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Every flat surface is adorned by his image: framed magazine glossies from Important Publications, none more so, at least per Trump, than the 1990 Trump offers me a seat by his mahogany desk. (There is also a bald eagle, the stuffed-animal version, for any preschool patriot who wanders in.) In an earlier sit-down, Trump had fought me to a standstill when I tried to draw him out about his past.
You fight the urge to dunk your head in the pool where it collects, and try, instead, to regain your wits on the whooshing ride up to the 26th floor.By ninth grade, Trump was a model cadet; as a senior, he made cadet captain, says Dobias, and was the star first baseman for Dobias' varsity squad."He was good-hit good-field: We had scouts from the Phillies to watch him, but he wanted to go to college and make real money."After graduating from Wharton, where his academic laurels have been grossly overstated through the years (he didn't finish first in his class or anywhere near it, and went altogether missing from the list of honors for the class of 1968), Trump began working for his old man in Brooklyn, but had little sustaining interest in low-rent units.Fred Trump, the second in a line of self-made magnates (his father, Friedrich, had earned his fortune in the Klondike gold rush, selling lodging, food, booze and possibly women to hordes of miners), was possessed of the singular family gift: He could see the future and beat everyone else to it."When the car was just coming out, houses had no garages," says Trump."Dad went all over Queens, building garages in the Thirties, and he could throw 'em up like nothing.