to suck my own cock.” (In fact, Bannon learned about the piece when fact-checkers from
the magazine called him for comment about Scaramucci’s accusation that he sucked his
own cock.)
Scaramucci, who had in effect publicly fired Priebus, was behaving so bizarrely that it
wasn’t at all clear who would be the last man standing. Priebus, on the verge of being fired
for so long, realized that he might have agreed to resign too soon. He might have gotten
the chance to fire Scaramucci!
On Friday, as health care repeal cratered in the Senate, Priebus joined the president on
board Air Force One for a trip to New York for a speech. As it happened, so did
Scaramucci, who, avoiding the New Yorker fallout, had said he’d gone to New York to
visit his mother but in fact had been hiding out at the Trump Hotel in Washington. Now
here he was, with his bags (he would indeed now stay in New York and visit his mother),
behaving as though nothing had happened.
On the way back from the trip, Priebus and the president talked on the plane and
discussed the timing of his departure, with the president urging him to do it the right way
and to take his time. “You tell me what works for you,” said Trump. “Let’s make it good.”
Minutes later, Priebus stepped onto the tarmac and an alert on his phone said the
president had just tweeted that there was a new chief of staff, Department of Homeland
Security chief John Kelly, and that Priebus was out.
The Trump presidency was six months old, but the question of who might replace
Priebus had been a topic of discussion almost from day one. Among the string of
candidates were Powell and Cohn, the Jarvanka favorites; OMB director Mick Mulvaney,
one of the Bannon picks; and Kelly.
In fact, Kelly—who would soon abjectly apologize to Priebus for the basic lack of
courtesy in the way his dismissal was handled—had not been consulted about his
appointment. The president’s tweet was the first he knew of it.
But indeed there was no time to waste. Now the paramount issue before the Trump
government was that somebody would have to fire Scaramucci. Since Scaramucci had
effectively gotten rid of Priebus—the person who logically should have fired him—the
new chief of staff was needed, more or less immediately, to get rid of the Mooch.
And six days later, just hours after he was sworn in, Kelly fired Scaramucci.
Chastened themselves, the junior first couple, the geniuses of the Scaramucci hire,
panicked that they would, deservedly, catch the blame for one of the most ludicrous if not
catastrophic hires in modern White House history. Now they rushed to say how firmly
they supported the decision to get rid of Scaramucci.
“So I punch you in the face,” Sean Spicer noted from the sidelines, “and then say, ‘Oh
my god, we’ve got to get you to a hospital!’ ”
22
GENERAL KELLY
O
n August 4, the president and key members of the West Wing left for Trump’s golf
club in Bedminster. The new chief of staff, General Kelly, was in tow, but the
president’s chief strategist, Steve Bannon, had been left behind. Trump was grouchy about
the planned seventeen-day trip, bothered by how diligently his golf dates were being
clocked by the media. So this was now dubbed a “working” trip—another piece of Trump
vanity that drew shrugs, eye rolling, and head shaking from a staff that had been charged
with planning events that looked like work even as they were instructed to leave yawning
expanses of time for golf.
During the president’s absence, the West Wing would be renovated—Trump, the
hotelier and decorator, was “disgusted” by its condition. The president did not want to
move over to the nearby Executive Office Building, where the West Wing business would
temporarily be conducted—and where Steve Bannon sat waiting for his call to go to
Bedminster.
He was about to leave for Bedminster, Bannon kept telling everyone, but no invitation
came. Bannon, who claimed credit for bringing Kelly into the administration in the first
place, was unsure where he stood with the new chief. Indeed, the president himself was
unsure about where he himself stood; he kept asking people if Kelly liked him. More
generally, Bannon wasn’t entirely clear what Kelly was doing, other than his duty. Where
exactly did the new chief of staff fit in Trumpworld?
While Kelly stood somewhere right of center on the political spectrum and had been a
willing tough immigration enforcer at Homeland Security, he was not anywhere near so
right as Bannon or Trump. “He’s not hardcore” was Bannon’s regretful appraisal. At the
same time, Kelly was certainly not close in any way to the New York liberals in the White
House. But politics was not his purview. As director of Homeland Security he had
watched the chaos in the White House with disgust and thought about quitting. Now he
had agreed to try to tame it. He was sixty-seven, resolute, stern, and grim. “Does he ever
smile?” asked Trump, who had already begun to think that he had somehow been tricked
into the hire.
Some Trumpers, particularly those with over-the-transom access to the president,
believed that he had been tricked into some form of very-much-not-Trump submission.
Roger Stone, one of those people whose calls Kelly was now shielding the president from,
spread the dark scenario that Mattis, McMaster, and Kelly had agreed that no military
action would ever be taken unless the three were in accord—and that at least one of them
would always remain in Washington if the others were away.
After Kelly dispatched Scaramucci, his two immediate issues, now on the table in
Bedminster, were the president’s relatives and Steve Bannon. One side or the other
obviously had to go. Or perhaps both should go.
It was far from clear whether a White House chief of staff who saw his function as
establishing command process and enforcing organizational hierarchy—directing a
decision funnel to the commander in chief—could operate effectively or even exist in a
White House where the commander in chief’s children had special access and overriding
influence. As much as the president’s daughter and son-in-law were now offering slavish
regard for the new command principals, they would, surely, by habit and temperament,
override Kelly’s control of the West Wing. Not only did they have obvious special
influence with the president, but important members of the staff saw them as having this
juice, and hence believed that they were the true north of West Wing advancement and
power.
Curiously, for all their callowness, Jared and Ivanka had become quite a fearsome
presence, as feared by others as the two of them feared Bannon. What’s more, they had
become quite accomplished infighters and leakers—they had front-room and back-channel
power—although, with great woundedness, they insisted, incredibly, that they never
leaked. “If they hear someone talking about them, because they are so careful about their
image and have crafted this whole persona—it’s like anyone who tries to pierce it or say
something against it is like a big problem,” said one senior staffer. “They get very upset
and will come after you.”
On the other hand, while “the kids” might make Kelly’s job all but impossible, keeping
Bannon on board didn’t make a lot of sense, either. Whatever his gifts, he was a hopeless
plotter and malcontent, bound to do an end run around any organization. Besides, as the
Bedminster hiatus—working or otherwise—began, Bannon was once more on the
president’s shit list.
The president continued to stew about The Devil’s Bargain, the book by Joshua Green
that gave Bannon credit for the election. Then, too, while the president tended to side with
Bannon against McMaster, the campaign to defend McMaster, supported by Jared and
Ivanka, was having an effect. Murdoch, enlisted by Jared to help defend McMaster, was
personally lobbying the president for Bannon’s head. Bannonites felt they had to defend
Bannon against an impulsive move by the president: so now, not only did they brand
McMaster as weak on Israel, they persuaded Sheldon Adelson to lobby Trump—Bannon,
Adelson told the president, was the only person he trusted on Israel in the White House.
Adelson’s billions and implacability always impressed Trump, and his endorsement,
Bannon believed, significantly strengthened his hand.
But overriding the management of the harrowing West Wing dysfunction, Kelly’s
success—or even relevance, as he was informed by almost anyone who was in a position
to offer him an opinion—depended on his rising to the central challenge of his job, which
was how to manage Trump. Or, actually, how to live with not managing him. His desires,
needs, and impulses had to exist—necessarily had to exist—outside the organizational
structure. Trump was the one variable that, in management terms, simply could not be
controlled. He was like a recalcitrant two-year-old. If you tried to control him, it would
only have the opposite effect. In this, then, the manager had to most firmly manage his
own expectations.
In an early meeting with the president, General Kelly had Jared and Ivanka on his
agenda—how the president saw their role; what he thought was working and not working
about it; how he envisioned it going forward. It was all intended to be a politic way of
opening a discussion about getting them out. But the president was, Kelly soon learned,
delighted with all aspects of their performance in the West Wing. Maybe at some point
Jared would become secretary of state—that was the only change the president seemed to
foresee. The most Kelly could do was to get the president to acknowledge that the couple
should be part of a greater organizational discipline in the West Wing and should not so
readily jump the line.
This, at least, was something that the general could try to enforce. At a dinner in
Bedminster—the president dining with his daughter and son-in-law—the First Family
were confused when Kelly showed up at the meal and joined them. This, they shortly
came to understand, was neither an attempt at pleasant socializing nor an instance of
unwarranted over-familiarity. It was enforcement: Jared and Ivanka needed to go through
him to talk to the president.
But Trump had made clear his feeling that the roles played by the kids in his
administration needed only minor adjustment, and this now presented a significant
problem for Bannon. Bannon really had believed that Kelly would find a way to send
Jarvanka home. How could he not? Indeed, Bannon had convinced himself that they
represented the largest danger to Trump. They would take the president down. As much,
Bannon believed that he could not remain in the White House if they did.
Beyond Trump’s current irritation with Bannon, which many believed was just the
usual constant of Trump resentment and complaint, Bannonites felt that their leader had, at
least policywise, gained the upper hand. Jarvanka was marginalized; the Republican
leadership, after health care, was discredited; the Cohn-Mnuchin tax plan was a hash.
Through one window, the future looked almost rosy for Bannon. Sam Nunberg, the former
Trump loyalist who was now wholly a Bannon loyalist, believed that Bannon would stay
in the White House for two years and then leave to run Trump’s reelection campaign. “If
you can get this idiot elected twice,” Nunberg marveled, you would achieve something
like immortality in politics.
But through another window, Bannon couldn’t possibly remain in place. He seemed to
have moved into a heightened state that allowed him to see just how ridiculous the White
House had become. He could barely hold his tongue—indeed, he couldn’t hold it. Pressed,
he could not see the future of the Trump administration. And, while many Bannonites
argued the case for Jarvanka ineffectiveness and irrelevance—just ignore them, they said
—Bannon, with mounting ferocity and pubic venom, could abide them less and less every
day.
Bannon, continuing to wait for his call to join the president in Bedminster, decided that
he would force the situation and offered his resignation to Kelly. But this was in fact a
game of chicken: he wanted to stay. On the other hand, he wanted Jarvanka to go. And
that became an effective ultimatum.
* * *
At lunch on August 8, in the Clubhouse at Bedminster—amid Trumpish chandeliers, golf
trophies, and tournament plaques—the president was flanked by Tom Price, the secretary
of health and human services, and his wife, Melania. Kellyanne Conway was at the lunch;
so were Kushner and several others. This was one of the “make-work” events—over
lunch, there was a discussion of the opioid crisis, which was then followed by a statement
from the president and a brief round of questions from reporters. While reading the
statement in a monotone, Trump kept his head down, propping it on his elbows.
