Recording shows combative Trump previewing bare-knuckle style in NJ sports betting fight

In July 1993, a furious Donald Trump reached his limit with Garabed "Chuck" Haytaian, the gravelly voiced speaker of the New Jersey General Assembly.

"I tell you what, I think people are going to vote your ass out of office,'' Trump told Haytaian during a live-radio debate on WABC-77 AM in New York, soon after Haytaian effectively doomed any hopes of legalizing sports betting, a top priority for Trump and other Atlantic City casino operators.

Yet Haytaian, a seasoned legislative brawler, refused to wilt under Trump's Barnum-like bluster and bullying. Like Trump, he was a native New Yorker who barked commands with the asphalt-edged cadence of the Bronx.

And like Trump, Haytaian lived by the credo — when somebody hits you, hit back, preferably where your enemy is most vulnerable.

"I would never believe it in my life that Donald Trump would lose his cool," Haytaian told the show's host Bob Grant after one fiery exchange. "He just did it."

Trump lost that fight, but in a strange twist in history, the U.S. Supreme Court may hand down a ruling any day now that could permit sports betting. That ruling may matter little to Trump's bottom line since he abandoned his Atlantic City casino empire.

But it would be a win, no matter how late.

And listening now to this no-holds barred encounter — a 16-minute squabble that quickly devolved into one of the most memorable screaming matches in state political history — it gives an unscripted preview of the caustic, careening-out-of-control Trump temperament 25 years before he became the 45th president of the United States.

Trump on the attack

The radio battle showcased Trump's erratic, say-anything-for-advantage mode of attack, his willingness to float unsubstantiated suspicions, his lack of familiarity and impatience with the grinding gears of governing, and his clumsy, sometimes incoherent diction.

And in what could be viewed as a coda to the debate, Trump demonstrated his knack for quickly embracing a bitter foe as a newfound friend. As tempers cooled later that year, Trump invited Haytaian to the wedding of his second wife, Marla Maples, at the Plaza hotel in New York.

Maples would later contribute $1,000 to Haytaian's unsuccessful bid for the U.S. Senate in 1994. And Trump would later attend Haytaian's retirement party.

"Here, when you have a billionaire, discussing with a legislator, he is going to go all out. He was going to go for the jugular,'' said Haytaian, 80, who lives in Mansfield, Warren County and says he's a Trump supporter. "What he didn’t count on was a legislator coming back at him at same way, and counter punching."

Sports betting loss

The radio showdown came after Trump suffered a humiliating, but not entirely unexpected defeat in his crusade to bring legalized sports wagering to Atlantic City's casinos.

Trump and his fellow casino operators spent the better part of the previous two years trying to persuade a wary legislature to approve a sports betting measure in time to place it on the November 1993 ballot for voter approval.

They were also racing against the clock that began ticking in 1992, when President George H.W. Bush signed the Professional and Amateur Sports Protection Act. The law banned sports betting except in Nevada, and three other states where it was already legal.

But at the insistence of former Rep. Robert Torricelli, D-NJ, the law included a special provision that gave New Jersey until Jan. 1, 1994 to legalize the measure or fall under the ban. It was seen as a last opportunity for Atlantic City to compete with Las Vegas, its chief rival.

The first attempt to legalize sports betting passed the state Senate in December 1992, but failed to get out of an Assembly committee. The sponsors then rewrote the bill to exclude gambling on collegiate sports, and mounted its last drive in the spring of 1993.

But this time, the casino industry crusade, led by Trump — "Trump was the campaign manager,'' recalled Harold Hodes, a lobbyist for the casinos — was countered by a powerful coalition of professional sports leagues, who feared that sports betting would corrupt the image of teams and players.

"I think athletes are persons. I don't like them being turned into roulette chips," said U.S. Sen. Bill Bradley, the Hall of Fame basketball player, who authored the federal legislation and helped round up the coalition to oppose the effort in Trenton.

The coalition brought in its own star power to make the case. Willis Reed, the former New York Knicks center and then coach of the New Jersey Nets, strode in and out of legislators' offices. Seton Hall basketball coach P.J. Carlesimo was featured in ads.

And long before his fall from grace amid the sex abuse scandal that tainted his legacy, legendary Penn State football coach Joe Paterno was recruited to make phone calls. One of those was placed to then Senate President Donald T. DiFrancesco, a Penn State alum.

"DiFrancesco reacted to Paterno like the Pope had called him,'' said Thomas V. O'Neil, a veteran lobbyist hired by the professional sports coalition.

After passing the Senate, the focus turned to Haytaian, who found himself whipsawed between the competing interests. Still, the casino industry and their allies felt that they had Haytaian's support and felt confident that he would bypass a committee — where it would certainly die -- and post it straight away for a final vote.

