President Trump called me on my cellphone Friday afternoon at 3:31
p.m. At first I thought it was a reader with a complaint since it
was a blocked number.
Instead, it was the president calling from the Oval Office. His
voice was even, his tone muted. He did not bury the lead.
“Hello, Bob,” Trump began. “So, we just pulled it.”
On Thursday afternoon, several hours after I’d gotten my final
“Steve’s health is a private matter” — and much to my amazement
— Mr. Jobs called me. “This is Steve Jobs,” he began. “You think
I’m an arrogant [expletive] who thinks he’s above the law, and I
think you’re a slime bucket who gets most of his facts wrong.”
After that rather arresting opening, he went on to say that he
would give me some details about his recent health problems, but
only if I would agree to keep them off the record. I tried to
argue him out of it, but he said he wouldn’t talk if I insisted on
an on-the-record conversation. So I agreed.