Howard Hughes Blows Up Hollywood | Censored | 2

Speaker A: M wondering. It's early spring in 1931. At the offices of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America in Hollywood, California. 25 year old millionaire film producer Howard Hughes steps into a modest conference room. The atmosphere is thick with cigarette smoke curling in lazy spirals under the overhead fan. A sure sign that the room was packed not long ago. But now there's just one man waiting. Jason Joy, the head of studio relations office. He stands and offers his hand. Mr. Hughes, good to see you. Thanks so much for coming in. Well, it was hard to tell if I had a choice. Feels a bit like I've been called into the principal's office. Oh, uh, come on, Mr. Hughes, you know it's not like that. Our job is to help keep you out of trouble. Shooting is about to begin on Howard's latest movie, a gangster picture called Scarface. As usual, Howard submitted an advance copy of the script to the mppda, the industry regulator that oversees film content. But a few days ago, he received an urgent summons for a meeting. Well, I assume I'm here because you've got some sort of problem with the script. We have concerns. Jason flips open the heavily annotated copy of the screenplay. Why don't we start at the end, the last scene? You've got your main character, a vicious gang boss, dying in a hail of bullets in a shootout with police. Exactly right. Live by the sword, die by the sword. Well, uh, uh, maybe. But the way it's staged, it makes him look a bit like a martyr. Some kind of tragic hero. Oh, Tony Camonte is not a hero. He's a maniac with a tommy gun. Well, we're just not sure the audiences will get the nuance. The hero of the story should be your policeman. Komonte should be humiliated and shown to be the coward that he is. But he's. He's not a coward. He's many things, but he's certainly not a yellow belly. You really think it'll fly if he suddenly turns into a wimp? Well, if the moral of your story is that crime doesn't pay, then we need to see that, don't we? Show off the bravery of the police, reinforce the power of law and order. Have them capture Komonti alive, put him on trial, face justice, the consequences of his actions. Howard folds his arms. Um, Mr. Joy, let me ask you something. Who really runs Chicago right now? Because it sure as hell ain't the mayor, right? Al Capone runs that town. You reckon he thinks that crime doesn't pay, that he's gonna Face justice. I'm not making a fairy tale here. I'm making something real. You want me to have a cutthroat gangster just suddenly throw his hands in the air and turn himself in? That's never gonna happen. Well, uh, you know what else is never gonna happen? Your movie being screened in theaters. Because if you don't work with us, Mr. Hughes, I can guarantee that no censor will clear your picture. So you're gonna stop me from giving the audience what they want? This is the system we have, Mr. Hughes. You just need to make your choice. You can either cooperate, or your movie can sit on a shelf. Howard Hughes wanted to make great movies, but he also wanted audiences to actually see them. So he left this meeting with regulators, promising to take their concerns seriously. But he had no intention of surrendering. He was merely biding his time, ready to take the fight to the censors. Because Howard Hughes would never accept being silen.

