The president wants to be Doyen in the Gold City

So it was decided: Chicago had won the bid for the Columbian Exposition of 1893. Better known as the World’s Fair, Daniel Burnham and John Wellborn Root were named as chief architects to great excitement. American prosperity and optimism were at a peak and Chicago’s business tycoons were eager to outshine the Paris Exposition of 1889.

There were many advances to celebrate, so many technological marvels to share with everyday Americans and the world, chief among them electricity and a myriad of applications.

There were problems, however, from the start. Author Erik Larson, in his book “Devil in the White City,” chronicled the setbacks that contributed to the fair’s long-delayed opening in May 1893.

The men in charge, the men driving the idea of the fair, were too high on their own supply of grandiosity. Let it be noted, however, that the men hired to execute the ideas were the best in their field. The problem was that men like Burnam, Root, and Frederick Law Olmstead had neither enough time nor money to adequately fulfill the plans.

Downsizing is not uncommon with building projects. As the archivist for Buena Vista University, I’ve seen drawings for grandiose buildings whose final outcome looked nothing like the original. For example, an early conception of a dormitory looked like something out of Oxford. Yet, the reality was a plain brick box with few flourishes or gravitas.

The situation in Chicago, though, was more dire. The buildings were originally planned to be built out of stone, steel, and brick, but there was not enough time for proper construction. Instead, the architects, headed by Burnham, built wooden frames over which they laid “staff” a mixture of plaster and jute.

If you’ve ever seen a plaster and lathe wall, it would resemble that method. Additionally, the builders could create architectural details out of the staff that would fool most people into thinking they were looking at stone.

They slapped dozens of grand halls together with the staff, created neoclassical elements to adorn the facades, and used a spray-painting method to finish them in gleaming white paint.

All the streets were wired with electric lights. The light, reflected off the white paint, earned the fairgrounds the name “The White City.”

You may guess where I’m going with this.

Back in January, the president announced plans for a triumphal arch to be built somewhere near the Lincoln Memorial. The scene was like something from the old cartoon, Fractured Fairy Tales.

Let’s call it “Goldiwisp and the Three Arches.” Goldiwisp had an insatiable appetite for building. So he ordered his minions to dream up a great big arch, a medium-sized arch, and a little arch. But Goldiwisp, being a megalomaniac, could only be satisfied with the great big arch, an arch so ‘uge that it would eclipse the Lincoln Memorial and obscure the sightline to Arlington Cemetery.

The arch has yet to be built, but the concept of an arch appeared in time for the Great American State Fair. It was constructed from wood and wrapped — literally wrapped — with a plastic printed coating of an arch.

A LOT OF our money — taxpayer money — is being thrown around, and it’s landing in the pocket of one notable resident at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, rather than providing attendees with a pleasant experience.

All by design.

It’s hard to know whether it’s sheer incompetence or if people are being pushed to complete unrealistic projects in unrealistic timeframes, thus resorting to the cheapest, quickest solutions just to get the president off their backs.

But shoddy is as shoddy does. Within days, the sad, little arch started coming apart at the seams. The metaphorical aptness for this presidency is too on the nose not to mention.

Oh, why care about something so insignificant? There are important things to worry about, like, is the war with Iran over or not? What’s happening with the gaping hole where the East Wing used to be? Will mail-in voting be protected? What’s the president’s next desperate move against E. Jean Carroll going to look like?

The barrage never stops. He will never stop.

Therefore, neither should we. Humor and satire are powerful cannons. We must blast with double-barreled intensity about this inanity and all the forthcoming inanities.

That’s why I poke fun at the sad little arch and 45/47’s thwarted attempts to be the Doyen in the Gold City. We don’t have the luxury of simply ignoring him. His mark is everywhere, so we must laugh and keep pointing at how the wannabe king has no massive crowds, no pristine pool, and no East Wing.

And a tiny, little arch coming apart at the seams.

Joan Zwagerman writes from Storm Lake