After taking some humdrum questions about opioids, he was suddenly asked about
North Korea, and, quite as though in stop-action animation, he seemed to come alive.
North Korea had been a heavy-on-detail, short-on-answers problem that that he
believed was the product of lesser minds and weaker resolve—and that he had trouble
paying attention to. What’s more, he had increasingly personalized his antagonism with
North Korean leader Kim Jong-un, referring to him often with derogatory epithets.
His staff had not prepared him for this, but, in apparent relief that he could digress
from the opioid discussion, as well as sudden satisfaction at the opportunity to address this
nagging problem, he ventured out, in language that he’d repeated often in private—as he
repeated everything often—to the precipice of an international crisis.
“North Korea best not make any more threats to the United States. They will be met
with the fire and the fury like the world has never seen. He has been very threatening
beyond a normal state, and as I said they will be met with fire and fury and frankly power,
the likes of which this world has never seen before. Thank you.”
* * *
North Korea, a situation the president had been consistently advised to downplay, now
became the central subject of the rest of the week—with most senior staff occupied not so
much by the topic itself, but by how to respond to the president, who was threatening to
“blow” again.
Against this background, almost no one paid attention to the announcement by the
Trump supporter and American neo-Nazi Richard Spencer that he was organizing a protest
at the University of Virginia, in Charlottesville, over the removal of a statue of Robert E.
Lee. “Unite the Right,” the theme of the rally called for Saturday, August 12, was
explicitly designed to link Trump’s politics with white nationalism.
On August 11, with the president in Bedminster continuing to threaten North Korea—
and also, inexplicably to almost everyone on his staff, threatening military intervention in
Venezuela—Spencer called for an evening protest.
At 8:45 p.m.—with the president in for the night in Bedminster—about 250 young men
dressed in khaki pants and polo shirts, quite a Trump style of dress, began an organized
parade across the UVA campus while carrying kerosene torches. Parade monitors with
headsets directed the scene. At a signal, the marchers began chanting official movement
slogans: “Blood and soil!” “You will not replace us!” “Jews will not replace us!” Soon, at
the center of campus, near a statue of UVA’s founder, Thomas Jefferson, Spencer’s group
was met by a counterprotest. With virtually no police presence, the first of the weekend’s
melees and injuries ensued.
Beginning again at eight o’clock the next morning, the park near the Lee statue became
the battleground of a suddenly surging white racist movement, with clubs, shields, mace,
pistols, and automatic rifles (Virginia is an “open carry” state)—a movement seemingly,
and to liberal horror, born out of the Trump campaign and election, as in fact Richard
Spencer intended it to seem. Opposing the demonstrators was a hardened, militant left
called to the barricades. You could hardly have better set an end-times scene, no matter the
limited numbers of protesters. Much of the morning involved a series of charges and
countercharges—a rocks-and-bottles combat, with a seemingly hands-off police force
standing by.
In Bedminster, there was still little awareness of the unfolding events in Charlottesville.
But then, at about one o’clock in the afternoon, James Alex Fields Jr., a twenty-year-old
would-be Nazi, plunged his Dodge Charger into a group of counterprotesters, killing
thirty-two-year-old Heather Heyer and injuring a score of others.
In a tweet hurriedly composed by his staff, the president declared: “We ALL must be
united & condemn all that hate stands for. There is no place for this kind of violence in
America. Lets come together as one!”
Otherwise, however, it was largely business as usual for the president—Charlottesville
was a mere distraction, and indeed, the staff’s goal was to keep him off North Korea. The
main event in Bedminster that day was the ceremonial signing of an act extending the
funding of a program that let veterans obtain medical care outside VA hospitals. The
signing was held in a big ballroom at the Clubhouse two hours after Alex Field’s attack.
During the signing, Trump took a moment to condemn the “hatred, bigotry, and
violence on many sides” in Charlottesville. Almost immediately, the president came under
attack for the distinction he had appeared to refuse to draw between avowed racists and
the other side. As Richard Spencer had correctly understood, the president’s sympathies
were muddled. However easy and obvious it was to condemn white racists—even selfstyled
neo-Nazis—he instinctively resisted.
It wasn’t until the next morning that the White House finally tried to clarify Trump’s
position with a formal statement: “The President said very strongly in his statement
yesterday that he condemns all forms of violence, bigotry, and hatred. Of course that
includes white supremacists, KKK neo-Nazi and all extremist groups. He called for
national unity and bringing all Americans together.”
But in fact he hadn’t condemned white supremacists, KKK, and neo-Nazis—and he
continued to be stubborn about not doing it.
In a call to Bannon, Trump sought help making his case: “Where does this all end? Are
they going to take down the Washington Monument, Mount Rushmore, Mount Vernon?”
Bannon—still not receiving his summons to Bedminster—urged this to be the line: the
president should condemn violence and misfits and also defend history (even with
Trump’s weak grasp of it). Stressing the literal issue of monuments would bedevil the left
and comfort the right.
But Jared and Ivanka, with Kelly backing them, urged presidential behavior. Their plan
was to have Trump return to the White House and address the issue with a forceful
censure of hate groups and racial politics—exactly the unambiguous sort of position
Richard Spencer had strategically bet Trump would not willingly take.
Bannon, understanding these same currents in Trump, lobbied Kelly and told him that
the Jarvanka approach would backfire: It will be clear his heart’s not in it, said Bannon.
The president arrived shortly before eleven o’clock on Monday morning at a White
House under construction and a wall of shouted questions about Charlottesville: “Do you
condemn the actions of neo-Nazis? Do you condemn the actions of white supremacists?”
Some ninety minutes later he stood in the Diplomatic Reception Room, his eyes locked on
to the teleprompter, and delivered a six-minute statement.
Before getting to the point: “Our economy is now strong. The stock market continues
to hit record highs, unemployment is at a sixteen-year low, and businesses are more
optimistic than ever before. Companies are moving back to the United States and bringing
many thousands of jobs with them. We have already created over one million jobs since I
took office.”
And only then: “We must love each other, show affection for each other and unite
together in condemnation of hatred, bigotry and violence… . We must rediscover the
bonds of love and loyalty that bring us together as Americans… . Racism is evil. And
those who cause violence in its name are criminals and thugs including the KKK, neo-
Nazis, white supremacists, and other hate groups that are repugnant to everything we hold
dear as Americans.”
It was a reluctant mini-grovel. It was something of a restaging of the take-it-back
birther speech about Obama during the campaign: much distraction and obfuscation, then
a mumbled acknowledgment. Similarly, he looked here, trying to tow the accepted line on
Charlottesville, like a kid called on the carpet. Resentful and petulant, he was clearly
reading forced lines.
And in fact he got little credit for these presidential-style remarks, with reporters
shouting questions about why it had taken him so long to address the issue. As he got back
on Marine One to head to Andrews Air Force Base and on to JFK and then into Manhattan
and Trump Tower, his mood was dark and I-told-you-so. Privately, he kept trying to
rationalize why someone would be a member of the KKK—that is, they might not actually
believe what the KKK believed, and the KKK probably does not believe what it used to
believe, and, anyway, who really knows what the KKK believes now? In fact, he said, his
own father was accused of being involved with the KKK—not true. (In fact, yes, true.)
The next day, Tuesday, August 15, the White House had a news conference scheduled
at Trump Tower. Bannon urged Kelly to cancel it. It was a nothing conference anyway. Its
premise was about infrastructure—about undoing an environmental regulation that could
help get projects started faster—but it was really just another effort to show that Trump
was working and not just on a holiday. So why bother? What’s more, Bannon told Kelly,
he could see the signs: the arrow on the Trump pressure cooker was climbing, and before
long he’d blow.
The news conference went ahead anyway. Standing at the lectern in the lobby of
Trump Tower, the president stayed on script for mere minutes. Defensive and selfjustifying,
he staked out a contrition-is-bunk, the-fault-lies-everywhere-else position and
then dug in deep. He went on without an evident ability to adjust his emotions to political
circumstance or, really, even to make an effort to save himself. It was yet one more
example, among his many now, of the comic-absurd, movielike politician who just says
whatever is on his mind. Unmediated. Crazylike.
“What about the alt-left that came charging at the, as you say, altright? Do they have
any semblance of guilt? What about the fact they came charging with clubs in their hands?
As far as I’m concerned that was a horrible, horrible day… . I think there’s blame on both
sides. I have no doubt about it, you don’t have any doubt about it. If you reported it
accurately, you would see.”
Steve Bannon, still waiting in his temporary office in the EOB, thought, Oh my god,
there he goes. I told you so.
* * *
Outside of the portion of the electorate that, as Trump once claimed, would let him shoot
someone on Fifth Avenue, the civilized world was pretty much universally aghast.
Everybody came to a dumbfounded moral attention. Anybody in any position of
responsibility remotely tied to some idea of establishment respectability had to disavow
him. Every CEO of a public company who had associated him- or herself with the Trump
White House now needed to cut the ties. The overriding issue might not even be what
unreconstructed sentiments he actually seemed to hold in his heart—Bannon averred that
Trump was not in fact anti-Semitic, but on the other count he wasn’t sure—but that he flatout
couldn’t control himself.
In the wake of the immolating news conference, all eyes were suddenly on Kelly—this
was his baptism of Trump fire. Spicer, Priebus, Cohn, Powell, Bannon, Tillerson, Mattis,
Mnuchin—virtually the entire senior staff and cabinet of the Trump presidency, past and
present, had traveled through the stages of adventure, challenge, frustration, battle, selfjustification,
and doubt, before finally having to confront the very real likelihood that the
president they worked for—whose presidency they bore some official responsibility for—
didn’t have the wherewithal to adequately function in his job. Now, after less than two
weeks on the job, it was Kelly’s turn to stand at that precipice.
The debate, as Bannon put it, was not about whether the president’s situation was bad,
but whether it was Twenty-Fifth-Amendment bad.
* * *
To Bannon, if not to Trump, the linchpin of Trumpism was China. The story of the next
generation, he believed, had been written, and it was about war with China. Commercial
war, trade war, cultural war, diplomatic war—it would be an all-encompassing war that
few in the United States now understood needed to be fought, and that almost nobody was
prepared to fight.