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Speaker A: From. Wonder e. I'm lindsey graham, and this is business movers. In the early 1930s, Howard Hughes was riding high as a producer of Oscar winning movies. He'd worked with some of Hollywood's top talent and made a splash at the box office. And he'd rattled the big studios that usually dominated film output by proving that an independent could outspend and out promote them. But for all his flair, Howard had not cracked one crucial piece of the puzzle, making a reliable profit. His big budget blockbusters like Two Arabian Nights and Hell's Angels may have wowed audiences, but they didn't contribute much to the bottom line. Thanks to the fortune he inherited from his father, Howard had money to burn. But moviemaking wasn't just a rich man's pastime for him. He had grand ambitions to revolutionize Hollywood and transform it into a major American industry, one in which he was the top dog. But it wasn't just the old guard of studio bosses that stood in his way. American society was in flux, and censorship boards saw themselves as guardians of public decency. And that didn't sit well with Howard. He wasn't the kind of man who liked being told what he could and couldn't do. So soon Howard would take the lead in the fight for free expression in Hollywood. And he didn't do it just out of principle. He did it for profit. Because in Howard's mind, there were two things guaranteed to sell tickets at the box office. Sex and violence. This is the second episode in our four part series on Howard Hughes and Hollywood. Censored m It's late 1930 at the lakeside Country Club in Hollywood, California. A few months before the Scarface script is reviewed by Hollywood regulators. Howard stands on the first tee, enjoying the cool breeze on his face as the talented film director, but less talented golfer Howard Hawks, prepares to start the round. Hughes rarely loses on the golf course, but today he's going to take it easy. He's about to start shooting a new movie and he thinks Hawks is the perfect man to direct it. But there's bad blood between the two men and Howard needs to butter Hawks up. Hawks swings. His driver watches his ball soar down the fairway. Howard calls out from behind. Uh, straight down the middle. Nice shot. Howard sets his ball on the tee and then lines up his club. When he's satisfied with his stance, he smacks the ball down the middle of the fairway. Hawks lifts his sunglasses as he watches the ball land. Uh, solid hit from you, too, but I think I've got you beat by 20 yards. Good eye. I guess that's what makes you such a great director. Oh, I'm a great director now, huh? Huh? Last I heard, I was still the son of a bitch who stole your dog fights. Uh, that's ancient history. Not to you, it's not. I remember the phone call. You said Dawn Patrol was nothing but a ripoff of Hell's Angels Lifted, scene by scene. You even sued me. Well, I wasn't wrong, but I was angry. And I was also threatened. You made a hell of a picture. The two men put away their drivers and begin walking down the fairway. Well, I guess I appreciate the olive branch. I have a vested interest in offering it. I've got a new project. I'm calling it Scarface. It's a gangster picture inspired by Capone. You know, just brutal stuff. Blood, betrayal, ambition. And I want you to direct it. Hawk stops mid stride. You're asking me to direct your picture? Yeah. You're the best man for the job. You know action, you know pacing. You know how to get the truth out of tough guys. Is this your way of making peace? Well, now, dropping the lawsuit was making peace. Scarface is my way of making a hit. And I want you to make it with me. What's the angle? I think the public's hungry for something bold, something dangerous. And Scarface could be that. Hawk studies Howard for a long beat. Uh, you're not gonna hover over my shoulder the whole time, are you? No, not a chance. Because I don't need you telling me how to shoot a scene. That's not gonna happen. I have two other movies on the go too. I want to leave this one completely in your hands. You tell the story, frame it your way. Well, alright. If those are the terms, I'll do it. But if you change your mind and start pulling strings, I'll walk. No discussion. Completely. Understand? We have a deal. The two men shake hands, but Howard quickly pulls his hand away, then wipes his palm on his trousers. Hawks frowns. One last thing though, Howard. Yeah? Don't ever accuse me of stealing anything again. No, not a chance. This time we'll both make a picture worth stealing. On the course, Howard Hughes made sure to lose the round. But he won something more important. Howard Hawks trust. By the time the day was done, Hawks had agreed to work on Scarface. And with this skilled director on board, Howard was ready to make the definitive gangster film. At the start of 1931, Scarface wasn't the only movie that Howard Hughes had in the pipeline. He had ambitions to expand the output of his film production business, the Caddo Company. And he greenlit another two projects to be worked on simultaneously. But Howard already knew how expensive filmmaking could be. Despite claiming that the previous year's Hell's Angels had made a handsome profit, he was actually around $1.5 million out of pocket on that movie alone. The equivalent of $30 million today. So to keep costs down, Howard decided to make the two films concurrent with Scarface on a tighter budget. And to do that, he chose a familiar subject. World War I aviation. During the filming of Hell's Angels, Howard had shot hundreds of takes of aerial combat using a fleet of 87 biplanes. During the editing process, thousands of yards of film was left on the cutting room floor. So Howard decided to recycle this unused footage and put it to work in his two new movies. Sky Devils was a comedy featuring the adventures of two deserters who blundered their way onto the front lines with an American squadron. Cock of the Air was a romantic comedy in which a Parisian cabaret singer fell for a womanizing pilot. Both included exciting dogfight sequences that had