Government-Mafia Middleman

Roy Marcus Cohn was born on February 20, 1927, in the Bronx, New York, to a wealthy Jewish family. His father, Albert Cohn, was a justice in the Appellate Division of the New York State Supreme Court, wielding significant political influence, while his mother, Dora Marcus, was a banking heiress whose family faced legal troubles due to her brother’s fraud conviction. Cohn’s privileged upbringing, marked by a doting mother and powerful father, set the stage for his ambition and access to elite circles. A precocious child, he attended the Fieldston School, Columbia College, and Columbia Law School, graduating by age 20, though he had to wait until 21 to be admitted to the bar. He was a closeted gay man.

Cohn’s career began with a meteoric rise as a prosecutor in the 1951 espionage trial of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, accused of passing atomic secrets to the Soviet Union. At just 23, Cohn’s aggressive tactics and media savvy secured their conviction and execution in 1953, earning him national attention and the favor of FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, himself rumored to be a closeted homosexual. Cohn’s role in the Rosenberg case showcased his willingness to use fear and innuendo, a hallmark of his later career. His Jewish identity, coupled with his anti-communist zeal, was seen by some as a defense against anti-Semitism, though others, like Tony Kushner in Angels in America, suggested Cohn’s prosecution of the Rosenbergs reflected self-loathing, possibly tied to his mother’s influence.

McCarthyism and the Lavender Scare

Cohn’s prominence grew as chief counsel to Senator Joseph McCarthy during the Second Red Scare (1950s). As McCarthy’s “subcommittee’s real brain,” Cohn drove the mass interrogation of alleged communists, often linking communism to homosexuality to stoke fear. This period also saw the Lavender Scare, where Cohn and McCarthy targeted LGBTQ+ federal employees, accusing them of being security risks vulnerable to Soviet blackmail. Cohn’s tactics, including alleging Soviet entrapment of closeted officials, led to thousands losing jobs and several suicides, as noted by his cousin David L. Marcus. Again, not only was Cohn himself a closeted gay man, but this fact was widely known, though never publicly admitted. 

A 2008 New Yorker article by David L. Marcus, Cohn’s cousin, titled “High Jinks at High Places,” excerpts an interview with Bill Bonanno, Cohn's former client and mobster, who stated that Cohn showed him “compromising photos” of J. Edgar Hoover and claimed to have similar photos of McCarthy. In 1952, Hank Greenspun (Herman Milton "Hank" Greenspun, 1909-1989, editor & publisher from the Las Vegas Sun newspaper from 1949 until his death) alleged that McCarthy frequented a gay bar and engaged in homosexual activities. These claims were unproven but widely circulated, fueling speculation about Cohn’s influence over McCarthy.

Cohn's relationship with G. David Schine, a McCarthy staffer, sparked speculation of a romantic connection, especially when Cohn threatened to “wreck the Army” to secure Schine a favorable posting, leading to the 1954 Army-McCarthy hearings. These hearings, exposing McCarthy’s overreach, ended his career, but Cohn emerged relatively unscathed, transitioning to a powerful New York lawyer.

New York Power Broker

In the 1970s and 1980s, Cohn became a notorious “fixer” in New York City, representing clients like mob bosses Carmine Galante and Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno, the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York, and Studio 54 owners. His legal tactics—aggressive litigation, media manipulation, and leveraging connections—made him a feared figure. Cohn’s social circle included luminaries like Nancy Reagan, Barbara Walters, Andy Warhol, and Ronald Reagan, whom he advised informally. His ability to navigate both Republican and Democratic circles, despite being a registered Democrat, showcased his political agility. He supported Richard Nixon, leaking damaging information about George McGovern’s running mate Thomas Eagleton in 1972, and later aided Reagan’s 1980 campaign, running operations from his townhouse via protégé Roger Stone.

Cohn was a pivotal figure in New York’s elite circles, leaving a lasting mark on American politics and society. “My legal strategy is my PR strategy. My PR strategy is my legal strategy,” he would say. During the Nixon administration, Cohn’s ferocious anti-communist stance and legal acumen resonated with Nixon’s hardline policies, though he held no formal role. His influence grew through his mentorship of Donald Trump in the 1970s, introducing him to powerful networks at venues like Studio 54, where Trump met John Casablancas, mingling with celebrities, tycoons, and shady operators. Under Reagan, Cohn’s connections deepened, using his legal skills and social ties to navigate New York’s high society, where wealth and influence intertwined with criminal elements. Dealing with this “modern mob,” a mix of legitimate power and underworld figures, was more or less essential to reach the city’s highest echelons.

