Without the pioneering research of Richard Bennettand Rebecca Stroud, I could never have written so extensively and intimately about Hughes’s early days and his school years. Richard and Rebecca never completed a draft of the book they planned, Young Hughes, but they did manage to compile a pithy collection of research. Reared in Houston, and familiar with that city’s legend and lore, they knew Hughes’s mother, Allene Gano Hughes; his aunt, Annette Gano Lummis; Dudley Sharp, Hughes’s boyhood friend; and Dudley’s mother, Estelle Sharp. They were familiar with young Hughes’s private schools and summer camps. And as dyed-in-the-wool Houstonians, they knew Ella Rice Hughes and her entourage, gathering the most intimate details I have ever read about Hughes’s disastrous first marriage. Through Ella, they met James Overton Winston, her early beau, her final husband, and her only true love.
They had originally intended to publish their book in 1938, capitalizing on Hughes’s newfound cult status as an American aviation hero. But for reasons never sufficiently explained, but which might have derived from potential reprisals from Hughes himself, they abandoned their project prior to the completion of a first draft, leaving their research notes under the stewardship of New York literary agent Bertha Klausner. In the 1960s, envisioning a refo-cused and updated biography of Howard Hughes, Ms. Klausner obtained permission for me to draw upon the research material left behind by Richard and Rebecca.
Another major source of information about Hughes was extracted from Johnny Meyer, Hughes’s publicist and pimp. No one knew more about Hughes’s sexual dalliances than Meyer.
I was introduced to Johnny Meyer by the late New York literary agent Jay Garon, who is best remembered for having launched the career of the best-selling novelist John Grisham. In the mid-1970s, Garon negotiated long and hard with Meyer for the production of a personalized memoir about his involvement with the mysterious Mr. Hughes. In exchange for his revelations, Meyer expected a very large advance. Before agreeing to such an advance, Garon insisted that Meyer be “vetted” as a means of seeing what he had to reveal. I was hired to attend the vetting sessions, taking notes, confirming, and crosschecking his statements with what I already knew about the grimy underbelly of Hollywood. Despite my enthusiastic role as note taker and scribe, Garon did not offer me the job of crafting Meyer’s memoirs. Instead, he planned to entrust its ghost-writing to James Kirkwood, a well-established novelist and playwright who eventually won a Pulitzer Prize for his contributions to the Broadway musical, A Chorus Line.
When Garon had extracted enough information from Meyer for the compilation of a book proposal, he began tough negotiations with publishers for a stiff advance on what he hoped would become an explosive bestseller. But suddenly, perhaps under threat of reprisals, Meyer abruptly withdrew from the project. The deal was abandoned. Later, Meyer mysteriously died. Perhaps he knew too much.
My enduring thanks go to Stanley Mills Haggartfor the reams of information he gathered, sometimes compulsively, during his many years as a writer, actor, and artist in early Hollywood. He was an inside operator, a man-about-town during an era when a handsome, charming, and debonair newcomer could meet virtually anyone, long before high-security clearances and meddling publicists made casual access to movie stars virtually impossible. Because of his huge contribution to my understanding of Howard Hughes and his entourage, he almost deserves credit for co-authorship of this biography.
Stanley and I formed a 20-year writing partnership that produced more than 50 titles, many of which were renewed at annual intervals, and published by houses that included Simon & Schuster and Arbor House. With an attention to chronology and detail that evoked the style of Marcel Proust, Stanley almost obsessively dictated his memoirs about love, sex, ambition, filmmaking, and scandal in early Hollywood. For years prior to his death in 1980, he worked on drafts of those memoirs. Although they’ve never been published, I’ve drawn upon them extensively.
Stanley Haggart both lived with and worked for Cary Grantand Randolph Scottduring a period of their affair when Hughes was a frequent visitor to their home. Stanley’s insights into the dynamics of this strange trio are deeply appreciated.
The information that Stanley gathered from Noah Dietrichwas invaluable. Stanley first met Dietrich when he worked at Hughes’s headquarters at 7000 Romaine Street in the 1940s, a job secured for him by his very close friend at the time, Randolph Scott. Dietrich compiled, through a ghost-writer, a slim and uncontroversial volume of his own memoirs, Howard: the Amazing Mr. Hughes, long after he’d been ousted from his lofty role as majordomo of the Hughes empire. Published in 1972, four years before Hughes’s death, it’s as noteworthy for what it doesn’t reveal as it is for what it does. Dietrich’s discretion was probably motivated by fear of a libel suit from Hughes. In years gone by, the head honcho of the Hughes empire had purchased many a Hughes biography only to supress it. Dietrich himself feared the same fate for his memoirs.
