The Trump helicopter tragedy that shook Atlantic City, 35 years later

The city’s gaming industry was just entering its second decade and the town was buzzing each weekend, regardless of the season. If people weren’t talking about the most recent Mike Tyson heavyweight boxing match that electrified the Boardwalk, they were thinking about an upcoming WrestleMania event, or a Rolling Stones concert planned in December.

Driving this success was a brash newcomer. Donald Trump, a New York real estate developer turned casino mogul, was intent on building his own brand.

Trump was getting the attention and press, but the real work was being done by a young, hard-charging group of executives.

Trump executives Mark Etess, 37, Stephen Hyde, 43, and Jonathan Benanav, 33, were considered the core members of an executive group that since June 1987 were redefining entertainment in the resort.

The wins started when they staged a pay-per-view heavyweight boxing match between Michael Spinks and Gerry Cooney dubbed “The War at the Shore” at what was then called Convention Hall.

“When you look at all the things that happened in that era, all those events were elevating Atlantic City,” said Mark’s brother Mitchell Etess, 66, who also worked for the Trump Organization at the time. “People would think of Vegas and Atlantic City. ... Atlantic City wasn’t just this little place that had gambling anymore.”

The boxing match, like many that followed, was held at the massive Convention Hall but was sponsored by Trump. It was Etess and Hyde who found a way to use the massive Boardwalk as an annex to their gaming hall, allowing for richer purses, crowds of around 20,000 people and endless brand recognition for their boss. That couldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been able to get other casinos involved.

But by turning Convention Hall into neutral ground, they convinced other casinos to buy tickets, ship in high rollers and staff sections of the hall with their own cocktail servers, said Bernie Dillon, a former Trump executive who became a highly regarded expert in the entertainment and sports industries both in the casinos and out.

It was just one of many ways the men leveraged the assets of the city and fostered cooperation among their competitors to raise the city’s game, said Jim Allen, chairman of Hard Rock International.

“That was the brilliance of Mark and Steve. They took this thing to a level I don’t think anyone imagined they could,” said Allen, who worked as a purchasing executive in the Trump Organization at the time.

The Rolling Stones’ December 1989 Convention Hall concert was another example, Allen said, holding the distinction of being the “first pay-per-view concert anywhere.”

“We were rolling by ‘87,” said Allen, 64.

Allen recalls the energy of the Trump team’s young executives, which was different from the stereotypical “old guys from Las Vegas” who’d been running the town.

“It was the youth of the team that made us agile and able to learn and adapt,” said Allen. He felt he was getting a master’s degree in leadership.

On Oct. 10, 1989, it was time to add to that list of signature events.

Etess, Hyde and Benanav boarded a helicopter in Atlantic City and headed for New York to attend a press conference hyping a pay-per-view boxing match between Hector Camacho and Vinny Pazienza that would be held at Convention Hall on Feb. 3, 1990.

On the return flight Oct. 11, the helicopter crashed, killing all three executives and two pilots.

A spirit ‘you’d like to see return’

Thirty-five years after the crash, the date still stirs memories of a loss that ripped holes in families, an organization and a city finding its footing on a national stage.

Etess, Hyde and Benanav were rising stars in the Trump Organization. Each had a unique skill set.

“Mark was the most dynamic, amazing personality I’ve known,” said Allen. “Whether it was dealing with guests or employees, he was unique.

Etess was being groomed to be president of Trump’s soon to open Taj Mahal casino, billed as the “8th wonder of the world.”

“I wouldn’t say Mark was a part of what was happening then — he was the crux of it,” said Dave Coskey, who joined Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino in 1989 and became vice president of marketing. He oversaw promotion of a dozen championship boxing matches and the Rolling Stones concert.

Hyde was a mentor who taught many, including Allen, about leadership and whose “calm, measured approach” to dealing with problems made a lasting impression.

Of the three men, Benanav’s role put him more behind the scenes, but Coskey recalls the former hotel operations director’s hands-on management style as the deciding factor in earning Trump Plaza a four-star rating that was the envy of the casino industry.

Coskey recalls Benanav creating a passcode in the hotel’s phone system that allowed any employee to report a problem by dialing “6292.” The numbers corresponded to the letters “MBWA,” an acronym for “management by walking around.”

Benanav and Allen were close in age. The two would hang out, play racquetball or have a beer at the former Rugby Inn (now Ventura’s Greenhouse) in Northfield.

“Mark and Steve were my bosses. Jonathan was a friend,” Allen said.

The deaths left a hole in things, including in the Trump Organization, which lost its momentum and some say its way.

“I know damned well that he (Trump) felt the loss,” Coskey said.

Allen agreed.

“The company had such a major void it never recovered.”

Atlantic City felt the loss, too.

Dillon, reflecting on that long streak of major acts and events that had elevated the city, said with the loss of the Trump executives, the spirit of cooperation waned as well.

“It’s a spirit you’d like to see return,” he said.

Instead, many were left wondering what could have been.

From the ashes

This week, the anniversary of his brother’s death, Mitchell Etess will get a dozen or more calls from friends.

They are touching base, sharing stories. Not all are about the loss; some are about the debt they feel to his brother, Hyde and Benanav.

What stood out about the men who were running the Atlantic City operation wasn’t just their leadership, but their commitment to mentoring those around them, said Allen, Coskey and Etess.

“They were brilliant businessmen, but more importantly, they were incredible people,” Coskey said. “They were groundbreaking pioneers of the industry, especially here in Atlantic City.”

Allen, who will be among those who will call Etess — he’s done so every year — will talk fondly of his former mentors.

“None of us would be where they are without them,” Allen said.

When Hard Rock purchased the shuttered Trump Taj Mahal Casino Resort and redeveloped it into the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Atlantic City, Allen thanked his former mentor by keeping the 5,000-seat music and sporting venue’s name as the Etess Arena.

“Learning from them was a gift that they gave to certainly me and many others,” Allen said of Etess, Hyde and Benanav. “If I wouldn’t have had the opportunity, I wouldn’t be sitting where I am today.”

Allen, who is also CEO of Seminole Gaming, is being inducted this week into the American Gaming Association’s Hall of Fame.

But even with his long and storied career, and the lessons he internalized, Allen still reflects on the singular nature of those times.

“(Mark and Steve’s) ability to bring us together, to get us to work as hard as humanly possible and yet have fun doing it,” he said, pausing. “That was extremely unique and happened only once in my career.”

That was nother sentiment shared by Coskey, who went on to his own hall-of-fame career in media, public relations, branding and marketing.

“At the time, we had no idea of what kind of experience we were getting,” he said. “We just thought we had great jobs.”

None of this is surprising to Mitchell Etess, whose trek began at Trump Plaza and ended as CEO of Mohegan Gaming.

“Mark affected tons of people’s lives,” he said, but one of the biggest family lessons was that people mattered.

“We were brought up that way,” Mitchell said.