperary, was known in his home territory of Iowa as the "black Irishman".
His mother Nelle Wilson was a Scots Irish Presbyterian, and this was the faith adopted by the future president.
Reagan, however, was eventually as good as his word on his Irish promise after he became president.
He was invited by the "two adversaries", Britain and Ireland, to lend his support to the 1985 Anglo-Irish agreement. Indeed, egged on by Democratic House Speaker Thomas 'Tip' O'Neill, he pressed Margaret Thatcher to do the deal, and approved the International Fund for Ireland to support it.
Just back from a sentimental visit to Ballyporeen, his misty attachment to Ireland was transformed into political influence by Irish diplomats such as Seán Donlon, former Irish ambassador to Washington, and friends of Ireland in the administration, especially national security adviser William Clark.
Reagan spent each St Patrick's Day at the Irish embassy in Washington during his eight years as President and spoke publicly about Northern Ireland some 15 times.
Ronald Reagan might have been unsure at one time where Dublin was, but he knew where his heart was.