Trump’s Bonwit Tellerization of America

He said the friezes weren’t worth saving — just like USAID, VOA, and the truth.

East Wing of the White House this week

Donald Trump’s dismantling of parts of the White House’s East Wing to make way for a gargantuan $250 million ballroom — without any forethought or architectural approvals — has been cited by critics as a metaphor for what he is doing to American democracy.

To me, Trump’s second-term approach to governing has its roots in a similarly shocking display of developer hubris — his destruction, 45 years ago, of the Bonwit Teller limestone bas-relief sculptures of two nearly naked women to make way for Trump Tower.

After Trump, 33 at the time, purchased the bankrupt retailer’s 11-story building, he promised to donate the 15-foot-high Art Deco sculptures to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He also agreed to donate a six-by-nine-meter, geometric-patterned bronze latticework that hung over the entrance.

But then one day, he woke up and decided he would break his promise.

He ordered crews to separate the architectural treasures from the walls with jackhammers and break them off with crowbars. The friezes, located near the top of the building, were thrown down by workers, shattering them to bits. The latticework was removed with blow torches and mysteriously went missing.

By the time New Yorkers realized what was happening, the deed was done — and that was that.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the Bonwit Teller friezes when the U.S. Agency for International Development — a lifeline for many countries in the Global South — was dismantled earlier this year in the blink of an eye.

Trump knew that by the time the lawsuits wended their way through the courts, it would be too late to rebuild USAID, Voice of America and so many other agencies that he’s destroyed. They’ve been broken down into a million pieces, just like the Bonwit Teller sculptures.

In 1980, The New York Times put the news of Trump’s betrayal on the front page, under the headline: “Developer Scraps Bonwit Sculptures.” (Trump was not yet famous.)

The story has all the earmarks of a classic Trump tale.

First, the shock: “The destruction of the Art Deco panels stunned some art appraisers and elicited expressions of surprise and disappointment from officials of the Met, where they were to have been installed by the department of 20th-century art. One appraiser placed their value at several hundred thousand dollars.”

Then the spin: “John Baron, a vice president of the Trump Organization, said after the demolition yesterday that the company had decided not to preserve the sculptures because ‘the merit of these stones was not great enough to justify the effort to save them.’ Mr. Baron said the company had got three independent appraisals of the sculptures. These, he said, had found them to be ‘without artistic merit’ and worth less than $9,000 in ‘resale value.’ He said it would have cost $32,000 to remove them carefully and would have delayed demolition work by a week and a half and perhaps longer because of the need for cranes and municipal permits.”

We now know that “Baron” was none other than Trump himself — and that the numbers and appraisals were entirely fabricated.

Next, the shock at the spin: Ashton Hawkins, vice president and secretary of the Met’s board of trustees, was flabbergasted by the claims. “Can you imagine the museum accepting them if they were not of artistic merit?” he asked.

Preservation News reported that Robert Miller, an art dealer with a gallery across from Bonwit Teller, estimated the sculptures were worth $200,000 —or $800,000 in today’s dollars — and that “they could have been safely removed in little time.”

Finally, the Trump double-down: After days of controversy, Trump stopped hiding behind his faux spokesman and offered reporters an even more ridiculous figure. He asserted removal of the sculptures would have cost more than $500,000 in taxes, demolition delays and other expenses. The figure, conveniently, was higher than the reported valuation of the sculptures in news reports.

On top of that, Trump claimed he was motivated by his concern for “the safety of people on the street below…If one of those stones had slipped, people could have been killed. To me, it would not have been worth that kind of risk.”

Somehow, that concern didn’t apply when workers were ordered to hurl the frieze fragments down from the eleventh floor.

Almost half a century has passed. We’re still watching the same movie.