Bannon had compiled a list of “China hawks” that crossed political lines, going from
the Breitbart gang, to former New Republic editor Peter Beinart—who regarded Bannon
only with scorn—and orthodox liberal-progressive stalwart Robert Kuttner, the editor of
the small, public policy magazine American Prospect. On Wednesday, August 16, the day
after the president’s news conference in Trump Tower, Bannon, out of the blue, called
Kuttner from his EOB office to talk China.
By this point, Bannon was all but convinced that he was on the way out of the White
House. He had received no invitation to join the president in Bedminster, a withering sign.
That day, he had learned of the appointment of Hope Hicks as interim communications
director—a Jarvanka victory. Meanwhile, the steady whisper from the Jarvanka side
continued about his certain demise; it had become a constant background noise.
He was still not sure he would be fired, yet Bannon, in only the second on-the-record
interview he had given since the Trump victory, called Kuttner and in effect sealed his
fate. He would later maintain that the conversation was not on the record. But this was the
Bannon method, in which he merely tempted fate.
If Trump was helplessly Trump in his most recent news conference, Bannon was
helplessly Bannon in his chat with Kuttner. He tried to prop up what he made sound like a
weak Trump on China. He corrected, in mocking fashion, the president’s bluster on North
Korea—“ten million people in Seoul” will die, he declared. And he insulted his internal
enemies—“they’re wetting themselves.”
If Trump was incapable of sounding like a president, Bannon had matched him: he was
incapable of sounding like a presidential aide.
* * *
That evening, a group of Bannonites gathered near the White House for dinner. The dinner
was called for the bar at the Hay-Adams hotel, but Arthur Schwartz, a Bannonite PR man,
got into an altercation with the Hay-Adams bartender about switching the television from
CNN to Fox, where his client, Blackstone’s Stephen Schwarzman, the chairman of one of
the president’s business councils, was shortly to appear. The business council was
hemorrhaging its CEO members after the president’s Charlottesville news conference, and
Trump, in a tweet, had announced that he was disbanding it. (Schwarzman had advised the
president that the council was collapsing and that the president ought to at least make it
look as if shutting it down was his decision.)
Schwartz, in high dudgeon, announced that he was checking out of the Hay-Adams and
moving to the Trump Hotel. He also insisted that the dinner be moved two blocks away to
Joe’s, an outpost of Miami’s Joe’s Stone Crab. Matthew Boyle, the Washington political
editor of Breitbart News, was swept into Schwartz’s furious departure, with Schwartz
upbraiding the twenty-nine-year-old for lighting a cigarette. “I don’t know anyone who
smokes,” he sniffed. Although Schwartz was firmly in the Bannon camp, this seemed to
be a general dig at the Breitbart people for being low-class.
Both dedicated Bannonites debated the effect of Bannon’s interview, which had caught
everybody in the Bannon universe off guard. Neither man could understand why he would
have given an interview.
Was Bannon finished?
No, no, no, argued Schwartz. He might have been a few weeks ago when Murdoch had
ganged up with McMaster and gone to the president and pressed him to dump Bannon.
But then Sheldon had fixed it, Schwartz said.
“Steve stayed home when Abbas came,” said Schwartz. “He wasn’t going to breathe
the air that a terrorist breathed.” This was the precise line Schwartz would hand out to
reporters in the coming days in a further effort to establish Bannon’s right-wing virtue.
Alexandra Preate, Bannon’s lieutenant, arrived at Joe’s out of breath. Seconds later,
Jason Miller, another PR man in the Bannon fold, arrived. During the transition, Miller
had been slated to be the communications director, but then it had come out that Miller
had had a relationship with another staff member who announced in a tweet she was
pregnant by Miller—as was also, at this point, Miller’s wife. Miller, who had lost his
promised White House job but continued serving as an outside Trump and Bannon voice,
was now, with the recent birth of the child—with the recent birth of both of his children by
different women—facing another wave of difficult press. Still, even he was obsessively
focused on what Bannon’s interview might mean.
By now the table was buzzing with speculation.
How would the president react?
How would Kelly react?
Was this curtains?
For a group of people in touch with Bannon on an almost moment-by-moment basis, it
was remarkable that nobody seemed to understand that, forcibly or otherwise, he would
surely be moving out of the White House. On the contrary, the damaging interview was,
by consensus, converted into a brilliant strategic move. Bannon was not going anywhere
—not least because there was no Trump without Bannon.
It was an excited dinner, a revved-up occasion involving a passionate group of people
all attached to the man who they believed was the most compelling figure in Washington.
They saw him as some sort of irreducible element: Bannon was Bannon was Bannon.
As the evening went on, Matt Boyle got in a furious text-message fight with Jonathan
Swan, a White House reporter who had written a story about Bannon being on the losing
side in the Bannon-McMaster showdown. Soon almost every well-connected reporter in
the city was checking in with somebody at the table. When a text came in, the recipient
would hold up his or her phone if it showed a notable reporter’s name. At one point,
Bannon texted Schwartz some talking points. Could it be that this was just one more day
in the endless Trump drama?
Schwartz, who seemed to regard Trump’s stupidity as a political given, offered a
vigorous analysis of why Trump could not do without Bannon. Then, seeking more proof
of his theory, Schwartz said he was texting Sam Nunberg, generally regarded as the man
who understood Trump’s whims and impulses best, and who had sagely predicted
Bannon’s survival at each doubtful moment in the past months.
“Nunberg always knows,” said Schwartz.
Seconds later, Schwartz looked up. His eyes widened and for a moment he went silent.
Then he said: “Nunberg says Bannon’s dead.”
And, indeed, unbeknownst to the Bannonites, even those closest to him, Bannon was at
that moment finalizing his exit with Kelly. By the next day, he would be packing up his
little office, and on Monday, when Trump would return to a refurbished West Wing—a
paint job, new furniture, and new rugs, its look tilting toward the Trump Hotel—Steve
Bannon would be back on Capitol Hill at the Breitbart Embassy, still, he was confident,
the chief strategist for the Trump revolution.
EPILOGUE:
BANNON AND TRUMP
O
n a sweltering morning in October 2017, the man who had more or less singlehandedly
brought about the U.S. withdrawal from the Paris climate accord, stood on
the steps of the Breitbart town house and said, with a hearty laugh, “I guess global
warming is real.”
Steve Bannon had lost twenty pounds since his exit from the White House six weeks
before—he was on a crash all-sushi diet. “That building,” said his friend David Bossie,
speaking about all White Houses but especially the Trump White House, “takes perfectly
healthy people and turns them into old, unhealthy people.” But Bannon, who Bossie had
declared on virtual life support during his final days in the West Wing, was again, by his
own description, “on fire.” He had moved out of the Arlington “safe house” and
reestablished himself back at the Breitbart Embassy, turning it into a headquarters for the
next stage of the Trump movement, which might not include Trump at all.
Asked about Trump’s leadership of the nationalist-populist movement, Bannon
registered a not inconsiderable change in the country’s political landscape: “I am the
leader of the national-populist movement.”
One cause of Bannon’s boast and new resolve was that Trump, for no reason that
Bannon could quite divine, had embraced Mitch McConnell’s establishment candidate in
the recent Republican run-off in Alabama rather than support the nat-pop choice for the
Senate seat vacated by now attorney general Jeff Sessions. After all, McConnell and the
president were barely on speaking terms. From his August “working holiday” in
Bedminster, the president’s staff had tried to organize a makeup meeting with McConnell,
but McConnell’s staff had sent back word that it wouldn’t be possible because the Senate
leader would be getting a haircut.
But the president—ever hurt and confused by his inability to get along with the
congressional leadership, and then, conversely, enraged by their refusal to get along with
him—had gone all-in for the McConnell-backed Luther Strange, who had run against
Bannon’s candidate, the right-wing firebrand Roy Moore. (Even by Alabama standards,
Moore was far right: he had been removed as chief justice of the Alabama Supreme Court
for defying a federal court order to take down a monument of the Ten Commandments in
the Alabama judicial building.)
For Bannon, the president’s political thinking had been obtuse at best. He was unlikely
to get anything from McConnell—and indeed Trump had demanded nothing for his
support for Luther Strange, which came via an unplanned tweet in August. Strange’s
prospects were not only dim, but he was likely to lose in a humiliating fashion. Roy
Moore was the clear candidate of the Trump base—and he was Bannon’s candidate.
Hence, that would be the contest: Trump against Bannon. In fact, the president really
didn’t have to support anyone—no one would have complained if he’d stayed neutral in a
primary race. Or, he could have tacitly supported Strange and not doubled down with
more and more insistent tweets.
For Bannon, this episode was not only about the president’s continuing and curious
confusion about what he represented, but about his mercurial, intemperate, and often
cockamamie motivations. Against all political logic, Trump had supported Luther Strange,
he told Bannon, because “Luther’s my friend.”
“He said it like a nine-year-old,” said Bannon, recoiling, and noting that there was no
universe in which Trump and Strange were actually friends.
For every member of the White House senior staff this would be the lasting conundrum
of dealing with President Trump: the “why” of his often baffling behavior.
“The president fundamentally wants to be liked” was Katie Walsh’s analysis. “He just
fundamentally needs to be liked so badly that it’s always … everything is a struggle for
him.”
This translated into a constant need to win something—anything. Equally important, it
was essential that he look like a winner. Of course, trying to win without consideration,
plan, or clear goals had, in the course of the administration’s first nine months, resulted in
almost nothing but losses. At the same time, confounding all political logic, that lack of a
plan, that impulsivity, that apparent joie de guerre, had helped create the disruptiveness
that seemed to so joyously shatter the status quo for so many.
But now, Bannon thought, that novelty was finally wearing off.
For Bannon, the Strange-Moore race had been a test of the Trump cult of personality.
Certainly Trump continued to believe that people were following him, that he was the
movement—and that his support was worth 8 to 10 points in any race. Bannon had
decided to test this thesis and to do it as dramatically as possible. All told, the Senate
Republican leadership and others spent $32 million on Strange’s campaign, while Moore’s
campaign spent $2 million.
