Too Much and Never Enough: How My Family Created the World's Most Dangerous Man by Mary L. Trump; Page B

disbelief in his voice, that the old man was embarrassed to have a “bus driver in the sky” for a son. It didn’t take much for his father to convince him that choosing to leave Trump Management meant choosing failure. The most crucial thing that Linda didn’t fully grasp—and to be fair, Freddy probably didn’t grasp it, either—was how much Fred Trump’s opinion mattered to his son.
    One night, after returning from his most recent rotation, Freddy seemed particularly on edge. Over dinner, he said, “We need to get a divorce.”
    Linda was shocked. Her husband was under more stress than usual, but she thought it might be the result of his being responsible for the lives of more than two hundred people every time he flew.
    â€œFreddy, what are you talking about?”
    â€œIt’s not working out, Linda. I don’t see how we can keep going.”
    â€œYou’re not even here half the time,” she said, mystified by his outburst. “We have a baby. How can you say that?”
    Freddy stood up and poured himself a drink. “Forget it,” he said, and left the room.
    They never renewed that conversation, and after a few days, they continued on as though nothing unusual had happened.
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    In June Donald, then eighteen and freshly graduated from the military academy, and Robert, sixteen, still a student at Freddy’s alma mater, St. Paul’s, drove up to Marblehead for a visit, arriving in Donald’s new sports car, a high school graduation present from his parents—a step up from the luggage Freddy had received when he had graduated from college.
    Freddy was anxious about seeing them. None of his siblings had ever been up in a plane with him or expressed any interest in his new career. He hoped that maybe, if he could let his brothers into his world, he’d find an ally; having even one person in his family who believed in him might bolster his waning strength to withstand his father’s disapproval.
    At the time of the visit, Donald was at a crossroads. When Freddy had announced he was stepping away from Trump Management in December 1963, Donald had been caught flat-footed. His brother’s decision had come at the end of the first semester of Donald’s senior year, and since his name wasn’t Fred, he had no idea what his future role in the company might be, although he did plan to work there in some capacity. Because of that uncertainty, he hadn’t adequately prepared for his future beyond high school. When he graduated from New York Military Academy that spring, he had not yet been accepted into college. He asked Maryanne to help him find a spot at a local school when he got back home.
    Freddy and Linda had a barbecue for lunch, during which Donald told them he was going to Chicago with their dad to “help” him with a development he was considering. Freddy’s relief was palpable. Maybe Fred was beginning to accept the new reality and had decided to take Donald on as his heir apparent.
    Later in the afternoon, Freddy took the boys out on his “yacht” to do some fishing.
    Despite Freddy’s best attempts to teach his brother the basics of the sport, Donald had never gotten the hang of it. Donald had still been at NYMA the last time they’d been on a boat together, along with Billy and a couple of Freddy’s fraternity brothers. When one of them had tried to show Donald how to hold the pole properly, Donald had pulled away and said, “I know what I’m doing.”
    â€œYeah, buddy. And you’re doing it really badly.” The rest of the guys had laughed. Donald had thrown his pole onto the deck and stalked off toward the bow. He had been so angry, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking, and Freddy had worried that he might walk right off the boat. Donald’s fishing skills hadn’t improved in the interim.
    When the three brothers returned from the harbor, Linda