denied a license to the Hilton Hotels Corporation. Unlike Trump, Hilton had started construction of its $325 million casino hotel prior to being cleared by the regulators. After all, who could anticipate the denial of a license for an international hotel chain that hosted presidents and kings at its luxurious hotels? Under intense pressure, the commission agreed to reopen the Hilton hearing and reconsider additional evidence. But the initial denial left the Hilton organization so angry it refused to risk further damage to its reputation and gave up on being licensed. To make things worse, Hilton was facing several other problems at the time. Steve Wynn of Golden Nugget, Inc. was threatening a takeover of the company, and the estate of the company’s founder, Conrad Hilton, was contesting a claim by his son Barron to the estate’s controlling block of company stock. To add to the problems, an order of nuns who were the principal beneficiaries of the estate believed the estate would receive more for the stock in a sale to someone other than Barron Hilton—a sale that could help them in their mission to care for orphans and the poor. Unable or unwilling to fight major battles on both coasts, Hilton put the casino up for sale and the Donald was ready to buy.
Trump obtained a $325 million loan from Manufacturers Hanover Trust Corporation to purchase the Atlantic City Hilton—a large risk for a single bank, but revealing of how strong Trump’s standing was then at only age 39. Uncomfortable, perhaps because he was on the hook for the money, Trump quickly sold $350 million in mortgage bonds in the junk bond market to finance the property, removing his personal guarantee. He didn’t have to worry about finding someone to run “Trump’s Castle Hotel Casino,” since part of the deal with Hilton required its management team to stay in place, at least until the end of the year.
Upon opening his second casino in June 1985, Trump was a prince, and not just of his Castle. By owning more than one casino, Trump had positioned himself to become a major player in Atlantic City—more influential than politicians or casino regulators. There was only one annoyance. As he basked in the glory of the casino’s opening, Trump was hit with a lawsuit by his partner on the Boardwalk, who was also his competitor across the street at the Marina. After fighting with him over the name of Harrah’s at Trump Plaza, Holiday Corporation didn’t want Trump to use his name on his new property, which was across from Harrah’s Marina. Having a taste of what it was like to run his own casino, Trump went back to the junk bond market and raised the funds needed to buy out Holiday’s interest in the Plaza. A short time later, he successfully fought, and bought, his way out of costly road improvements, which Hilton had agreed to as part of the approvals for the casino hotel. Trump then made some quick money in the stock market, employing “green mail” to weaken several competitors, by threatening takeovers of Holiday Corporation, Caesars World, Inc., and Bally Manufacturing Corporation.
Trump’s next big move came shortly after the death of Resorts International’s Jim Crosby in 1986. He convinced Crosby’s heirs he was the one to complete Crosby’s dream hotel, the “Taj Mahal.” They sold their stock in a deal resulting in Trump having control of three casinos—the maximum allowed by law at that time. To comply with the three-casino limit, Trump proposed to close the casino at Resorts when the Taj Mahal was completed. While casino regulators are supposed to encourage competition and prevent “economic concentration,” they accepted his plan to shut down a gaming hall rather than force him to sell it. Resorts never did close because entertainer/game show producer/investor Merv Griffin acquired it.
There was a brief struggle between Trump and Griffin for control of the corporation, but in the end they both acquired what they wanted. Griffin had purchased large amounts of Resorts’ stock while Trump was dealing with the Crosby heirs. He was someone Trump had to reckon with. In an arrangement between the two, Griffin took control of all of Resorts assets except the partially constructed Taj Mahal, which was the only asset Trump wanted anyway. A few months later, after the Casino Control Commission refused to renew a license for Elsinore Atlantis Casino Hotel, formerly Playboy, Trump exploited Elsinore’s fears that the state might appoint a conservator to run its casino hotel. Shortly before the company’s license expired, Trump bought the property. Since he couldn’t have another casino, he bought the Atlantis as a non-casino hotel to provide rooms for his Trump Plaza on the opposite side of the Boardwalk Convention Hall. With a Plaza and a Castle in hand, Donald Trump turned his attention to the Taj Mahal.
Construction of the Taj Mahal was floundering badly when Trump stepped in. Crosby’s fantasy had become a money pit and spelled financial disaster for his company. The project was too costly for Resorts International and had drained the company’s cash. Most casino industry analysts believed it was simply too expensive to finish and was better off abandoned. Trump was unfazed. He promised that not only would the Taj Mahal be completed, it would be “an incredible place—the eighth wonder of the world.” He set a completion date of spring 1990 and met that deadline, opening in April.
The grand opening was befitting of both Trump and his new casino hotel. Standing on a large platform erected for the occasion in front of the hotel, Trump rubbed an over-sized magic lantern, which spewed smoke and shot a laser beam hundreds of feet into the air, cutting an enormous red ribbon and bow draped from the top of the 42- story hotel tower. The laser show and speeches were followed by a thunderous fireworks display along the Boardwalk. Thousands were on hand both indoors—the gambling had already begun—and out. Despite the usual dignitaries and celebrities on hand, it was the people inside at the slot machines and gaming tables who were most important to Trump. The Taj Mahal would need many thousands of gamblers to be successful.
“Success,” namely
The size of Trump’s financial obligations were exceeded only by the Taj Mahal itself. At the time of its construction, it was the biggest and most expensive building ever erected in New Jersey. Trump’s Taj bears no resemblance to the elegant mausoleum of an Indian Princess for whom the original one is named. Its eclectic architecture incorporates bits and pieces of several extravagant buildings, including the Regency Pavilion in England’s Brighton Beach, the Alhambra Palace in Spain, and Moscow’s candy-cane striped St. Basil’s Cathedral. There’s also some early Miami Beach thrown in together with touches of Las Vegas. Captain John Young would have loved it.
From a distance, Trump’s Taj looks like a gigantic, thickly frosted, multilayered wedding cake, custom-baked for someone with more money than taste. What Trump calls “quality,” others might consider gaudy. Regardless, the numbers on this behemoth of a building are staggering. While only a visit to the property can give one a sense of the place, a recitation of some of the parts that make up the building is helpful in appreciating the commitment Donald Trump has made to Atlantic City. It’s a marriage that won’t end anytime soon.
Trump’s Taj Mahal stands nearly 500 feet tall, making it one of the highest buildings in New Jersey. It covers 17 Boardwalk acres and includes 1,250 guest rooms (400 luxury suites), 175,000 square feet of meeting and exhibit space, an 80,000-square-foot arena, a 1,500-seat theatre, a 30,000-square-foot ballroom, and a 6,000-space parking garage. There are a dozen places to eat and when all the restaurant and banquet facilities operate at capacity, 13,000 people can be served at a time. Construction of the Taj consumed enough steel girders to make nearly five full-scale replicas of the Eiffel Tower. There are acres and acres of marble used lavishly throughout the hotel’s lobby, guest rooms, casino hallways, and public areas—the quantity consumed nearly two years’ output for Italy’s famed Carrara quarries. Austrian-made chandeliers hang over the gaming tables, escalators, and throughout public spaces of the building—the total chandelier bill came to $15 million. Another $4 million was spent on uniforms
