Nostalgic
Trump wheels out the hits at what could be an end-of-season finale
A rare
moment of wistful self-reflection on the last day of campaigning in the US
election gave way to trademark rants and insults
David Smith
David Smith
in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Tue 5 Nov
2024 05.43 GMT
https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2024/nov/05/donald-trump-us-election-2024-last-day-campaign
“And now,
the end is near/ And so I face the final curtain.”
Before a
roaring crowd on Monday, Donald Trump summoned sons Don Jr and Eric, daughter
Tiffany, daughter-in-law Lara Trump and son-in-law Michael Boulos to the stage.
Their faces threw the orangeness of the family patriarch into stark relief.
Trump insisted that his son Barron and daughter Ivanka were watching from afar.
“She loves the whole thing,” he said, not very convincingly.
It was
election eve and the former US president gazed out at thousands of supporters
gathered at an ice hockey arena in Pittsburgh and apparently ready to follow
him through the gates of hell. Like a child awakening to mortality, he suddenly
seemed to realise that The Trump Show was coming to an end.
“It’s sad
because we’ve been doing this for nine years,” he said, as the family looked
on. “We’ve had hundreds of rallies, hundreds. Actually numbers that are not
even conceivable. I’ve heard 800, 900 – I don’t know – but we don’t even count
’em. And they’re all like this, all these magnificent, magnificent rallies.”
This would
be his last one in the key battleground state of Pennsylvania with one to
follow in Grand Rapids, Michigan. “Remember, the rallies are the most exciting
thing. There’ll never be rallies like this. You’re going to have some leading
candidate come in in four years and, honestly, if they’re successful they’ll
have 300 or 400 people in a ballroom some place. This is never going to happen
again.”
Yes, Donald
Trump is already comparing his crowd sizes with whoever runs for president in
2028.
Still, was
this a rare moment of wistful self-reflection from the man whom New Yorker
writer Mark Singer once memorably described as leading “an existence unmolested
by the rumbling of a soul”?
Well, up to
a point. In a characteristic brain swerve, Trump, 78, went from sweet nostalgia
to a rant about “Barack Hussein Obama” as a “very divisive guy” whose wife,
Michelle, was “hitting me” in a recent speech. Then he decried the Russia
“hoax” and how Don Jr had been unfairly caught up in it, which led to letting
rip at Democratic congressman Adam Schiff as “watermelon head”, “evil” and
“human scum”.
Trump’s
children laughed at the insults – hardly an uplifting closing argument just
hours before polling day. The former president then gave his stream of
consciousness full rein, talking fast as he freely associated from his economy
to Covid, from the military to Isis, from the border wall to transphobia. It
was vintage Trump, like a final episode recap of a long-running series.
But after
his family departed – Lara giving a heart sign to the supporters wearing
miners’ helmets – Trump pondered the passage of time again. “We have people
that have come to hundreds of the rallies and we all love it. They all love the
country. They don’t come to our rallies if they don’t love the country.”
There might
be something achingly poignant and elegiac about it – a lion in winter
departing the stage – but for the fact that Trump is a twice-impeached
malignant narcissist with a knife at the throat of democracy.
Like Larry
“Lonesome” Rhodes in A Face in the Crowd, the rallies were always more natural
territory for this carnival barker than sitting behind a desk in the Oval
Office. “Is there anything more fun than a Trump rally?” he has often asked
rhetorically, even though some people flee before the end (and did again in
Pittsburgh).
These are
gaudy, raucous spectacles that combine cult-like worship of a demagogue with a
church-like sense of community, the vibe of a rock concert with the fired up
“us versus them” quality of a sports event.
The rallies
are gathering places for the “Make America great again” (Maga) faithful who
wear the team colours – red and white – on hats, T-shirts and other
merchandise, sold by vendors who tour the country. Monday’s sampling included
“I’m voting for the outlaw and the hillbilly” and “Jesus is my savior, Trump is
my president”, plus a photo of Trump with the legend “Pet Lives Matter” – a
reference to his false claim that Haitian immigrants were eating cats and dogs
in Springfield, Ohio.
Greatest
hits, and a few misses
One day a
university academic somewhere will write a paper about the musical playlist at
Trump’s rallies and what it said about the class, age and race of his crowds.
On Monday it included Mr Blue Sky by the Electric Light Orchestra, Dolly
Parton’s 9 to 5, Nessun dorma by Luciano Pavarotti and It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s
World by James Brown. Other regulars are An American Trilogy by Elvis Presley,
Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinéad O’Connor and numbers from the Andrew Lloyd
Webber musicals Cats and Phantom of the Opera.
