location, location, location
Living in the same two-up/two-down for almost twenty five years you’ll get the picture that I’m not particularly motivated by property. I can honestly say I don’t care how many bathrooms or bedrooms I have as I can only be in one at a time. However, I have to admit that when researching the earlier ‘wind & p*ss’ article I was fascinated by Trump’s Xanadu, Mar-a-Lago, as it appears to have enjoyed a whole life of its own, and one equally enthralling as its current owner.
The 11,000 sq ft Mediterranean-themed mansion was built in the 1920s by Marjorie Merriweather Post, heiress to a breakfast cereal empire, which she inherited aged just twenty-seven, before going on to build such brands as Birdseye, along the way to becoming America’s wealthiest woman. With no expense spared, she lavished almost £100m (in today’s money) on the ‘Sea-to-Lake’ estate and truly nothing was out of bounds: at one time the entire US stock of gold leaf was used to gild just the main living room!
Following her death in 1973, the jazz age chateau was bequeathed to the United States federal government as a winter retreat for presidents and visiting foreign dignitaries. However, in the most ironic of twists the mansion was deemed unsuitable for this purpose and returned to the family whilst the presidential estate opted for what Winston Churchill described as no more than a glorified log cabin, Camp David.
Big Don arrived on the scene in the mid-80s, and, having been declined memberships at both the snooty Bath and Tennis and the old-money Everglades, set about establishing his own country club. After hoodwinking the family about his spurious ownership of a neighbouring property that he intended to build upon, Mar-a-Lago was purchased for a knockdown price of just $8m. He then published such luminaries as Elizabeth Taylor, Steven Spielberg and Princess Diana, none of whom had taken up his offer of free membership. In fact, the only Royal Family connection he did manage to inveigle was that of Prince Andrew, who regularly enjoyed the company of billionaire Mar-a-Lago regular, convicted paedophile, Jeffery Epstein. My, I bet that was difficult to engineer.
In the decades since, Trump has fought a continuous stream of legal battles with the town’s authorities, including one in which he unsuccessfully fought their demand that he shorten the club’s 80ft flagpole. Last year, he again unsuccessfully fought to sue the council for the ‘deliberate and malicious’ decision to redirect flights over the property. In the light of his recent appointment, I suspect the flagpole’s now 100ft and there’s a mile-high no-flight zone in operation above the property.
Credit where credit’s due, the club is now a profitable business and Tiny Hands raked-in upwards of $15m last year. Unsurprisingly buoyed by a sudden raft of new members, fees were also increased and those members now each cough-up $14,000 a year along with a $2,000 minimum debenture for food & drink. It would appear many within property, finance and industry are keen to join the queue to kiss the ring and rumour has it that at least three club members are reportedly being lined up for US ambassadorships. From its gaudy décor to its Donald-themed menus, Mar-a-Lago remains the power-place to be.
