This wasn’t something I could do over the telephone or trust to Bautzer. I flew to New York in a private jet with a few of my aides. Oldman and I arranged a meeting out on Long Island one evening, at East Hampton. We drove around near Georgica Beach, where a high wind was blowing that kept anybody from eavesdropping. We came to an agreement. We both knew that he couldn’t overtly function as my man on the board, that was never even suggested, but he could let me have word in advance of any moves that were planned and I could take steps to counter them. And he could help me that way.
How much did you pay?
A lot of money, in cash, deposited to a special offshore account.
A lump sum or spread out?
In this kind of deal there are no time payments. I don’t reveal this to blacken Arnold Oldman’s reputation. The reason that Oldman was willing to do this for me was that he didn’t have the prejudices that all these other guys had accumulated over the years. I hardly knew him and he hardly knew me, and he was able to take me at face value for the man that I was. I probably could have gotten him on my side without paying him at all, but a man is worth his salt. In fact, let’s say for the record that the money was not for services rendered, but in appreciation of his understanding of me. Because Arnold Oldman was a fine man.
And what did Oldman do for you?
He did a few little things, and then one thing which made the payment almost worth it. Well, it might have, but it didn’t work out – we couldn’t foresee that. He got word to me, in advance, that TWA’s new counsel, Cahill, Gordon, Reindel & Ohl, had recommended that TWA sue me and Toolco for violating some obscure anti-trust laws – and that they’d do it if I didn’t come up with some money right away. But Oldman let me know they were going to sue me. It gave me the chance, at the time, to make a counter-offer.
Unfortunately, my counter-offer boomeranged. They panicked. They had to sue before I paid them back. The last thing in the world they wanted was their money. They wanted control of TWA.
What else did Oldman do for you besides that?
The poor man died before anything else of major interest came up. The timing of his death was disastrous. By then TWA was suing me and I was suing TWA, and I was counting on Oldman, and he got sick and died.
Why exactly did TWA sue you?
All those banks and insurance companies had been telling me for years that I’d endangered the financial security of TWA by buying too many jets, and the first thing that the new management did was place an order for twenty-six new Boeings – that meant $200 million more debt – which they were going to finance through another loan of $147 million. The hypocrisy of these people was so blatant that I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Three insurance companies were going to put up the money. You won’t need three guesses; they were Equitable, Metropolitan, and Prudential. That was enough to make me see red, but then I found out – through Arnold Oldman – that one of the covenants of the new loan stated that if the voting trust of my stock was ever terminated the $147 million had to be paid back immediately in cash.
Of course that arrangement was completely against TWA’s interests. It was aimed at me alone. I was still the majority stockholder. The purpose of the covenant was to keep me from making any legal effort at any time to terminate the voting trusteeship over my stock. Because if I succeeded, it would throw TWA into bankruptcy and wipe out my equity overnight. That’s how far these people went to tie my hands behind my back. So I fought the expansion program. I got my lawyers to raise a stink – I said it would ruin TWA financially and the Board of Directors was acting out of total irresponsibility. If they wanted new jets, I said, why don’t they buy the ones I’d already ordered from Convair when I was still the boss? I raised such a fuss that one of the insurance companies, the Prudential, got cold feet and pulled out. I went out on a limb, in TWA’s interests and in my own, and that’s when they decided to sue me.
The other reason – maybe the main reason, although it was never spelled out in their arguments, because it would lay them open to too many counter-charges – was that there was a merger in the works between TWA and Pan American, which I unalterably opposed. They feared that I could put a stop to this if I still had control. The only way to get me out was to sue me and vilify me. They sued me for all sorts of anti-trust violations, interlocking directorates between Hughes Tool and Hughes Aircraft and TWA, and they also claimed that I had personally mismanaged the airline to the brink of ruin.
That hurt me in the deepest way. Really, whatever was good about TWA was my doing. I countersued on the grounds that the whole deal they had set up was a conspiracy to defraud me and my companies of our rightful interests. I also accused Metropolitan Life and Equitable Life and Irving Trust of conspiring to gain control of TWA and make it a captive outlet for high-interest loans. The man behind it all, I believe, was Juan Trippe of Pan Am, who happened by coincidence to be a director of Metropolitan Life.
This all came to a head when I was supposed to appear in court in Los Angeles. I didn’t show up, and that cost me $137 million.
The reason I didn’t show up is that I was fed up. I didn’t care about the money anymore. What had money ever brought me other than more money and more headache? I talked it over with someone whose opinion I respected, and that person helped me to see that it wasn’t worth demeaning myself in front of these people in public. I could have fought and I might have won, but even that didn’t make it worthwhile. As for TWA, by that time I was able to say to myself, ‘It’s only an airline. Just another company.’ I was able to say that because many things had changed in my life. My marriage had become a failure. Jean had moved out. She was starting to say things like, ‘Howard, you’re losing your mind,’ and, ‘I can’t stand this kind of life anymore.’ So the handwriting was on the wall. I knew it was a matter of time before she filed for divorce.
And I thought, why am I involved in all this lunacy? I used to design planes, and fly them, and make good movies. My companies and I used to be creative. Now all we’re doing is fighting to make money or borrow money or hold on to the money we’ve got. It’s demeaning, it’s destructive, it’s disgusting. It’s not what I want to do with my life, with what’s left of it.
My view of the past had changed completely. This was partly the result of new feelings I had about my life, and new insights into life in general. It’s time I told you about them, and how I acquired them.
28
IT’S TIME FOR me to clear up a mystery of my own creation. I’ve thought about it and really there’s no reason for me not to, provided that I exercise a little discretion.
You remember I discussed a woman I’d met once on a plane flying to San Francisco? Woke up holding her hand? And then I told you that when I flew with Cary Grant to Mexico in the winter of 1947, I was meeting someone in Acapulco. That was my friend – the wife of the man in the diplomatic corps, the one I’d met on the transcontinental flight.
I didn’t tell the full truth about her, and I realize this story of my life will be incomplete if I don’t, just as my life itself would be incomplete without Helga.
That’s her name. Helga. She’s of Scandinavian origin. We’ll skip her last name. Maybe Helga isn’t her first name. Maybe it’s a pseudonym. Names aren’t important.
I was seeing Helga fairly regularly until just about a year ago, because she filled a special place in my life. She’s not a famous person and she’s not a glamorous woman, not like the various movie stars I squired around in my Hollywood years. She wasn’t a beautiful woman in that sense. In fact she has a slightly hooked nose and imperfect teeth – I wanted to get her teeth fixed, I wanted to pay for it, but she said no.