To Kill the Duke (51 page)

“How can you be made to look foolish?” Rosenberg asked the richest man in the world — Howard Hughes.

“The United States federal government can make anything look very foolish. They can also make rich people poor people. Poor people rich people. Famous people infamous people. Infamous people famous people. Live people dead people. The only thing they haven’t figured out yet is how to make dead people live people,” Hughes answered.

“Can we do anything to help?” Dalton asked.

“Tell me if you like my idea that I just came up with about trucking the sand back to Hollywood,” Hughes said.

“What is your idea?” the three men asked in unison.

“There are a lot of trees, brush and big rocks on the sand that I need back in Hollywood. Bushes, leaves, branches and rocks had to have diluted some of the fallout from hitting the sand. I’ll tell my diggers to concentrate on the sand under rocks, trees with branches and the brush. That should limit the damage,” Hughes said… hoped.

“With all due respect Mr. Hughes, are you crazy?” Dalton asked the richest man in the world.

“A good many say so,” Hughes said with a wry smile.

The memories of not only being in the Pentagon and then his own office with Dalton, Algiers and Rosenberg were racing through Hughes’ mind after talking to Dick Powell.

Nuclear fallout was going to harm many people that he knew.

Nuclear fallout was going to harm people that he didn’t know.

Both the people he knew and didn’t know were all victims of their own government.

The report that Dalton, Algiers and Rosenberg had completed for him was too good and very scary.

Howard Hughes knew he had to do something.

“But what?” he said out loud. He took out the list of the entire cast and crew and started trying to picture each one in his own mind.

Most, if not all Americans would find it very difficult to believe that the richest man in the world would or could suffer from stress of any sort.

Dick Powell did. And now Howard was remembering the conversation with Powell as he started in motion his own way of stress release.

“What could possibly cause you stress other than women’s breasts shrinking to the size of men’s breasts?” Powell joked to his boss.

“Depends on which men’s breasts you’re referring to,” Hughes deadpanned.

“I have met a lot of men. None have had breasts like women,” Powell pointed out.

“Then you haven’t met as many men as I have. You would be surprised at some of the boobs I have seen on men,” Hughes said.

“I’m not so sure I want to continue this discussion, boss,” Powell said.

“Hey… you brought it up,” Hughes now pointed out.

“But not to be disgusted,” Dick said.

“Don’t you think that I stress out about losing all my money?” Hughes asked Powell.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Dick Powell said.

“It isn’t,” Hughes said with a laugh. “It never will be. But it sounded good.”

Powell laughed.

“I stress out about things I don’t have control over. Since I control my money, it’s something that I don’t worry about,” Hughes said. “Pan Am really stresses me out!”
Also, the place in Southern Utah where I want to, and have to, film some movies is starting to really stress me out, but I can’t tell Dick yet.

“Pan Am?” a befuddled Powell asked.

“That’s right — Pan Am. My main competition to control the airlines. Only, it’s not competition with them, it is total control by them over
my airline and the other airlines. Total control is not a good capitalist way to do things. Competition is the good capitalist way to do things. Imagine Hollywood under one studio?” Hughes said.

Dick had thought the very same thing many times during his career as an actor. In fact, at one point he thought that all the studios sometimes acted like they were one when it came to how they treated actors and what types of movies were being produced. Whether it was in his past thinking or now in the present with Howard Hughes, Dick Powell could only conjure up one word to describe Hollywood under one studio:

“Frightening,” Powell answered.

“Can you imagine if my buddy Joe Kennedy was the only one running Hollywood?” Hughes asked sarcastically, because he loathed Joe Kennedy.

“Yeah. Nothing but movies starring Gloria Swanson,” Powell said, knowing full well his boss’ feelings toward Joe Kennedy.

“And the movies will all be about Irish politicians, Irish cops and Irish gangsters. Of course all would have Bostonian accents,” Hughes added.

“I see your point,” Powell said.

“Monopolies in Hollywood would be very bad. However in politics, it is far worse,” Hughes said.

“We don’t have any monopolies in politics. We have a very strong two-party political system,” Powell said.

“No we do not. It is really one party — the party in power, which is very dangerous and getting worse each day,” Hughes told Powell.

“But Republicans and Democrats are so different on so many issues,” Powell pointed out.

