The words history, watershed and breakthrough tripped easily off the tongues of Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev in the elegant and high-ceilinged East Room of the White House yesterday afternoon as the superpower leaders bridged an ocean of mistrust.
Marching together to the sounds of ╥Hail to the Chief╙ the two leaders strode purposely down the long red carpet into the arc light treaty signing arena where the best and the brightest from the United States and the Soviet Union were waiting. The two first ladies were in the centre of the front row, seated on elaborate gold chairs. Mrs Reagan with her unmistakable stare, Mrs Gorbachev, quietly in grey, with a look of animation and joy on her face.
Their looks, and those of all the room, were fixed on the black topped, mahogany cabinet table at which Abraham Lincoln had once discussed his Emancipation Proclamation. Sitting peacefully on the surface were the two versions of the Euromissile treaty: the American edition in a fat goldleafed, ring binder, looking rather like the family photo album. The Russian version, plain and sombre without that dash of Hollywood dazzle.
After their moments at the small, stark wooden podium the two men retreated behind the large table. Aides emerged from the wings to hand them pens. Mr Gorbachev╒s hairy, peasant hands clutched a gold-topped Parker, Mr Reagan╒s slighter, artistic hands the same. The pristine copies of the treaties, flown in freshly from Geneva 24-hours earlier, were turned by assistants as the leaders signed their names innumerable times like any ordinary couple putting their mark on a house contract.
Then Mr Gorbachev leaned across for a business-like handshake. The deed was sealed without the ostentatious bearhug between Leonid Brezhnev and Jimmy Carter in Vienna eight years ago. This time perhaps the firmness of the handshake reflected the view that the treaty will stick fast.
Having exhausted the exchanges of proverbs, Mr Reagan going for Russian tales about swans, crawfish and pike, Mr Gorbachev for Ralph Waldo Emerson, the two men marched back down the red carpet to the state dining room, where a few hours later the glitterati would gather to celebrate what had been accomplished. Standing in the shadow of the portrait of Abraham Lincoln, flames flickering brightly in the fireplace behind, each man broadcast live to his own people. In an electronic age this is how treaties are really made ╤ satellite to satellite in the global village.
