After midnight—and hours of outraged responses to the Access Hollywood tape spreading across the political spectrum—Trump released a videotaped apology: “I’ve never said I’m a perfect person . . . these words don’t reflect who I am. I said it, I was wrong and I apologize. . . . I pledge to be a better man tomorrow, and will never, ever let you down. Let’s be honest. We’re living in the real world. This is nothing more than a distraction. . . . Bill Clinton has actually abused women and Hillary has bullied, attacked, shamed and intimidated his victims. . . . See you at the debate on Sunday.”
The Trump high command assembled the next morning, Saturday, October 8, in the penthouse of Trump Tower.
Priebus told Bannon, “The donors are all out. Everybody’s dropped. Paul Ryan’s going to drop this afternoon.” The loss of the money people and the Republican house speaker signaled the end. “It’s over,” Priebus said.
“What do you mean it’s over?” Bannon said.
“Everybody’s pulling their endorsements. I don’t even know if Pence is going to be on this thing.” The fastidiously loyal Mike Pence, Trump’s running mate, was doubting.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bannon replied. “It’s a tape, dude.”
“You don’t understand,” said Priebus. “It’s over.”
* * *
The team gathered in Trump’s residence. Trump sat in his big gold chair.
“What’s the percentages?” he asked. “Okay, let’s go around. I really want to know, what’s your recommendation? What’s your advice?”
“You have two choices,” Priebus began. “You either drop out right now or you’re going to lose in the biggest landslide in American history and be humiliated for life. I’m getting crushed. I’ve got every leader, every congressman, every senator, everyone I care about on the Republican National Committee—they’re going crazy. And they’re telling me you’re either going to lose big, in a massive way, or you need to drop out of the race. I can’t make it any better.”
“Well,” Trump said, “I’m glad we’re starting off on a positive note.”
“Cut the bullshit,” Bannon said to Priebus. “That’s bullshit.”
“If you want to do it now,” Priebus continued, “Pence is prepared to step up, and Condi Rice will come in as his VP.” Rice had been national security adviser and secretary of state under George W. Bush.
“That’s never going to happen,” Bannon said loudly. “That’s ridiculous. Fucking absurd.” In less than two months as campaign CEO they had cut the polling gap in half with endless rallies. Trump was a rock star now.
New Jersey governor Chris Christie was sitting in sweatpants and ball cap.
“This is not about the campaign,” Christie said with a note of finality. “That’s over. This is about your brand. You’ve worked your entire life. These kids—” He pointed to Trump’s son Don Jr. and Jared Kushner. “You need to save the brand for them or the brand’s finished.”
Rudy Giuliani said that Trump now had less than a 50 percent chance of winning. “Basically you’ve got 40 percent.”
“Do we call 60 Minutes?” Kellyanne Conway asked. She proposed a public confessional. “You can’t do it Sunday because the debate’s on Sunday. . . . Or you call ABC or NBC and have him on the sofa with Ivanka on one side and Melania on the other, basically crying, saying I apologize.”
Melania Trump had come down and wandered behind the sofa where Conway was proposing they sit. It was clear she was seething.
“Not doing that,” Melania said in her Slovenian accent, dismissively waving her hand. “No way. No, no, no.”
Bannon believed she had the most influence with Trump of anyone, that she could discern who was sucking up and who was telling the truth. “Behind the scenes she’s a hammer.”
“What do you think?” Trump asked Bannon.
“One hundred percent,” Bannon said.
“One hundred percent, what?” asked Trump.
“One hundred percent, metaphysical certitude you’re going to win.” He often declared certainty with 100 percent.
“Cut the shit,” Trump yelled. “I’m tired of the 100 percent. I need to know what you really think!”
Priebus didn’t believe the 100 percent, and thought no one in the room did. He saw that Trump was upset with himself.
“It’s 100 percent,” Bannon repeated. Trump’s words were “locker-room talk.” Your supporters will still be with you. “They are worried about saving their country.” The comparison with Bill Clinton was handy. “We’re going to compare your talk with his action.” Bill Clinton was as much Trump’s opposition as Hillary, perhaps now more than ever.
“How are we going to do that?” Trump asked.
“Jared and I reserved the Hilton Hotel ballroom for 8 tonight. We’re going to put it on Facebook and get 1,000 hammerheads”—one of Bannon’s terms for diehard Trump supporters—“in red ball caps. And you’re going to fucking do a rally and attack the media. We’re going to double down. Fuck ’em! Right?”
Trump seemed delighted.
The others were opposed. There was a huge fight, but a compromise emerged.
Conway would call ABC and arrange for David Muir, the ABC anchor, to helicopter in. Giuliani and Christie would write an introduction for Trump and Muir could do a 10-minute interview.
Political suicide, thought Bannon. This would make the campaign over for sure, and Trump would lose by 20 points.
He said they had to let the Hilton know about the rally because they would have to put up cash.
Priebus said again that Trump just had to drop out. “You guys don’t know what you’re doing. You’re going to go down.”
Prominent Republicans began to call for Trump to step aside for Mike Pence, who had been making campaign appearances in Ohio. He had gone to ground when the news broke about the Access Hollywood tape.
Just before 1 p.m., Pence released a statement saying, “As a husband and a father, I was offended by the words and actions described by Donald Trump in the 11-year-old video released yesterday. I do not condone his remarks and cannot defend them. I am grateful that he has expressed remorse and apologized to the American people. We pray for his family and look forward to the opportunity he has to show what is in his heart when he goes before the nation tomorrow night.”
Stories circulated that Pence had given Bannon a sealed letter urging Trump to drop off the ticket.
Two hours later, Melania Trump released a statement: “The words my husband used are unacceptable and offensive to me. This does not represent the man that I know. He has the heart and mind of a leader. I hope people will accept his apology, as I have, and focus on the important issues facing our nation and the world.”
At 3:40 p.m., Trump tweeted, “The media and establishment want me out of the race so badly—I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! #MAGA”
Trump took a seat. Preparations for the ABC interview were in motion—it was likely to be a record-breaker. Giuliani and Christie handed a sheet of their suggestions to Trump.
Trump read: “My language was inappropriate, not acceptable for a president.” It was political speak—not Trump, all Giuliani and Christie. Trump was surly.
“I can’t do this,” he said. “This is bullshit. This is weak. You guys are weak.”
Bannon realized he had this one. He just had to keep his mouth shut.
“Donald, you don’t understand,” Christie said.
“Donald, Donald, Donald,” Giuliani said. “You’ve got to do this.” Think about the suburban moms.
The clock was ticking.
Bannon turned to Conway. “What do you do to kill this?”
“You can’t kill it,” she replied. “They’re already here”—ABC and David Muir.
“What do you do to kill it?” Bannon repeated.