originally been shot for Hell's Angels. But Howard's hopes of making a quick buck were dashed when the two movies went in front of the censors. Before any movie could be shown in American theaters, it first had to be cleared by local censorship boards. To streamline the process and ensure that movies weren't held up, the major studios had formed the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America, or mppda, a trade association to self regulate the content of movies. Every Hollywood producer submitted a rough copy of their film to this association, and it was checked against a set of guidelines known as the Hays Code. If the movie's content was deemed to breach this code, the MPPDA would demand cuts or alterations before they cleared it. In most cases, local censorship boards followed the recommendations of the mppda. If the association approved the movie, so did the censors. But when it came to Howard's two World War I movies, the MPPDA did not like what it saw. They objected to both films for their suggestive dialogue, bawdy humor, and flirtatious on screen behavior. Cock of the Air was criticized for its repeated use of sexual innuendo and double entendres. One gag especially raised eyebrows. The lead actress donned a suit of armor in bed to discourage the advances of an admirer, only for the admirer to enter the room with a can opener. And when she wasn't wearing armor, the outfits worn by the female lead were deemed too revealing, and any lines that hinted at promiscuity or challenge moral standards were flagged as inappropriate. The MPPDA told Howard to re edit Sky Devils and Cock of the Air, and he removed many of its suggestive lines. He reshot scenes with actresses in less revealing outfits, and he toned down the sexual humor. Eventually, both movies were cleared for release. But after Howard's cuts, Cock of the air was now 12 minutes shorter and many of its scenes barely made sense thanks to missing dialogue. As a result of the heavy cuts, neither Sky Devils nor Cock of the Air made much of an impact at the box office. Howard had hoped that they'd provide a quick profit to help recoup the losses from Hell's Angels. Instead, his bottom line hardly changed, and Howard knew exactly who to blame. So he was not willing to let censors ruin the third movie he was working on. Scarface told the story of Tony Camonte, a fictional gangster based on the real life mobster Al Capone. Howard had high hopes for this film. Over the past year, several gangster Movies had done well at the box office, and Howard wanted to ride the wave of popularity. His timing couldn't have been worse, though. He'd intended to catch the gangster movie trend while it was still hot. But Scarface actually coincided with attempts to make the genre disappear. At the start of the 1930s, America had a serious problem with organized crime. Prohibition made the production, transportation and sale of alcohol illegal. But criminal enterprises had stepped into the breach to quench Americans thirst for booze. So in cities all across the country, gangsters made a fortune. They bought off corrupt politicians, bribed police, and openly boasted of their exploits with no man representing their power and influence more than Al Capone, the infamous leader of Chicago's south side gang. To capitalize on the notoriety, Howard bought the rights to the 1929 novel Scarface, a thinly veiled portrayal of Capone. The central character even shared the same nickname as Capone and ordered a similar gangland hit to the real life St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Howard hired Oscar winning screenwriter Ben Heck to adapt the novel and enlisted several other veteran writers to sharpen the dialogue and ensure airtight continuity. But when the NPPDA reviewed the script, alarm bells rang. Capone was still a free man, and the last thing Hollywood wanted was to look like it condoned his crimes, or worse, blame the police and courts for not stopping him. But the MPPDA had more than just general complaints. They had specific issues with the script. They were deeply uncomfortable with the overly close implied sexual relationship between Tony and his sister. They also objected to the movie's ending. According to the screenplay, Tony would die in a, uh, shootout with police. But the association believed that the final stand portrayed him as a tragic antihero. They proposed a different conclusion, one that depicted Tony as a coward. At his meetings with the mppda, Howard nodded along and assured them that he took their concerns seriously. But he had no intention of watering down Scarface. Instead, he gave director Howard Hawks full creative freedom to shoot the scripts exactly as written and to ignore any directives from the regulators. Howard's duplicity only became clear when shooting wrapped. And a first cut of the movie was sent to MPPDA for approval. When they viewed it, they realized that Howard had ignored almost every one of their suggestions, and they hauled him in for a dressing down. Howard was told that the association would not approve Scarface in its current form, and that meant it it would never be shown in American theaters. Reluctantly, Howard agreed to shoot another ending. This time, instead of being killed in a firefight with police, Tony was shot while cowering in hiding. But even this wasn't critical enough, and Howard was compelled to shoot a third ending this time. Before being apprehended by the police, tried and sentenced to death for his crimes, Tony pleaded for his life. You can recover it. The Eye can do that. Give me backwards. Don't shoot me. Don't shoot. I told you you'd show up this way. Get you in the jam without a gun and you squeal like a yellow rat. Howard disliked the turn his main character took in the film's final scene, but he thought it was a necessary compromise. And with the third ending in the can, he thought he finally had the MPPDA on board after weeks of back and forth. But he was sorely mistaken. The censors had bigger problems than just the ending, and with a movie as controversial as Scarface, the real fight was only just beginning.

