What booking a magician for the White House Correspondents’ dinner reveals about the state of press
Donald Trump has never been comfortable under scrutiny. The choice not to book a comedian at this year’s event said more than any punchline ever could.
US president Donald Trump doesn’t usually do well under fire. That’s why when a gunman entered the Hilton hotel in Washington this weekend, during the annual White House Correspondents’ Association (WHCA) dinner, Trump was joined by a magician on stage rather than a comedian. Ducking behind a table during the secret service’s presidential disappearing act was one Oz Pearlman – aka Oz the Mentalist, a 43-year-old, third-place finisher on America’s Got Talent and good guesser of pin numbers. His booking for the evening was rather telling.
The century-old event has been televised since the early 1990s, with a comic traditionally hosting a cadre of DC journalists, White House staffers and the commander in chief for an evening of raillery. Every president since Calvin Coolidge in 1924 has attended the WHCA dinner at least once in their term. That was until Donald Trump, who avoided the evening during his first term. So, why did he go this year? Because he has spent years successfully curtailing press freedom – and he still can’t take a joke.
Pearlman was the perfect guest for a president who prefers his room read, not roasted. A mentalist’s act is built on making his subject feel seen, understood and flattered. For a White House that has spent two years dismantling the independence of the press corps, a mind reader who tells you what you want to hear was a white flag of a booking by the WHCA – practically hiring the court jester.
The WHCA did not capitulate in a vacuum, it has been curtailed by an administration that resents an outspoken press pack. In February 2025 press secretary Karoline Leavitt announced that the White House, not the WHCA, would decide which reporters gained access to the president – whether in the Oval Office or on Air Force One. For more than a century, that function had belonged to the WHCA, an independent nonprofit established under Woodrow Wilson. The Associated Press famously learned what non-compliance cost. After refusing to adopt Trump’s renaming of the Gulf of Mexico, its journalists were barred from press-pool events. The Wall Street Journal was later restricted after publishing stories about Trump’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. The message to the remaining press corps was plain: play along or lose your seat. On Saturday night, the WHCA played along. The night, as we knew it, was already over.
No matter your opinion on magicians – or mentalists, as Oz may prefer to be called – Pearlman is a surprisingly apt metaphor for the times. He described his act to Washington Monthly as being built on “partial truths”, concluding that “in essence, all we’re doing [us magicians] is cheating.” The WHCA, a press-freedom organisation, at its flagship annual gala, chose to platform a performer who openly describes deception as his trade. Trump would have loved Pearlman’s show: naff, a little pandering and entirely devoid of face-to-face mockery.
And now, Trump has been spoiled again with exactly the kind of company he prefers, swapping the court-approved jester for King Charles III, who touched down in Washington yesterday. All pomp, no politics. A king, like a mentalist, does not ask awkward questions – he reads a room and works a crowd.
The president has eagerly insisted that the dinner will be rescheduled. Trump has already stressed the need for a safe space to host such functions and dignitaries. Few would bet against it ending up somewhere he can glance at the guest list. A White House ballroom, perhaps? Whoever hosts, expect the same trick that the Trump administration has been performing for two years: making the free press disappear.
