I Was Howard Hughes

by Steven Carter

  TOM: Yes, ma’am. (He comes back and settles into a wicker couch that sits against the glass wall that faces the pool.)

  AR: Well, Ms. Gardner, this is changing the subject, but I wanted to ask you about a story I’ve come across in one of Hughes’s diaries that involved a Mercedes he gave you as a gift and a practical joke he played with it. Do you remember that?

  AG: Yes, of course.

  AR: When I interviewed Faith Domergue—

  AG: (Interrupting.) My goodness, is she still out here?

  AR: Up in Palo Alto. She’s doing fine.

  AG: Well good, I’m glad to hear that. (A pause.) That Mercedes, yes, of course. I just loved that car. Howard was giving it back to me after I divorced Artie Shaw, and as I drove it away from his house parts just started falling off it. I was so angry! But a few days later Howard had the car delivered to me in pristine condition, completely filled with gardenias. The only thing that really bothered me about the whole thing was that Faith was staring out the window at us the whole time. I have never forgotten how sad she looked. She was just a— (The doorbell chimes, and she stops a moment.) — just a young girl then.

  (Tom gets up and goes to answer the door.)

  AR: Did Hughes ever talk to you about his relationship with Faith?

  AG: No. I stayed out of that.

  AR: So what was your breakup with Hughes like? What occasioned it?

  AG: Well, we had several breakups.

  (Tom returns leading three beautiful young women. Two of them look enough alike to be sisters, they’re both tall, have dark tans and long brown hair tied back in ponytails; the third girl is shorter, not quite as tan, and has medium-length black hair — she’s absolutely stunning, a young Ava Gardner. All three are barefoot, wear shorts and bikini tops, and one of the brown-haired girls has a tiny gold chain around her bare waist. They bring the smell of suntan oil into the room.)

  AG: Well look here. What a surprise. (The girls all say, Hello, Aunt Ava,” and bend down to give her a kiss on the cheek.)

  Mr. Reece, I’d like you meet my grandnieces. This is Alice (She points to the black-haired girl); Lee (She points to the girl with the navel chain.); and Sarah (She points to the third girl, who, smiling, dangles a key ring on her finger.). Mr. Reece is a writer. He’s interviewing me.

  AR: Nice to meet you all.

  (They all return the greeting.)

  AG: The girls are all just starting at UCLA.

  ALICE: (Smiling.) Well, actually, I’m a sophomore.

  AG: Oh, that’s right. (A short pause.) Mr. Reece, Alice wants to be a writer, just like you are.

  AR: (Smiling at her.) Is that right?

  ALICE: (She nods.) I’m planning to major in journalism. (She pauses, and a look of recognition comes into her eyes.) Are you the same Alton Reece who did the articles about Madonna in Rolling Stone?

  AR: Yes.

  ALICE: I thought that was a great series. Really interesting.

  AR: Thanks.

  ALICE: So what was it like following her around?

  LEE: (Cutting in.) Yeah, does she look as sick in person as she does now on television?

  (Alice glares at her, though Lee just smiles back and absentmindedly twists her navel chain with one finger.)

  AR: Yes, well, I thought she looked healthy enough, and, actually, she’s quite nice, nothing like the person she’s portrayed to be. (I look back to Alice.) Would you like to meet her?

  ALICE: Yeah, sure. If I could interview her or something that’d be great. I could probably get it in the paper at school.

  AR: I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do. Her production company bought the film rights to my last book and hired me to write the screenplay, so I have a few dealings with her. (I take a card out of my wallet, jot my cell number on it, and hand it to Alice.) Give me a call in a couple of days and I might have some news for you.

  ALICE: Thanks.

  AR: NO problem. I just hope it works out.

  AG: I guess you girls are here to swim.

  SARAH: (She swings the key ring around her finger once, making a metallic clack.) If it’s okay with you.

  AG: It’s always okay. You know that. You don’t even have to come in and ask.

  (The girls go out through the room’s sliding glass door. On the pool apron, they start stepping out of their shorts.)

  AR: Lovely girls.

  AG: (She nods.) Tom, take them something to drink, will you please?