Trump, though aware of Strange’s deep polling deficit, had agreed to extend his
support in a personal trip. But his appearance in Huntsville, Alabama, on September 22,
before a Trump-size crowd, was a political flatliner. It was a full-on Trump speech, ninety
minutes of rambling and improvisation—the wall would be built (now it was a seethrough
wall), Russian interference in the U.S. election was a hoax, he would fire anybody
on his cabinet who supported Moore. But, while his base turned out en masse, still drawn
to Trump the novelty, his cheerleading for Luther Strange drew at best a muted response.
As the crowd became restless, the event threatened to become a hopeless embarrassment.
Reading his audience and desperate to find a way out, Trump suddenly threw out a line
about Colin Kaepernick taking to his knee while the national anthem played at a National
Football League game. The line got a standing ovation. The president thereupon promptly
abandoned Luther Strange for the rest of the speech. Likewise, for the next week he
continued to whip the NFL. Pay no attention to Strange’s resounding defeat five days after
the event in Huntsville. Ignore the size and scale of Trump’s rejection and the Moore-
Bannon triumph, with its hint of new disruptions to come. Now Trump had a new topic,
and a winning one: the Knee.
* * *
The fundamental premise of nearly everybody who joined the Trump White House was,
This can work. We can help make this work. Now, only three-quarters of the way through
just the first year of Trump’s term, there was literally not one member of the senior staff
who could any longer be confident of that premise. Arguably—and on many days
indubitably—most members of the senior staff believed that the sole upside of being part
of the Trump White House was to help prevent worse from happening.
In early October, Secretary of State Rex Tillerson’s fate was sealed—if his obvious
ambivalence toward the president had not already sealed it—by the revelation that he had
called the president “a fucking moron.”
This—insulting Donald Trump’s intelligence—was both the thing you could not do and
the thing—drawing there-but-for-the-grace-of-God guffaws across the senior staff—that
everybody was guilty of. Everyone, in his or her own way, struggled to express the baldly
obvious fact that the president did not know enough, did not know what he didn’t know,
did not particularly care, and, to boot, was confident if not serene in his unquestioned
certitudes. There was now a fair amount of back-of-the-classroom giggling about who had
called Trump what. For Steve Mnuchin and Reince Priebus, he was an “idiot.” For Gary
Cohn, he was “dumb as shit.” For H. R. McMaster he was a “dope.” The list went on.
Tillerson would merely become yet another example of a subordinate who believed
that his own abilities could somehow compensate for Trump’s failings.
Aligned with Tillerson were the three generals, Mattis, McMasters, and Kelly, each
seeing themselves as representing maturity, stability, and restraint. And each, of course,
was resented by Trump for it. The suggestion that any or all of these men might be more
focused and even tempered than Trump himself was cause for sulking and tantrums on the
president’s part.
The daily discussion among senior staffers, those still there and those now gone—all of
whom had written off Tillerson’s future in the Trump administration—was how long
General Kelly would last as chief of staff. There was something of a virtual office pool,
and the joke was that Reince Priebus was likely to be Trump’s longest-serving chief of
staff. Kelly’s distaste for the president was open knowledge—in his every word and
gesture he condescended to Trump—the president’s distaste for Kelly even more so. It was
sport for the president to defy Kelly, who had become the one thing in his life he had
never been able to abide: a disapproving and censorious father figure.
* * *
There really were no illusions at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Kelly’s long-suffering
antipathy toward the president was rivaled only by his scorn for the president’s family
—“Kushner,” he pronounced, was “insubordinate.” Cohn’s derisive contempt for Kushner
as well as the president was even greater. In return, the president heaped more abuse on
Cohn—the former president of Goldman Sachs was now a “complete idiot, dumber than
dumb.” In fact, the president had also stopped defending his own family, wondering when
they would “take the hint and go home.”
But, of course, this was still politics: those who could overcome shame or disbelief—
and, despite all Trumpian coarseness and absurdity, suck up to him and humor him—
might achieve unique political advantage. As it happened, few could.
By October, however, many on the president’s staff took particular notice of one of the
few remaining Trump opportunists: Nikki Haley, the UN ambassador. Haley—“as
ambitious as Lucifer,” in the characterization of one member of the senior staff—had
concluded that Trump’s tenure would last, at best, a single term, and that she, with
requisite submission, could be his heir apparent. Haley had courted and befriended Ivanka,
and Ivanka had brought her into the family circle, where she had become a particular
focus of Trump’s attention, and he of hers. Haley, as had become increasingly evident to
the wider foreign policy and national security team, was the family’s pick for secretary of
state after Rex Tillerson’s inevitable resignation. (Likewise, in this shuffle, Dina Powell
would replace Haley at the UN.)
The president had been spending a notable amount of private time with Haley on Air
Force One and was seen to be grooming her for a national political future. Haley, who was
much more of a traditional Republican, one with a pronounced moderate streak—a type
increasingly known as a Jarvanka Republican—was, evident to many, being mentored in
Trumpian ways. The danger here, offered one senior Trumper, “is that she is so much
smarter than him.”
What now existed, even before the end of the president’s first year, was an effective
power vacuum. The president, in his failure to move beyond daily chaos, had hardly
seized the day. But, as sure as politics, someone would.
In that sense, the Trumpian and Republican future was already moving beyond this
White House. There was Bannon, working from the outside and trying to take over the
Trump movement. There was the Republican leadership in Congress, trying to stymie
Trumpism—if not slay it. There was John McCain, doing his best to embarrass it. There
was the special counsel’s office, pursuing the president and many of those around him.
The stakes were very clear to Bannon. Haley, quite an un-Trumpian figure, but by far
the closest of any of his cabinet members to him, might, with clever political wiles, entice
Trump to hand her the Trumpian revolution. Indeed, fearing Haley’s hold on the president,
Bannon’s side had—the very morning that Bannon had stood on the steps of the Breitbart
town house in the unseasonable October weather—gone into overdrive to push the CIA’s
Mike Pompeo for State after Tillerson’s departure.
This was all part of the next stage of Trumpism—to protect it from Trump.
* * *
General Kelly was conscientiously and grimly trying to purge the West Wing chaos. He
had begun by compartmentalizing the sources and nature of the chaos. The overriding
source, of course, was the president’s own eruptions, which Kelly could not control and
had resigned himself to accepting. As for the ancillary chaos, much of it had been calmed
by the elimination of Bannon, Priebus, Scaramucci, and Spicer, with the effect of making
it quite a Jarvanka-controlled West Wing.
Now, nine months in, the administration faced the additional problem that it was very
hard to hire anyone of stature to replace the senior people who had departed. And the
stature of those who remained seemed to be more diminutive by the week.
Hope Hicks, at twenty-eight, and Stephen Miller, at thirty-two, both of whom had
begun as effective interns on the campaign, were now among the seniormost figures in the
White House. Hicks had assumed command of the communications operation, and Miller
had effectively replaced Bannon as the senior political strategist.
After the Scaramucci fiasco, and the realization that the position of communications
director would be vastly harder to fill, Hicks was assigned the job as the “interim”
director. She was given the interim title partly because it seemed implausible that she was
qualified to run an already battered messaging operation, and partly because if she was
given the permanent job everyone would assume that the president was effectively calling
the daily shots. But by the middle of September, interim was quietly converted to
permanent.
In the larger media and political world, Miller—who Bannon referred to as “my
typist”—was a figure of ever increasing incredulity. He could hardly be taken out in public
without engaging in some screwball, if not screeching, fit of denunciation and grievance.
He was the de facto crafter of policy and speeches, and yet up until now he had largely
only taken dictation.
Most problematic of all, Hicks and Miller, along with everyone on the Jarvanka side,
were now directly connected to actions involved in the Russian investigation or efforts to
spin it, deflect it, or, indeed, cover it up. Miller and Hicks had drafted—or at least typed—
Kushner’s version of the first letter written at Bedminster to fire Comey. Hicks had joined
with Kushner and his wife to draft on Air Force One the Trump-directed press release
about Don Jr. and Kushner’s meeting with the Russians in Trump Tower.
In its way, this had become the defining issue for the White House staff: who had been
in what inopportune room. And even beyond the general chaos, the constant legal danger
formed part of the high barrier to getting people to come work in the West Wing.
Kushner and his wife—now largely regarded as a time bomb inside the White House—
were spending considerable time on their own defense and battling a sense of mounting
paranoia, not least about what members of the senior staff who had already exited the
West Wing might now say about them. Kushner, in the middle of October, would,
curiously, add to his legal team Charles Harder, the libel lawyer who had defended both
Hulk Hogan in his libel suit against Gawker, the Internet gossip site, and Melania Trump
in her suit against the Daily Mail. The implied threat to media and to critics was clear.
Talk about Jared Kushner at your peril. It also likely meant that Donald Trump was yet
managing the White House’s legal defense, slotting in his favorite “tough guy” lawyers.
Beyond Donald Trump’s own daily antics, here was the consuming issue of the White
House: the ongoing investigation directed by Robert Mueller. The father, the daughter, the
son-in-law, his father, the extended family exposure, the prosecutor, the retainers looking
to save their own skins, the staffers who Trump had rewarded with the back of his hand—
it all threatened, in Bannon’s view, to make Shakespeare look like Dr. Seuss.
Everyone waited for the dominoes to fall, and to see how the president, in his fury,
might react and change the game again.
* * *
Steve Bannon was telling people he thought there was a 33.3 percent chance that the
Mueller investigation would lead to the impeachment of the president, a 33.3 percent
chance that Trump would resign, perhaps in the wake of a threat by the cabinet to act on
the Twenty-Fifth Amendment (by which the cabinet can remove the president in the event
of his incapacitation), and a 33.3 percent chance that he would limp to the end of his term.
In any event, there would certainly not be a second term, or even an attempt at one.
“He’s not going to make it,” said Bannon at the Breitbart Embassy. “He’s lost his
stuff.”
Less volubly, Bannon was telling people something else: he, Steve Bannon, was going
to run for president in 2020. The locution, “If I were president …” was turning into,
“When I am president …”
The top Trump donors from 2016 were in his camp, Bannon claimed: Sheldon
Adelson, the Mercers, Bernie Marcus, and Peter Thiel. In short order, and as though he
had been preparing for this move for some time, Bannon had left the White House and
quickly thrown together a rump campaign organization. The heretofore behind-the-scenes
Bannon was methodically meeting with every conservative leader in the country—doing
his best, as he put it, to “kiss the ass and pay homage to all the gray-beards.” And he was
keynoting a list of must-attend conservative events.