This dynamic mirrored the post-Soviet Union collapse in the 1990s, where economic chaos and weak governance allowed oligarchs and organized crime to seize power. As state structures crumbled, those with wealth or criminal connections filled the void, much like in New York’s elite circles, though the latter situation developed over decades as opposed to a few years. Historically, societal instability fosters such alliances. In 1920s and 1930s Italy and Germany, industrialists, fearing socialist and communist demands for wealth redistribution, backed fascist movements. Mussolini and Hitler’s regimes relied on these thug-industrialist partnerships to crush opposition and maintain control. When institutions fail, societies falter and people feel ignored, suffer hunger and despair, criminal elements gain strength, aligning with the wealthy to dominate. Instability breeds opportunistic alliances between elites and the underworld, cementing power at society’s expense.

Cohn’s most significant client was Donald Trump, whom he met in 1971 at Le Club, a Manhattan hotspot. When the Justice Department sued Trump and his father, Fred Trump Sr., for racial discrimination in housing in 1973, Cohn advised a bold countersuit for $100 million, a tactic that, though unsuccessful, burnished Trump’s reputation for defiance. Cohn mentored Trump in ruthless strategies—never admit defeat, exaggerate, and use litigation as a weapon—shaping his business and political persona. Cohn also introduced Trump to Rupert Murdoch and Roger Stone, forging lasting alliances. Cohn’s ties to Fred Trump Sr. extended to earlier real estate dealings, and his mob connections likely facilitated Trump’s Manhattan expansion, as construction projects often involved organized crime.

Connections to Organized Crime and Government.

In a mid-1970s conversation where Cohn advised Trump on projecting strength and avoiding perceived vulnerabilities, he reportedly told Trump that being seen as homosexual was a liability in their high-stakes New York circles, equating it to weakness and stating it carried “zero clout” in terms of social and political capital (as recalled by Roger Stone in a later interview). This reflected Cohn’s own internalized homophobia, shaped by his role in the 1950s Lavender Scare, where he persecuted gay government employees alongside Senator Joseph McCarthy.

Cohn’s role as a bridge between organized crime and government was central to his influence. His clients included mob figures like Salerno and Galante, and he reportedly co-owned properties with mob associates. Cohn’s ties to the Genovese crime family and Meyer Lansky’s network positioned him as a conduit for illicit influence. He ran blackmail operations for Lansky, using compromising material to control powerful figures, a tactic later echoed by Jeffrey Epstein. Cohn’s relationship with Epstein is less documented but plausible given their shared circles and tactics. Epstein’s alleged intelligence ties and sexual blackmail operations mirror Cohn’s methods, and both socialized with Trump, who purchased properties like the Plaza Hotel, where Epstein reportedly hosted compromising events. A 2019 documentary alleged that Cohn procured underage male prostitutes for Studio 54 and private parties. Several of Cohn’s former clients made the extraordinary claim that Cohn had managed to stay out of trouble partly because he possessed compromising photographs of FBI director J. Edgar Hoover.

Cohn’s government ties extended to the Reagan administration, where he secured favors like the 1983 federal judgeship for Trump’s sister, Maryanne Barry. His friendship with William Casey, Reagan’s CIA director, and lobbyist Craig Spence, linked to a “call boy ring,” suggests deeper intelligence connections. Cohn’s role in the Iran-Contra scandal’s propaganda efforts further tied him to covert operations, leveraging his media influence to shape narratives.

Later Life and Legacy

Cohn’s life unraveled in the 1980s. Diagnosed with HIV in 1984, he insisted it was liver cancer, denying his homosexuality until his death from AIDS-related complications on August 2, 1986. His refusal to acknowledge his illness mirrored his public persona: a man of contradictions who projected power while hiding vulnerabilities. Cohn was disbarred weeks before his death for unethical conduct, including defrauding clients and attempting to manipulate a dying client’s will. Trump, once a close ally, distanced himself as Cohn’s health declined, a betrayal Cohn’s secretary described as being “dropped like a hot potato”.

Cohn’s legacy endures through his influence on Trump and the political tactics he pioneered. Portrayed as a “bully, coward, victim” in Angels in America and documentaries like Where’s My Roy Cohn?, Cohn is remembered as a ruthless opportunist whose strategies—media manipulation, fear-mongering, and leveraging power—reshaped American politics.

Psychological Analysis

Freud might argue that Cohn’s upbringing in a wealthy Jewish family, with its attendant pressures for social conformity and success, intensified this repression, as he navigated a homophobic society and the expectations of his status-conscious family. He might also point to Cohn’s relationship with his domineering mother, Dora, as a source of unresolved Oedipal conflicts, fueling his need for control and manipulation, evident in his entrapment schemes and legal ruthlessness.

