by Sam Moffie
“When in doubt, hit it, Mr. Hughes,” the man directed.
So, Hughes did just that and the Geiger counter went nuts as Hughes tramped all over the sand. The counter jumped so much that Hughes found himself jumping all over and around the sand, kicking it everywhere. Then he completely lost his balance and fell onto one of Genghis Khan’s tents knocking over everything and making a worse mess than he had in the costume and prop warehouse. Once he got back to his feet and surveyed the damage he promised himself he would never, ever pop pills and put on an armored diving suit again.
Hughes now had verified what he always knew — the damn sand was radioactive and was going to, at best, make some people very sick and at worse kill others.
He left building number seven as he had left it — knocked-over tent and spilled contents untouched. He went to the costume and prop warehouse, took off his diving suit and left it in a heap on the floor by the door. He maintained the Geiger counter and slowly walked to his office where he left a memo for the RKO maintenance people to clean up both places. He jumped into his roadster and drove to the gate where he told his security people to stay the night and make sure everything was back to normal at RKO when the place opened for business in the morning. He sped off… at a very high speed of course.
As he drove up, in and around the mountains high over Malibu, he thought about what had happened to him with all this nuclear fallout.
What should I do? he thought.
He saw a scenic pull-over just up the road and eased his car into it. He got out of the car with the Geiger counter still in his hand. He looked out over the city and marveled that everyone down below him was blissfully ignorant about the coming nuclear age. He tossed the Geiger counter over the edge.
“The future is yours, you lousy Geiger counter,” he yelled as he knew now he had to do two things. One was to get rid of the red sand after post production was wrapped up. The second was going to be a lot harder — he had to tell the truth to Dick Powell.
There was a loud knock at the Powell’s front door… a really loud knock. June Allyson Powell, who had just gotten the children off to school and was busy planning the Powell family’s weekly agenda, got up from the kitchen table and walked to the door.
She wasn’t expecting any visitors and was thinking that her husband had probably sent her more flowers because of the time he was spending on wrapping up the The Conqueror at RKO.
At least he is closer to home, and donating the flowers to the local veterans’ cemetery is worth its weight in gold she thought as she opened the door.
“Duke Wayne!” she screamed as she jumped up into his massive chest.
The Duke was used to this, and of course easily grabbed ahold of June, carried her into the house and gently placed her on one of the couches in the Powell’s family room.
“Wait a minute June, I have to go get something out of my car,” Wayne said as he jogged to his car.
Early morning flowers delivered by John Wayne… not too shabby Dick, she thought as she eagerly awaited the Duke’s return. I don’t think these flowers are going anywhere.
John Wayne was delivering something to the Powell’s house, but it wasn’t flowers.
The Duke had decided to pay Dick Powell’s plumbing bill after all… but in unwrapped quarters.
He came back into the house and dropped a large cardboard box with a thud on the Powell’s living room carpet.
“What’s that, Duke?” June asked.
“My payment in full,” Wayne answered.
“Payment for what?” she asked him.
“The plumbing bill that your husband has been hounding me about for months. Hell, June, he even threatened to withhold it from my pay,” Wayne told her.
“What are you paying us in, new plumbing parts?” she asked as she got up from the couch to peek into the box.
“You’re not a good guesser, either,” Duke told her. “Take a look-see.”
And June Allyson looked into the box and started laughing.
“Only you,” she said as she went up and hugged the Duke again.
“You think Dick will accept my tribute?”
“Of course, but he’s going to be pissed about getting paid in quarters.”
“Good,” declared Wayne. “I have to report back to RKO to finish up some post-production work. What has Dick told you about the movie?”
“It’s a western set a very long time ago and should do very well for everyone. Did you like sand skiing?”
“Hated all that sand, but I loved the raspberry lime rickeys,” Duke said.
“I hear you tell a good ghost story,” June said.
“I do. We’ll have to swap ghost stories some night after this picture is done,” Wayne said. “Good-bye for now.”
June took another look at the big box of unwrapped quarters and went to the phone to call her husband.