“Why is Steve speaking? I didn’t know he spoke,” the president remarked with
puzzlement and rising worry to aides.
Trump had been upstaged in other ways as well. He had been scheduled for a major 60
Minutes interview in September, but this was abruptly canceled after Bannon’s 60 Minutes
interview with Charlie Rose on September 11. The president’s advisers felt he shouldn’t
put himself in a position where he would be compared with Bannon. The worry among
staffers—all of them concerned that Trump’s rambling and his alarming repetitions (the
same sentences delivered with the same expressions minutes apart) had significantly
increased, and that his ability to stay focused, never great, had notably declined—was that
he was likely to suffer by such a comparison. Instead, the interview with Trump was
offered to Sean Hannity—with a preview of the questions.
Bannon was also taking the Breitbart opposition research group—the same forensic
accountant types who had put together the damning Clinton Cash revelations—and
focusing it on what he characterized as the “political elites.” This was a catchall list of
enemies that included as many Republicans as Democrats.
Most of all, Bannon was focused on fielding candidates for 2018. While the president
had repeatedly threatened to support primary challenges against his enemies, in the end,
with his aggressive head start, it was Bannon who would be leading these challenges. It
was Bannon spreading fear in the Republican Party, not Trump. Indeed, Bannon was
willing to pick outré if not whacky candidates—including former Staten Island
congressman Michael Grimm, who had done a stint in federal prison—to demonstrate, as
he had demonstrated with Trump, the scale, artfulness, and menace of Bannon-style
politics. Although the Republicans in the 2018 congressional races were looking,
according to Bannon’s numbers, at a 15-point deficit, it was Bannon’s belief that the more
extreme the right-wing challenge appeared, the more likely the Democrats would field
left-wing nutters even less electable than right-wing nutters. The disruption had just
begun.
Trump, in Bannon’s view, was a chapter, or even a detour, in the Trump revolution,
which had always been about weaknesses in the two major parties. The Trump presidency
—however long it lasted—had created the opening that would provide the true outsiders
their opportunity. Trump was just the beginning.
Standing on the Breitbart steps that October morning, Bannon smiled and said: “It’s
going to be wild as shit.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to Janice Min and Matthew Belloni at the Hollywood Reporter, who,
eighteen months ago, got me up one morning to jump on a plane in New York and that
evening interview the unlikely candidate in Los Angeles. My publisher, Stephen Rubin,
and editor, John Sterling, at Henry Holt have not only generously supported this book but
shepherded it with enthusiasm and care on an almost daily basis. My agent, Andrew
Wylie, made this book happen, as usual, virtually overnight.
Michael Jackson at Two Cities TV, Peter Benedek at UTA, and my lawyers, Kevin
Morris and Alex Kohner, have patiently pushed this project forward.
A libel reading can be like a visit to the dentist. But in my long experience, no libel
lawyer is more nuanced, sensitive, and strategic than Eric Rayman. Once again, almost a
pleasure.
Many friends, colleagues, and generous people in the greater media and political world
have made this a smarter book, among them Mike Allen, Jonathan Swan, John Homans,
Franklin Foer, Jack Shafer, Tammy Haddad, Leela de Kretser, Stevan Keane, Matt Stone,
Edward Jay Epstein, Simon Dumenco, Tucker Carlson, Joe Scarborough, Piers Morgan,
Juleanna Glover, Niki Christoff, Dylan Jones, Michael Ledeen, Mike Murphy, Tim Miller,
Larry McCarthy, Benjamin Ginsberg, Al From, Kathy Ruemmler, Matthew Hiltzik, Lisa
Dallos, Mike Rogers, Joanna Coles, Steve Hilton, Michael Schrage, Matt Cooper, Jim
Impoco, Michael Feldman, Scott McConnell, and Mehreen Maluk.
My appreciation to fact-checkers Danit Lidor, Christina Goulding, and Joanne Gerber.
My greatest thanks to Victoria Floethe, for her support, patience, and insights, and for
her good grace in letting this book take such a demanding place in our lives.
INDEX
Abbas, Mahmoud, 231, 299
Abe, Shinzō, 106
Abraham Lincoln, USS, 182
Abramovich, Roman, 80
Adelson, Sheldon, 6, 141–43, 178, 289, 309
Afghanistan, 42, 263–68, 275–76
Agalarov, Aras, 254
Agenda, The (Woodward), 116
Ailes, Beth, 1, 4, 223–24
Ailes, Roger, 1–8, 11, 24, 26, 57, 59–60, 147, 164, 178–79, 195–98, 210, 212, 222–23
Alabama, 301–3
Al Shayrat airfield strike, 193–94
alt-right, 59, 116, 121, 128–29, 137–38, 174, 180, 296
American Prospect, 297
Anbang Insurance Group, 211
anti-Semitism, 140–44, 296
Anton, Michael, 105–6, 185, 229
Apprentice, The (TV show), 30, 76, 92, 109, 200
Arif, Tevfik, 100
Armey, Dick, 81
Arthur Andersen, 278
Art of the Deal, The (Trump and Schwartz), 22
Assad, Bashar al-, 183, 190
Atlantic City, 30, 99, 210
Atwater, Lee, 57
Australia, 78
Ayers, Nick, 240
Azerbaijan, 254
Bahrain, 231
Baier, Bret, 159–60
Baker, James, 27, 34
Baker, Peter, 277
Bannon, Steve, 185, 209, 247
Afghanistan and, 263–68
agenda of, in White House, 115–21, 275–77
agenda of, post-firing, 301–10
alt-right and, 137–38
background of, 55–60
campaign and, 3, 12–13, 17–18, 55, 86, 112–13, 201
Charlottesville and, 294–96
China and, 7–8, 297
Cohn and, 144, 146, 186
Comey firing and, 169–70, 211–15, 217–18, 232–33, 245–46, 261
CPAC and, 126–34
eve of inauguration and, 4–10
first weeks of presidency and, 52–55, 60–65, 67–70
Flynn and, 95, 103, 106
immigration and, 61–65, 77, 113
inauguration and, 42–43, 148
influence of, 70, 85, 108–10, 188
isolationism of, 227
Israel and, 140–43
Ivanka and, 146–48, 186–87, 211, 218–19, 221, 257
Jarvanka vs., 140, 174–82, 235–39, 243, 257, 261–62, 272, 274, 277, 280–81, 289–91
Kelly and, 287–91, 294–97
Kushner and, 69–70, 72, 77, 87, 110, 132, 134, 140–48
Kuttner call and firing of, 297–300, 307
media and, 38, 90–91, 93, 195–97, 206–9, 222
NSC and, 103, 176, 190–92
Obamacare and, 165–67, 170–72, 175
Paris Climate Accord and, 238–39
Pence and, 124
Priebus and, 33–34, 110
role of, in early presidency, 31–35
Russia investigation and, 7, 95, 97, 101, 154–55, 157, 170, 211, 233–46, 254–55, 257, 260–62, 278–81, 308
Ryan and, 161–63
Saudi Arabia and, 229–30
Scaramucci and, 268, 271, 274, 277, 281–85
Sessions and, 155, 241–42, 277–78
Syria and, 190–94
Trump on, 122–23
Trump pressured to fire, 173–82
Trump’s personality and, 21, 23, 35, 45, 47–48, 148–49, 158
Trump’s Times interview and, 277–78
White House appointments and, 4, 36, 86–87, 89, 189, 285
Barra, Mary, 88
Barrack, Tom, 27–29, 33, 42, 85, 233, 240
Bartiromo, Maria, 205
Bass, Edward, 56
Bayrock Group, 100–102
Bedminster Golf Club, 165, 213–14, 216, 287–94, 297, 302, 307
Beinart, Peter, 297
Benghazi, 97
Berkowitz, Avi, 143
Berlusconi, Silvio, 100
Berman, Mark, 78
Best and the Brightest, The (Halberstam), 53–54
Bezos, Jeff, 35
Biosphere 2, 56
Blackstone Group, 35, 78, 87, 298
Blackwater, 265
Blair, Tony, 156–58, 228
Blankfein, Lloyd, 144
Bloomberg, Michael, 117
Boehner, John, 26, 161
Boeing, 88
Bolton, John, 4–5, 189
border wall, 77–78, 228, 280, 303
Bossie, David, 58, 144, 177, 234, 237, 301
Bowles, Erskine, 27
Boyle, Matthew, 298–300
Boy Scouts of America, 284
Brady, Tom, 50
Brand, Rachel, 279
Breitbart, Andrew, 58–59
Breitbart News, 2, 32, 58–59, 62, 121, 126–29, 138, 160–62, 167, 179–80, 196, 207–8, 237, 266, 275, 297–98, 309
Brennan, John, 6, 41
Brexit, 5
Britain, 70, 157
Brooks, Mel, 15
Bryan, William Jennings, 45
Brzezinski, Mika, 66–69, 121, 176, 247–49
Brzezinski, Zbigniew, 66
Buckley, William F., 127
Bush, Billy, 10, 13–14, 34, 86, 96, 161
