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Reputed to have come from Donald Trump's publicity people, the following tale found its way into the news media via the magazine Forbes in February 1996: Eyebrows should have been raised by this tale, as even back in the mid-1990s it was already a recognized urban legend that had been told about many other celebrities. Casting doubt on the notion that it subsequently became a true legend was the lack of checkable details provided by Trump's people, as exemplified by 1996 news reports that noted The Trumps flackery won't reveal the lucky chap's name, but Informer hears Trump forked over more than $100,000 for the gesture. Speaking plainly, we have an unsubstantiated rumor of celebrity good-deeding being spread by those who work for a man who courts the limelight at every opportunity. The tale's details are fuzzy, too: one version has the event occurring while Donald Trump was married to Ivana and driving in Michigan, yet other versions place it during his marriage to Marla and had him driving in New Jersey or in Canada near Casino Niagara. In every case what's lacking is confirmation from the lad whose mortgage was paid, the limousine driver, or anyone who worked at the tire-changer's bank (and would thus have been in on the mortgage's retirement). Is it reasonable to assume someone so rewarded would fail to tell his family, friends, and co-workers about his encounter with a famous millionaire, especially the part about the wealthy one's repaying a small kindness in so overwhelming a fashion? Is it reasonable that his wife would similarly remain silent? If you think not, you should be asking why the tire-changer's name is still unknown, why his story didn't escape into the community where he lives and from there make its way to the media, why you've yet to see so much as one televised interview with him. In fact, back in 1997, when the Donald Trump version of the tale was still relatively new, Trump's office was actively denying its truthfulness: The story also fails the plausibility check: wouldn't the driver of the limousine be able to change a tire on his own, or at least be able to make a cell phone call to AAA for assistance with a minor mechanical problem? Trump's first wife, Ivana, could — and indeed did — change a tire when sidelined with a flat, making it all the more surprising Trump's chauffeur lacked this skill yet apparently kept his job (especially in light of his employer's notorious impatience with those who fail to perform). Gulling a number of people was The Donald's own confirmation of the tale during a January 2005 episode of his television series, The Apprentice. When asked about the veracity of this legend by one of those vying for the show's ultimate prize, Trump simply responded, That's true. For many, his saying so was all the proof that mattered. Yet he is far from the first celebrity to claim an item of contemporary lore as an anecdote from his own life (see our page about the Hare Dryer legend for a number of such examples). Moreover, news accounts from 2016 revealed that Trump had long been posing as a publicist to brag about himself, and he has a decades-old reputation for being less than truthful about himself, as illustrated by this excerpt from a 1997 New Yorker article: The legend of the good Samaritan, the disabled car, and the celebrity's generosity has been told of others over the years. It's a classic windfall legend. Each of us would like to believe an ordinary kindness on our part would result in manna from heaven falling our way, which is why this legend speaks directly to us. We can see ourselves on the receiving end of all those golden goodies, and it reaffirms our faith in the world in that we want to believe good deeds don't go unrewarded. Oscar Wilde used a similar plot for his 1891 short story A Model Millionaire. In it, Hughie is a lad who has stopped to visit an artist friend. He is momentarily left alone in the company of the wretch the painter is using as his model and is touched by the old man's tattered appearance. He slips the beggar a gold sovereign, realizing it's all the mad money he has for the month but that the elderly fellow needs it so much more than he does. The beggar smiles, pockets the coin, and thanks Hughie. We later discover the beggar is in reality Baron Hausberg, a millionaire who for no clearly stated reason enjoys posing for this particular artist. The Baron sends a wedding gift of £10,000 to Hughie as his way of thanking the young man who was moved to help an unfortunate. We also found a Henry Ford version of this legend in a 1954 collection of inspirational tales: In 1989 the variation of the moment of the unrecognized celebrity rescued by a Samaritan starred Mrs. Nat King Cole. Car troubles supposedly stranded her on the shoulder of a Los Angeles freeway, and she was said to have rewarded the kind man who stopped to render assistance with a new car (variously reported as a Cadillac, Lincoln, or Rolls-Royce.) In 1997 a version of the Mrs. Nat King Cole legend tied to the death of her husband was circulating on the Internet. It appears to have been lifted word for word from the 1997 book Chicken Soup for the Woman's Soul: Though it's a lovely story, it too didn't happen. Nat King Cole died of lung cancer at dawn on 15 February 1965 in Santa Monica, California. He was hospitalized in December 1964, and on 25 January 1965 his left lung was removed. At least from the date of his operation until his death, Maria Cole was with him every day. There was no opportunity for her to have been stranded in the rain beside an Alabama highway in the weeks leading up to her husband's death. She was sitting with him when he passed away, and none of the newspapers that commented on her vigil made mention of a last-minute dash to the hospital, an automotive breakdown, or a helpful Samaritan who got her there in time. Another version of the car breakdown legend gives the famous person as Perry Como and has him mailing his rescuer a set of keys to a new car. This tale is told as happening all over the place, so I wonder at Perry's ability to buy all these people cars but not provide himself with reliable transportation. Yet another twist has the disabled car story happening to Como's wife, and the payoff she provides is either a color TV or tickets to her husband's upcoming concert. It's also told of Mrs. Leon Spinks, and the reward she grants are tickets to her hubby's upcoming fight in New Orleans. (Moral of the story: if you want the big ticket items, don't settle for rescuing the wife of a celebrity; hold out for the man himself.) In February 2000, a version starring Bill Gates began circulating on the Internet: Getting back to Donald Trump, we find that on at least one verifiable occasion he's known to have bestowed largesse on a helpful stranger. Trump's 79-year-old mother was mugged in 1991, suffering broken bones and severe facial bruises. A passing truck driver who witnessed the assault brought down the mugger and handed him over to justice. (The robber was later sentenced to 3 to 9 years in prison). The Donald had dinner with the rescuer, his sister, and his son; offered the Samaritan a better job; and gave him a check for an undisclosed amount. Even with a straight news story like this, a bit of manufactured memory has changed many people's recall of the event. There are those who now swear they saw Donald Trump hand over an oversized, Ed McMahon-type check on TV. Likely this Publisher's Clearing House mental image fits in better with our notion of how a celebrity would reward an ordinary fellow, hence the substituted memory.
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