Years ago, after one of my books came out and long before Donald Trump decided to run for president, a high-ranking executive of the company that published the book invited me to lunch. The site was the Mar-a-Lago Club in Palm Beach. Having grown up blue collar in the Bronx, I was allergic to such places. They were alien territory to people like me. But it was a business meeting and I thought it might be kind of amusing to have lunch at a hotsy-totsy club where I had absolutely nothing in common with the swells who frequented the joint.