Washington is famous for its robust portfolio of monuments and memorials, the iconic sites that have drawn generations of tourists to celebrate the symbols at the center of the nation’s founding.
With Trump’s demolition of the East Wing, the city spawned a new attraction, luring visitors compelled to witness a historic moment that many said is as unsettling as the broader political climate gripping Washington and the country beyond.
“Terrible, just terrible,” said John Vittone, 83, a retired attorney who lives in Chevy Chase, Md., folding his arms and gazing in the direction of the East Wing rubble. “It’s the White House, you don’t screw with it. We don’t need Buckingham Palace. We’re different. We’re a republic.”
A few feet away, Carrie Cornwell, 60, visiting from California, said she wanted to catch a glimpse of what was unfolding even though she did not feel any particular sense of loss over a building first erected by President Theodore Roosevelt in 1902 and rebuilt by President Franklin D. Roosevelt four decades later.
Far less celebrated than the West Wing, where the Oval Office is situated, the East Wing has long housed the offices of the nation’s first ladies, beginning with Eleanor Roosevelt. Trump wants to replace the East Wing with a ballroom that can accommodate nearly 1,000 people. At 90,000 square feet, the building would be nearly twice the size of the main White House edifice next door.
“As the Buddhists say, all suffering comes from attachment, and I’m not attached to the White House,” said Cornwell, 60, a senior legislative staffer for the California State Senate. “It’s not the end of the world. The president is building an addition. In the future, another president will come along and change it.”
The clamor over the East Wing’s demolition began Monday after The Washington Post published photographs of construction crews knocking down parts of the building. By midweek, preservationists, politicians, and citizens were voicing outrage that Trump had brought in a wrecking crew without first submitting plans to well-established Washington review panels.
The demolition’s opponents have included former first lady Hillary Clinton, who lost the 2016 presidential election to Trump and accused him of “destroying” a building that belongs to the American public. Trump has brushed aside the criticism, saying the new ballroom — a $300 million project that is to be privately financed — would add needed space to an antiquated complex that struggles to accommodate large crowds (the ballroom’s funders include Amazon, whose founder, Jeff Bezos, owns The Post).
On Thursday, the uproar was palpable on the public walkways outside the White House, as tourists, passersby, and news crews sought views of the demolition while a man in a blue suit, red tie and Trump mask offered to pose for photos with strangers in exchange for “tips.”
At one point, Senator Ruben Gallego, a Democrat from Arizona, arrived at a vantage point, just off 15th Street NW, where the tops of yellow excavation machines were visible in the distance. As an aide filmed, the senator decried the looming rise in Americans’ health care costs while the president “builds this monstrosity, an homage to his vanity.”
In front of the White House on Pennsylvania Avenue, Jeff Sellenrick, 45, a tour guide who had just addressed a large group of eighth-graders, said he felt it was important to tell the students that George Washington had wanted an official presidential residence that was “modest in size.”
“I said, ‘Look at the beautiful West Wing and talked about how the East Wing had been added,” he said. “Then I told them it had been destroyed in the past two days, and there was this kind of shock on their faces.”
Sellenrick said he refrained from voicing his political views with the kids, but now they were out of earshot and he could not help but vent. “The next thing, he’ll want a bigger West Wing to balance the new East Wing. And then he’ll want a throne.”
Not everyone was so outraged.
“It’s nice to have a bigger place to celebrate,” said a white-haired man who identified himself only as Jamie, visiting from Arlington, Va. He declined to give his last name because he didn’t “want the blowback” he said he expected his opinion would trigger.
“Honey,” his wife interrupted, encouraging him to move along.
Michael Taylor, 74, an electrical engineer visiting from North Carolina, was wearing a hat with “T-R-U-M-P” across the front. He said he saw nothing wrong with a new ballroom, though he was under the mistaken impression that it would be built on a walkway. Told it was replacing a historic building, he shrugged and said, “It’s a good thing.”
A few feet away, Sylvia Ronning, a retired medical technician visiting from New Jersey, took photos of the front of the White House because, as she said, “who knows how long it’ll be before he wants to knock the columns out.”
Peering through the fence, she ticked off the number of permits she would be required to get to build an addition in her town. “A nightmare!” she said. “This is the top historical house in this country. He should have to get the same.”
Just then, Darlene Alexander and Paul Schaub, retirees visiting from Maryland, stepped up to the fence for a look.
“I feel completely helpless, I can’t stop him from doing whatever he wants” Alexander said. “I would say I want to cry but mostly I just feel angry.”