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Speaker A: It's October 1931, in the offices of the MPPDA in Hollywood, California, a few weeks after Howard Hughes finished filming his latest ending of Scarface. A roll of film flaps loosely around the reel as the projector sputters to a stop. Howard leans back in his seat, smiling. Scarface might just be his best film yet, but there are hurdles he must clear before it can light up. Screens all across America, and the first of them is being approved by the nppda. Jason Joy, the head of the association's studio relations office, flicks off the projector, pulls back the curtains to let in the daylight. Well, honestly, I'm a huge fan. One of the most compelling pictures I've seen all year. I'm glad you think so. It hasn't exactly felt like we've been pulling together on this, but I still have concerns. Howard throws his hands up in frustration. So you like it, but not enough to let the American people see it. We have to be cautious, Mr. Hughes. Hollywood is under the microscope. If we don't regulate ourselves, Washington will. Let me guess. You want more changes. Well, I'm still worried about the relationship between Tony and Cheska, their brother and sister. It's beyond the pale. It's subtext, that's all. If anyone sees more than that, maybe they're the ones with dirty minds. Subtext or not, it'll raise red flags with the censors. And then there's the title. Scarface. What's wrong with that? It's the name of the source material. Using Al Capone's nickname is going to rile up a lot of people, provoke a backlash. Tony's character is based on him. That's the whole point. I understand that, but perception matters. Scarface, I don't know. Sounds heroic. It could be construed as glorifying Tony and, by extension, glorifying Capone. We've taken the liberty of drawing up a few alternative titles. Oh, shh. Can't wait to hear them. One is yellow because of the way Tony turns chicken at the end. Oh, great. Nothing packs a theater like a title that screams cowardice. Well, what about man is Still Savage? What does that even mean? Sounds like a nature documentary. Okay, how about Shame of a Nation? Howard shakes his head in frustration. Oh, God. You want a gangster film with no sex, no violence, and now no title? What's Next? No guns? Mr. Hughes, I know you really believe in this movie, but if it's as good as you say it is, people will find it no matter what it's called. At the NPPDA's request, Howard Hughes cut yet another version of his gangster movie. He eliminated the scenes that suggested an incestuous relationship between Tony and his sister. He added a prologue that explicitly condemned organized crime. And the new version was issued under a new name. For the moment, Howard's gangster movie was known as Shame of a Nation. But Howard also felt shame for capitulating to the mppda. And deep down, he knew the battle wasn't over. After months of edits and tense negotiations, the NPPDA finally approved Shame of a Nation. And Howard Hughes prepared to launch the delayed movie in America's biggest film market, New York. Because despite having made many compromises to get the movie cleared, Howard still believed that Shame of a Nation was extraordinary. The censors in New York agreed, but for all the wrong reasons. Typically, local censors followed MPPDA guidance. But on this occasion, they went against the association's recommendation and flatly rejected Shame of a Nation. In a strongly worded judgment, the censors described it as indecent, inhuman and immoral. They suggested there was no point in coming back to them with a new cut because, in their opinion, Shame of a Nation was irredeemable. With other local censorship boards likely to follow New York's lead, Shame of a Nation looked dead in the water. The only way that Howard could salvage his investment was to screen it in the small number of American cities that didn't have a censorship board. But after months of collaborating with authorities and nothing to show for it, Howard Hughes snapped. Los Angeles, one of the few major cities without censors, became ground zero for his rebellion. Howard hired Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood to premiere his new movie. But when Howard handed over the film to the projectionist, it wasn't the watered down, MPPDA approved version of Shame of a Nation. It was his original, uncut version of Scarface. The March 2, 1932 screening had no red carpet, no celebrities, and no fanfare. Instead, the audience was composed only of reporters from newspapers across the country. Howard wanted to make his case to them directly. He explained the struggles he'd face getting Scarface into theaters, the the constant interference and the drastic changes the regulators demanded. Then he asked the journalists to judge the movie with an open mind, on its own merits. And they loved it. The positive reviews emboldened Howard and encouraged him to fight for his original vision of Scarface. He played up the controversy to sell tickets. Posters proclaimed that Scarface was the picture that powerful interests have tried to suppress in the uncut Unaltered over original version. This promotion worked. Scarface soon became the hottest ticket in la, and Howard's reputation as an edgy renegade movie maker was only