Bush, George H. W., 26, 27, 34, 126
Bush, George W., 16, 27, 44, 82, 90, 126, 128, 138, 182, 184, 199, 205, 225, 227, 264
Bush, Jeb, 21, 56, 138
business councils, 35, 87–88, 239, 298
Camp David, 84
Canada, 107, 228
Card, Andrew, 27
Carlson, Tucker, 140, 205
Carter, Arthur, 74–75
Carter, Graydon, 74, 199
Carter, Jimmy, 27, 66
Caslen, Robert L., Jr., 189
Celebrity Apprentice (TV show), 22
Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 6, 17, 42, 48–51, 65, 102, 104, 263, 265, 267
Charlottesville rally, 292–96, 298
chemical weapons, 183–84, 190–93, 265
Cheney, Dick, 27
China, 6–8, 39, 100, 193–94, 211, 226, 228, 258, 267, 269–70, 297
Chopra, Deepak, 80
Christie, Chris, 16, 24–25, 30–31, 210, 242, 279
Christoff, Niki, 78
Churchill, Winston, 50
Circa news website, 159, 257
Clapper, James, 41, 214–15
Clinton, Bill, 23, 27, 54, 58, 90, 116, 123, 128, 158, 225, 228
impeachment of, 201, 233, 280
Clinton, Hillary, 3, 11–12, 18, 35, 69, 76, 87, 94, 97, 112, 134, 141, 144, 164, 204, 206, 233, 253, 269
Comey and, 169, 213, 216, 220, 245
Russian hacking of emails, 254, 259–60
Clinton Cash (Schweizer), 309
CNBC, 143, 207
CNN, 37, 39, 92, 159, 237, 298
Cohen, Michael, 278–80
Cohn, Gary, 89, 143–46, 170–71, 176, 186–87, 190, 229, 235, 258, 261, 270, 276, 285, 290, 296, 304–5
Cohn, Roy, 73, 141
Collins, Gail, 92
Comey, James, 6, 11, 168–70, 211–20, 223–24, 229, 232–33, 237, 242–45, 261–62, 280, 307
Commerce Department, 133
Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC), 126–39
Conway, George, 201–2
Conway, Kellyanne, 9–10, 12, 18, 20, 33, 37, 39, 43, 45, 48, 60, 64, 81, 84, 86–87, 91, 93, 96–97, 107, 109, 112, 122,
127, 129, 132, 134, 146, 170, 175–76, 185, 188, 198–203, 205, 207, 209, 261, 269, 291
Corallo, Mark, 238, 257, 259–60, 280–81
Corker, Bob, 43
Corzine, Jon, 56, 144
Coulter, Ann, 29, 128, 138, 201, 205
Couric, Katie, 203
Cruz, Ted, 12, 201
DACA, 280
Daily Mail, 15, 308
Daley, Bill, 27
Davis, Lanny, 233, 238
Dean, John, 212–13
Defense Intelligence Agency, 101
Democratic National Committee (DNC), 101
Democratic Party, 37, 97, 212, 310
Deripaska, Oleg, 17, 101, 240
Devil’s Bargain, The (Green), 276, 289
DeVos, Betsy, 21, 129
DeYoung, Karen, 105–6
Dickerson, John, 209
Digital Entertainment Network, 56
Director of National Intelligence, 86, 214
Disney, 42, 88
Dowd, Mark, 281
Dubai, 39
Dubke, Mike, 208, 273
Duke, David, 141
Dunford, Joseph, 182
Egypt, 6, 81, 227, 231
elections
of 2008, 62, 111
of 2016, 18, 101–2, 309
of 2017, 301–2
of 2018, 171, 309–10
of 2020, 308–9
Emanuel, Rahm, 27
Enron, 278
environmental regulation, 182, 295
Epstein, Edward Jay, 102
Epstein, Jeffrey, 28
Europe, 5, 142
European Union, 99
executive orders (EOs), 120, 133
climate change, 182
immigration and travel ban, 61–65, 68, 70, 78, 95, 113, 117
executive privilege, 245, 278
Export-Import Bank, 271
Facebook, 21
Farage, Nigel, 275
Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), 6, 11, 42, 96, 98, 101–2, 156, 159, 168–70, 210–20, 235, 244–46, 255, 281
Federalist Society, 86
Federal Reserve, 276
Fields, James Alex, Jr., 293
Financial Times, 278
First Amendment, 136
Five, The (TV show), 273
Florida, 60
Flynn, Michael, 4, 16–17, 95–96, 101–7, 154–55, 172, 176, 188–89, 191, 210, 220–21, 225, 227, 244, 280
Foer, Franklin, 99–102
Ford, Gerald, 27, 90
Foreign Intelligence Surveillance (FISA) Court, 95
Fourth Amendment, 16
Fox Business Channel, 205, 268, 270
Fox News, 1–3, 8, 24, 127–28, 140, 159, 195–97, 205, 217, 223, 237, 272, 284, 298
Franken, Al, 151–52
Freedom Caucus, 161, 171
Fusion GPS, 37, 99
G20 summit, 257
Gaddafi, Muammar, 270
Gamergate, 59
Gawker, 308
Gaza, 6
Gazprom, 101
Geffen, David, 12, 178
General Electric (GE), 88
General Motors, 88
Georgia (post-Soviet), 226
Gingrich, Newt, 177
Giuliani, Rudy, 16, 30, 86–87, 210, 242, 279
Glover, Juleanna, 78
Glover Park Group, 203
Goldman Sachs, 55–56, 81–82, 119, 143–49, 174, 179, 184, 270, 305
Goldman Sachs Foundation, 82
Goldwater, Barry, 127
Gore, Al, 123
Gorka, Sebastian, 129
Gorsuch, Neil, 85–87, 133
Grimm, Michael, 310
Guardian, 276
Guilfoyle, Kimberly, 223, 272–73, 284
H-1B visas, 36
Haberman, Maggie, 91–92, 206–7, 277
Hagin, Joe, 186, 229
Hahn, Julia, 236
Haig, Alexander, 27
Halberstam, David, 53–55
Haldeman, H. R., 27
Haley, Nikki, 305–6
Hall, Jerry, 19
Halperin, Mark, 217
Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa, king of Bahrain, 231
Hanley, Allie, 127, 139
Hannity, Sean, 68, 195–96, 222–24, 309
Harder, Charles, 308
Haspel, Gina, 157
Health and Human Services Department (HHS), 166
Hemingway, Mark, 38
Heritage Foundation, 162
Heyer, Heather, 293
Hicks, Hope, 13, 26, 109, 150–54, 158, 160, 185, 188, 198–201, 203–9, 213, 216–17, 229, 235, 247, 258–59, 261–62,
271, 277, 279, 281, 297, 307
Hiltzik, Matthew, 203–4, 207
Hitler, Adolf, 127
HNA Group, 269
Hogan, Hulk, 22, 308
Homeland Security Department, 63, 86, 133, 218, 285, 288
Hoover, J. Edgar, 219
Hubbell, Webster, 97
Hull, Cordell, 105
Hussein, Saddam, 27
Hutchison, Kay Bailey, 81
IBM, 88
Icahn, Carl, 20, 141, 211
Iger, Bob, 88, 238
immigration and travel ban, 36, 62–65, 68, 70, 78, 95, 113, 116–17, 138, 288
infrastructure, 224, 295
Ingraham, Laura, 201, 205, 222
intelligence community, 6–7, 41–42, 98, 101–2, 104, 153, 159, 219
Internet Gaming Entertainment (IGE), 56–57
In the Face of Evil (documentary), 58
Iran, 4, 191, 225–27
Iraq, 42, 49, 128, 138, 182
ISIS, 7, 49, 219
isolationism, 118, 174, 184, 191, 227
Israel, 4, 6, 140–43, 211, 219, 227, 230, 265, 281, 289
Jackson, Andrew, 44, 67, 158
Jackson, Michael, 28, 42
Japan, 39, 106
Jarrett, Valerie, 129
Jefferson, Thomas, 293
Jerusalem, 6
Jews, 73, 140–45, 157, 293
John Birch Society, 127
Johnson, Boris, 70
Johnson, Jamie, 79–80
Johnson, Lyndon B., 6–7, 53, 66, 158, 167
Johnson, Woody, 12
Jones, Paula, 201
Jordan, 6
Jordan, Hamilton, 27
Jordan, Vernon, 78
Justice Department (DOJ), 94–96, 98, 105, 151, 154–56, 168–69, 210, 216–17, 242
Kaepernick, Colin, 303
Kalanick, Travis, 88
Kaplan, Peter, 74–76
Kasowitz, Marc, 238, 259–60, 280–81
Kazakhstan, 281
Keaton, Alex P., 128
Kelly, John, 4, 63, 109, 188, 218, 285, 287–91, 294–97, 299–300, 304–7
Kennedy, John F., 53, 84
Kent, Phil, 92
Khan Sheikhoun chemical attack, 183–84, 188–93
Kim Jong-un, 293
King, Martin Luther, Jr., 50–51
Kirk, Russell, 127
Kislyak, Sergey, 95, 106, 151, 154–55, 218, 236
Kissinger, Henry, 41, 77, 142, 145, 193, 226–28
Koch brothers, 178
Kudlow, Larry, 143, 207
Ku Klux Klan (KKK), 294–95
Kurtz, Howard, 217
Kushner, Charlie, 17, 31, 72, 210–11, 257, 281
Kushner, Jared
background of, 28, 71–76, 80–81
Bannon and, 8, 12, 52–53, 68, 110, 115, 132–34, 140, 145–47, 154, 173–74, 176, 179–82, 187, 191, 207–8, 235–36,
238–39, 243, 245–47, 274, 276, 281, 289, 291, 297
business affairs of, 17–18, 102, 211, 256, 281
business council and, 35, 87–88
Charlottesville rally and, 294
China and, 193, 211, 228
Christie and, 31
Comey and, 168–70, 210–14, 216–18, 232, 243, 245, 280, 307
CPAC and, 132–34
electoral victory and, 10, 12, 18–19, 45, 60, 103, 112
intelligence community and, 41–42, 48, 156–57
Kelly and, 288–91, 294, 305–6
McMaster and, 176, 189, 192–93, 235, 266, 289
media and, 68–69, 76, 146, 202–3, 207, 277–79
Mexico and, 77–78
Middle East and, 70, 140–43, 145, 157, 182, 192, 194, 211, 266, 268
Murdoch and, 73, 156, 179
Obamacare and, 72, 166–68
Office of American Innovation and, 181, 207
policy and, 115–25, 226, 228
role of, in White House, 29–30, 40–41, 64, 69–72, 77, 93, 109, 172, 285
Russia and, 24, 106, 154–56, 170, 236, 239, 253–58, 261, 271, 273, 278, 280, 283–84, 307–8
Saudi Arabia and, 225–29
Trump’s speech to Congress and, 149–51
White House staff and, 33, 110, 121, 140, 143–49, 186, 253, 268, 271–74, 282–83, 286
Kushner, Josh, 69, 166
Kushner Companies, 256
Kuttner, Robert, 297–98
labor unions, 67–68
