NEW YORK | Former President Donald Trump has rallied supporters in the upper Midwest, attended his son’s high school graduation and feted foreign leaders since his historic criminal trial began in mid-April.
But those lively detours are the exception, not the norm. Four days a week, the presumptive Republican nominee is trapped on the 15th floor of a granite-and-limestone courthouse just south of Chinatown in lower Manhattan.
The best thing someone can say about the Art Deco courthouse is that it was probably nice when it opened in 1941.
Today, there are scratches on the elevator, the hallways are grimy and dim, and the courtroom temperature is too hot or too cold — but never just right.
“I’m now convinced the main goal of this trial is psychological torture. But Trump is in great spirits,” posted Sen. J.D. Vance, the Ohio Republican who described the drive downtown from tony Trump Tower to the “dingy courthouse.”
Mr. Trump at least gets a cushioned chair, while throngs of reporters and some members of the public crowd onto hard wooden benches arranged into two sections, separated by a center aisle.
For better or worse, they are among the select few who get a chance to watch history in the making at the first criminal trial of a former U.S. president.
The former president’s son, Eric Trump, and supportive members of Congress are packing into the front two rows of the courtroom directly behind Mr. Trump. But sometimes their view is obscured by court officers who dot the courtroom.
Lawmakers toggle between the wooden benches and camera locations outside the courtroom to attack the proceedings on Mr. Trump’s behalf. Mr. Trump says a gag order on him, and the trial writ large, are designed to handcuff him while he prepares to take on President Biden.
The case “should have been brought seven or eight years ago,” Mr. Trump said after his lawyer subjected the prosecution’s star witness, Michael Cohen, to a bruising cross-examination on Thursday.
“They didn’t do that because they want to bring it up right in the middle of the election, especially since we’re leading in every poll,” Mr. Trump said in the courthouse hallway.
Prosecutors allege the former president, using his lawyer-turned-accuser Mr. Cohen, paid hush money to porn star Stormy Daniels near the 2016 election to suppress her story about a sexual encounter with Mr. Trump.
They say the pair concealed the nature of the payment through reimbursement checks to Mr. Cohen from Mr. Trump’s revocable trust and personal account. Mr. Trump has pleaded not guilty to 34 counts of falsifying business records and denied the 2006 sexual encounter alleged by Ms. Daniels.
The trial could be completed by Memorial Day, though the timing remains fluid. For now, a pen of TV cameras in a poorly lit hallway is what passes for Mr. Trump‘s campaign stage these days.
Beyond complaining about his case, Mr. Trump likes to opine on the news of the day, from the “Biden inflation tax” to the student protests that are roiling campuses during the war in Gaza.
Action inside the courtroom is not televised, so the only images that most people see are from courtroom sketch artists and still photographs of Mr. Trump at the start of each day.
Reporters dominate the 14 rows of seats in the courtroom, which has a high ceiling and wooden panels that go partly up the walls. There are a small number of seats for the public. Since the courtroom is full, additional members of the press and the public can line up outside early to get into the overflow room, where monitors at the front of the room stream the action.
The words “In God We Trust” loom behind state Supreme Court Judge Juan Merchan’s head inside the main courtroom.
Judge Merchan is relatively mild-mannered and is willing to accommodate jurors if they have a scheduling conflict. He is often courteous, telling parties to “enjoy your lunch” at the midday break and to have a pleasant night at the end of court. Yet he runs a tight ship and is willing to scold lawyers when he feels they are trying to assert too much authority over his courtroom.
Facing the judge, Mr. Trump is seated on the left side with his attorneys while prosecutors sit on the right-side table. The jury box is along the right wall, with the witness stand in between the jury box and the judge.
The squared-off corner of the judge’s bench seems to obscure Mr. Trump’s view of the witnesses. Mr. Cohen, for instance, had to stand up to peer over it to point out Mr. Trump when prosecutors asked him to identify his former boss.
Mr. Trump sometimes looks at his attorneys or the witnesses. Most of the time, he tilts his head back with his eyes closed, or peers at the TV monitor in front of him.
Despite the dated look of the courthouse, it is equipped with monitors that show close-ups of the action to the gallery and allow jurors to view emails, phone records and other evidence on screens right in front of them.
Security is tight, given the high profile of the defendant, and Secret Service agents mingle with the New York court officers. The use of phones is strictly prohibited and policed, in part to avoid photographs or recordings, though reporters can use their laptops.
Jurors, meanwhile, keep it old school by taking hand-written notes on legal pads provided by the courthouse. The notes are secured overnight in the court and will be destroyed after the trial.
Few people will get a firsthand look at the proceedings — and the experience disheartens some who have.
“That courtroom is depressing,” Sen. Tommy Tuberville, Alabama Republican, said outside the building. “This is New York City — icon of our country — and we’ve got a courtroom that’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever been in.”
Sen. Mitt Romney of Utah, an outspoken Trump critic, shamed his fellow Republicans for showing up at all.
“I think it’s a little demeaning to show up in front of a courthouse, particularly one where we’re talking about an allegation of paying a porn star,” Mr. Romney told reporters. “Really, really difficult to watch.”