The New Yorker - 09.03.2020

48 THENEWYORKER, MARCH 9, 2020

Parscale built DonaldJTrump.com, a
bare-bones home page for Trump’s Pres-
idential exploratory committee. Four
months later, when Trump announced
his candidacy, Parscale, this time charging
ten thousand dollars, updated and ex-
panded it to turn it into a full-fledged
campaign site.
By then, Parscale had mastered the
second requirement for anyone who
wants to do business with Trump: ob-
sequious public displays of loyalty. Par-
scale gushed to reporters about Trump’s
“amazing family,” and called working
with him “a great honor.” He reserved
his most fawning sobriquets (“genius”;
“truly a loving person”) for Jared Kush-
ner, Trump’s son-in-law and the de-facto
manager of his campaign. In late 2015,
according to ProPublica, two Trump-
campaign staffers conferred over e-mail
about a plan to “transition away from”
Parscale’s services, complaining that his
sites often crashed under heavy traffic.
The next day, the decision was abruptly
reversed. “We’re going to stick with
Brad,” one staffer explained to the other.
“Brad is considered family.”
As the campaign expanded, Parscale’s
approach grew more ambitious. At first,
according to an associate of his, “it was
just Brad, alone on his laptop, buying
Facebook ads”; over time, Parscale, draw-
ing on his close relationships with sev-
eral Trump family members, especially
Kushner, persuaded them to devote more
of the campaign budget to online mar-
keting. Trump, who adores television
and does not seem to know how to use
a computer, was dubious. One day, in
Trump Tower, according to the Wash-
ington Post, Trump loudly berated Par-
scale for “wasting millions of dollars on
Facebook.” Pointing to a nearby televi-
sion, Trump said, “That’s how people
win elections.”
“If you are going to be the next Pres-
ident, you’re going to win it on Face-
book,” Parscale responded. Trump re-
lented, but he didn’t seem convinced.
Parscale was despondent—“I hadn’t
even seen him yell at anyone, let alone
me,” he told “60 Minutes”—and he
walked around midtown for hours,
thinking about quitting. Eventually,
other Trump family members called to
talk him down, and he decided to stay
on. After that, Trump either changed
his mind or stopped paying attention.

Parscale’s digital operation kept grow-

ing, and the candidate did not stand in

his way.

P

arscale became Trump’s digital di-

rector in June, 2016. The campaign

had its headquarters on the fifth floor

of Trump Tower, but Parscale ran his

operation from San Antonio, in a make-

shift office near the airport. “As far as

everyone around town could tell, Brad’s

whole motivation was: Trump is a big

client, and I work my ass off for my cli-

ents,” an acquaintance from San Anto-

nio told me. “Brad’s a competitor. What-

ever he’s doing, he likes to win.” Parscale

used an array of online gimmicks to pro-

mote his candidate—Snapchat filters,

live-streaming on YouTube, fund-rais-

ing by text—but he devoted most of his

attention to Facebook.

Parscale’s operation was unofficially

called Project Alamo, a reference to the

grisly encounter in a nineteenth-century

The quick

exchange

of emails

between

the former

lovers creates

a soft hole

in the day

and the

night

before. It snowed

but it was

supposed

to be larger &

everything’s

closed the streets

are wet

I hear and I

won’t

step into

them.

One poem

for today

but no

many little

ones. The coffee

slightly

altered

is good

my bare

feet in

bed ready

to work.

I work

in the field

of dreams

where I

have met

you many

times. I feel

closer, to

you this

morning

and probably

last night

when the

doorway

slightly

opened

because

of our

notes

was flooded

with ghosts.

When I was

young

I liked the

emptiness

of my

home &

now like

it or not

here is

this sweet

accumulation.

The cameras

all that

everything

I do can’t

touch

the single

statement

of breeze &

loss & quaint

beauty

things I’ve

had since

I was a

kid

the secrets

of my home.

I feel con

demned

by this

chaotic

museum

of stuff &

yes I

desire

to photograph

it the

bowls u liked

the cup

u touched

& me in a teeshirt

that used

to be special

& now I

carouse in

bed w myself

in it. I don’t

know if

this

will ever

be different

and that

is the

feeling of

this.

I feel like

a tree

the invisible

part of friendship

and drinking

together

and warning.

One empty wall

is the least

MARCH 3