Jung, focusing on archetypes and the collective unconscious, might see Cohn as embodying the Shadow archetype—the unacknowledged, darker aspects of the personality. Cohn’s closeted homosexuality and persecution of gay men could reflect his refusal to integrate his Shadow, leading to destructive behavior as he projected his inner conflicts onto others. Jung might argue that Cohn’s public persona as a ruthless lawyer masked his personal insecurities, creating a Persona-Shadow split that drove his hypocrisy and aggression. His work with organized crime and honeypot traps could align with the Trickster archetype, as Cohn manipulated systems and people to maintain influence, thriving in chaos and moral ambiguity. Jung might also suggest Cohn’s actions reflected a failure to achieve individuation, the process of integrating conscious and unconscious elements of the psyche. Instead of reconciling his identity as a gay man with his public role, Cohn leaned into destructive power dynamics, seeking validation in elite and criminal circles.

Jung might further explore Cohn’s behavior as a response to the collective anxieties of Cold War America, where fear of communism and “deviance” (like homosexuality) created a cultural shadow that Cohn both exploited and embodied. His alliances with mobsters and entrapment schemes could be seen as attempts to wield power in a society he perceived as hostile, compensating for his lack of inner wholeness.

Cohn as a Bridge Between Organized Crime, Government, and Intelligence

Cohn’s bridged organized crime and government, creating a nexus of influence that extended to Fred Trump Sr., Donald Trump, and Jeffrey Epstein. His legal work for mob figures like Salerno and Galante provided access to illicit networks, facilitating Trump’s real estate ventures, as construction in 1970s New York often involved mob-controlled unions. Cohn’s blackmail tactics, using compromising material, paralleled Epstein’s alleged operations. He ran similar schemes for Meyer Lansky. Epstein’s ties to intelligence and his documented relationship with Trump, who partied with him at properties like the Plaza Hotel, suggest a continuity of Cohn’s methods. Cohn’s government connections, including his influence with Reagan and Casey, positioned him to manipulate policy and appointments. This nexus of crime, government, and intelligence underscores a system where power is maintained through coercion and secrecy, a model Trump adopted and amplified.

In the 1970s-80s, many of Trump’s private conversations with his late mentor, the lawyer Roy Cohn, were eavesdropped on by Cohn’s longtime switchboard operator and courier, Christine Seymour, whose activities were later exposed. She was also the last person to speak to him on the phone before he died in 1986. Cohn's law firm dissolved upon his death, and Seymour left New York City and moved to Florida. She settled in Key Colony Beach, a sleepy town at the bottom of the Keys, where, in the early nineties, she started writing Surviving Roy Cohn, based on her notes on the eavesdropped calls. It must have seemed an ideal moment for a project that promised to take the reader inside the town house of one of the most scandalous figures in recent New York history. In 1993, James Woods was nominated for an Emmy for his portrayal of Cohn in an HBO biopic, “Citizen Cohn,” and “Angels in America,” Tony Kushner’s play dramatizing Cohn’s struggle with AIDS, had débuted to acclaim on Broadway.

On the morning of May 5, 1994, the New York Post ran a column by Cindy Adams with the headline “Savvy Chris Spills the Beans on Roy Cohn.” In her characteristically breezy manner, Adams wrote about Seymour’s book project, listing the secrets she would expose. (“How a porno flick was filmed in the office and business was conducted while someone was being whipped”; “How Sen. Joe McCarthy hid the fact that he was gay. . . .”) “Chris taped conversations,” she wrote. “She kept a log—three spiral notebooks a day—of transactions.” Adams wrote that Seymour “monitored every call in or out, knew everything, everyone, knew where all the bodies were buried.” The story ricocheted through the city, and Cohn’s former law partners and staffers received phone calls from several other anxious clients, worried that their secrets would be revealed.

Five months later, on October 20, 1994, Seymour was driving her blue two-door Yugo on a highway in Florida at dusk when she collided head-on with a tractor-trailer and was instantly killed. She was 46, and the book was still unfinished. Seymour’s collaborator on the book, an author and literary agent named Jeffrey Schmidt, was at home on Long Island when he got the call from Seymour’s mother, Adele, who lived in nearby Shoreham. As he recalled recently, on hearing the news of Seymour’s death, he panicked, took a box of the notebooks, and burned them.

Since 1994, very little new information has emerged about the Trump-mentoring, government-mafia middleman.