Citizen Hughes - Michael Drosnin [157]
The fear of being personally reviewed rekindled all of Hughes’s fears of going public, prompting him to reopen the still unresolved question of the opening date.
“Now, regarding the opening date,” he added, “I humbly beg you not to permit anything to leak out in confirmation of any July 1st date. Just as determined as you are to beat K to the punch with an earlier opening than the International, I am equally convinced it is a mistake.
“In two nearly simultaneous dates such as this, the later one is always the climax, and the one remembered. Also, the entity opening second is always the newest, and the first one is as old as yesterday’s newspaper.
“I urge that no further statement be made or word leaked about the date until further along.”
Maheu was getting upset. It was not Kerkorian who worried him. It was Hughes. It was not the date of the opening that concerned him. It was the fact that Hughes refused to pick any date.
“I sincerely hope that you understand the truly unbelievable position in which I am placed when I still cannot commit a day of opening,” he wrote. “Howard, we are not the least bit stubborn on July 1 per se. If you prefer that we do it a few days after the International, please give us a fixed date and we will proceed accordingly.
“But darn it, Howard, if you care about what happens to the Landmark you simply cannot hold this decision in abeyance any longer.”
Hughes was not about to be outflanked. If Maheu would not be drawn into a debate over the merits of throwing their party before or after Kerkorian’s, the naked impresario had a new excuse to leave the opening date open. Another rival event, bigger than the International.
“I just had a rude awakening,” he wrote in mock alarm. “The moon landing is planned for July!
“Now, what disturbs me equally is the fact that there may be another event scheduled for one of the dates under consideration, either locally or elsewhere, which may dilute the publicity impact of the Landmark.
“So, Bob, please review the calendar, both locally and nationally, and report to me all events of publicity import which are scheduled for July. Then, I will do my best not to delay the selection of the Landmark date.”
By mid-June, however, Hughes had still failed to approve a definite date for the opening, still tentatively set for July 1. Maheu was climbing the walls. It had gone beyond the party. His entire public image in Las Vegas was at stake. He was one of the most powerful men in town, and now he was being shown up as a flunky who did not even have the power to pick the date of a party. Finally, he could no longer stand the humiliation.
“Here I am on the front line talking to Dean Martin, Danny Thomas, the Astronauts, the public, the Governor, and I don’t know what in the hell I am talking about because you still have not given us a date,” a frantic Maheu wrote Hughes.
“I am getting to a point where I frankly don’t know what in the hell to tell them when they ask the very simple question—when are we going to open?
“Honest to God, Howard, if this question is not resolved forthwith, I am simply going to have to get the hell out of town because I just simply cannot continue facing all these people any further.”
Hughes refused to answer the question of the opening date. Instead, he responded to Maheu’s frantic plea by calling their whole partnership into question.
“Bob, you have done a good job for me and I appreciate it,” the billionaire wrote with heavy solemnity. “I also appreciate your several statements to me that you have a low flash point and that I should learn to accept this in its proper relevance.
“However, Bob, there are some things in life becide money and success,” he lectured his underling, taking the broader view.
“I am afraid I have reached the point where I have a greater reserve allowable tolerance in my money-success column,