How Trump became a TV star

When the New York City mayor Randall Winston on the sitcom Spin City needed advice about writing his memoir, Donald Trump was there.

In Trump’s cameo in a 1998 episode, he swaggers into the mayor’s office, sits in his chair without asking, and claims that writing his books The Art of the Deal and The Art of the Comeback were a snap for him: “First day, nine chapters.”

In another cameo, in The Nanny, Trump is a man who carries not one, but two mobile phones – in 1996. In The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air in 1994, his mere entrance causes the family’s resident conservative, Carlton, to faint. Other highlights of the future president of the United States’ television career include: play-acting a 'hostile takeover' of Worldwide Wrestling Entertainment owner Vince McMahon during a televised wrestling match that ended with him getting slammed to the mat, asking Denis Leary’s character on The Job about whom he was “banging”, and networking with a rich older man trying to woo Samantha on Sex and the City.

And this was all before Trump produced and starred in the reality series The Apprentice from 2004, which allowed him to depict himself as the ultimate businessman. Long before his run for president, Trump knew the power of TV: popping up on the small screen as a wildly successful tycoon who had earned his arrogance – and making these appearances repeatedly – made him more relevant to many Americans than any journalistic report about his actual triumphs and failures ever could. His multiple bankruptcies and tarnished reputation among those who knew or dealt with him in real life didn’t matter. One rare negative depiction on TV was Sesame Street’s 2005 parody, Donald Grump, a character who bragged, “I’m the trashiest!”

Trump dabbled in movies as well: there were cameos in Home Alone 2and The Little Rascals, and the bullying Back to the Future character named Biff was based on him. But TV made ‘The Donald’. Before social media, TV was the best way to truly connect with a mass audience. And his carefully crafted appearances show that he was more interested in – and better at – moulding public opinion of himself than perhaps anything else.

John F Kennedy may have been the first TV-ready US president, but Donald Trump is the first TV-star president. And he’s likely to continue using this particular skill to maximum effect as the ostensible leader of the free world.

 

Telling a story

Trump’s first TV cameo appears to have come on a 1985 episode ofThe Jeffersons titled You’ll Never Get Rich, in which the stars of the show visit Atlantic City, where Trump had casinos. But one of his earliest appearances as himself in full Trump mode came on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, which shows him and then-wife Marla Maples grandly introduced to Will Smith and his wealthy Los Angeles family members. Will’s cousin Hilary gushes, “You look much richer in person.”

Trump’s subsequent portrayals of himself follow a similar, carefully crafted pattern. In fact, at least one showrunner who worked with him, The Nanny creator Peter Marc Jacobson, revealed to the New York Times exactly how closely Trump monitored his own image: after reading a script for Trump’s episode, one of his reps objected to a reference to him as a “millionaire”. “Since he’s a billionaire,” the script note said, “he would like the line changed accordingly.” Jacobson settled on the noncommittal “zillionaire”.

This string of closely monitored cameos seemed unremarkable at the time they aired, nothing more than brand-building for a businessman. But they accomplished two stunning things: firstly, they convinced US viewers that Trump was an unequivocally successful businessman oozing with star quality. Secondly, they served as Trump’s audition tape for his reality show The Apprentice, which allowed him to play himself as a wildly successful boss with dozens of young, attractive applicants begging for his approval.

rump told the Washington Postthat he ignored the advice of his agent when he signed on to host The Apprentice in 2004.  The show, which premiered when reality TV fever was at its height, was a genuine smash its first few seasons, with 20 million viewers watching in the first year. The Post says that Trump realised the series’ potential to reach a younger audience and that he insisted on inserting his name into the production as much as possible: for instance, in the copious shots of his private plane, "TRUMP" emblazoned across its side.

He also negotiated a 50% ownership stake in the show, and his first-season turn changed TV network NBC’s plan to rotate the host – other moguls like Richard Branson and Martha Stewart were slated to appear in future seasons – so that The Apprentice became a one-man show. (A later Stewart spinoff fizzled quickly.)

 

Platform for the presidency

Trump’s catchphrase – "You’re fired!" – made him into the ultimate reality show truth-teller. He was Simon Cowell with a very American twist, a message that pointed criticism makes US businesses, and thus America as a whole, stronger, and that hard work is rewarded. The Apprentice transformed him from a New York City tabloid figure into a TV star recognised in the heart of the Midwest – which would become key territory in his presidential campaign.

The Apprentice has long since faded as a hit, even with an all-celebrity edition airing the last few seasons. In fact, Trump – though he’s still an executive producer on the show – mocked his replacement this season, Arnold Schwarzenegger, for failing to live up to what he called “the ratings machine, DJT.” Ratings are in fact down, but they have been trending that way for several seasons.

By the time he announced his run for president in June 2015, Trump buried his competitors for the Republican nomination in name recognition, thanks almost entirely to television. Reports of his business failures or the alleged swindling via Trump University couldn’t compete with what audiences had seen on TV: a business genius, a “zillionaire”. His ability to jazz up a boring reality show scene with a wild gesture or comment, meanwhile, translated easily on the campaign trail, boosting ratings for cable news networks that covered him.

After Trump’s election upset, former Apprentice producer Bill Pruitt expressed regret for having gilded the businessman’s image for the viewing public. He explained in an email to Vanity Fair that with the show, “some clever producers were putting forth a manufactured story about a billionaire whose empire was, in actuality, crumbling at the very same time he took the job, the salary, and ownership rights to do a reality show. The Apprentice was a scam put forth to the public in exchange for ratings. We were ‘entertaining,’ and the story about Donald Trump and his stature fell into some bizarre public record as ‘truth.’”

Now, the facts about his business record hardly matter in the face of a much larger truth: the man who played a zillionaire on TV is the new president of the United States.