  TOM: Yes, ma’am. (While she finishes giving Tom his instructions, I watch the girls through the glass, their laughter and talking all in mime, their splashes as they jump in the pool just the faintest of whispers.)

  AG: Well, I think we were talking about my breakup with Howard … Mr. Reece?

  AR: (I smile.) Yes, your breakup. Please, go on.

  AG: Well, the last time I was ever with Howard we drove down to Palm Springs, and on this deserted stretch of road in the desert we came across a jackrabbit that had been hit by a car. Howard stopped and checked on it and found it was still alive. He got a blanket from the trunk and used it to drag the rabbit out of the road. I was furious. It was hot and we were in one of those old Chevrolets he favored and it had no air-conditioning. I leaned out my window and asked him what the hell he was doing. He was crouched down over the rabbit, and when he looked up I saw tears in his eyes. He said we couldn’t just leave it there. I told him he was right and I dug my twenty-two pistol out of my handbag and held it out the window. It had been a gift from Mickey Rooney and was silver with a beautiful pearl handle. I told him to put the poor thing out of its misery but I had forgotten that Howard didn’t know I carried a pistol. I’d always managed to keep it from him because I had sensed he wouldn’t like it. Howard came to the car and took the pistol. He examined it a long time before he spoke, then asked me if I really wanted him to shoot the rabbit; I said yes, it was in pain, so he’d be doing it a favor. Then he asked me if he was in pain, would I think it was a good idea to shoot him. I didn’t let him drag me into all that, though. I just asked him if he was going to kill the rabbit or not. He said if I wanted the rabbit dead, I should shoot it myself. So I unlatched the door and pushed it against his legs until he moved enough for me to get out of the car. I told him to give me the pistol but he raised it above his head, turned his back and fired into the air until it was empty. I said I had more bullets in my purse, but he didn’t answer. He put the pistol— (Then the sliding glass door opens and Ava Gardner and I both look in that direction; Alice is coming back into the room with a yellow towel wrapped around her waist, her black hair slicked down on her head like a helmet. The noise of a radio and the other girls’ splashing and banter is audible until Alice closes the door behind her. She approaches our table, leaving a trail of wet footprints and coin-sized puddles behind her on the red tile.)

  AG: Yes, dear?

  ALICE: (She frowns exaggeratedly, playfully.) I’m bored. I’d like to sit with you and listen in, if that’s okay. (She smiles at me.)

  AG: Well, I suppose that’s all right.

  AR: Sure.

  ALICE: (She pulls out the table’s last empty chair and sits down to my right and Ava Gardner’s left.) Lee and Sarah were driving me crazy, anyway, talking about Madonna.

  AG: (Smiling faintly.) Do they want to meet her, too?

  ALICE: (Nodding.) Of course, but they won’t admit it.

  (Tom appears outside at the pool with a tray that holds glasses, an ice bucket, a two-liter bottle of cola and a pitcher of lemonade.)

  ALICE: (Examining her fingernails.) So what were you guys talking about?

  AG: Howard Hughes. Mr. Reece is writing a book about him.

  AR: YOU were saying he had just fired the pistol into the air …

  ALICE: (Her eyes wide.) A pistol?

  AG: It’s not as exciting as it sounds, dear. Yes, he fired the pistol until it was empty, then put it in his pants pocket. After that he used the blanket like a hammock to pick up the rabbit and put it in the
backseat. We—

  ALICE: I’m sorry to interrupt, but what rabbit?

  (Ava Gardner recounts the first part of the story to her niece. While she’s talking Tom re-enters, whish-whish, and sits down on the wicker couch again.)

  AG: So after he got the rabbit in the car we took off again. He absolutely flew down the highway, nearly a hundred miles an hour. I was terrified. I begged him to slow down but he wouldn’t. You could hear the rabbit breathing, a kind of rasping. One of its front feet was torn off but Howard had wrapped a handkerchief around the stub. It was on its side and if you leaned over the seat the one eye that was facing up would roll toward you.

  ALICE: That sounds awful.

