“Now, Greg, the minute this slant is put on things I am very likely to be sued for the losses that will no doubt be incurred by those individuals who bought stock when it was at its peak (in loyal support of their confidence in me) and then will be forced to take a loss if the deal fails to go thru.
“You see, normally, it would be held that any such losses would be simply the risk of the speculator. But here we have a man who, in the public’s concept, could win this fight if he would just try, but he is too content to lean back on his billion dollar ass and enjoy life (at least most people think I do).”
As the sleepy lawyer listened long-distance, the aide continued to recite to him the miseries of the frightened financier:
“If I suffer a massive loss of face after two years of improving publicity. If I wind up sued by individuals who invested with me in my gamble. If my reputation as a successful businessman-financier-industrialist is shot to hell… if this is the result of my ABC attempt, you may be sure that it will have been one of the saddest mistakes I have ever made, and I have made quite a few.”
Hughes was so terrified by the lawsuit that he was ready to abandon his network ambitions, if only ABC would promise to drop the litigation.
“Now, Greg, needless to say, this would be an awful disappointment to me. However, I did not muddle my way through 10 years of the TWA lawsuit only to wind up in another one that could easily last another 10 years.
“I dont like litigation, and there is no prize worth incurring more litigation for it.”
Only an impassioned plea by Maheu, later that morning, persuaded Hughes to stay in the fight until at least the case was actually presented. “You have the image of being the only person to take on a Congressional Committee,” he wrote, recalling Hughes’s 1947 “Spruce Goose” hearing triumph, “of a rugged individualist, who is fearless and does not walk away from any battles.”
That afternoon in court, it was a case of courage rewarded. The judge refused to grant ABC an injunction, two days later declined to order Hughes to testify, and then, in an unusual Saturday hearing just two days before the tender offer was due to expire, issued a final order backing the recluse’s right to buy the network.
But there was no joy in the penthouse. For while the court battle proceeded, a new and unexpected adversary arose to bedevil the rugged individualist. And, once more, he cringed from battle.
From Washington came word that the Justice Department was concerned about the possible antitrust implications of the Hughes-ABC deal. His empire already included substantial cable television holdings, sold a wide range of electronics equipment, manufactured communications satellites, and, of course, there was also KLAS.
“It is beginning to look as if the name of the game is ‘Justice Dept. Anti-Trust Pressure,’” Hughes fumed. “Without this factor, I think I know fairly well what to do. However, I dont care for the Justice Dept. questionaire. If the ABC affair is not only going to cost me what everyone seems to think is a fair price, but, in addition, is going to cost me submission to this program of harrassment from the Justice Dept., I am afraid I must bow out.”
Yet even as he prepared to throw in the towel, Hughes was also deploying a growing platoon of lawyers, fixers, and bagmen. He considered engaging former Supreme Court Justice Arthur Goldberg to handle future legal conflicts in New York and, to deal with the antitrust threat, summoned from Austin, Texas, the president’s own attorney—Johnson intimate Jake Jacobsen, a former White House adviser later to gain notoriety in the Watergate milk-fund scandal.
Now back in fighting trim, Hughes decided there was, perhaps, a solution after all to the “Justice Dept. vendetta.” It was the kind of solution that had worked many times in the past.
“Bob,” he wrote, “I think it is imperative that we make an alliance with Humphries, the White House, Nixon, or McCarthy and agree to supply all-out unlimited support in return for taking this Justice Dept. off my back but now!”
As he swung into the final days of his two-week crusade, Hughes devised a new array of stratagems to meet the stubborn obstacles that threatened to deprive him of his television network. One moment he proposed friendly negotiations with ABC president Leonard Goldenson, the next he threatened to dump all the stock he acquired and force a market collapse.
At one point he considered selling his ABC shares to rival Texas financier James J. Ling, if only as a ploy to convince network management he was the lesser of two evils:
“It seems to me the only hope lies in the remote possibility of persuading Goldenson that he really wont gain anything if he forces me, through threats of personal appearances, etc., to sell out to a Ling or somebody equally tough.
“In fact, if I were Goldenson, I would a damn sight rather cope with yours truly, who wants no part of the glamour that goes with the job—in fact does not really want the job at all—only wants a quiet working arrangement. I would a damned sight rather cope with a Hughes where I could always have a certain advantage in Hughes’ desire not to be forced into public, than I would to cope with a Ling, or a dozen other younger, healthier, more active men who dont shun the spotlite at all—maybe even like it.”
But with ABC still unexpectedly intransigent, the Justice threat unresolved, the FCC outcome uncertain, and yet another day in court ahead, Hughes wavered. Several times he decided to abandon the quest and plotted his extrication quite as feverishly as he had planned his coup. Then he would take heart all over again and scrawl new orders on his legal pad.
By Sunday, July 14, with only hours left before he would have to accept or reject the stock due the next day, Hughes remained mercurial. As Mormons working double-time scurried between typewriter and telephone, the billionaire sent a blizzard of contradictory memos from his penthouse command post, now resigned to defeat, then ready to “collar” the president of the United States. Yes, he would send either top Washington lawyer Tom Finney, a partner in Clark Clifford’s firm, or better yet Larry O’Brien, right into the Oval Office.
“It seems to me, Bob, there is a comparatively easy way to get an immediate answer to the network decision,” he wrote with renewed confidence. “I think such an answer should be obtainable by Mr. O’Brien or Mr. Finney marching in and collaring Johnson or Humphries and saying: ‘Look, my friend, my client Mr. Hughes has initiated the machinery to acquire control of ABC. He has ridden out the first very controversial weeks and is in pretty good shape. He had no idea that there would be as much resistance from Mr. Goldenson. He thought that his interest in ABC would be greeted with cordiallity….
“‘Mr. Hughes wants to spend his remaining years in productive accomplishment, not in protracted conflict,’” the script continued. “‘His only interest is to build the network up until it becomes an asset to this country—an asset of which the country can be justly proud. Mr. Hughes’ only concern is that the FCC, being under intense influence and constant harrassment by ABC, will simply feel they have to be more thorough and more formal than they would be inclined to be if they were left alone.’”
And now the hook. How could it fail?
“Then I think O’Brien or Finney should work the conversation around to where he (our man) can gracefully say: ‘What do you think Mr. Hughes should do? I think he would like your counsel.’
“Now, I dont know Humphries, but I can assure you Mr. Johnson would have picked up the ball long before the conversation ever got to this point.
“It seems to me,” he concluded, “that such a meeting would certainly give us an indication of which way the wind blows across the White House lawn.”