Meanwhile, Priebus and Bannon were hard at work on what they knew the president would consider the most important pillar: a television-ready spokesman to lead the Trump defense. They were working from a deficit because Mike Dubke, who had helped lead the White House’s response to such crises as the firing of James Comey, had just resigned as communications director in his third month on the job.
After Memorial Day, Bannon met with Mark Corallo, a seasoned Republican operative whom Trump’s advisers had unsuccessfully tried to get to join the communications shop at the start of the administration. Corallo, fifty-one, was an army veteran who had worked at the Justice Department during the George W. Bush administration, giving him a base of knowledge about criminal probes that could prove valuable. He also had “the look” that Trump would want in his front man: wiry and fit, with close-cropped silver hair and tailored suits.
Corallo counted Mueller and Comey as former colleagues. He explained that he had admired Comey at first. Over time, however, Corallo said he came to see Comey as a “sanctimonious phony.” Comey had a habit of tut-tutting and frowning at anyone who disagreed with him, Corallo told Bannon. Comey would lecture with a little eye roll, which Corallo said had one message: “I’m just really disappointed in you. Your moral compass is askew.”
“I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw his six-foot-eight frame,” Corallo told Bannon.
“Oh, wow, that’s interesting,” Bannon said. “So you must know Mueller, too.”
Corallo began to gush: “Oh, I love Bob. He walks on water.”
“Really?” Bannon said.
“I have very few heroes in life that are not ballplayers, and [former attorney general] John Ashcroft and Bob Mueller are at the top of the list,” Corallo replied. “If you have to have a special counsel, there is nobody better than Bob Mueller. If there’s nothing there, there will be a report that says there’s nothing there. He’s your golden ticket.”
Bannon and Priebus then wanted to take Corallo to meet Trump. It was in the middle of the afternoon. “I don’t have a tie on,” Corallo said, surprised. In the George W. Bush administration, the president’s schedule had been tightly choreographed, weeks ahead of time, and nobody popped in to see him unless it was urgent—and certainly not on a weekday without a tie. But such formalities did not matter to Trump. Off they went, down the hall and to the president’s private dining room, where the television was on and Trump was perusing a stack of papers. He was warm and gracious to Corallo, and they got down to business. Bannon explained to Trump that Corallo knew Mueller well and Trump said, “I’m all ears.”
“Here’s the deal, Mr. President,” Corallo told him. “If you’re going to get a special counsel, you couldn’t get a better guy. Mr. President, Jim Comey and Bob Mueller, despite what you might think, they’re not best friends. There is no conflict. And Bob Mueller is the most honest guy in town. You’ve got to understand, this guy is a public servant’s public servant. He’s only interested in facts. He doesn’t have a political ax to grind. He’s not for you or against you when it comes to the law. He really is as honest a human being as this country’s ever produced.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Trump said. “This whole thing . . .”
His words trailed off.
“I don’t blame you,” Corallo said. “I understand that it would be uncomfortable. But I do believe at the end of the day, if there’s nothing there, you’ll get a clean bill of health. And if it comes from Robert Mueller, it’s unassailable.”
Trump seemed to enjoy the practical, cut-to-the-chase way Corallo spoke, but not to be convinced that Mueller was trustworthy. Trump asked him to return later that day to join a meeting about the Russia investigation, for what would be Corallo’s first time in the Oval Office. He felt chills as he took a seat across the Resolute Desk. Trump railed about the Mueller investigation—how unfair it was to him, how persecuted he felt—but Corallo was thinking, “Reagan sat there. FDR sat there. Truman sat there. Ike sat there.”
Corallo immediately hit it off with Trump’s lawyers, especially Bowe, a practicing Catholic about the same age who also grew up in New York’s blue-collar outer boroughs. Corallo agreed on the spot to work for Kasowitz and Bowe as communications strategist for the president’s outside legal team. He had one condition: “I will never say anything untoward about Bob Mueller. I will never attack him personally. Ain’t gonna happen. And if I’m asked to, I’m out of here, and if anyone on this team attacks him personally, I’m out of here.”
Kasowitz and Bowe agreed: they would never malign Mueller’s integrity or motivations.
* * *
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Still without a prominent Washington attorney, Trump was vulnerable. He did what he often did at anxious moments. He grabbed the wheel. Trump thought there might be a way to play to Mueller’s patriotism and convince him the investigation needed to end quickly because it was hurting the president and therefore weakening the United States in the view of adversaries around the world.
“Go see Mueller. You gotta go see him,” Trump instructed Kasowitz and Bowe several times. “Tell him this is really impairing my ability to function as president. Let’s find out what this is. Maybe we can get out in front of it.”
This was a classic Trump method for fixing problems. He thought he could talk his way out of anything by cultivating a personal relationship and working out the problem man-to-man. After Trump learned that Corallo knew Mueller from their work together in the Justice Department, he was elated. Trump at once asked Corallo to talk to Mueller on his behalf.
Corallo’s eyes widened with trepidation. He thought to himself, “No way.” Kasowitz spoke up and told Trump absolutely not.
“That’s totally inappropriate and legally unsound,” Kasowitz told the president. “Mark is not a lawyer.”
Then the president invoked Secretary of Defense Jim Mattis, who stood out in the administration because of his reputation for honor. He thought that because they were both marines, Mattis might engender sympathy in Mueller. Trump told his lawyers to tell Mueller, “General Mattis says this is a problem.”
Bannon and Priebus shared their view that it was best to steer clear of Mueller for the immediate future, but Bowe gave them some advice: don’t assume you can always corral Trump.
“I don’t know if you fish,” Bowe told them. “Sometimes you have to let the line run. You run the risk of having the line snap if you pull it in all the time. You can’t reel him in constantly. You can’t say no to him every time.”
As its public face, Trump’s legal team also included Jay Sekulow, whom Trump hired in late May. A lawyer with deep ties to Washington’s conservative establishment, Sekulow, sixty, was chief counsel to the American Center for Law and Justice, host of a radio talk show, and a longtime commentator on Fox News Channel and the Christian Broadcasting Network. He also was close to Sean Hannity, the Fox host and Trump friend. The president had been impressed at Sekulow’s telegenic qualities and how well he thought on his feet. He felt the smooth-talking, savvy Sekulow could lend credibility to his defense in the media as well as help him navigate the political scene.