enhanced. But Howard was quietly working behind the scenes to re edit a cut that would be palatable to the broader market. He won a victory when the National Board of Review, a, uh, New York based advisory body, approved this revised version. They acknowledged that scarce Scarface was more violent than many other gangster pictures, but they ultimately concluded that he was also an honest portrayal of organized crime. With this endorsement in hand, Howard went back to the New York censorship board and asked them to reconsider. But they didn't change their mind. So to put more pressure on them, Howard threatened legal action. Accusing the censorship board of being a serious threat to freedom of honest expression in America and in the press. Howard declared that he was ready to take the case all the way to the United States Supreme Court. A month later, Howard went back to the New York censorship board with another altered version of Scarface. And this time, they didn't reject it outright, but offered a list of additional revisions that might make the movie acceptable. Howard quickly went through another round of editing to downplay the violence in a few scenes and switched the ending back to the tamer version, which turned Tony Camonte begged for his life. For the New York censors, it was finally enough, and six days later, Scarface was approved for audiences. On, uh, May 19, 1932, more than three months after Scarface premiered in Hollywood, the movie had its first showing in New York, and it played to a full house. Soon, other local censorship boards followed New York's example and cleared Scarface for release. All except for Chicago, where the portrayal of the city's grand criminal underworld hit too close to home. But as Scarface went nationwide, Howard had one last problem. He'd spent months proclaiming he wouldn't alter his movie to appease the authorities. And he'd even championed the movie as uncut and uncensored in his marketing. In reality, he'd made a number of changes to satisfy the censors. And if the truth got out, it would be an embarrassing blow to Howard's reputation. So he stopped advertising Scarface as uncensored and then went to the MPPDA with a request asking them not to publicize the edits he'd made. The MPPDA was eager to close a saga that had dragged on for months and agreed. But thanks to the previous blaze of publicity, most audiences presumed they were watching the original uncensored version of Scarface. Neither Howard Nor the MPPDA corrected them. But even if even in its altered form, Scarface stunned critics and audiences alike. Variety called it powerful and gripping and said it was compelling entertainment. And thanks to the nonstop controversy generated by Howard's battles with the censors, theaters across the country were packed. But Howard's stubborn commitment to fight the censors came at a cost. In total, Scarface's budget ballooned to more than $700,000. Around 16.5 million today, making it one of the most expensive, expensive movies of the year. Rivaled only by MGM's Grand Hotel. But whereas MGM had splurged on an all star ensemble cast, including Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford, much of Scarface's budget went to reshoots, new scenes and edits to get Scarface approved by the censors. And despite the publicity and rave reviews, the film did not perform well enough at the box office to recoup its costs. Ticket sales of around $600,000 dollars left Howard nursing a loss of $100,000, more than $2 million today. For Howard, it was deja vu. Only two years earlier, his World War I epic, Hell's Angels had followed a similar path. An enormous budget, production delays, headline grabbing, controversy, critical acclaim, but ultimately a box office loss. Now Scarface had done the same. Howard was confident that his approach to filmmaking was what audiences wanted. But thanks to the authorities constantly looming over his shoulder, his creative vision came at a high price. One that Howard was growing tired of paying. So if Hollywood was going to insist on stifling his creativity, then he'd turn his attention to another fast growing industry that didn't face the same degree of oversight. Aviation. Over the next few years, the Caddo Film Company went into hibernation as Howard was focus his efforts on a new venture, the Hughes Aircraft Company with its first plane, the H1 Racer. Howard personally broke the airspeed record by clocking 352 miles per hour. He then set a transcontinental record, flying from Los Angeles to New York in seven and a half hours, smashing the previous best by almost two hours. A year later, he flew around the world in 91 hours, cutting the old record in half. And Howard didn't just push the boundaries of new technology. He also sidestepped into commercial flight, moonlighting as an airliner pilot before buying Trans World Airlines. Soon it was in the sky that Howard found the freedom he'd been denied on the ground. But Howard couldn't shake the feeling that he had unfinished business in Hollywood. The bright lights still beckoned and when he returned, it wasn't guns or gangsters that stirred up the sensors. It would be cleavage. With a sultry new starlet and a film that pushed boundaries, Howard Hughes would court controversy again, but this time he'd also count on it.