“He did what?” an agitated Dick Powell said into the phone after Miss Burchett had passed his wife’s call through.
“He paid off the plumbing bill in quarters,” June said. “He looks great, too,” she teased.
“He always looks great to a bored housewife,” he replied sarcastically.
“Someone’s grumpy,” she replied.
“I have to meet Howard at some out-of-the-way hotel later today. He said it was a matter of life and death.”
“Everything is life and death with that man. He sees no middle,” she pointed out. “Tell you what, pick up some quarter wrappers and I’ll make some raspberry lime rickeys and tonight we can have some fun rolling the quarters,” she said.
“Love it and love you, too,” Dick Powell told his wife June Allyson.
“But of course,” she replied.
Powell pulled into the parking lot of the cheap and very out-of-the-way hotel where Howard had wanted to meet.
As soon as he saw how cheap it was, and with the name Wayne fresh in his head, Dick thought that the Duke might have pulled a fast one on him.
“It’s too coincidental,” he said as he got out of his car and walked to the room where Howard (or the Duke?) had told him to go.
Dick knocked on the door and he heard Hughes voice telling him to enter.
So much for that thought, Powell mused as he opened the door and was immediately hit with a foul odor.
“Boss, are you okay? What stinks so badly in here?” Dick asked, craning his neck and looking inside. “And where the hell are you, It’s so dark in here I can only see by the light coming in from the door!”
“It’s vinegar,” Hughes barked. “I’ve been drinking a lot of it lately. I want it dark. You’ll get used to the smell. Shut the door and I’ll turn on a light by the desk. Pull up a chair and wait. I need to get some more… medicine for my aches and pains,” Hughes said as he turned on a small desk light and retired to the bathroom.
Powell did as he was instructed and sat in the chair. The smell was not going away, but he was getting used to it. He hoped this would be a short meeting.
Howard was making a lot of noise in the bathroom and finally came out and sat down at the desk. Through the shadows, Dick could make out that Hughes didn’t look so good. Knowing his boss, Powell kept his mouth shut.
“I told you I have something very important to tell you, Dick,” Hughes began. “I’m having a hard time dealing with it.”
A blind man could see that, Powell thought.
“I’m going to come right out and tell you. I want you to get a grip,” warned Hughes.
“Okay,” Powell said cautiously.
“I know that some people who worked on The Conqueror are going to get sick and possibly die,” Hughes said with a heavy sigh.
“How do you know that?” a non-believing Dick asked.
“Because I’m rich, and know everything. Besides nuclear fallout makes people sick and can kill.”
“When did we come under attack?” Powell asked sarcastically.
“The moment we started filming. The government has been using us as
guinea pigs, but I’ve got news for them—I’m fighting back. I’m Howard Hughes and I can win fights against anybody!” Hughes screamed.
He went on for another five minutes ranting and raving about so many people, conspiracies, and government agencies that they all became a blur to Dick Powell. That’s it. It’s official. Howard Hughes is crazy, and I’m going to have to commit him, Powell thought as Hughes suddenly stopped screaming.
“Okay. I’m done, you can leave,” Hughes suddenly told Powell.
And Dick Powell moved out of that room faster than any of the great sand skiers ever glided over the red sand in South Utah.
Dick Powell drove under the speed limit as he thought about what he had just witnessed. At first he wished it had been one of John Wayne’s practical jokes, and then he realized that the richest man in the world was the craziest man in the world and he made plans to tell his wife about it. He was going to leave RKO as soon as he could and start his own production company. There he could focus on artsy television shows that would help solve his craving for making something that would be remembered as sophisticated and literal. He felt bad for Hughes, but better for himself. He pulled into a bank and went in to get some quarter wraps, because he was going home to June Allyson.
After Powell left, Howard started to cry. He knew that he wasn’t going to fight. People already thought he was nuts and he didn’t want to be labeled crazy anymore by anyone. Besides, deep inside he knew he had no fight in him, and there was nothing a fight would do, anyway. The damage was irrevocably done. He would monitor the cast and crew of the movie and would try to take care of any illnesses. After all, he had the money to do that, and money had always been very good to him.
