In his more sentimental moments, Donald J Trump has, like many Americans of his generation, occasionally looked back at those thousand days in Camelot with a dewy eye.
He was 17 in 1963 when John F Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, so his adolescence was partly shaped by a president whose personal style established the blueprint for the east coast Ivy clothing catalogues. Kennedy was the first to wear sun-blanched chinos, to wear shades.
During the summer, while flicking through a children’s book written by Usha Vance and featuring presidents past, Trump arrived on the page depicting JFK out boating; chino-ed, tousle-haired with that big Irish grin and, even in animated form, exuding his seductive magnetism.
“John Kennedy,” Trump said. “He was a great guy. Handsome. He was the second most good-looking president, they say.”
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The books, scholarly and animated, continue to come thick and fast about JFK. The gossip has never really ceased; the arguments as to the success of a first-term presidency destroyed by those rifle shots on Dealey Plaza remain vivid, and among Trump’s election promises was to release the confidential files to satisfy the beliefs of the ageing army who believe Kennedy’s killing was part of a broader conspiracy.
Trump belongs to the generation that never fully got over JFK. His imprint and influence are still everywhere in Washington, and the sombre trek up to the Kennedy gravesite and eternal flame, in Arlington cemetery, is always busy. But apart from the gravesite, his memory has been memorialised only in the cavernous white Center for the Performing Arts on the edge of the Potomac.
This weekend, the Kennedy Center lies closed and a tarpaulin covers the lettering bearing both the honouree’s name and the space Trump’s name briefly adorned. It looks as though a crime has been committed – and some believe it has. The future of the building is uncertain. On Wednesday, Trump was photographed studying a printed image as he waited to return to Washington on Air Force One: it appeared to read: “Kennedy Center Demolished.”
Trump had already by then warned that the building could be demolished unless a federal judge, and the board, return his name to the building.
“For me to get involved and take that on long term, to raise money to carry it, I think that the Trump administration should certainly have recognition. Because frankly if we don’t do that it’s going to close. It will end up being ripped down. It’s in very bad shape,” he said.
In other words, if Trump can’t have his name on the Kennedy Center, there will be no Center. It doesn’t matter that he is still a little enchanted by the former president’s aura – or that Kennedy’s nephew, RFK jnr, serves on his cabinet.
Shortly after returning to office, Trump became chair of the Center’s board and promised a gold-tipped and marble renaissance of the building’s cavernous interior and a programme reflective of the tastes and cultural ideology of his administration. Many artists and scheduled performances were cancelled; many others cancelled in protest. The place became moribund. Trump’s name magically appeared above Kennedy’s and was then removed on the edict of a federal judge.
Although the board is crowded with friends of the president, he had no control over the ex officio members from Congress, which include Democrat congresswoman Joyce Beatty, a 76-year-old Democrat from Ohio. Beatty this week spilt the beans on the stormy board meeting earlier this week in which the president participated by phone. According to Beatty, Trump told her that she was “an obstructionist” and “dumb”.
“He said: ‘I think you’re incompetent.’ I said: ‘I know you are incompetent,’” Beatty said on television.
Things deteriorated from there. Beatty has since filed a motion asking the judge to make it “crystal clear” that the building can’t be demolished and reminded people that congress has already approved money for a $257 million renovation programme.
“All of a sudden if his name is on it, it has $256 million in the bank,” said Kerry Kennedy, the late president’s niece – and the current health secretary’s sister.
“This isn’t bankruptcy. This is hostage-taking by the president of the United States.”
It’s also part of Trump’s broader construction projects, including the vast ballroom on the east side of the White House; the Trumpian Arc, bigger than the Parisian equivalent, on the approach across the Potomac to Arlington; a planned national garden of American heroes and the ongoing saga over the reflecting pool at the Lincoln Memorial.
A slew of recent polls suggests a genuine “blue wave” in the forthcoming midterms. The Iran war is at an impasse. Kevin Warsh, his preferred new chair of the fed, has just raised interest rates. Yet over the past few months, Trump has never sounded so energised or happy as when he is talking about the new helipad on the lawn of the White House, or progress with the ballroom.
Like many Americans, Trump is beginning now to look beyond his presidency. The urgency to push through those monuments to himself is plain to see and in a recent interview, Trump acknowledged that unlike JFK, no future administrations will be honouring him with buildings or statues.
“Nobody will do it once I’m gone. When I leave here, nobody will.”
