Donald Trump is all over the map with bizarre obsessions
"He wants to be a builder like the hero of Ayn Rand’s novel, so large that the skyline is his profile."That was a New York Times editorial from 1985. Then, President-elect Donald Trump was merely a real estate developer, looking to make his mark on a city that was pockmarked with aging and abandoned architectural relics. He had already racked up some successes — and controversies. He resuscitated the lifeless Commodore Hotel; he demolished the landmark Fifth Avenue department store Bonwit Teller, destroying valuable artwork in the process, to erect the gleaming black and gold Trump Tower; and he’d bought two Atlantic City casino hotels.But his most grandiose vision was for a West Side development dubbed “Television City,” which the Times called his "bid for immortality."It would be six giant towers spanning 12 blocks along the Hudson River where the old rail yards were, including the tallest building in the world.Trump was forced to significantly scale down his vision, even the name "Trump City." What he was left with was six condos known as "Trump Place." His stake in the property would shrink over the years, and eventually he was squeezed out entirely, but made a deal to keep his name on most of the buildings. Columnists bug ColumnistsIn-depth political coverage, sports analysis, entertainment reviews and cultural commentary. In my early 30s, I lived in one of those Trump buildings for a couple of years. In fact, when I moved in, Trump sent me a welcome gift: a cutting board with my initials engraved in it.But after he was elected president in 2016 and I was long gone, residents started a petition to remove his name, and by 2019 they’d succeeded.For more than two decades, Trump’s "bid for immortality" were these six towers, glittering along the West Side Highway, his name beaming out in stately gold lettering. Now, the only thing you see in the wall of gleaming glass buildings is the reflection of the Hudson River’s sun-kissed chop.“Bizarre obsession” with ridiculous ideasNow, as Trump enters the White House for a second time, so much more powerful than a mere developer, it’s clear Ayn Rand’s heroic builder still lingers inside him, needling him, agitating him, distracting him.This fixation helps explain what is otherwise unexplainable: his bizarre obsession with changing the maps.Despite some very serious and complex problems looming over our country — inflation, a border crisis, rising crime, our involvement in several wars — Trump’s spent the past couple weeks leading up to his inauguration publicly musing on several preposterous and deeply unserious ideas.Just this week he declared he would rename the Gulf of Mexico — an international body of water that’s been called that for 400 years — the Gulf of America.In December he vowed to change the name of our tallest peak back to Mount McKinley, after former President Barack Obama allowed Alaska lawmakers to change the name to Denali in 2015, to honor its native peoples.There’s his ongoing interest in Greenland — this week Trump promised he’d "tariff Denmark at a very high level" if it didn’t give us the autonomous territory, and implied Denmark might not even have a rightful claim to the vast land mass. He dispatched his son to scout the location.He’s threatening to acquire or "merge" with Canada, a sovereign nation and, one still hopes, a close ally. He’s posting maps on social media showing the country, which he often mocks as the 51st state, as part of the U.S., like a blueprint to lure prospective developers.Trump’s also threatened to retake the Panama Canal from the Panamanians.Alarmingly, he’s refused to rule out the use of military force to accomplish these takeovers, saying, "You might have to do something."It’s hard to decide whether these musings are downright terrifying, absurd, or merely implausible. But one thing is for sure — they were not why his supporters voted for him. Merging with Canada, changing the names of mountains and bodies of water, and acquiring near-empty land masses were atop no one’s list of priorities in the 2024 election.With far bigger concerns on our horizon, it’s utter lunacy, but it makes perfect sense if you look at it through the eyes of the Trump who was preoccupied with remaking the New York skyline, building his own eponymous city, and keeping his name on properties he didn’t even own anymore.That Trump isn’t motivated by geopolitical concerns. He’s motivated by ego, insecurity and a deep hole he can’t fill with a thousand Greenlands or Trump Towers.You can find it troubling, amusing, or just sad, but Trump, the now two-term president of the United States, is still chasing his bid for immortality.S.E. Cupp is the host of “S.E. Cupp Unfiltered” on CNN.Send letters to letters@suntimes.comGet Opinions content delivered to your inbox. Sign up for our weekly newsletter here.