THE BODY COUNT
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life.
It goes on.”
— Robert Frost
Ivan Viznapu: Ivan went on to become a major player in the California pornography business. Whether it be magazines, strip clubs, movies or videos — Ivan had his hands in it. He never married, because his one-and-only first true love asked him not to from her death bed (she was dying from cancer). He enjoyed lots and lots of lovers. He bought and lived in a huge estate in Pacific Palisades. One of the rooms he’d had custom designed was a screening room, which was a miniature version of the one he had seen from the projection room the night Uncle Joe died.
The projection room was exactly like the one he’d been in that night. All the people who worked for him at TS Productions (The TS stood for what else… toughski shitski) fought for the privilege to be the projectionist when Ivan was showing a movie. The reason? He always tipped the evening’s projectionist incredibly well. He became a huge fan of John Wayne’s movies and bought up all the collectible items he could that conjured up the image of Wayne, or were actual items from Wayne’s movies. It wasn’t an uncommon site at Ivan’s house to be drinking out of a coffee cup that had Wayne’s face on it, or seeing Ivan walking around his estate wearing a cowboy hat that Wayne had worn during the filming of one of his cowboy movies. He even had a doorbell installed that imitated the Duke’s voice when pushed. “Welcome, pilgrim!” the bell would sound. Ivan paid big dollars for that item and loved the rumor that went with it… that he had paid John Wayne $1 million to record the greeting. Ivan spent a fortune trying to find his friend Alexei. Despite all the time and money spent with and on special investigators, the trail disappeared from the moment when Alexei left Ivan.
Alex Ganchin: After the death of Joe Stalin, there wasn’t the need for a private projectionist to the Kremlin leadership anymore. Alex was put in charge of editing films that came into the USSR to be shown to the public. One day he didn’t show up for work and a co-worker was dispatched to the same apartment Alex had lived in when Ivan first came to see him. Alex was dead — he had hung himself from the ceiling and had used film he’d edited out as a noose.
Barney Rumberg (Trotsky Number Seven): Worked very hard for Ivan’s TS Production Company for a number of years before boring of seeing nothing but naked bodies all the time. He left on great terms with Ivan, and ventured to the New York City stage where he became a well-respected casting director for many popular plays. He, too, thought of Alexei all the time, but wasn’t surprised that Ivan’s attempt to find him turned up empty.
Boris Gila: Succeeded Mr. Zavert as the head of special security for members of the Supreme Soviet Circle of Trust. He performed brilliantly in all his duties and as each year passed he gained the trust of all the members — eventually becoming one of the nine who made up the “Circle” — and then ultimately becoming head of the “Circle.” His reign was one of benevolence and tolerance, and some say he helped pave the way for Glasnost, which came to Russia in the late 1980’s. Even with the power of his position(s) over the years, he could never find out what happened to Alexei. He did find out what happened to Ivan and Trotsky Number Seven, because he had become addicted to reading Variety when he came across all the issues that Mr. Zavert had horded. He knew Alexi was smart — but he was even more impressed with how Alexi had made it look like Ivan was killed, which he discovered when he read that particular report after executing Mr. Zavert. “Alexei would have made a great successor to me,” was a line that Boris frequently used when the actual successor fouled up and Boris had to repair the damage. Even after Russia dumped communism for capitalism Boris did well. Because his passion had always been cooking and foods, Boris started a company that specialized in the distribution of all foods and supplies that were needed to feed the new Russia. He married very late in life to a woman much younger than himself, who gave him three children. He lived long enough to see his oldest son take over for him. That boy’s name was Alexei Ivan Gila. Boris died in 1999. Ironically, it was on the exact same day that Joe Stalin had died in 1953, March 5th.
Alexei Aleksandra: Spent the rest of his life doing what he considered “good deeds.” Alexei would travel to a town in America and spend a few months in it studying who the bad guys and gals were. It might be a child molester, a rapist, a child abuser, a wife or husband beater, a murderer, a drug dealer, a thief, etc. He picked the town by getting a map of a state, any state, and taping that state’s map to a wall in his home’s basement. He would then put a blindfold on and throw a dart at the map. The dart always found a town and Alexei always found a bad guy or gal, whom he would assassinate, having decided he or she had to go.
