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Atlantic City always dreamed of attracting an upscale clientele, and casinos / now respect this myth with frescoes and wax figures of slim-waisted maidens under dainty parasols, promenading on the Boardwalk. But historians insist that even in its glory days, Atlantic City was simply a Victorian Disneyland. A 1909 edition of a highbrow Baedeker tourist guide carried this assessment: "Atlantic City is an eighth wonder of the world. It is overwhelming in its crudeness -- barbaric, hideous and magnificent. There is something colossal about its vulgarity."
The same could be said about present-day Atlantic City, which is, above all, Trump's town, with a Trump Plaza, Trump Castle, Trump Princess and billboards all around the city trumpeting the message YOU'RE LOOKING VERY TRUMP TODAY. When his Aladdin-style Taj Mahal is completed next spring, Trump will control 31% of the city's gaming capacity, 39% of the first-class hotel rooms, 40% of the convention space, 35% of the parking spaces and almost half a mile of frontage along the five-mile Boardwalk. "I'll tell you, it's Big Business," he says, peering down on the city from his helicopter. "If there is one word to describe Atlantic City, it's Big Business. Or two words: Big Business."
With Trump, Atlantic City has rediscovered its genius for self-promotion. And largely thanks to him the city has regained its cheerful taste for the baroque. In the lobby of the Trump Plaza (designed by Alan Lapidus, who once wrote an article called "The Architecture of Gorgeous"), Mary Zborey, a heavily rouged tourist from Connecticut who resembles a slightly dissipated Loretta Lynn, turns giddy at the shimmering collision in the red, gold and black decor. "I can't believe it. I'm touching the walls," she squeals as she caresses a black marble railing. Her friend Maryann Scofield, caught up in the delirium, chimes in, "You've got to see it. Marble and mirrors and brass. We want to meet Trump." Zborey interrupts. "Gold," she says, reaching down to touch a decorative strip of brass. "I see gold. I don't know what to say."
The executive director of the Plaza, Jonathan Benanav, calls the aesthetic principle behind casinos "sensory bombardment." He puts it this way: "Feel? It feels good to be here. Taste? Well, there are two ways to look at that. No. 1, Trump has great taste. No. 2, we have great food facilities. Touch? You're touching money. You're touching luxury. You're touching the marble. You're touching the granite. You're touching the beautiful brass. You'll see in the suites. We have gold leaf up there."
And so much more. Fat plaster cherubs, blue and gold velvet divans, pop-up televisions, living-room Jacuzzis surrounded by Corinthian columns and topped by mirrors, gold-painted toothbrushes, even bidets and brass DO NOT DISTURB signs. Boasts Trump: "You can go to London. You can go to Paris. You can go anywhere in the world. There are no suites comparable to the quality of these suites."