Citizen Hughes - Michael Drosnin [112]
“I feel we may find that, at a price we can afford, we can buy a settlement.…”
The president’s perfidy had given Hughes some very definite ideas about where such a settlement could be bought.
“I think you should try to determine who is the real, honest-to-God, bagman at the White House,” he urged Maheu. “And please dont be frightened away by the enormity of the thought. I have known for a number of years that the White House under this particular Democratic administration is just as crooked as it can be. Now, I dont know whom you have to approach, but there is somebody, take my word for it.”
Finally, in a casual postscript to his somewhat chilling memo, Hughes took the true measure of the man he had tried to reach by honest reason.
“P.S. One thing I should have told you, in connection with my assumption that the Pres. may have waited the two weeks to hear from me on some kind of a hard-cash, adult, basis. I should tell you that I have done this kind of business with him before. So, he wears no awe-inspiring robe of virtue with me. I gave him some critically needed funds when he was in the Senate. He remembers this as he spoke of it to Finney. This is why he may very realistically have waited the two weeks for me to send somebody to him before he replied or took a stand. Anyway, I think this is one very plausible explanation of everything, including the hostillity when he did write.…”
Plausible or not, Hughes was now convinced that he must put his relationship with Johnson back on a “hard cash, adult, basis.” After all the hope that Hughes had placed in his masterful letter, Johnson’s rejection of his earnest appeal had a cataclysmic impact. It marked a turning point in Hughes’s approach to politics and politicians in general. It removed his last remaining inhibitions to use his private wealth to buy public power. Eventually, it would convulse the entire nation.
“Now,” concluded Hughes, in a classic expression of free-enterprise morality, “I think there is a market-place, somewhere, where the things we want can be bought or sold, and I urge that instead of spending any more time begging for a free hand-out, we find the right place, and the right people and buy what we want.”
Hughes clearly believed that Johnson was one of the right people. As for the right place, it turned out to be not the White House but the LBJ Ranch. And the right amount, Hughes figured, was $1 million.
It was Maheu who first suggested the approach. Three months after the bomb test, in a memo to the penthouse, he inquired, “As long as I am going to be in Washington next week—what do you think of my calling on the President as your personal representative? It might buy us insurance on the AEC program as well as the Stardust. I could tell him that you are interested in his future plans and want to help him in any way possible. His answer might prove to be very interesting—indeed.”
By the time Maheu proposed the parley, Hughes had become enmeshed in a battle with the Justice Department over his plans to acquire yet another major hotel-casino, the Stardust. Justice had moved to block the deal the same day the “Boxcar” blast was announced and despite pressure from Senate Judiciary Committee Chairman James Eastland, both of Nevada’s senators, and Governor Laxalt, Attorney General Ramsey Clark refused to allow the recluse to continue his Las Vegas Monopoly game.
Now Maheu was heading to Washington for a showdown with antitrust chief Edwin Zimmerman and hoped to meet with the president as well—to buy some insurance. The trip was less than a complete success. Zimmerman curtly informed Maheu that the Stardust deal was “a cut-and-dried violation of the Clayton Act.” As for getting to Johnson, he was ailing and had left the White House to recuperate at his Texas ranch.
“I strongly suggest we call off this caper and take another look at it six months hence—after the elections,” a subdued Maheu counseled his master.
Hughes, however, was unwilling to wait. “Now, Bob, I realize that if we emerge from the forthcoming