I also drew extensively upon the journals of Stanley’s indomitable and news-conscious mother, Maria Jane Haggart, who migrated to Hollywood early in the 20 th century, when its population numbered only four thousand people. Mrs. Haggart, with her young son, lived next door to the fabled Hollywood journalist and columnist, Adela Rogers St. Johns, who knew a lot about everyone and everything in town. (Detractors claimed that she knew every time that a rat crossed Hollywood Boulevard.) As the decades passed, and as her friendship with Mrs. Haggart deepened, Ms. St. Johns became particularly skilled at figuring out which star had murdered which victim.
The roots of this Hughes biography also evolved from a provocative but unheralded collection of mini-biographies that Stanley and I once co-authored. Entitled Where Are They Today?, the book, alas, never found a publisher. It documented the indiscretions and pathos associated with movie stars of early Hollywood, mainly those from the 20s and 30s, many of whom never successfully made the transition from Silent Films to Talkies. Although we didn’t always invoke his name as part of our interview process, Hughes’s role in the lives of many of the people we interviewed was often mentioned as a vital part of their recollections. Some of the actresses we interviewed, and at least one of the male stars (Ralph Graves), admitted to having had affairs with the aviator. Perhaps Where Are They Today? was too potentially libelous to have found a publisher, or perhaps its anecdotes were recited merely as a means for retired actors to vengefully settle old scores. After reviewing the manuscript, Random House’s publisher Bennett Cerf scribbled a note to our literary agent Bertha Klausner, “Who wants to read about a lot of broken-down hags and has-beens?”
Times have changed. Blood Moon Productions has imposed upon me the importance of salvaging and transcribing these insights before it’s too late.
For an understanding of how this book was compiled, the extensive contributions of two Hollywood agents, John Darrowand Henry Willson, must also be cited. John Darrow, a once-handsome romantic actor who transformed himself into a Hollywood agent and talent scout, was part of the original cast of Hell’s Angels. From a foothold as Hughes’s lover during his early career, he eventually introduced Hughes to other male lovers after his affair with Hughes had cooled. Later, the task of procuring male partners for Hughes was transferred to another Hollywood agent and talent scout, Henry Willson, who was never shy about demanding sexual favors from wannabe actors he auditioned. Willson brought Hughes together with two of the most important figures of his life: Jack Buetel (costar of The Outlaw) and Faith Domergue, who—when she was only fifteen—became Hughes’s live-in mistress.
Dozens of friends, enemies, lovers, business associates, directors, and fellow actors contributed to this book’s anecdotes about Errol Flynn, Robert Taylor, and Tyrone Power. Many discarded associates, mostly male, of those stars have written unpublished memoirs about their sexual involvements with these matinee idols. At least some of those manuscripts were submitted to Jay Garon’s literary agency. Each provided insights into the closeted lives of Taylor, Flynn, and Power. My appreciation is extended to Garon for allowing me to read these unpublished works, from which I extracted valuable information, especially about the relationship of Hughes to each of those stars.
A special tribute is extended to my friend, actor Robert Francis, who died tragically and early, in ways described within this biography. I met him for the first time when he was part of a publicity campaign sweeping through South Florida, when I requested an interview as a reporter for The Miami Herald. He gave me lengthy insights into his involvement in the lives of both Spencer Tracy and Hughes.
Many of Hughes’s breakthroughs in aviation were enabled by Glenn Odekirk, a brave and brilliant aviation engineer who, it was said, could make virtually anything fly. He demanded to be paid for every interview he ever granted. Upon learning that he expected a fee, most reporters turned him down, yet for only $2,000, he was willing to review his entire experience—both private and professional—with Hughes. In most cases, he was the only source who knew the behind-the-scenes story of several of Hughes’s pioneering breakthroughs in aviation. My thanks go to Elizabeth Talbot-Martinfor hooking Stanley and me up with Glenn, whom she respected as a friend and neighbor. Thanks also go to Albert Belkstein, who talked candidly about Odekirk and Hughes as well.
Remarkable material emerged from Albert (“Cubby”) Broccoliand his cousin, Pat DeCicco, both of them longtime friends of Hughes. Cubby was privy to many of Hughes’s secrets. Pat knew even more, and frequently talked openly and freely after a final and particularly bitter falling-out with his former patron.
I owe thanks to Senator Ralph Owen Brewster, with whom I once dined in Maine during the research for the first edition of what became Frommer's Guide to New England. The deposed senator’s insights into his epic and widely publicized conflict with Hughes were most enlightening.