  AG: Yes, it was. So Howard stopped at the first gas station we came to and went in and asked if there was a veterinarian in the area. There wasn’t, so he called ahead to Palm Springs and arranged for one to be ready when we got into town. I got out of the car with the full intention of not getting back in. I was going to call someone to come out and pick me up. The way Howard was driving … (She shakes her head.) I wasn’t going to risk my own life to save a rabbit’s. The men working in the gas station knew who we were. I chatted with them and gave them autographs. A carload of tourists stopped, two young couples, and I took photographs with them. When Howard came back to the car he had a bag of ice and a can of aerosol paint of all things. He told me to get in, we were leaving. I told him I wasn’t going another foot with him, not the way he was acting. Do you know what he said? “Suit yourself,” and he set my handbag out on the gravel. Then he took the top off the can of aerosol paint and put ice in it and then a squirt of water from the hose at the gas pump. He put the little bowl of water on the blanket for the rabbit. I went over and picked up my handbag and got in the car. (She pauses, and then smiles.) If he had tried to convince me to go I wouldn’t have. So we went to Palm Springs and he took the rabbit to the veterinarian. Then we got our suite and went to dinner, but during dinner Howard would disappear every half hour or so to call the vet’s office and check on the rabbit. It lived and Howard paid that veterinarian to board it until it died, because with one foot missing it never could’ve survived in the wild again. He supplied the money to have a good size pen built behind the vet’s office because he wouldn’t allow the rabbit to be put into a cage. I understand he would send a man down there for surprise inspections to make sure the rabbit was being treated well, even in those later years when no one saw him anymore. He would require a photograph of the rabbit be taken and sent to him.

  ALICE: He sounds like a great guy.

  AG: Yes, what he did for that rabbit was wonderful. But it’s hard to stay with a man who just goes off on tangents like that, even if they’re good ones.

  ALICE: What’d you mean?

  AG: Well … (She leans over and picks at something on the heel of one of her white, nurse-looking shoes, then looks up again.) I think it’s somehow connected to the fact that sometimes, well, a lot of women just don’t marry the man they really love. You’ve got too much to lose if you actually love them. I ought to know because I married ones I loved a couple of times and it nearly killed me.

  ALICE: So you didn’t marry him because you loved him?

  AG: No, because I loved him too much.

  AR: Ms. Gardner, did you want Hughes to be dull? To … I don’t know, to just go to a job he hated and then come straight home and putter in the yard until he got called to supper?

  ALICE: Yeah, what were you looking for, Aunt Ava? (After she asks the question our eyes meet briefly and I give her a small nod of encouragement.)

  AG: (She shrugs.) I don’t know what to tell you. It’s very complicated.

  AR: Well, I suppose it is. (I flip pages in my notepad to find my next group of questions, but before I can continue the other two girls open the sliding glass door and come bursting into the room in their bikinis, their wet feet slapping on the tile floor. They plop down on the wicker couch on opposite sides of Tom, who keeps staring ahead blankly.)

  LEE: Mind if we listen too?

  AG: Tom, could you please get towels for the girls?

  TOM: (Rising.) Yes, ma’am.

  SARAH: And when you get finished, we’d like to hear all about Madonna.

  LEE: (Laughing.) That’s right, start with the whole dynamic between her and those dancers. There’s got to be a story there.

  AG: Lee, Mr. Reece is working. He doesn’t have time for all that.

  AR: (I smile.) That’s okay. I don’t mind. (I turn off the tape recorder.)

  Hughes diary entry from November 3, 1946, continued:

  I went inside. Faith was still in the kitchen, only everything was spic and span now, and she was at the table, cleaned up and dressed in a simple yellow dress with a yellow carnation in her hair. She was crying. Her chocolate cake sat alone on the table on a pedestal plate. The cake was three layers but so lopsided it looked like a triangle and the icing was runny and a single cherry sat on top of the cake with the stem sticking up like a hair.

  I went up and put my hands on her shoulders and leaned over and kissed the top of her head. Your next one will turn out better I said.

  She eased her shoulders away from my hands. It was not a jerk or a pull.

  I bet that cake tastes good I said. I’ve eaten a lot of cakes that didn’t look so good but tasted great.

