Page 67 - Too Much and Never Enough - Mary L. Trump

ambitions even if it only secured him bragging rights. Fred knew nothing about the relative merits of one college over another—neither he nor my grandmother had gone to college—so the Trump kids were essentially on their own when it came to applying to schools. Aware of the Wharton School’s reputation, Donald set his sights on the University of Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, even though Maryanne had been doing his homework for him, she couldn’t take his tests, and Donald worried that his grade point average, which put him far from the top of his class, would scuttle his efforts to get accepted. To hedge his bets he enlisted Joe Shapiro, a smart kid with a reputation for being a good test taker, to take his SATs for him. That was much easier to pull off in the days before photo IDs and computerized records. Donald, who never lacked for funds, paid his buddy well. Not leaving anything to chance, he also asked Freddy to speak with James Nolan, a friend from St. Paul’s, who happened to work in Penn’s admissions office. Maybe Nolan would be willing to put in a good word for Freddy’s little brother.
Freddy was happy to help, but he had an ulterior motive: though he never saw Donald as competition or thought he was out to replace him, he also didn’t like to be around his increasingly insufferable younger sibling. It would be a relief to have Donald out of the way.
In the end, all of Donald’s machinations may not have even been necessary. In those days, Penn was much less selective than it is now, accepting half or more of those who applied. In any case, Donald got what he wanted. In the fall of 1966, his junior year, he would transfer from Fordham to the University of Pennsylvania.
My grandfather completed the purchase of Steeplechase Park for $2.5 million in July 1965, a couple of months after I was born; a year later, Trump Management was still struggling to get the approvals and zoning it needed to move ahead. They were also battling public opposition to the project.
Freddy told his friends that nothing had changed since his previous stint at Trump Management. Fred’s constant micromanaging and lack of respect for his son made what could have been an exciting challenge a grim, joyless exercise. Failure, it went without saying, would have been a disaster.