Material about self-described former lovers of Hughes, including Terry Moore and Gloria Vanderbilt,were drawn from sources that included their own published revelations.
The contribution of William (“Billy”) Haines, movie star turned decorator, was immense. Stanley Haggart’s dossier on Nazimovaand her relationship with Howard Hughes, Sr., was most useful. I knew the silent screen star, Mae Murray, during the final years of her life, and owe her a debt for relaying information about her experiences with Hughes, Sr., and also for tales of her heady days as queen of MGM. Former child actor Philippe De Lacygenerously shared his trunk of memorabilia about Barbara LaMarr, including a copy of a letter that she once wrote to a lovesick young Hughes.
For helping me craft the early portrait of Hughes himself, I extend a special bouquet to Eleanor Boardman, who lived up to her long-standing reputation as the most outspoken woman in Hollywood. I also thank Madge Bellamy(a junkyard dealer when I met her, but once the Darling of the Twenties);Ingrid Bergman(whom I interviewed at her summer home on an island off the western coast of Sweden during a trip I made there for The Frommer Guides); the British actress Lilian Bond(who said that before Hughes, she’d never met a rich man who was handsome); Russell Birdwell(a marvelous source about how The Outlaw was really made); Joan Blondell(my longtime friend and for one happy summer, housemate); Evelyn Brent(star of Hughes’s The Mating Call); the doomed actress Marie Prevost(material about her was supplied by silent screen star Lila Leeover drinks at her son’s home in Key West); Jack Buetel(during an encounter in Oregon, he was very guarded in his disclosures); cowboy star Johnny Mack Brown(who was even more guarded in his disclosures); Bruce Cabot(for insights into the love affairs of Errol Flynn); Nancy Carroll(who related scandals about virtually everybody); Igorand Oleg Cassini(my material was gleaned from their own published revelations—not from personal interviews); Mae Clarke(after she recovered from the grapefruit that James Cagney squashed into her face); aviatrix Jacqueline Cochran(thanks to an introduction that was arranged in Miami by photojournalism’s Wilson Hicks); Claudette Colbert(in Barbados); June Collyer(Hughes found that her face practically glowed); Jeanne Craine(who gave valuable insights into Hughes’s marriage with Jean Peters); Joan Crawford(who found Hughes creepy and who steadfastly refused to associate with him); Richard Cromwell(who was married, briefly and disastrously, to Angela Lansbury); director Preston Sturges(whose patrician upbringing might have helped him not be afraid of Hughes); George Cukor(who was especially helpful in his recollections about Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant); Alexander d’Arcy(a close friend of Hughes during the 1930s); Faith Domergue(who shed light on her tortured and underaged relationship with Hughes); screenwriter Ben Hecht; Hedy Lamarr(as amusing as she was shocking); Alice Faye(for her memories of Tyrone Power); director/actor Mel Ferrer(for behind-the scenes stories about the filming of Vendetta)Victor Mature(in Miami, he told more than he should have); Patricia Peardon(whose photograph appeared on the cover of Life Magazine for her Broadway role as Junior Miss) for her inside knowledge about Hughes’s affairs with her longtime friends Katharine Hepburn and debutante Brenda Frazier; director Howard Hawks(he was especially strong about tales of The Outlaw);Ava Gardner(in London, she was both candid and cynical about Hughes, her own allure, and her screen career in general); George Raft(who knew a lot about the making of Scarface and Hughes’s relationship with Humphrey Bogart and Billie Dove); Bette Davis(almost vengefully candid in her dotage); Corrine Griffith(a surprising mixture of self-enchantment and greed); Ralph Graves(who outed himself as a bisexual); Jane Greer(as adorable as she was revealing); James Hall(for his recollections about Jean Harlow and the making of Hell’s Angels);Hedda Hopper(Stanley Haggart’s close friend); Uncle Rupert Hughes(who was violently critical of his nephew during the division of the Hughes family estate); Barbara Hutton(for her indiscreet diaries and for her invitation to that party in Marrakesh); actor John Ireland; agent Ilse Lahn(for her insights into the death of Paul Bern, husband of Jean Harlow); Dorothy Jordan(Funny Face, the beautiful and friendly belle from Tennessee); Greta Keller(the continental chanteuse, my housemate, who provided revelations about her murdered husband, David Bacon, and his troubled relationship with Hughes); Lana Turner(who grew increasingly revelatory as she aged); Peter