The Cult of Trump

by Steven Hassan

  Whether or not he attended the church, Trump’s debt to Peale is undeniable. Trump’s extreme self-confidence, bordering on grandiosity; his refusal to negotiate or take no for an answer; his predator-versus-prey stance toward other people; his taste for winning—all were forged in part during those Sunday morning sermons. Years later, Trump would draw upon Peale’s positive thinking ideology in his own “sermons”—his campaign speeches before thousands of cheering followers.

  MILITARY SCHOOL

  As Michael Kranish and Marc Fisher describe in their book, Trump Revealed, Trump was finishing seventh grade, and still getting into a fair amount of trouble, when Fred, furious over his discovery of a set of knives that his son had been collecting, decided to enroll him in the New York Military Academy, a boarding school miles away from his Queens home.23 As Michael D’Antonio writes in his biography, Never Enough: Donald Trump and the Pursuit of Success, this was a “profound rejection of Donald,”24 one that he apparently took quite personally.

  At boarding school, Trump met a man who would become his new taskmaster. Colonel Theodore Dobias was a World War II vet who did not suffer fools gladly. Nor did he care about heritage or how much money a family had. As Trump describes in The Art of the Deal, “Like so many strong guys, Dobias had a tendency to go for the jugular if he smelled weakness. On the other hand, if he sensed strength but you didn’t try to undermine him, he treated you like a man. From the time I figured that out—and it was more an instinct than a conscious thought—we got along great.”25

  Trump, the hypercompetitive boy, blossomed at the academy, even if he did keep up his reputation as a bully—he once tried to push a fellow cadet out of a second-floor window during a fight.26 Even away from home, Trump was following the guidance of his disciplinarian dad—that in life, there were killers and prey, and to succeed you needed to be a killer. Tony Schwartz, Trump’s ghostwriter for The Art of the Deal, stated in an interview: “You either created and exploited fear, or you succumbed to it, as he thought his older brother had. This narrow, defensive outlook took hold at a very early age, and it never evolved.”27 Trump’s brother, Fred Jr., died of alcoholism at the age of forty-three, a reason that Trump says he does not drink or smoke.

  Fascinated with Hollywood and moviemaking, Donald wanted to attend the University of Southern California but was rejected.28 He enrolled instead at nearby Fordham University. After two years, he transferred to the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business, where he graduated without honors.29

  EMULATING FRED

  In 1968, Trump began working with his dad, snatching up middle- and low-income housing throughout the outer boroughs of New York City. Successful as Fred was, his business practices had come into question. There were whispers that he was a swindler with racist tendencies. In 1927, on Memorial Day, a thousand Ku Klux Klansmen clashed with police on the streets of Queens.30 Fred, then twenty-one, was one of seven men arrested in connection with the riot.31 This reputation followed him as his son Donald joined the family business. In 1973, Fred and Donald Trump were accused of “racially discriminatory conduct” and sued by the Civil Rights Division of the U.S. Justice Department for creating a “substantial impediment to the full enjoyment of equal opportunity” at Trump buildings.32 The case would later be enshrined in pop culture. Woody Guthrie, who had lived in the Trump-owned Beach Haven apartments from 1950 to 1952, wrote a song called “Old Man Trump.”33

  I suppose that Old Man Trump knows just how much racial hate

  He stirred up in the blood pot of human hearts

  When he drawed that color line

  Here at his Beach Haven family project.