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Speaker A: It's 1940 at General Service Studios in Hollywood, California, eight years after Scarface was finally released. As the sun beats down on an enclosed studio lot, 34 year old Howard Hughes walks across sand that's been laid down to resemble the Wild West. A few weeks ago, shooting began on Howard's first movie for almost a decade. The Outlaw is a western with two unknowns in the lead roles. Jack Butel plays Billy the Kid, but the real focus, at least for Howard, is his leading lady, 19 year old Jane Russell. Howard taps on the door of a dressing room and Jane opens the door. Barefoot and dressed in a silk robe, Howard clears his throat. Jane, you got a minute? Before she can answer, Howard steps in, one hand behind his back, like a magician about to reveal his trick. Howard I'm not ready for this. Won't take long. I Just brought you something. Howard pulls his hand from behind his back, and he's clutching a strange contraption made of padded fabric and wire. What is that? It's a bra. One I designed myself. It's cantilevered, special wire support. See here? I calculated the angles. No straps, no slipping. Keeps everything exactly where the audience wants it. Jane crosses her arms, the row tightening across her chest. You made this? Well, I had a prototype built on my specifications. Looks like it belongs on an airplane, not on me. That's actually the point. Precision. And lift. Lift. Jane, listen to me. This movie is riding on you, not the plot or the dialogue. On you specifically. Your silhouette. Jane gives Howard a long, unimpressed look. So all that fuss about me being a fresh talent, a natural actress. That was just code for big chest? Howard sits the bra gently on her dressing table. Jane, you've got star power, real magnetism. But magnetism only works if the needle points. True. This bra, that's. That's the needle. It'll make history. Looks like it'll make blisters. Howard chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. Yeah, it's not comfortable, I'll admit, But it's not forever. Just for a few key scenes. Help me sell the illusion. What if I don't? Well, then we lose the edge. The distributors lose interest. The press ignores us. The censors already hate us. Truth be told, this really isn't about your figure, Jane. It's about control. Either we tell the story our way, or they tell us we can't. Jane looks at the contraption on the table, then back at Howard. You really think this bra is going to save your movie? Oh, I know it will. Jane Russell never wore the bra during filming. It was so uncomfortable that she tossed it aside, patted her own bra with tissues, and tightened the shoulder straps before stepping onto set. Howard Hughes never noticed the difference, but he was thrilled with results. And that was all that mattered. Uh, because Howard had a new plan to conquer Hollywood. Built on the single guiding principle that sex sells. Production on the Outlaw was anything but smooth. Not for the first time, Howard Hughes's constant tinkering drove his director to quit. And also not for the first time, Howard decided to take the reins and direct the rest of the movie himself. The result was a mess. The script dragged, and the inexperience of its two rookie leads showed. But in Jane Russell, Howard was convinced that he had found Hollywood's next star. He didn't really care that her acting was sometimes. Sometimes wouldn't. Instead, he knew she had the look, and he decided to market the entire film around her. But after shooting raft in February 1941, Howard edited the film and submitted it for approval. And the MPPDA was unhappy with the movie's sexual overtones. They ordered the film to be recut, and Howard reluctantly removed around 30 seconds of footage that prominently featured Jane's cleavage. But after he resubmitted the movie, Howard realized that the MPPDA directive gave him an opportunity. Just like with Scarface, he could use claims of censorship to create a stir, One that would make the Outlaw the most anticipated movie in Hollywood history. So Howard had his staff call up religious groups and women's groups pretending to be outraged citizens. They stoke concern that such a lewd movie was going to be released. And just as Howard hoped, a genuine grassroots campaign arose to outlaw the outlaw. But in February 1943, the outlaw was released for a limited run in San Francisco, where local censorship laws were looser. To promote the impending release, Howard took out ads on billboards around town. And it didn't take long for angry locals to file complaints about the scantily clad depictions