Yet, Haytaian refused to bend the rules. He placed it in the Assembly Appropriations Committee, where it met its doom. By July, it was all over. No bill, no ballot question for voters in November.

"Can’t say I wasn't in favor of it. I wasn’t opposed to it. I was just acting in my capacity as speaker, which was to make sure that the legislative process occurred,'' he said in a recent interview.

Trump fires away

That explanation only infuriated Trump when the two squared off on Grant's radio show on July 8, the same day that Haytaian declared that sports betting was a dead issue.

Trump's frustration was palpable and came to a boil after Grant kicked off the show by playing a recording of Haytaian from a previous appearance on his show.

"I don’t care how much money he’s got. I don’t care how much of a schmoozer he is, and I don’t really care how powerful he thinks he is. We have a process. We’re going to follow it,'' Haytaian said, adding that he was just a "small guy from the Bronx" who understands "integrity and honesty."

Haytaian's self-casting as a Boy Scout and defender of the sanctity of the legislative process clearly rattled Trump. He replied with a disjointed, anger-infused attack, accusing Haytaian of being a turncoat on the issue ("all of a sudden, he changes his tune") painting him as a habitue of the casinos ("Chuck Haytaian is in the casinos all the time") and mocking Haytaian's homespun narrative.

"You know, we’re not dealing with a baby over here. He says he’s a small guy from the Bronx. Maybe, politically that crap works with some people. But we’re not dealing with a baby,'' Trump said.

Haytaian shot back, suggesting Trump was something of a fabulist — a charge frequently leveled at him these days by his critics.

"First of all, Bob, let me say, Donald Trump loves to tell stories,'' Haytaian replied. He denied ever being a sports betting proponent, and portrayed Trump as someone with a short attention span, who either did not hear or listen to legislative advice Haytaian gave him at a League of Municipalities convention in Atlantic City.

"I'll tell anybody about the legislative process,'' he said. "Unfortunately, his ears weren't open. He wasn't listening as to how to get something accomplished. He could not get it accomplished."

It went downhill from there. Trump stepped on the pedal. He went so far as to suggest that Haytaian was in the tank of Las Vegas casino operators, who saw Atlantic City as a threat to their monopoly.

"How much time do you spend in Las Vegas? How much time do you spend at the Mirage hotel, Chuck?" Trump asked, a reference to the Las Vegas resort owned by Trump's fierce rival, Steve Wynn.

Haytaian seemed exasperated and thrown off-balance as Trump kept peppering him with questions about the Mirage. "Are you kidding?" Haytaian replied and then added, "Everyone who knows me Donald, knows exactly who I am."

"See, I don't think they do. I think they will,'' Trump hinted darkly.

In the recent interview, Haytaian said that at the time of the radio show, he had never been to Las Vegas.

As the arguing escalated into shouting, Haytaian's counter punching finally hit a nerve.

At another point, he needled Trump for "blowing your cool" the way he did in past spats with former New York City Mayor Ed Koch.

"Let me tell you something, I was very effective with Ed Koch," Trump said defensively.

"Well, you weren’t effective with Chuck Haytaian,'' Haytaian replied.

An impatient Trump did everything he could to rattle Haytaian — muttering under his breath, constantly interrupting, mocking him. At one point he called Haytaian a "disgrace" — a similar pejorative he used last month to lambaste his Attorney General Jeff Sessions.

Haytaian ratcheted up the volume and barked louder any time Trump appeared to be getting the upper hand. He countered Trump's interruptions with his own. Near the end of the show, Trump chose a different tack, accusing Haytaian of deliberately killing the bill so that he didn't have to personally go on record and vote for it.

Finally, Grant, who was no stranger to controversy — he would get fired from the station a year later for making racially inflammatory remarks — cut them off and urged them to come back in the studio where they could "shake hands and make nice."

Still, the debate did nothing to change the outcome in the statehouse. When the federal deadline came the following January, sports betting was banned in Atlantic City, a fate the state is now seeking to reverse.

Former Gov. Chris Christie's administration filed suit seeking to overturn the 1992 law on the grounds that it's obsolete and an unconstitutional overreach of federal power. The Supreme Court heard oral arguments last December and a decision could be handed down any day now.

The recent case has a strange-bedfellows symmetry to it. This time around, Trump has sided with the professional sports teams, who oppose lifting the ban.

By December 1993, the ill will of the summer's legislative battle had faded. Trump eventually buried the hatchet with Haytaian, and invited him to his wedding with Maples, a star-studded affair at the Plaza hotel. At one point, Trump introduced his new bride to his old foe. "Hey Marla, I want you to meet Chuck Haytaian the son-of-a-bitch that killed sports betting."