  Trump’s early years in Queens may shed light on his later policies as president. In a New York Times opinion piece, Thomas B. Edsall quotes Harvard sociologist Robert Sampson as saying, “[I]t was no accident that All in The Family was set in Queens. The explosion of immigration and the racial change in the makeup of Queens might have left an especially deep imprint, because [Trump’s] constant references to making America great again evoke an earlier time that was considerably less diverse. Indeed, building walls and stemming the tide of such change seems to be at the heart of Trump’s appeals to a remembered national past, and in this case, of his childhood.”34

  ROY COHN’S INFLUENCE

  After the Justice Department charges were made, the Trumps needed big legal guns to represent them. Enter Roy Cohn—a blustery, brutally coldhearted lawyer, famous for his harsh prosecution during the McCarthy anticommunist congressional hearings in the 1950s.35 As the story goes, Trump met Cohn at Le Club, a hot midtown night spot, and asked him how they should counter the racial discrimination claim. “Tell them to go to hell and fight the thing in court and let them prove you discriminated,” Cohn reportedly replied. The Trumps ultimately settled.36

  That night a friendship was formed. Trump gained a confidant and mentor, one who would teach him how to maneuver his way, using tricky business practices and ruthless negotiating tactics that would make them both a lot of money. Cohn was an attack dog who went on the offense whenever threatened, a style Trump would take to heart. In a profile in Esquire, Ken Auletta described Cohn as “a legal executioner—the toughest, meanest, vilest, and one of the most brilliant lawyers in America. He is not a very nice man.” Scientology leader L. Ron Hubbard would practice a similar style—“never defend, always attack,” and would send his followers, and even hire agents, to harass, sue, or trick perceived enemies, a practice he called “fair game.”

  Trump was not Cohn’s only client—he also represented mafia bosses, like Fat Tony Salerno and Carmine Gallante.37 Most likely through Cohn, Trump made extensive use of mob-owned construction companies. Construction in New York was rife with mob ties—it was hard to be in real estate and not be in business with them. Yet we know from various reportage by journalists Wayne Barrett, David Cay Johnston, and others that the ties between Trump and the mob go back decades.38 And we know through records of a federal investigation in 1986 that he hired mafia-owned firms to build Trump Tower and Trump Plaza, including a concrete company controlled by Salerno and the head of the Gambino family, Paul Castellano.39 The New York construction industries were famously corrupt, but with Cohn presumably acting as an intermediary, Trump’s projects were built on schedule. His involvement with the mob continued as he established his real estate career.

  MOVING ON UP

  The father-son team continued developing mostly low- and middle-income properties in Brooklyn and Queens. At some point, the younger Trump decided to make a name for himself. Using that now famous million-dollar “very small” loan from Dad—the New York Times recently estimated that Trump’s father actually lent him more than $60 million—he set out to make his own flashy mark in New York City. His unconventional business practices helped him get the backing to branch out beyond the outer boroughs, over the bridge, and into Manhattan, where he took a big gamble and transformed the old Commodore Hotel into the sparkling Grand Hyatt. In 1979 he broke ground on what would become the opulent Trump Tower, which dripped with gold and marble.40

  In 1985, he acquired the abandoned rail yards along a stretch of the west side of Manhattan. “No sooner had I announced my plans publicly than other bidders for the rail yards suddenly came out of the woodwork,” Trump wrote in The Art of the Deal. “I’m the first to admit that I am very competitive and that I’ll do nearly anything within legal bounds to win. Sometimes, part of making a deal is denigrating your competition.”41

  Having made his mark in New York City, Trump went on to place a bigger bet by buying up hotels and casinos, and also land from mob-owned sources, in Atlantic City, New Jersey. New Jersey had legalized gambling in 1977. Disappointed that New York hadn’t opened up the state for gambling, Trump started looking south for new opportunities. Trump Plaza opened in 1984, and soon after, Trump Castle & Casino. Still wanting more, Trump poured nearly $500 million into the making of the glitzy Taj Mahal. Initially this buying spr
ee gave him a big payday and made him a household name. Everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. He wrote his bestselling book, The Art of the Deal, with ghostwriter Tony Schwartz. In it they drew a vivid picture of a shrewd, rich, brash, and successful businessman, one who lived by an eat-or-be-eaten understanding of the world. Trump also made movie cameos and plastered his name on everything from steaks to airplanes. He married a model, Ivana Zelníc˘ková, in 1977, with Reverend Peale presiding, and had three children: Donald Jr., Ivanka, and Eric. Ivana would become a vital part of the Trump Organization, leading the design of Trump Tower and overseeing the revamp of Trump Castle Hotel & Casino.

