Pomp and Appurtenance

It is Tuesday, January 27, 2026.

As national television coverage of President Donald Trump’s State of the Union speech begins, we see the familiar flood-lit shot of the Capitol Building. It is a crisp evening with enough breeze to hold the American flag stretched taught with a whip-like snap in the wind.

What is not familiar is the entire expanse of Pennsylvania Avenue aglow in the bright light of temporary floods erected for this evening. From the White House to the Capitol grounds these powerful lights have turned night into day. The lights are provided by the three major television networks at no cost to the taxpayers in exchange for permission by the FCC to join Fox News in covering the event.

The next shot is of the North Portico of the White House, also aglow. The carriage turn-around, designed by President Thomas Jefferson, is lined with a ceremonial guard of uniformed Secret Service. They are dressed in white double-breasted tunics with gold trim, epaulets, and black plastic shako-style hats with the White House crest. Each is holding a snow-white AK-47 at order arms.

Yes, after Donald Trump’s state visit to Great Britain in September of 2025, he was so taken by the pomp and circumstance of British royalty that he demanded that the Secret Service adopt the infamous uniforms designed by then-President Richard Nixon and put them into daily use.

The Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, California had one of the uniforms in archival storage and a mad rush worthy of Operation Warp Speed put new copies into production. They are being unveiled on this night of nights.

Cost: $500,000

In addition, an historic coach from Mount Vernon was delivered to a restoration shop in Middleton, Virginia to be repurposed for the occasion. George Washington’s Powel Coach was a gift from Samuel Powel, mayor of Philadelphia. It was designed and built by Clark Brothers, famous Philadelphia carriage makers.

The historic carriage did not have sufficient gold trim for the taste of the current President. Ironically, Washington eschewed anything that would be reminiscent of British Royalty, from his title to his dress to his means of transportation. But this President is different. He demanded the same gold trim that was splashed onto the mantel and walls of the Oval Office. If you own a gold toilet, other thrones follow naturally.

Given the fact that the Powel Coach only has two seats, the Secret Service demanded that two footboards be added for their use and a dickey seat be added to the rear of the carriage for a fourth agent (one would of course be driving the coach). Traditionally plain-clothed in order not to stand out, Trump demanded that his protection detail wear the new white uniforms to add another royal look to the carriage. The target-worthy nature of these snowy tunics was of no concern to Trump.

In addition to the other desecration of this unique piece of presidential history, the handblown glass windows were removed from the carriage and replaced with bullet-proof panels. A blast-resistant undercarriage was also added with an improved suspension for a smooth ride.

Cost: $2 million.

The National Park Service Police supplied the six white horses to pull the redesigned coach. The NPS stables did not have carriage horses so Irish Sport Horses trained as carriage stock were purchased and flown to Washington for the occasion. An Irish carriage driver was included in the package, quickly trained at Quantico, Virginia, and sworn into the Secret Service in November 2025.

Cost: $250,000

The Marine Band is in place on the North Lawn and at precisely 8:00 p.m. EST they begin a short medley of Sousa Marches. At 8:10, they play Ruffles and Flourishes and the horse-drawn coach swings wide from West Executive Avenue to Pennsylvania Avenue and through the Northwest Gate of the White House. Gleaming new black leather and gold tack catch the light, and we see that each horse is bedecked with a red feather plume. Ringling Brothers.

From the temporary press platform, pool cameras show two uniformed guards open the doors of the White House, and the President and First Lady step into the spotlight.

Commander of the detail yells in British fashion, “Present Arms”, and the rifles are raised to position.

The President is dressed in white tie and tails, his jacket trimmed in red, his chest filled with two ranks of medals. They include his long-coveted Purple Heart, marksmanship medals from New York Military Academy and Fordham University ROTC, first runner up for the Nobel Peace Prize 2025-2026, and two matching red poker chips from Trump Casino Atlantic City.

The First Lady is wearing a bright yellow Carolina Herra gown, a pink belt, a black bullet-proof vest and a redesigned green doughboy helmet that completely covers her eyes.

As the carriage glides to a stop, two of the white horses relieve themselves onto the pristine carriage turn around, the Marine Band plays Hail to the Chief, and a White House aid appears carrying a little step stool. As he places the stool at the carriage door, a guard (looking for all the world like an extra from Music Man) opens the door for the First Lady.

She pointedly steps over the stool and into the carriage.

She is followed by the President who carefully uses each of the five steps of the stool to ascend to the carriage level and stumble inside.

As the band plays another round of Ruffles and Flourishes followed by the Theme from Camelot, the Irish Secret Service Agent cracks the whip, the horses step forward in unison, and the carriage begins to roll toward the Northeast Gate. The President looks out the window and gives the first of countless thumbs up signs he will deliver along the way.

With the new Secret Service mounted Horse Guard leading the way, the procession proceeds down Pennsylvania Avenue towards the Capitol. The flood-lit street is lined with tens of thousands of adoring fans, and a thundering roar goes up as the carriage passes. Closer examination reveals that the street has been lined with mirrors to multiply apparent crowd size and speakers are piping in the same stadium noise that NFL teams use to simulate game conditions during weekly practices. The networks, sworn to secrecy by the FCC, report record numbers of supporters cheering the Chief.

The clueless president beams with pride and is frozen in a thumbs up pose. The First Lady is scrolling her iPhone and doesn’t look up.

A DC motorcycle policeman passes the procession at high speed with a passenger in the sidecar obscured by a small set of steps. It seems that the president’s step stool has been left behind and is being rushed to the Capitol Building.

As the clip clop of the horses is heard at the East Front, the band of the DC National Guard begins to play, and a shocked expression crosses the faces of House Speaker Johnson and other assembled dignitaries. It seems that the wrong sheet music has been stuck into the lyres of each band instrument, and the strains of Stephen Sondheim’s Send in the Clowns are rising into the cold January air.

Johnson takes off at a dead run towards the band, dodging horses as he goes, and shouts at the conductor to stop the music. As the carriage glides to a stop, the little aid puts the steps in place, one of the footmen jumps off the rear board and opens the door for the First Lady. She steps to the ground just as the flustered band leader asks his musicians to turn the page and begin the next tune, which he prays is Hail to the Chief.

Sadly, as we see the President’s swollen foot emerge from the carriage in search of the top step of his foot stool and the guard snaps to present arms, another Sondheim tune from A Little Night Music rings forth.

My Husband the Pig.

For the first time, we see the hint of a smile beneath the Doughboy helmet.