"He wants to be a builder like the hero of Ayn Rand’s novel, so large that the skyline is his profile."
That was a New York Times editorial from 1985. Then, President-elect Donald Trump was merely a real estate developer, looking to make his mark on a city that was pockmarked with aging and abandoned architectural relics. He had already racked up some successes — and controversies. He resuscitated the lifeless Commodore Hotel; he demolished the landmark Fifth Avenue department store Bonwit Teller, destroying valuable artwork in the process, to erect the gleaming black and gold Trump Tower; and he’d bought two Atlantic City casino hotels.
But his most grandiose vision was for a West Side development dubbed “Television City,” which the Times called his "bid for immortality."
It would be six giant towers spanning 12 blocks along the Hudson River where the old rail yards were, including the tallest building in the world.
Trump was forced to significantly scale down his vision, even the name "Trump City." What he was left with was six condos known as "Trump Place." His stake in the property would shrink over the years, and eventually he was squeezed out entirely, but made a deal to keep his name on most of the buildings.
In my early 30s, I lived in one of those Trump buildings for a couple of years. In fact, when I moved in, Trump sent me a welcome gift: a cutting board with my initials engraved in it.
But after he was elected president in 2016 and I was long gone, residents started a petition to remove his name, and by 2019 they’d succeeded.
For more than two decades, Trump’s "bid for immortality" were these six towers, glittering along the West Side Highway, his name beaming out in stately gold lettering. Now, the only thing you see in the wall of gleaming glass buildings is the reflection of the Hudson River’s sun-kissed chop.
“Bizarre obsession” with ridiculous ideas
Now, as Trump enters the White House for a second time, so much more powerful than a mere developer, it’s clear Ayn Rand’s heroic builder still lingers inside him, needling him, agitating him, distracting him.
This fixation helps explain what is otherwise unexplainable: his bizarre obsession with changing the maps.
Despite some very serious and complex problems looming over our country — inflation, a border crisis, rising crime, our involvement in several wars — Trump’s spent the past couple weeks leading up to his inauguration publicly musing on several preposterous and deeply unserious ideas.
Just this week he declared he would rename the Gulf of Mexico — an international body of water that’s been called that for 400 years — the Gulf of America.
In December he vowed to change the name of our tallest peak back to Mount McKinley, after former President Barack Obama allowed Alaska lawmakers to change the name to Denali in 2015, to honor its native peoples.
There’s his ongoing interest in Greenland — this week Trump promised he’d "tariff Denmark at a very high level" if it didn’t give us the autonomous territory, and implied Denmark might not even have a rightful claim to the vast land mass. He dispatched his son to scout the location.
He’s threatening to acquire or "merge" with Canada, a sovereign nation and, one still hopes, a close ally. He’s posting maps on social media showing the country, which he often mocks as the 51st state, as part of the U.S., like a blueprint to lure prospective developers.
Trump’s also threatened to retake the Panama Canal from the Panamanians.
Alarmingly, he’s refused to rule out the use of military force to accomplish these takeovers, saying, "You might have to do something."
It’s hard to decide whether these musings are downright terrifying, absurd, or merely implausible. But one thing is for sure — they were not why his supporters voted for him. Merging with Canada, changing the names of mountains and bodies of water, and acquiring near-empty land masses were atop no one’s list of priorities in the 2024 election.
With far bigger concerns on our horizon, it’s utter lunacy, but it makes perfect sense if you look at it through the eyes of the Trump who was preoccupied with remaking the New York skyline, building his own eponymous city, and keeping his name on properties he didn’t even own anymore.
That Trump isn’t motivated by geopolitical concerns. He’s motivated by ego, insecurity and a deep hole he can’t fill with a thousand Greenlands or Trump Towers.
You can find it troubling, amusing, or just sad, but Trump, the now two-term president of the United States, is still chasing his bid for immortality.
S.E. Cupp is the host of “S.E. Cupp Unfiltered” on CNN.
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