  It was at the Jersey Shore in the late 1980s that Trump embraced the boxing world, hosting a number of matches promoted by silver-haired Don King. He also hosted two World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) events—Wrestlemania IV and V. It had been the glory days for the sport, with the likes of Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage storming the ring for an outsize takedown that would be viewed by millions of fans. WWE’s rough-and-tumble, ready-for TV antics seemed simpatico with Trump’s larger than life personality. The audience knows the fights are all scripted but the old story line of good versus evil draws people in—a story that Trump the politician would use over and over.

  Trump remained friends with WWE chairman and CEO Vince McMahon and his wife, Linda, over the years. The McMahons would donate generously to Trump’s presidential campaign—it’s been claimed that they were his biggest donors, at $4 million.42 In 2016, Trump would appoint Linda to be administrator of the Small Business Administration.43

  In 1989, when Trump hosted Wrestlemania V, the economy had tanked. The Taj Mahal’s renovations had already cost more than $800 million. Trump was suddenly looking at two bankruptcies—the Taj Mahal in 1991 and Trump Plaza in 1992. His other casinos were drying up and the Trump Shuttle, his vanity airline brand, had been grounded. He had to sell his yacht. According to a New York Times report, Trump’s losses between 1985 and 1994 totaled $1.17 billion.44 On top of all this, his fourteen-year marriage to Ivana ended, following a scandalous affair with a former beauty queen, Marla Maples.45

  Maples and Trump’s relationship made for salacious headlines and gossip fodder for more than a year. As the story goes, Trump brought Marla to Aspen, Colorado, on a family vacation, where she confronted Ivana. In October 1993, Marla had a daughter, Tiffany, with Trump. The couple soon married, though they divorced six years later. In 2005, Trump married the Slovenian born model Melania Knauss, who bore him a son, Barron. A few months later, Trump would allegedly have a secret affair with the porn star and director Stormy Daniels. The hugely publicized affair with Maples had already earned Trump a reputation as a womanizer—one he did little to refute. In fact, he seemed to revel in it, often speaking with radio show host Howard Stern about his conquests and, on one occasion, with the Access Hollywood host Billy Bush. It was during this conversation that Trump made his infamous remarks about how being a star allowed him to grab women by the genitals. A recording of his conversation with Bush would surface during his 2016 campaign. In general, Trump’s misogynistic views on women would make for controversy as he ran for president in 2016.

  THE COMEBACK KID

  Trump’s various bankruptcies and scandals did not keep him down for long. He made his comeback on TV, finding a kindred spirit in Mark Burnett, the hugely successful producer of the reality show Survivor.46 Burnett had the idea to make an urban jungle version of Survivor. Using his classic reality-competition formula, a powerful CEO would pit corporate hopefuls against each other for a job. He needed someone bigger than life, someone who had a recognizable name, someone with “feral charisma.” When he saw Trump at an event, he knew he had found his man.

  Like his other reality shows, the drama was synthetically ratcheted up on the new show, The Apprentice. In her book, Unhinged, Omarosa Manigault Newman describes the advice she was given from a TV production friend before starting the show, “Reality TV is about conflict and tension.” Omarosa was told to be the one starting a fight, stirring one up or breaking one up.

  At the time, casting Trump as host was seen as a huge gamble. He had been labeled a “D-lister”—someone who lost all his money, a clownlike figure who couldn’t be taken seriously. Supervising editor of The Apprentice Jonathon Braun told the New Yorker, “We knew Trump was a fake… but we made him out to be the most important person in the world, making the court jester the king.”47 The smoke and mirrors worked. Burnett and Trump agreed to be partners. The show was a phenomenal success, making hundreds of millions of dollars and searing Trump’s name into the public consciousness.