“Don’t be naïve, Dick. That’s all a game to keep everyone focused on what the politicians are not doing. The only place that doesn’t have a total monopoly gripping it yet is the marketplace of business. Although that, too, changes more each day — because politicians are teaming up with certain industries to create monopolies that favor each other and screw everyone else. This gives me a lot of stress.”

“You said ‘yet,’ Howard,” Powell said.

“I see the handwriting on the wall. I have always been very good at reading it. That’s why I’m so rich. We’re entering a new dawn of
government and certain businesses having incestuous relationships that will ruin it for everyone,” Hughes said.

“So boss, how do you deal with your stress?” Powell asked the richest man in the world.

Howard Hughes was a routine junkie. Relieving his stress was no exception to this rule.

Howard Hughes had set up a three-step routine with himself to deal with defeating stress. He had set it to memory a very long time ago. First, he would do a bit of cleaning; if he happened to be in his main office, he might start in the top drawer of his desk. He would empty it out onto the top of his desk and reorganize everything in it, after cleaning the inside of the drawer with a solution that was developed for only him by one of his company’s new-product development teams. If he happened to be at home dealing with his stress — he would always start in the master bathroom. He would zero in on the combination shower-bath enclosure, wielding a very fine toothbrush and start on the grout, again using a cleaning solution developed for only him by one of his company’s new-product development teams. If he happened to be in a hotel room, he would strip the bed of all sheets and blankets and turn the mattress over. He would then call room service and ask for replacement sheets and blankets and he would then remake the bed and fluff up the pillows.

Hughes’ second step was that of exercising. Hughes didn’t use weights. He was a disciple of isometric exercising. A workout that traced its routes back to yoga and kung fu. Isometric was pure Howard Hughes — total concentration of a muscle without any movement to a joint. It helped that Hughes got all his instructions from his own personal trainer — Jack LaLanne — who was a legend in nutrition and exercising. Since Howard’s accident, LaLanne had been helping him gain strength.

Jack started Howard out on a device that LaLanne called the Glamour Stretcher. It was a band that Howard used to stretch the parts of his body that had been hurt the most in the crash. LaLanne wanted Howard to be very limber before Howard began his routine. Howard would use the Glamour Stretcher first and foremost, and stretch his body to make it as
loose as possible before he began. Then came push-ups. Howard’s push-ups were done by making his back rigid and pushing up and down from his toes and forearms. He followed this up with chin-ups. He had the luxury of one of his engineer’s helping him design a portable chin-up bar that he could take with him anywhere. Then he did some squats. For this, all he needed was a wall to lean against. He put his hands on his hips and squatted very slowly. His next exercise was all about building up his arms. He would grasp his hands and push as hard as he could — left hand and arm versus right hand and arm. His last exercise was sit ups. Here he would slide his feet in between a bottom step and slowly lower himself to about six inches from the floor. He was amazed at how tight this made his stomach muscles. He really enjoyed how limber and toned he was able to keep himself, not to mention the effect all this isometric exercising had on ridding him of his stress. It also pleased him that he never got hurt like so many others did when they took up running or lifting weights. Howard had had enough pain from the injuries he’d sustained in that plane crash a few years back.

Howard’s last step was the one he had to concentrate on even harder than making sure his medication labels all faced the same direction. It was the act of masturbation. He had taken a keen interest in the results of the masturbation studies he had read from all the research that had been compiled at Wittenberg University. But Howard being Howard, he had to take it one step further. He wouldn’t allow himself to climax. He would get naked, sit down in front of a mirror or, depending upon where he was, take a mirror, lean it against a wall and stroke his penis with a lubricating gel that had been invented by another one of his research teams from yet another one of his companies.

His fantasies about what women he was with when and while he was masturbating changed all the time, but his concentration did not. He would close his eyes very tight as he pulled at his shaft in every way a hand can pull, tug and stroke a man’s penis. When he felt himself about to climax — he would let go of his cock and open his eyes at the same time and stare into the mirror. He really wanted to see what the many women he had bedded would see when he achieved orgasm.

After this particular set, which would last from four to five minutes, Howard would rigorously wash his hands and penis, put on his
clothes and go back to step one if his stress hadn’t been eliminated. He would repeat his three-step program until he felt as calm as he wanted to feel. Sometimes one set of the three steps would do the trick and other times it took seven, eight or even nine times to calm Howard Hughes down. No matter how long it took — he was always amazed at himself for having the control not to ejaculate. Furthermore, he was always amazed that every time he opened his eyes to see what his expression would have been had he climaxed — he always wore the same expression on his face.