Ledeen, Michael, 104
Lee, Robert E., 293
Lefrak, Richard, 27
Le Pen, Marine, 100
Lewandowski, Corey, 11–13, 17, 26, 28–29, 204, 234, 237–38, 252–53, 255
Lewinsky, Monica, 233
Libya, 6, 42
Lighthizer, Robert, 133
Limbaugh, Rush, 128, 222
Lowe, Rob, 42
Luntz, Frank, 201
Manafort, Paul, 12, 17, 28, 101, 210, 240, 253–56, 278, 280
Manhattan, Inc., 74
Manigault, Omarosa, 109
Mar-a-Lago, 4, 69, 99, 106, 159, 189, 193–94, 210, 228, 248–49
Marcus, Bernie, 309
Mattis, James, 4, 21, 103, 109, 188, 264–65, 288, 296, 304–5
May, Theresa, 258
McCain, John, 112, 306
McCarthy, Joe, 73
McConnell, Mitch, 32, 117, 301–2
McCormick, John, 167
McGahn, Don, 95, 212–14, 217
McLaughlin, John, 10
McMaster, H. R., 109, 176, 185, 188–93, 211, 235, 258, 263–68, 276–77, 288–89, 298–99, 304–5
McNerney, Jim, 88
Meadows, Mark, 161, 163, 171
Medicare, 165
Melton, Carol, 78
Mensch, Louise, 160
Mercer, Rebekah, 12, 58–59, 121, 127, 135, 139, 177–80, 201, 208, 309
Mercer, Robert, 12, 58–59, 112, 177–80, 201, 309
Mexico, 39, 62, 77, 93, 228
Middle East, 29, 70, 140, 145, 157, 190, 211, 224–33, 242, 264
Mighty Ducks, The (TV show), 56
military contractors, 265, 267
Miller, Jason, 234, 237–38, 299
Miller, Stephen, 61, 64–65, 89, 133, 148, 209, 213, 229, 258, 307
Mnuchin, Steve, 13, 133, 290, 296, 304
Mohammed bin Nayef, crown prince of Saudi Arabia (MBN), 228, 231
Mohammed bin Salman, crown prince of Saudi Arabia (MBS), 224–31
Moore, Roy, 302–4
Morgan, Piers, 22
Morning Joe (TV show), 32, 66–67, 121, 189, 247–48
MSNBC, 66, 106, 247
Ms. Universe contest, 38–39
Mueller, Robert, 220–21, 223, 229–30, 232–33, 238–41, 243, 256, 258, 261–62, 277–80, 306, 308
Mulvaney, Mick, 116, 171, 185, 285
Murdoch, Chloe, 156
Murdoch, Grace, 156
Murdoch, Rupert, 2, 8, 19–20, 32, 36, 60–61, 73–74, 80–81, 93, 121, 147, 156–57, 178–79, 195–98, 223, 289, 298
Murdoch, Wendi, 19, 80, 156
Murphy, Mike, 56
Musk, Elon, 35, 78, 88, 238
National Economic Council, 89, 143–44
National Environment Policy Act (1970), 182
National Football League, 303–4
nationalists, 133–34, 138, 174, 276, 293, 301–2
National Policy Institute, 127
National Republican Senatorial Committee, 112
National Security Advisor
Brzezinski as, 66
Flynn as, 4, 17, 95, 101–7, 191
McMaster as, 176, 188–89
Rice as, 6, 41
National Security Agency (NSA), 102, 223
National Security Council (NSC), 42, 103, 105, 176, 185–86, 190–91, 193, 265, 267
Navarro, Peter, 133
Nazi Germany, 7
NBC, 66, 92
neoconservatives, 4, 128, 227
neo-Nazis, 137, 292–95
Netanyahu, Benjamin, 6, 142, 231
New Republic, 98, 297
Newsom, Gavin, 272
New Yorker, 37, 56, 151, 154, 215, 284–85
New York magazine, 74
New York Observer, 72–76, 141
New York Post, 15, 74, 113, 207
New York Times, 37, 51, 90–92, 96, 151–53, 196, 205, 207, 211, 236, 237, 257, 259–60, 266, 271, 277
Nixon, Richard M., 2, 8, 26–27, 41, 54, 90, 93, 212–13, 222
Nooyi, Indra, 88–89
North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), 77
North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 99
North Korea, 291–93, 297
Nunberg, Sam, 11, 13, 16, 22, 144, 237–38, 248, 282, 291, 300
Nunes, Devin, 170
Obama, Barack, 27, 35–36, 41–45, 54, 61–63, 67, 90, 101, 104, 128, 164, 187, 215, 250, 269, 295
birth certificate and, 62, 295
DOJ and, 94–96, 210, 279
executive orders and, 61
farewell speech, 36
Flynn and, 101
immigration and, 63
Middle East and, 6–7, 42, 183, 190, 225, 227, 231, 263–66
Russia and, 95, 151–54, 156
Trump inauguration and, 43–44
White House Correspondents’ Dinner and, 198
wiretapping and, 157–60
Obamacare repeal and replace, 72, 116–17, 164–67, 170–71, 175, 224, 283, 285, 290
Office of American Innovation, 180–81, 207
Office of Management and Budget (OMB), 116, 185, 285
O’Neill, Tip, 167
opioid crisis, 291
O’Reilly, Bill, 195–96, 222
Organization for Economic Co-Operation and Development, 271
Oscar insurance company, 72
Osnos, Evan, 154
Page, Carter, 101
Palestinians, 227, 230–32
Panetta, Leon, 27
Paris Climate Accord, 182, 238–39, 301
PayPal, 21
Pelosi, Nancy, 78
Peña Nieto, Enrique, 77–78, 228
Pence, Karen, 124, 209
Pence, Mike, 92, 95, 106–7, 123–24, 171, 209, 218, 240
Pentagon, 7, 55
Perelman, Ronald, 73, 141
Perlmutter, Ike, 141
Petraeus, David, 263–64
Pierce, Brock, 56–57
Planned Parenthood, 117
Playbook, 171
Podesta, John, 27
Politico, 171
Pompeo, Mike, 49, 51, 157, 306
populists, 6, 24, 31, 100, 113, 118, 142, 174–75, 177, 276, 301
Powell, Dina, 81–82, 145–46, 176–77, 184–88, 190, 192–94, 229, 235–36, 258, 261, 265–67, 276, 279, 285, 296, 306
Preate, Alexandra, 1, 32, 130, 207–8, 238, 249, 275, 278–79, 299
Pre-Election Presidential Transition Act (2010), 24
Price, Tom, 165–66, 171, 291
Priebus, Reince, 77, 86, 144, 146, 150, 166, 171–73, 176, 203, 205, 207, 209, 229, 238, 257, 296, 304
business councils and, 89
campaign and, 9–10, 13, 18, 112–13
chief of staff appointment and, 26, 32–34, 60, 64–65, 67–70, 109–10, 117–24, 243–44, 305
CPAC and, 127, 130–34
Flynn and, 95, 106
inauguration and, 45, 52
Obama wiretapping story and, 159–60
resignation of, 282–85, 307
Russia investigation and, 171, 211–14, 216–17, 232–34, 261–62
Scaramucci and, 270–72, 282–85
Prince, Erik, 265, 267
Private Eye magazine, 74
Producers, The (film), 15–16
Pruitt, Scott, 21
Putin, Vladimir, 7, 8, 24, 37–38, 99–102, 153, 155
Qatar, 230–31
Raffel, Josh, 142, 207, 258–59, 279
Reagan, Ronald, 26, 27, 34, 58, 90, 126–27, 144, 201, 222
Remnick, David, 154
Renaissance Technologies, 58
Republican National Committee (RNC), 10–11, 13, 26, 28, 30, 32–33, 52, 112, 119, 172, 205
Republican National Convention, 21, 26, 28, 253
Republican Party, 2, 18, 30, 40–41, 81, 86, 98, 111–12, 117–21, 128, 161–67, 171–72, 201, 290, 303
fracturing of, 179–80, 253, 283, 306, 309–10
Rhodes, Ben, 41, 154, 159, 185, 215
Rice, Susan, 7, 41, 153
Rometty, Ginni, 88
Rose, Charlie, 309
Rosen, Hillary, 78
Rosenstein, Rod, 212, 214, 216–21, 279
Ross, Wilbur, 78, 133, 229–30
Roth, Steven, 27, 141
Rove, Karl, 57, 238
Rumsfeld, Donald, 27
Russia, 24, 37–39, 92, 151–56, 160, 190–91, 236–46, 273, 303, 307–8
Bannon on, 6–7, 238–40, 278–83
Comey and, 168–70, 210–20, 242, 244–45
Don Jr. Trump Tower meeting and, 253–61, 271–72, 307
Foer’s theories on, 99–102
Flynn and, 17, 95, 102–7, 154–56
investigations begun, 41, 94–107
Kushner and, 41–42, 80, 102, 154–56, 168–70, 210–14, 218, 226, 236–37, 245–46, 254–56, 273, 278, 281, 283–84,
307–8
money trail and, 278–83
Mueller appointed special counsel, 220–21, 223, 229–30, 232–33, 238, 239, 241, 243, 261–62, 278–80
Obama wiretapping story and, 157–60
sanctions and, 105–7, 226
Sessions and, 151–52, 155–56, 245–46
Syria and, 190–91, 226
Steele dossier and, 37–39, 92–93, 102, 151, 156
Russian oligarchs, 17, 81, 100–101, 254
Ryan, Paul, 32, 117–21, 159–67, 170–72, 224
Sandberg, Sheryl, 187, 236
Sanders, Bernie, 5
Sanders, Sarah Huckabee, 229
Sater, Felix, 100–101, 278
Saturday Night Live (TV show), 89, 91, 93, 208, 276
Saudi Arabia, 6, 224–32, 236
Saval, Nikil, 276
Scaramucci, Anthony, 268–74, 277, 281–86, 288, 307
Scarborough, Joe, 32, 47, 66–69, 81, 121, 147, 176, 247–49
Scavino, Dan, 229
Schiller, Keith, 217, 229
Schlapp, Matt, 127, 129, 131–33
Schlapp, Mercedes, 129
Schmidt, Michael, 277
Schwartz, Arthur, 249, 298–300
Schwartz, Tony, 22
Schwarzman, Stephen, 35, 78, 87–88, 298
Secret Service, 84
Seinfeld (TV series), 56
Sekulow, Jay, 281
Sessions, Jeff, 4, 59, 61–62, 64, 94, 138, 151–52, 155–56, 170, 212, 214, 216–18, 220, 241–42, 245–46, 261, 277, 279–
80, 302
Sinclair organization, 159
Sisi, Abdel Fattah el-, 231
60 Minutes (TV show), 309
666 Fifth Avenue, 211, 281
Skybridge Capital, 269–70
Slate, 98–99
Slovenia, 15
Smith, Justin, 78
Snowden, Edward, 42, 95
Soros, George, 178
Special Operations, 265
Spencer, Richard, 127, 129–30, 137–39, 292–94
Spicer, Sean, 10, 47–48, 64, 91, 96, 122, 132, 160, 205–7, 211, 217–18, 223, 229, 251–52, 257–58, 261, 272–73, 282,