The rallies
have produced some of Trump greatest verbal hits. “I could stand in the middle
of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose any voters,” he told
one in Sioux Center while campaigning in Iowa in 2016. None is complete without
a swipe or two at the “fake news” media; the crowd turns and jeers as if
playing a part.
It was at a
rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, this summer that Trump survived an assassination
attempt then, with face bloodied, raised his fist and urging his supporters to
“Fight, fight, fight!” (A chant repeated by supporters in Pittsburgh.)
Having lived
by the rally, he nearly died by the rally that day. And the rally might yet be
his political undoing: what was once Trump’s greatest strength could prove his
achilles heel. In Latrobe, Pennsylvania, he mused on the size of the late
golfer Arnold Palmer’s penis, giving fodder to critics of his mental stability.
When he
fulfilled his lifelong wish to stage a mass rally at New York’s Madison Square
Garden, critics drew a parallel with a Nazi event there in 1939. A comedian
described Puerto Rico as “a floating island of garbage”, upstaging Trump and
potentially costing him vital Latino votes.
As Democrat
Kamala Harris stuck resolutely to the script at her rallies in the closing
weeks, Trump’s self-destruction continued at his. He declared himself the
protector of women “whether the women like it or not” and said vaccine
conspiracy theorist Robert Kennedy Jr would work on “women’s health”.
He said he
“shouldn’t have left” the White House in 2020 and joked that he wouldn’t mind
if a would-be assassin had to “shoot through the fake news” to reach him. He
revived a bizarre reference to fictional serial killer Hannibal Lecter.
When Trump
questioned Harris’s college job at McDonald’s, an attendee shouted: “She worked
on the corner!” The former president responded: “Just remember, other people
said it … not me.”
In
Pittsburgh on Monday, Trump could not resist lying about Harris’s crowd size at
a duelling rally across the city. “It’s quite embarrassing, it’s all over the
internet, she’s screaming and the people – there’s about a hundred people –
they’re not moving, they just want to go home, just be done with it.”
Stretching
his arms wide, he added: “It’s not quite this!”
These antics
have combined with a hypermasculine campaign that seemed intent on alienating
women, failing to disown extremists like Laura Loomer and entrusting his fate
to campaign neophytes such as Charlie Kirk, Elon Musk and daughter-in-law Lara
Trump.
Spare a
thought for those Trump campaign managers who tried to run a more professional
operation this time and stay focused on inflation and immigration. They are
like riders on a bucking horse, clinging on for dear life but bound to be
thrown off and trampled in the end.
All of it
has led to Tuesday and an all-or-nothing crossroads in Trump’s life. Go one way
and he returns to the White House in one of the greatest political comebacks of
all time. Go the other and there is the ignominy of two consecutive election
defeats – and the prospect of prison. Comedian John Oliver told viewers on
Sunday: “Wouldn’t it be great to live in a world where he’s no longer an active
threat? Just an annoyance?”
And yet, and
yet. A gaffe or insult that many see as disqualifying is merely a laugh line to
a Trump supporter. He still drew a big, rambunctious crowd in Pittsburgh, as
passionate and committed as ever, many waving “Trump will fix it” signs and one
holding a placard that said: “Trump chosen by God.” The former president seemed
to feed off the energy.
He broke the
news mid-rally that he had been endorsed by podcaster Joe Rogan. He was backed
by an array of speakers including former Democratic congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard
and rightwing media personality Megyn Kelly, who declared: “He got mocked by
the left by saying he would be a protector of women. He will be a protector of
women and it’s why I’m voting for him. He will close the border and he will
keep the boys out of women’s sports where they don’t belong.”
Among the
crowd, Michael Barringer, 55, a fifth-generation coal miner, was wearing a
miner’s helmet. “I love this country,” he said. “You’ve got millions and
millions of illegal aliens crossing the border. They don’t speak English. They
don’t say a pledge allegiance to the flag. They freeload off of us. I’m all for
legal immigration but not coming across the border illegally, taking American
jobs, undercutting us.
“I believe
that Trump, his first term in office, he renegotiated Nafta, he’s for the
American people and that’s why I vote him. I think he’s one of the greatest
presidents ever to run for office and hold office.”
Lydia
Williams, 40, who works in the oil and gas industry, rejected the gender gap
that sees Harris dominating among women. “Her stance on LGBTQ is anti-women,”
she said. “I’m a middle school track coach and the fact that my female athletes
would have to compete against a male is absolutely asinine.”
The big day
is upon us. The nation is on edge. The pollsters’ crystal balls are cloudy. But
win or lose, Trump says this is his last campaign and there will never be
rallies like this again. Some people, previously disconnected from politics,
will miss these cauldrons of love and hate. Others, wary of where rallies have
led herds throughout history, will hope that a line can be drawn under a decade
of demagoguery.
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