He then spent a few more weeks in the town making sure the authorities had a trail as cold as the one he had been leaving for Ivan’s (and others’) private detectives (yes, Alexei knew about his pursuers). Before he left, he would find a needy family and leave at least $1,000.00 in cash and then return home for rest and relaxation. Home was in Northern California winemaking country, where he lived in a remote log cabin. The only other inhabitants were his three German Shepherds, which had been trained by Alexei to rip any intruder to shreds. There had never been any intruder near his house whether he was there or away on one of his ‘good deed’ missions. When he was away, he always found a family of migrant workers to stay in the barn he had converted to an extra room. The workers took care of the dogs. The dogs took care of the house. Alexei relaxed by driving through wine country and sampling Pinot Noir at the numerous wineries around his home. When the weather was bad, he would build a fire in his mammoth fireplace and watch TV. He only watched one show. It was called Have Gun, Will Travel. When that show went off the air, he paid a lot of money to have it transferred to film, and he watched the show projected on a screen. He would watch the first episode of the first season and continue watching the program (when he did) as new episodes came out. As technology improved, so did Alexei’s quality of viewing, from film to video to DVD. He identified with the main character of the show — Paladin. Paladin was played by Richard Boone, whom Alexei learned was a friend of John Wayne and had starred in many of his movies. That irony wasn’t lost on Alexei, who named his three dogs Duke, Boris and Ivan. When Alexei got horny, he
visited the local brothel and always picked the girl who most resembled Marlene Dietrich. Sometimes he had to strain his eyes real hard, but he made it work. He knew that Ivan, Boris and Mr. Zavert were looking for him and that they would never find him because of how good he was at what he did. He was happy with the decision he had made. He didn’t look back. He liked living in the present. He missed no one and although he thought about visiting the old country — he never did. As of the publication date of this book, it is rumored that he is still active very late into his life at doing ‘good deeds.’
Johnny Stompanato: After failing to get out of the mobster business and into legitimate filmmaking, Johnny Stomp became angrier at everyone and everything. He took it out on Lana Turner. She dumped him and then took him back. Within days she was dumping him again and the cycle repeated itself over and over. At one point he flew to England where she was making a movie with Sean Connery. Johnny Stomp stormed onto the set and accused them of having an affair; then he pulled a gun on Connery, who took it away from him like a parent takes something from a child. Connery reported the incident to the police and since having a handgun in England is against the law, Johnny Stomp was deported. Eventually, Johnny Stompanato went too far with his anger. He was stabbed to death by Lana’s teenage daughter, Cheryl Crane. Cheryl had come to her mother’s aide after she came upon Johnny Stomp abusing Lana. The Court agreed with Cheryl. Johnny Stomp’s death was ruled ‘justifiable homicide.’ When Alexei, Ivan and Barney read the headlines in the papers they all agreed with the verdict.
Mickey Cohen: In the late 1950’s, Mickey was convicted of income tax evasion and did four years. After his release, Mickey capitalized on his infamous fame and became a celebrity (even though he’d thought of himself as a celebrity before he went to prison, because he had gained an audience with Reverend Billy Graham!). In 1961, despite already having been convicted of income tax evasion, he did it again. That’s right; he made money and didn’t pay his income taxes. The Feds one-upped him and sent him to Alcatraz. In 1972 he was released from the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary because he was suffering from stomach cancer. Still being famous for being infamous, he toured the country capitalizing on his gangster past and his activist present — he became an advocate for prisoners’ rights. In 1976 he died of something all gangsters of his stature wish they could die from — natural causes. Howard Hughes was a big fan of Mickey’s only because all of Mickey’s girlfriends had incredibly large breasts. One of Mickey’s former girlfriends actually had her breasts insured by Lloyd’s of London. Her name was Tempest Storm.