286, 296, 307
Spy magazine, 74
Starr, Ken, 233
State Department, 63, 86, 228–29, 231
Steele, Christopher, 37, 99
Steele dossier, 37–39, 92–93, 102, 151, 156
steel industry, 67–68
Steinmetz, Benny, 211
Stone, Roger, 13, 17, 55, 288
Strange, Luther, 302–4
Strategic and Policy Forum, 87–89
Suzy magazine, 15
Swan, Jonathan, 299
Syria, 42, 183–84, 188–93, 219, 226, 265
Taliban, 267
tax reform, 87, 167, 224, 290
Tea Party, 5, 18, 26, 33, 58–59, 128, 161–63
Thiel, Peter, 21, 222, 309
Thrush, Glenn, 91, 277
Tillerson, Rex, 4, 21, 86, 211, 225, 229, 265, 267, 296, 304–6
Time magazine, 50, 56, 93, 130, 147, 276
Time Warner, 78, 92
trade, 116, 174, 276
transgender ban, 284
Treasury Department, 133
Trotta, Liz, 223
Trudeau, Justin, 107, 228
Truman, Harry, 61
Trump, Barron, 14
Trump, Don, Jr., 17–18, 27, 204, 252–61, 271, 278–79, 307
Trump, Donald
Abe meeting at Mar-a-Lago and, 106
Afghanistan and, 263–68
Ailes on, 2–8
Ailes’s funeral and, 222–24
Alabama GOP Senate run-off, 301–4
Apprentice and, 30, 76
Bannon and, 1–8, 31–32, 35, 52–53, 59–65, 93, 122, 146–47, 158, 187, 190–91, 232–37, 289, 301, 308–10
Bannon firing and, 173–83, 298–300
Billy Bush tape and, 13–14, 34
business and finances of, 17–18, 36–37, 39, 99, 100, 102, 240, 252–53, 277–79
business councils and, 87–89, 298
cabinet appointments and, 4–5, 86
campaign and, 3, 12–18, 59–60, 66–67, 99, 101, 112, 114, 134, 157, 201–4
Canada and, 228
chaotic leadership style of, 108–24
Charlottesville and, 293–96, 298
China and, 193–95, 228, 297–98
Comey and, 168–69, 210–20, 224, 232–33, 242, 244–46
Congress and, 116–18
Conway and, 146–47, 200–203
CPAC and, 126–39
DOJ and, 155–56, 168–69
electoral victory of, 3, 9–20, 24, 34–39
executive orders and, 61–65, 120
fake news and, 39, 48, 135–36, 152, 168, 215, 237
Flynn and, 103–4, 106–7
foreign policy and, 184, 226–28
future of presidency of, 308–10
Gorsuch nomination and, 85–87
Haley and, 305–6
Hannity interview and, 309
Harrisburg trip and, 209
immigration and, 61–65, 68, 117
inauguration and, 1, 40–44, 47–51, 251
information and influences on, 70–71, 108–9, 113–16, 188, 192–93
intelligence briefings and, 115
intelligence community and, 41–42
Israel and, 231
Ivanka and, 69–71, 79–80, 181, 187, 237, 252, 257–58, 290
Jews and, 140–44
Kelly as chief of staff and, 285–91, 294–97, 304–7
Kislyak meeting in Oval Office and, 218–19
Kushner and, 40, 69–73, 93, 122, 126, 142, 145, 179, 181–82, 211, 252–53, 290
McMaster and, 188–90, 193, 289
media and, 34–35, 39, 46–47, 51, 74–76, 89–93, 96–99, 195–209, 215, 224, 247–51, 260
Melania and, 14–15, 43
Mercers and, 178–80
Mexico and, 77–78, 228
Mueller investigation and, 220–21, 223, 229–30, 232–33, 238–41, 243, 256, 258, 261–62, 277–80, 306, 308
Murdoch and, 19–20, 60–61
New York Times interview of, 277
NFL controversy and, 303–4
nightly phone calls and, 85, 92, 121–23, 158, 188, 210, 215, 230, 279
normalizing influences on, 138, 179, 183–88
North Korea and, 106, 291–93, 298
Obamacare and, 164–71, 175, 224, 283
Obama wiretapping accusation and, 157–60
O’Reilly and, 196–97
pardon power and, 256
Paris Climate Accord and, 238–39
Pence and, 123
personality and behavior of, 21–24, 35, 54–55, 70–73, 83, 114, 158, 232, 242–31, 248, 303
phone calls with foreign leaders, 78
political style of, 45–48, 249–51
popular vote and, 34
press secretary and, 110, 205–6, 272–74
Priebus as chief of staff and, 26–34, 109–10, 122, 146, 187, 243, 285
Republican Party and, 112, 163
right wing and, 196–97, 222–23, 237
Russia and, 24, 37–39, 41, 95–107, 151–54, 168, 190–91, 212, 218–21, 236–42, 244–45, 253–62, 271–72, 278–79,
283, 303, 307–8
Saudi Arabia and, 224–32
Scaramucci and, 269–71, 273–74, 282–84
Scarborough and Brzezinski and, 66–69, 247–49
Sessions and, 155–56, 241–42, 245, 277, 284
sexual harassment and, 23, 238
sons and, 252–53
speaking style of, 135–37
speech at Huntsville for Strange, 303–4
speech to Boy Scouts, 284
speech to CIA, 48–51, 65
speech to joint session of Congress, 147–50
staff doubts about, 186, 232–33, 242–43, 304–5
staff infighting and, 122–23
Syria and, 183–84, 188–93
tax reform and, 224
tax returns and, 18, 278
television and, 113, 150, 188, 197
transition and, 24–36, 103, 110, 112, 144
White House Correspondents’ dinner and, 198–99, 208–9
White House living quarters and, 70, 83–85, 90–92
women as confidants of, 199–200
Yates and, 94–96, 98, 214–16
Trump, Eric, 17, 27, 252–53
Trump, Freddy (brother), 72
Trump, Fred (father), 72, 90, 295
Trump, Ivanka, 13, 15, 17–19, 64
Afghanistan and, 266–68
background of, 73, 75, 78–81, 141, 179
Bannon and, 145, 147, 174, 176, 179–81, 187, 208, 235–39, 243, 261–62, 267, 274, 276, 280–81, 289, 291, 297
Charlottesville rally and, 294
China dinner and, 194
Christie and, 31
Comey and, 170, 210–13, 216–17, 233, 237, 245, 261–62
Haley and, 305
Kelly and, 288–90, 306
media and, 156, 202–3, 207, 272–73, 277–79
Obamacare and, 166
Paris Climate Accord and, 239
Powell and, 81–82, 140, 145–46, 186–88
Russia and, 239, 256–58, 261–62, 273, 307–8
Saudi Arabia and, 229, 231
Syria and, 190, 192
White House role of, 68–71, 78–81, 118–19, 181, 187, 200, 252, 285
White House staff and, 124, 146–48, 202–3, 268, 272–73, 282–83, 286, 289
Trump, Melania, 14–15, 18, 29, 43–44, 84, 229, 231, 291, 308
Trump International Hotels, 43, 200–201, 298, 300
Trump SoHo, 210
Trump Tower, 25, 35–37, 60, 83–84, 100, 108
Don Jr. meeting with Russians at, 253–61, 271–72, 307
Kislyak meeting with Kushner and Flynn at, 154
surveillance of, 158–59
Turkey, 104, 226
Twenty-Fifth Amendment, 297, 308
Uber, 78, 88
Ukraine, 101, 226, 240
U.S. Congress, 41, 61, 98, 120, 147–49, 152, 163, 165, 166, 216–17, 238–39, 244, 306, 310
U.S. Constitution, 16
U.S. House of Representatives Budget Committee, 162
Intelligence Committee, 168, 170
Obamacare repeal and, 161–62, 171–72
Ways and Means Committee, 162
U.S. Senate, 59, 94
Judiciary Committee, Crime and Terrorism Subcommittee, 214–15
Foreign Relations Committee, 43
Intelligence Committee, 242, 244–45
Obamacare and, 283, 285
US Steel, 67
U.S. Supreme Court, 85–86, 251
University of Virginia, “Unite the Right” rally at, 293–94
unmasking, 96, 160
Vanity Fair, 74, 75, 199
Venezuela, 293
Vietnam War, 53, 264
Vogue, 35
Wachtell, Lipton, Rosen & Katz, 201, 269
Walker, Scott, 33
Wall Street 2 (film), 270
Walsh, Katie, 10, 18, 52, 64, 110–17, 119–25, 144, 161, 163, 168, 171–72, 181–82, 187, 239, 303
Washington Post, 35, 37, 56, 78, 95–97, 105–6, 151–52, 155, 206, 211, 236, 237, 266
Washington Times, 129
Watergate scandal, 212–13, 278
Weekly Standard, 38
Weinstein, Harvey, 203
Weissmann, Andrew, 278
Welch, Jack, 88
West Bank, 6
White House communications director
Dubke as, 208
Hicks as, 297, 307
Scaramuccci as, 273–74, 281–86
White House Correspondents’ Dinner, 198–99, 208
White House ethics office, 270
White House Office of Public Engagement and Intergovernmental Affairs, 270–71
white supremacy, 127, 138, 293–96
Whitewater affair, 58, 97
WikiLeaks, 153, 254
Wintour, Anna, 35–36
Wirthlin, Richard, 201
Women Who Work (Ivanka Trump), 79
Woodward, Bob, 54, 116
World Bank, 257
World Wrestling Entertainment, 22
Wynn, Steve, 30
Xi Jinping, 193, 228, 258
Yaffa, Joshua, 154
Yahoo! News, 37
Yanukovych, Viktor, 101
Yates, Sally, 94–96, 98, 104, 214–16
Yemen, 6
Yiannopoulos, Milo, 128–28, 138
Zhukova, Dasha, 80
Zucker, Jeff, 92
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHAEL WOLFF has received numerous awards for his work, including two National
Magazine Awards. He has been a regular columnist for Vanity Fair, New York, The
Hollywood Reporter, British GQ, USA Today, and The Guardian. He is the author of six
prior books, including the bestselling Burn Rate and The Man Who Owns the News. He
lives in Manhattan and has four children.