Lawford(for his deadly but accurate comments); Janet Leigh(whose oral reports sometimes differed from what had been published about her); Ida Lupino(bitterly outspoken); Kenneth MacKenna(a close friend of both Stanley Haggart and Humphrey Bogart); an ill and aging Guy Madison(who remembered much about Hughes and his own ill-fated wife, Gail Russell); Anna Magnani(rich with anecdotes about Ingrid Bergman, Hughes, and Roberto Rossellini); Gummo Marx(for material about Faith Domergue and Jack Buetel); actress Patsy Kelly(for insights into the death of Thelma Todd); agent Johnny Maschio(who knew a whole lot about everybody); Virginia Mayo(the Hughes romance that never got airborne); lawyer Neil McCarthy; actors Adolphe Menjouand Pat O’Brien(for tales about the making of The Front Page); actor/director Burgess Meredith(for stories about everybody); Una Merkel(for Ramon Novarro anecdotes); director Lewis Milestone(for memories about Hughes’s earliest days in film); photographer Rod St-Just(for hot memoirs about Hollywood’s sexual underground); Ann Miller(for information about the tragic life of her friend, Linda Darnell); Brian Aherne(for stories about Sylvia Scarlett); Miami Herald reporters George Millsand Jane Wood Reno(for information about Hughes’s mysterious disappearance for several panicky months during the closing months of World War II); Robert Mitchum; silent screen star Colleen Moore; Audie Murphy(the much-decorated war hero who relayed his undying hatred of Hughes); Marshall Neilan(a friend of Stanley Haggart and a former husband of Blanche Sweet); David Niven; Ramon Novarro; Floyd Odlum(who was especially helpful about Hughes and his near-destruction of RKO); Louella Parsons(perpetually indiscreet and perpetually haunted by weak kidneys); Joe Petrali; Dick Powell; Vincent Price(for “precious gossip,” delivered at the Plaza Hotel in Rome, about practically everybody); The outrageous Pussy-Katt; Fay Wray(who revealed the exact whereabouts of Hughes when the world press believed he was with Katharine Hepburn); Gene Tierney; Irene Mayer Selznick(she once told the author and Tennessee Williamsthat Hughes had once even proposed marriage to her); Stewart Granger(some surprisingly candid confessions, including thoughts of murder); Robert Stack(for his material on young JFK); actor Chester Morris(for memories of Hughes, Billie Dove, and Cock of the Air);Charles Starrett(for more memories of Billie Dove, Hughes, and the early Talkie, The Age for Love);Tallulah Bankhead(for an outrageous, albeit drunken, confession about an encounter between Marlene Dietrich, Hughes, and “moi, dah-ling”),Gloria Swanson, Franchot Tone(a Hughes-hater); James Whale; director Irwin Willat(also a to-the-death Hughes-hater; Stanley Haggart had a bit role in his last film); Faye Emerson; Roddy McDowall(for a charming account of Hughes’s unsuccessful pursuit of his best friend, Elizabeth Taylor); “Mr. Acapulco,” Teddy Stauffer(for revelations about Hughes and his relationship with Tyrone, Lana, Hedy, Faith, and James Dean); Barbara(“How’d ya like to sleep with a movie star?”) Payton; onetime studio head Peter Rathvon(for information about Hughes’s feud with Dore Schary and his disastrous takeover of RKO); Fritz Lang(for stories about Rancho Notorious and Clash by Night); and Ben Lyon(a close friend of Stanley Haggart, he contributed greatly to memories of Hughes, the filming of Hell’s Angels, and material about his “discoveries,” Jean Harlow and Marilyn Monroe.)
To all these people—dead or alive—and to many others not mentioned, I extend my heartfelt thanks for the contributions that helped in the unveiling of that remarkable personality, Howard Hughes, Jr.—an American original.
Darwin Porter
New York City
July, 2010
Darwin Porteris one of the most prolific biographers in the world. His portraits of Paul Newman, Merv Griffin, Steve McQueen, Marlon Brando, Humphrey Bogart, Katharine Hepburn,and Michael Jacksonhave generated widespread reviews and animated radio and blogsite commentaries worldwide. Some of his biographies have been serialized to millions of readers in THE SUNDAY TIMES of London and THE MAIL ON SUNDAY.
Darwin is also the well-known author of many past and present editions of The Frommer Guides, a respected travel guidebook series presently administered by John Wiley and Sons Publishers.
When he’s not traveling, Darwin lives with a menagerie of once-abandoned pets in a Victorian house in one of the outer boroughs of New York City. He’s presently working on an unauthorized biography of the 20th Century’s most controversial and politically connected singer: Frank Sinatra The Boudoir Singer, All the Gossip Unfit to Print from the Glory Days of Ol’ Blue Eyes.