I’ve lived in Washington since 2009 and have come to love the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Not all of the time, but most of the time. It has a distinctly retro vibe — not in a cool way, but in a slightly out-of-date way. It opened in 1971 and has been described as a living memorial. It’s enmeshed in the life of the city, even if it’s not that easy to get to: it’s not close enough to a Metro line and it’s sandwiched between the Potomac River and a daunting traffic circle.
But it’s been a place of delight. For years it welcomed the crowd-pleasing Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater for its annual Washington residence, and I’ve seen the troupe perform “Revelations” so many times that I feel as if I could join in with my white parasol held high. I’ve celebrated the holidays there at concerts of Christmas carols. I’ve watched the Martha Graham Dance Company, and I’ve laughed with the comedian Trevor Noah.
It was home to the National Symphony Orchestra and the Washington National Opera — where both Justices Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Antonin Scalia would go. It showcased jazz concerts and lectures. And its Millennium Stage hosted freebies: drumming troupes from Africa, classic films and all sorts of creative diversions to keep kiddos amused. And every year, there was “The Nutcracker.” (OK, I kind of hate “The Nutcracker.”)
Now President Trump is out to destroy the Kennedy Center, and the magnitude of my rage startles me. After all, Mr. Trump has done so many other cruel, brutal things that have upended people’s lives, this democracy and its place in the world. But his determination to take over, and threat to demolish the Kennedy Center of all things? Nothing has so thoroughly highlighted his indefatigable petulance.
Because Mr. Trump wants his name on the building. That’s it.
Mr. Trump briefly tasted success. In December, his name was added to the building’s facade. In May, a federal judge ordered its removal, noting that only Congress can alter the name. The legal protest was led by an ex officio Kennedy Center board member, Representative Joyce Beatty, a Democrat from Ohio who is a Black woman. This last fact has, I suspect, added to the president’s determination to have his way.
When I was engulfed in reporting for a recent book, I celebrated the completion of a particularly challenging chapter by taking myself to a Marvin Gaye tribute by the National Symphony Orchestra. It was June 2023 and I paid $79 for an orchestra seat.
I arrived early and walked around the sprawling campus and took a picture of “Blue,” the jaunty sculpture by Joel Shapiro that Mr. Trump’s henchmen recently had removed. I bought a little bottle of prosecco from the bar and sat outside enjoying the view of the Potomac River until it was time for the show to begin.
Mr. Trump would have people believe that the Kennedy Center was some kind of incubator of anti-American esoterica . But it was not that at all, sometimes to the frustration of those who long for the sort of experimental fare you’d have to take the Acela up to New York City to see.
Instead, it’s a place that has welcomed touring musicals and exuberant dance companies. It’s a place that has gone out of its way to treat its audiences — locals and tourists, adults and children — with respect, having faith in their intelligence and curiosity, without making a night at the theater feel like watching someone defend her dissertation.
It was a place where, as Francesca Zambello, the longtime artistic director of the Washington National Opera, told me, political views weren’t discussed. (The opera ended its affiliation with the Kennedy Center in January.)
The Kennedy Center is part of a cultural ecosystem in Washington that stands apart from places like New York and Chicago. The arts are accessible here to anyone — and by that I mean a good deal of it is free. Anyone can stop by the National Gallery of Art just to commune with the Rothkos without having to shell out 20 or 30 bucks. A tourist can visit the original Star-Spangled Banner at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. Free. The Kennedy Center offered many gratis performances, too.
The artists began canceling as soon as Mr. Trump stuffed the board with his loyalists and installed himself as chairman. Ticket sales were down; the donations slowed. Soon enough, the newly reconstituted board declared the building a run-down hellhole.
No one disputes that the Kennedy Center needs repairs, particularly those backstage areas that the public rarely sees. I have always found its lobby bar to be less than glamorous. Mr. Trump’s minions on the board and in the administration tell us that mercifully he — and only he — could save it.
The president’s obsession with the Kennedy Center is in keeping with his desire to remake the nation’s capital — the White House, the parks, the wide boulevards and open spaces — to his own gilded, tarty, self-aggrandizing taste. “The president works all day, every day, and there are two things that he does for enjoyment,” Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick said. “He plays golf on the weekend and he builds. He loves to build.”
“It’s fun for him,” Lutnick added.
I live less than four miles from the Kennedy Center. I drove over Wednesday morning, in part, to make sure it was still standing. I approached it from the side, walking up the path near the Watergate apartments. The building looked especially beautiful in the clear morning light, even though its once-gold pillars have been painted white. A landscaper was clearing leaves from the plaza. A few joggers dashed by. Dogs were out for their morning constitutional. It was quiet.
The inscription on the front of the building bearing the center’s name was still obscured by elaborate scaffolding. A security guard told me the building was “closed until further notice.”
If Mr. Trump should succeed in this tantrum, his name will be inscribed on a memorial to another president. Or he could tear it down, as his Department of Justice has threatened. On Wednesday night, President Trump was photographed through the windows of Air Force One studying a poster board emblazoned with the words “Kennedy Center DEMOLISHED.”
Will his presidency be remembered more for his foolishness or his failure? Either way, everyone loses. And that most certainly includes Mr. Trump.
Robin Givhan is a Pulitzer Prize-winning fashion critic and a former senior critic at large for The Washington Post.
Source photographs by Stephen Nadler and Hisham Ibrahim, via Getty Images.
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