  Some say the show launched Trump’s presidential campaign by rehabilitating his image into a “Master of the Universe,” a self-made man who typified the American dream. “Mark Burnett’s show was the single biggest factor in putting Trump in the national spotlight,” said ghostwriter Tony Schwartz.

  The relationship with Burnett would continue beyond Trump’s stint on the show. They remain good friends and, outside of criticizing the way Trump ran his 2016 campaign, Burnett hasn’t said or done anything to criticize Trump’s actions as president. In addition, he has not yielded to calls to release the Apprentice tapes that are purported to have captured damaging racist and sexist remarks from Trump. Burnett, a devout evangelical Christian, along with his wife the actress-producer Roma Downey, introduced Trump at the 2018 annual National Prayer Breakfast, held in Washington, D.C., an event that was founded by the conservative Christian foundation the Fellowship, also known as the Family.

  THE TRUMP BRAND

  Trump took advantage of his newly burnished celebrity by promoting self-branded companies and aggressively seeking out licensing deals. He made dozens of deals over the years, including Trump hotels, Trump golf courses, Trump Steaks, Trump Magazine, Trump: The Game, and Trump Fragrance. In 2009, he licensed his name to the Trump Network for an undisclosed sum.48

  The Trump Network was a rebranding of a pseudo-medical vitamin company called Ideal Health, founded in 1997 by three alumni of the multilevel marketing organization NuSkin—Lou DeCapri and brothers Todd and Scott Stanwood. In their sales materials, they promised that “Ideal Health is the only company in America that puts the power to regain nutritional balance and restore metabolic health back in your hands.” They promised miracles in bottles. The company was actually another pyramid-style scheme that relied on recruiting a vast network of people to sell questionable products using questionable practices. They promised great wealth to its network of salespeople but it was typically only those at the very top of the pyramid who made money.49 The founders were thrilled to have Trump as the public face promoting their products. In a sales video, they proclaim “It’s a no brainer. That brings so much to the [network marketing] industry, it brings credibility, it brings us to a new level. Because everyone recognizes and trusts that Trump brand name.”50

  Though Trump had no role in the development or manufacturing of the products, he began speaking at conferences in Miami and Las Vegas, allowing his name and family crest to be used in promotional materials, and appearing in at least one online video to promote the business.51 The Trump name was gold to people who worked for Ideal. “Oh, my god, people cried when they heard it was him,” says Jenna Knudsen, a former salesperson for Ideal Health. “They cried and looked at each other and said, ‘We’re going to be millionaires!’ ”52

  The partnership initially paid off. Between 2009 and 2010, the Trump Network grew more than 300 percent.53 Trump received millions from his name and endorsement. There was little effort to determine whether the products actually worked, or whether the organization was sound. In their Daily Beast article, “Trump Vitamins were Fortified with B.S.,” Abby Haglage and Tim Mak quote Pieter Cohen, a Harvard doctor specializing in supplements, as saying that there was “zero evidence” to back up the company’s claims about their products. “This is a scam, it’s a bogus program to make profit for the people who are selling it. It’s fantas
y,” Cohen said.54

  Eventually the company struggled, receiving repeated Federal Trade Commission complaints and lawsuits alleging everything from defrauding its salespeople to making bogus medical claims. In 2012 its remaining assets were sold.

  Then there was Trump University, which ran from 2005 until 2010. Millions of dollars were spent on marketing the eponymous university as a place where one could learn Trump’s real estate investment secrets. Students would shell out thousands of dollars for expensive seminars and retreats but were not taught any investment secrets. A 2013 lawsuit alleged aggressive, even illegal, sales tactics including deception, outright lies, and other undue influence maneuvers. Trump tried to fight it but a judge decided to let the case go to trial as a class-action lawsuit.55 The trial was set for late November 2016. On November 18, ten days before the trial date, Trump decided to settle the case for $25 million. By then he had been elected president.