  I got a plate, fork and knife and sliced into the cake. She sobbed. I put a bite into my mouth. The icing was grainy and too sweet and the cake itself was bitter and dry. This is delicious I said.

  It’s not the cake she said.

  I put down the fork. Then what is it? Is it because Ava was here? Is it because I talked to Ava?

  No.

  Then what?

  I saw what happened with that car. I saw what you did.

  I did that to teach her a lesson. She’ll leave us alone from now on.

  Don’t lie she said. You don’t go to all the trouble you did with that car unless you have feelings. You still have feelings for her.

  That’s not true.

  I started to say something else but stopped. Her eyes were puffy and wet. Her makeup was running in black streaks. She looked so beautiful I started crying.

  That doesn’t move me Howard. How many times have I cried and you continued to go your own way?

  I know. I’ve failed you horribly. You’re the only one I can really count on and look what I’ve done. I don’t deserve you. You’re only 18 and you’re already a better person than I am. I’m 43 years old and I’ve got no family, no children and no friends. You’re all I’ve got and I’ve done nothing but hurt you. I’ve messed up completely.

  Outside the Mercedes started. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t seen her head turn in that direction. Down the hill Russelli was a tiny figure standing alongside it and smoke poured from underneath because of the missing tailpipe.

  I’ve heard all this before she said.

  I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out of this house today and never came back. You being with me as long as you have is better than I deserve. I’m coming clean Faith. I’ve been seeing other women, yes. I haven’t been the man I want to be. But right now, on all I hold sacred, I swear I’m going to change. I’m going to change because of my love for you. I renew my pledge for us to marry.

  Who have you been seeing?

  I’d rather not get into names. I don’t see the point of that.

  You’re right. I can give them to you just as easily. Ava. Lana. Kathryn. Rita. Jean.

  I’m not arguing. I admit it all. Go on.

  There’s more?

  I mean say whatever you want. Tear into me. I deserve it.

  The telephone rang. It rang four times and neither of us moved for it. We stared across the table at each other.

  You know who that is she said.

  Yes and I’m not getting it.

  I see. You don’t want to talk to her in front of me.

  That’s not it.

  Pick up the phone.
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  I pushed away from the table and stood up and answered the telephone.

  Howard it’s me. Can you talk?

  It was Lana.

  No.

  Faith’s there?

  Yes.

  Then call me later.

  I hung up and went back to the table and sat down.

  Was it her?

  Yes. She was screaming. I saw no point in listening to it.

  None of this would be happening if you didn’t want it to. You could put a stop to all of it.

  I know. And I will. Give me one more chance Little Baby. Let me prove my devotion to you.

  She stared out the windows. The Mercedes was gone. The sun was setting making everything pale gold.

  I’ll tell you what I said. I’ll get cleaned up and we’ll go down to Santa Monica Pier tonight. I’ll win you a couple of stuffed bears like I used to. We’ll eat cotton candy. It’ll be like the old days.

  The old days are gone she said.

  Don’t say that. It breaks my heart to hear you say something like that.

  Okay, okay, I’ll go.

  That’s my baby.

  In the bathroom I stripped down and turned on the shower. I discarded the old bar of soap using several thicknesses of Kleenex and opened the new bar. I looked at my body in the mirror until it fogged up. Then I got down on my knees at the vanity. I interlocked my fingers and put them on the edge of the vanity and let my head rest on them in the praying position. I closed my eyes but immediately opened them again and stared into the blank surface of the fogged up mirror. I unlocked my fingers and tapped out Morse Code on the vanity marble. This cake is awful. Help. Faith is a nice girl. I will never pay taxes, [italics mine] I thought of being a boy in Houston and tapping out messages on a wireless to ships heading to port there. You sent a message out and many times an answer would come back. I thought of those days and my dear mother and father.

  I started noticing a peculiar smell. Something so sweet and heavy it was sickening. I scooted back and opened the vanity door and inside were bottles and canisters of lotions and powders and perfumes and makeup and rolled up pairs of silk stockings and a huge tub of cotton balls and brushes full of hair and filthy applicators of various sorts. I shut the cabinet door and staggered to my feet. I felt like I was going to vomit. I sat down on the toilet and picked up the telephone and dialed.