The Mailgram arrived on July 2, 1981, signed by then-President Ronald Reagan.

“I would like to invite you to join me and other officials in my administration for a briefing and luncheon (hosted by Vice President George H.W. Bush) at the White House on Monday, Oct. 5. We will be discussing the economy and other domestic issues, as well as foreign policy.”

At the time, I was the editor at The Express (now The Express-Times) in Easton for only three months. On March 30, the president had survived an assassination attempt by John Hinckley outside of a Washington, D.C., hotel.

Reagan was holding these periodic regional news conferences for editors of small-market newspapers and news directors of small-city radio and television stations to bypass the major media, such as The New York Times, The Washington Post and The Associated Press. He said he wanted to get his message across to the American heartland through smaller media.

I called the White House Press Office and told an aide to sign me up.

During the news conference, I couldn’t believe my good fortune when the president called on me to ask a question.

Despite having returned to the White House just a few weeks earlier after being released from the hospital, Reagan was smiling and enthusiastic.

“I hope you will find your day here a useful and productive one, and I hope you will also relax and enjoy yourselves,” he said. “But don’t relax too much. As you know, my staff is rather reluctant about waking people up.”

That one brought down the house. It was a reference to the flap that had occurred following the shooting down of a Libyan jet after it had fired on an American aircraft. Advisers decided not to wake the president to tell him about it until six hours after the incident.

After the news conference had ended, we stood. I was in the front row. President Reagan took a step toward me and extended his hand.

“Thanks for bringing me that message from your people,” he said, looking deeply into my eyes. “Thank you, Mr. President, for the opportunity,” I said with a gulp.

I could feel a lump in my throat as I relished a special moment in my life — one I will never forget.

But the unforgettable moments continued that day, because next we were guests at a White House luncheon hosted by then-Vice President George H.W. Bush, who died Friday at the age of 94.

We each had a chance to shake hands with the vice president and chat with him for a few minutes. He had announced before the greetings that if we had any questions he would try to answer them.

I told him I was always curious about how a strong-willed person such as he was, with a spectacular career of government service, could relegate himself to a number 2 role.

He told me that when a person signs on for the role of vice president, he (or she) has an obligation to support the president.

“I have occasional disagreements with President Reagan,” Bush said, “but I air them in private, one-on-one. If he doesn’t take my advice or chooses not to see my point of view, that’s it. I don’t try to sabotage him in public.”

I also asked him whether he took the job to position himself to run for president after Reagan’s term or terms. (It turned out that this is exactly what happened after Reagan ran for re-election in 1984 and was elected to his second and final four-year term.) Bush won the 1988 election but lost re-election in 1992 to Bill Clinton.

“This is an impossible question for me to answer,” he said. “Right now, I want to support the president in the best way I can, and I will do that by doing my job and to do the president’s bidding.”

The luncheon was extraordinary, complete with White House-embossed place settings, elegantly attired servers and several courses. At that time of my life, an elegant meal would have been supper at Ruby Tuesday. I was intimidated beyond words by cutlery at each side of the plates and above them. I had no clue as to which to use when.

After the appetizer of fruit compote, the server brought a silver chalice filled with liquid. None of the six of us at the table knew what it was, so we sat there looking at it. I suspected it was clear consommé, a type of soup. A brave news editor from a Rhode Island TV station took the first sip. “Kinda bland,” he said.

I figured I would end the mystery, so I beckoned to our server and asked him what was in the silver chalice. With a slight smile and officious voice, he announced: “That, sir, is the finger bowl.”

By Bruce Frassinelli | tneditor@tnonline.com