Looking the part has always mattered to President Donald Trump.

The president’s preference for people who look like they came from “central casting” has become a well-known part of how Trump makes personnel decisions. The president said as much when he nominated Ronny Jackson — the square-jawed White House physician with a full head of hair thick enough to hold a side part — to be secretary of Veterans Affairs.


But behind the scenes, there’s another set of characters who populate Trump’s world: loyal fixers who lie for Trump, and clean up his messes in the shadows, where their looks count less than their loyalty.

It’s a dichotomy that’s well-known in Trump’s inner circle. One former adviser described it succinctly:

“Central casting for ‘front porch’ jobs, trolls for the real work.”

But in recent weeks, there has been tension in the natural order of Trump’s world, because his not-made-for-prime-time “fixers” have been basking in the national spotlight where they don’t belong. And they’re doing something else very out of character for the aides picked solely for their loyalty and willingness to bend the rules: They’re falling out of line.

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This week, it’s Harold Bornstein, Trump’s long-haired, leather-skinned New York physician, who told CNN that he allowed Trump to dictate a letter about his health that was released during the campaign under Bornstein’s name.

“People like Dr. Bornstein and others are certainly unique-looking,” said Sam Nunberg, a former Trump campaign aide. “The reason the president hires them, or uses them, is because generally they’re not going to be in the public eye. They’re yes men.”

The behind-the-scenes crew also includes Michael Cohen, Trump’s longtime lawyer and all-around fixer, who personally made payments to silence a porn actress who claims to have had an affair with his boss—but who has declined to join the president in attacking the FBI agents who recently raided his home and office, instead describing them as “professional.”

In the past, Trump’s fixers have always endured poor treatment from the boss they aim to please: They are used to being taken for granted enduring personal insults without too much talking back.

“Bornstein was useful to Trump because he would do whatever he was told,” said a second longtime Trump confidant. “He understood that the key to Trump was doing anything he ordered you to do. Cohen and Bornstein both met that criteria.”

That was then.

Bornstein, who like Cohen, at one point harbored hopes of following his client to White House, burst out of the shadows, and out of line, when he told NBC News on Tuesday that longtime Trump bodyguard Keith Schiller (another critical behind-the-scenes fixer) and two other men raided his office to seize the president’s medical files.

The incident, which he believes was instigated by his admission to the New York Times that the president uses the hair regrowth drug Propecia, left him feeling “raped, frightened and sad,” he said.

Meanwhile, Cohen has been occupying the national spotlight since his office, apartment and hotel room were raided by the FBI last month. He appears to be enjoying the sunlight, smoking cigars and mugging for the paparazzi, who found him hanging out at the Loews Regency on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

But the question looms whether Cohen, now under federal investigation for bank fraud and campaign finance violations, will flip on his longtime boss — cooperating with special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation in order to lighten his own load of legal troubles and potential jail time. Trump’s allies are increasingly worried he will save himself by turning on Trump.

It’s an awkward moment for the president, who has come to take for granted the loyalty of the “real work” yes men in his orbit, even as he heaps praise on his telegenic “front porch” crowd.

The divide, longtime aides said, speaks to Trump’s innate understanding of what makes for good television: He doesn’t dislike unattractive or slovenly people who appear to be loyalists, he just doesn’t want them appearing on television or in public-facing roles. But it also speaks to a split that exists within himself.

Tall and broad-shouldered, Trump sees himself as a leading man and has told friends in recent years: “Can you believe I’m better looking in my 70s than when I was 35.” But the president, who hides behind baggy suits and delights in breaking established rules, also relates to his back-office crew.

“He’s both,” said one former adviser. “He’s Jekyll and Hyde in the same guy.”