of Jane Russell. The local police chief even threatened to shut the theaters down. So to save his screenings, Howard agreed to remove the ads. But by then, they'd already had an effect. San Francisco was abuzz with anticipation for every person who denounced the Outlaw. Another bought a ticket to see what the fuss was all about. And by the time the movie finished its seven week run in San Francisco, it had grossed $140,000, more than $2.5 million today. But that was still far short of, uh, the $3.4 million that Howard had spent making making the Outlaw. So if the movie was going to make a profit, Howard needed a wider release. Not just a limited run in a single city. But efforts to get the film shown in Detroit and Pennsylvania fell through after local censors demanded drastic cuts that Howard was not prepared to make. It was only after languishing on the shelf for more than two years that Howard finally managed to persuade New York censors to approve the Outlaw. And that decision opened the door for more more cities to follow suit. Howard immediately scrambled into action, resuming the sensationalist publicity campaign that had worked so well in San Francisco. He even employed skywriters to spell out the Outlaw in the skies above New York, followed by an aerial drawing of two breasts. All of it was crude, but it worked. From Richmond to Chicago to Atlanta, the Outlaw played to packed theaters and broke house records. And eventually, after four years of piecemeal showings across the country. The outlaw made a profit. More than 10 years after fighting with censors over Scarface, Howard could again claim that he'd taken on the authorities and won. He'd produced a movie that Americans wanted to see. But it was a long, drawn out battle of attrition, and Howard knew that there had to be a faster way of making money in the movies. Ever since he'd embarked on his filmmaking career, Howard Hughes had been an outsider in Hollywood. Censors and film authorities viewed him with suspicion. And to Howard, the reason was clear. It was because he was an independent. The big studios did not face the same resistance. And that gave him an idea. He would keep making movies his way. Bold, sensationalist and unapologetically provocative. But this time, he'd do it from inside the system. From Wondery, this is episode two of Howard Hughes Blows Up Hollywood for Business Movers. On the next episode, Howard plows even more money into Hollywood to buy RKO Pictures. But as he clashes with studio veterans and exploits his own stars, he soon realizes that remaking a major Hollywood studio in his own image comes at a steep cost. If you'd like to learn more about Howard Hughes's time in Hollywood, we recommend Howard Hughes, His Life and Madness by Donald L. Bartlett and James B. Steele. Howard Hughes and the Creation of Modern Hollywood by Jeffrey Richardson. And sex, lies and Stardom. Um, in Howard Hughes's Hollywood by Karina Longman. A quick note about our dramatizations. In most cases, we can't know everything that happened when all our reenactments are based on historical research. Business Movers is hosted, edited and executive produced by me, Lindsey Gran for Airshift. Audio editing by Christian Paraga. Sound design by Molly Bogg. Our supervising sound designer is Matthew Filler. Music by Thrum. This episode is written and researched by Reuben Abrams Brosby senior producer Scott Reeves. Executive producers are ah William Simpson for Airshift and Aaron o', Flaherty, Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louie for wondering. By the early 2000s, college admissions in America were more competitive than ever. For students and their parents, it was an ordeal to be endured. But for college counselor Rick Singer, it was a chance to get rich. Exploiting the desperation of his clients, he invented what he called the side door. A new way into elite schools for those wealthy enough to pay the entry fee. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, host of the podcast American Scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in US History. Presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our latest series, a ah, college counselor mounts an audacious scheme to get his wealthy clients into the universities of their choice. He thinks he's found a way to rig the system until an unrelated FBI investigation inadvertently exposes the largest college admissions fraud in American history. Follow American Scandal wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can binge all episodes of American Scandal early and ad free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts.