Business Movers · 2025-08-21 · 34 min
Key moments - from our scoring
Substance score
26 / 100
Five dimensions, 20 points each
This episode examines how Howard Hughes's personal anti-communist ideology and business desperation collided at RKO Pictures during the early 1950s Second Red Scare. After acquiring RKO in 1948, Hughes had already slashed production from 35 films to 12 annually while losing $12.4 million. When screenwriter Paul Jericho was subpoenaed by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) in 1951, Hughes saw an opportunity. He immediately invoked the morals clause to fire Jericho, then orchestrated a studio-wide shutdown affecting 100 employees under the guise of rooting out communist infiltration - a move praised by Senator Richard Nixon and veterans groups but questioned by insiders as a cost-cutting smokescreen. The Screenwriters Guild protested when Hughes removed Jericho's credit from The Las Vegas Story, leading to a November 1952 court case where the judge sided with Hughes. Meanwhile, Hughes quietly negotiated to sell RKO to a Chicago-based syndicate led by Ralph Stolkin for an inflated $7 million, only to reverse the sale months later after the syndicate's organized-crime ties surfaced in the Wall Street Journal, pocketing the $1.25 million down payment in the process.
Hughes fired Jericho after learning he had been subpoenaed by the House Un-American Activities Committee, invoking the morals clause in Jericho's contract on the grounds that suspected communist sympathies violated studio standards.
Yes, the judge ruled for Hughes on November 26, 1952, determining that Jericho's Fifth Amendment invocation constituted admission of communist sympathies and justified Hughes's firing decision and removal of Jericho's screen credit from The Las Vegas Story.
Hughes announced a studio-wide shutdown of 100 employees and halted all new productions until RKO had identified and removed all suspected communist sympathizers, though critics argued this was a pretext for cost-cutting after the studio had already lost $12.4 million.
Chicago businessman Ralph Stolkin led a syndicate that purchased RKO in October 1952, but the deal unraveled within weeks after the Wall Street Journal exposed the syndicate's ties to organized crime and deceptive business practices; Hughes repurchased the studio in February 1953 while keeping the $1.25 million down payment.
HUAC was a congressional committee formed in 1938 that expanded its focus after World War II to investigate suspected communist infiltration of American society, particularly targeting Hollywood; it subpoenaed writers, directors, and actors, leading studios to blacklist those who refused to cooperate.
Our reviewer’s read on each dimension, with quotes from the episode.
The episode delivers historical narrative and business context, but relies heavily on dramatized dialogue and chronological storytelling rather than analytical insights. While it covers Hughes's mismanagement decisions, financial losses, and strategic errors, it mostly recounts *what happened* rather than explaining *why* or offering transferable business principles. The core insight - that Hughes's obsession with spectacle over profitability destroyed RKO - is evident but not deeply interrogated.
Howard had promised them a bright future, but instead was running RKO into the ground.
His approach to filmmaking made headlines, but not money.
The episode follows a conventional historical documentary structure and relies on well-established narratives about the Red Scare, Hughes's erratic management, and Hollywood's decline. The framing of Hughes as a spectacular failure is not contrarian or surprising. There is no attempt to challenge conventional wisdom about his leadership or offer fresh interpretation; it simply chronicles documented events in conventional dramatic form.
Howard Hughes never quite stuck his landing in Hollywood, but his wild stunts and bold maneuvers help change its trajectory forever.
Whether it was Scarface, the Outlaw Stromboli, or Jet Pilot, Howard followed the same. Spare no expense, make headlines, aim for spectacle.
This is a solo-hosted historical narrative podcast with no guest interviews or practitioner testimony. The episode is entirely narrated by the host with dramatized dialogue representing historical figures, none of whom are actually speaking or providing firsthand insight. There is no operator or practitioner sharing real experience.
I'm Lindsey Graham and this is business mover.
The episode includes many specific names, dates, financial figures, and documented events: RKO's output dropped from 35 films (1947) to 12 (1949), a $12.4 million loss, Hughes's $1.25 million down payment, Ralph Stolkin's $3.4 million mail-order business, the $25 million sale to Thomas O'Neill, 740 movies in the archive, and specific box office figures ($2.6M for The Living Desert, $4.5M for The Conqueror). However, these figures often appear without context or analysis of *why* they matter strategically, and the dramatized dialogue cannot be verified as historical evidence.
RKO's output dropped dramatically after Howard took over, from 35 films in 1947 to just 12 in 1949.
$12.4 million, more than 150 million today.
This is not a conversational format; it is a scripted historical narrative with dramatic reenactments. There are no interviews, no host asking probing questions, no guests to push back against, and no productive disagreement or genuine inquiry. The format is purely expository storytelling, not dialogue-based exploration.
It's November 20, 1952 at the Superior Court in Los Angeles, California. A buzz ripples around the courtroom as 46 year old film producer Howard Hughes steps into the witness stand.
Computed from the transcript - who did the talking, and the words that came up most.
Howard Hughes embarks on an obsessive search for communists that sends RKO into a nosedive. As lawsuits mount and allies abandon him, the historic Hollywood studio edges closer to the brink. See Privacy Policy at and California Privacy Notice at
Transcribed and scored by The B2B Podcast Index.
Speaker A: It's November 20, 1952 at the Superior Court in Los Angeles, California. A buzz ripples around the courtroom as 46 year old film producer Howard Hughes steps into the witness stand. Reporters lean forward, pens poised, ready to capture every word of his much anticipated testimony. The lawyer rises to speak. Now. Um, Mr. Hughes, did you yourself make the decision to fire my client, Mr. Jericho? Howard casts a glance across the courtroom. His former employee, screenwriter Paul Jericho, sits stone faced, eyes locked on Howard. Yes, it was my call to let Mr. Jericho go. And when exactly did you make that decision? Was it before or after the Las Vegas story was filmed? I, uh, believe it was after filming had wrapped. Thank you, Mr. Hughes. And on what grounds did you make this decision? I fired him because I learned that he's a communist. That's the sort of thing that might fly at other studios, but commies aren't welcome at RKO. I see. And your reasoning was that Mr. Jericho's alleged and unproven political beliefs were a violation of his contract? That's right. The morals clause.
Speaker B: Ah.
Speaker A: Uh, the morals clause. I gather you're quite familiar with that particular part of the contract, aren't you, Mr. Hughes? I'm sorry, I don't know what you're getting at. The morals clause could have been enacted when Mr. Robert Mitchum was arrested for the possession of and conspiracy to possess illegal narcotics. Did you fire Mr. Mitchum on that occasion? Howard shifts, visibly irritated. That, uh, was over four years ago. And no, I didn't fire him. You know that. So why the sudden concern about morality when it comes to my client, Mr. Jericho? Because Bob Mitchum isn't a communist. This is the United States of America. Free enterprise is what makes this country great. So pinkos like him are not going to have any influence in my studio. All right. Understood. And moving on. How would you say RKO is doing right now? Howard hesitates. We are working through a few challenges at the moment. That is one way of putting it, Mr. Hughes. But according to your own books, rko is losing $100,000 a week. That's quite a time to shut down production. I put it to you that your self appointed so called crusade to hunt down communists in your organization is just a smokescreen. Aren't you really just trying to stop your studio's financial bleeding? Absolutely not. I'm not making another movie until we figure out who's a Soviet sympathizer and who's not. Even if that means losing millions of dollars in the process? Well, if that's what it takes to clean up Hollywood, then yes, I'll take as long as necessary. Howard Hughes's anti communist vendetta, ah. Did not stop with Paul Jericho. In his zeal to purge Hollywood of leftist influence, RKO ground to a halt. And the shutdown came at a steep cost. Howard claimed that there wouldn't be a single communist writer, director or actor left at RKO when he was finished. But by the time his studio resumed operations, it nearly didn't exist at all. I'm Leon Nayfak. What happens when OnlyFans becomes more than just a side hustle? OnlyFantasy is an in depth look at the world's newest profession and how the rules of human intimacy are being rewritten online. Listen wherever you get your podcasts or binge. All episodes of Only Fantasy. Ad free only on Audible.
Speaker B: I'm Raza Jaffrey, and in the new season of the Spy who We go back in time to meet Benedict Arnold. Um, the spy who Betrayed the American Revolution. As America fights for freedom from Britain, Arnold emerges as one of the rebel's greatest generals. But when his loyalty is pushed to the limit, he turns spy and devises a plot to shatter the rebellion and make George Washington a prisoner. Follow the Spy who now wherever you listen to podcasts, you can also listen to the full season of the Spy who Betrayed the American Revolution early. Uh, and ad free on Audible.
Speaker A: From wonder e. I'm lindsey graham and this is business mover. In 1948, more than two decades after moving to Hollywood to pursue his goal of becoming a world famous filmmaker, Howard Hughes bought RKO Pictures. It marked a major shift in his strategy for conquering Hollywood. After years of working on the fringes as an independent producer, Howard had officially joined the establishment. He was now the new owner of one of America's big five studios. This was a chance for Howard to elevate his ambitions. But instead, the opposite happened. Rather than scaling up, Howard scaled down. RKO's output dropped dramatically after Howard took over, from 35 films in 1947 to just 12 in 1949. That was the inevitable result of Howard firing hundreds of employees, while dozens of senior staff walked out on their own after clashing with their new boss. RKO's only income came from its distribution arm, which released movies on behalf of independent producers. But that alone wasn't enough to break even. The studio's share of box Office revenue plummeted 77%, and it recorded a loss of $12.4 million, more than 150 million today. RKO only stayed afloat because Howard could Bankroll the losses. His personal accounts were still healthy, thanks to his other business interests. The Hughes Aircraft Company and the Hughes Tool Company. Both of those firms were booming in large part because Howard delegated their oversight to others. That was not the case with rko. Even though he was now boss of a major studio, Howard operated like an independent. He wanted to control every aspect of the filmmaking process. He was obsessive about a certain kind of movie. Big budget blockbusters with aggressive promotional campaigns. Howard wanted RKO to be known for thrills and spills on screen and controversy and scandal off screen. His approach generated headlines, but not profits. After two years, RKO was in desperate need of a turnaround from its self inflicted slump. But rather than learn from his mistakes, Howard plunged headlong into a new obsession. One that would bring filmmaking to a grinding halt. This is the last in our four part series on Howard Hughes and Hollywood. The Red Scare. It's close to midnight in April 1951 in Hollywood. A year and a half before Howard Hughes takes the stand in his trial against Paul Jericho. 60 year old Sam Bischoff wakes up with a start. As the phone on his bedside table starts to ring, Sam sits up and rubs his eyes. As production chief at rko, he's just spent a long day on set and he has another early start tomorrow. But he can't ignore the phone because only one person ever calls this late. Howard Hughes. Sam switches on a lamp and picks up the phone. Uh, this is Sam Bischoff. Sam, what took you so long? It's almost midnight. Howard. I was asleep. Well, I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important. Have you heard the news? No, I went straight to bed when I got home. What's going on? One of our writers just got subpoenaed. Uh, by who? The House UN American Activities Committee. For years, politicians in Washington D.C. have suspected that Hollywood is crawling with secret communists who use movies to indoctrinate Americans with radical left wing beliefs. Thanks to the investigations of the House UN American Activities Committee, or huac, several writers and directors have been blacklisted, forcing them out of their jobs. And this probe has set Hollywood on edge. With every high profile figure fearing that they'll be the next one under the spotlight. Sam runs a hand through his hair. Oh man. Who is it? Paul Jericho. We only brought him in a few months ago for the Las Vegas story. It's still not finished. What do you think we should do? Are you kidding me? Get rid of him. RKO has zero tolerance for communists. Well, don't you think we should wait and give him a chance to testify. You think? I'm calling you at midnight because I want to wait and see. No, he's got to go now. What if he's not actually a Communist? Where there's smoke, there's fire. The Committee knows exactly what it's doing. But what are we going to do with the Las Vegas story? Get someone else to finish it. I don't want Jericho touching another word on that script or anything else at Arkao. All right, can him. SAM SIGHS he can tell that Howard isn't going to budge. All right. Understood. I'll handle it first thing in the morning. Good. And when you're done throwing him out, make sure everything he wrote ends up in the trash, too. Uh, Just days after Howard Hughes fired Paul Jericho, the now unemployed writer went before the House UN American Activities Committee. There he pleaded the Fifth and refused to say whether he was or ever had been a member of the Communist Party. To some, um, Paul's actions were a brave defiance of federal overreach. But to Howard, it was all the proof he needed that his former writer was guilty. Firing Paul was not the end of Howard's fight against Communism. It was just the opening scene. The House UN American Activities Committee was created in 1938 to investigate suspected traitors and subversive elements in the federal government. But after World War II came to an end, its remit was expanded. Now it turned its gaze toward American society at large. And it had one group squarely in its Communists. As tensions with the Soviet Union escalated into the Cold War, fears of Communist infiltration had spread rapidly across the United States, and the wave of suspicion became known as the Second Red Scare. Soviet spies were known to be actively seeking the secrets behind America's atomic bombs. But beyond espionage, there was a deeper fear that Communists were waging a war of ideas, using media and culture to indoctrinate Americans with radical leftist ideology. And the powerful cultural engine of Hollywood was an obvious target. In the fall of 1947, Huax appenaed its first witness to investigate whether Communist propaganda was being sneaked into movies. The inquiry soon hit the headlines, and leading industry figures like Ronald Reagan and Walt Disney fanned the flames, arguing that Communists had indeed tried to take over Hollywood. But not everyone backed the inquiry. Ten screenwriters and directors refused to answer the committee's questions and were held in contempt of Congress. In response, the heads of major studios pledged to bar the so called Hollywood 10 from ever working in movies again. Officially, the studio had supported the anti Communist crackdown. But Hollywood was not as united as many were led to believe. Behind closed doors, many studio bosses resented Washington meddling in their business. But in the grip of the Red Scare, they didn't dare object. Defending the accused might risk being labeled a sympathizer themselves. But there was one studio boss who didn't share their misgivings. As the owner of rko, Howard Hughes was fully on board with huac. His strident anti Communism wasn't just political, it was personal. Having inherited his father's million dollar tool company at the age of 18, Howard had little patience for ideologies that questioned wealth, power or capitalism. And he saw communism as a direct threat to everything he stood for. So as soon as RKO screenwriter Paul Jericho was subpoenaed by huack, Howard invoked the morals clause in Paul's contract and fired him. Even before Paul had pleaded the fifth in front of the committee. But Howard didn't stop there. He was determined to make a clear statement that communists were not welcome in his studio. Paul had been hired by RKO to help salvage the Las Vegas story, a crime drama that had become stuck in development. But even after Paul's departure and the hiring of other writers to finish it, the bulk of the script remained Paul's work. And according to the rules of the Screenwriters Guild, Paul was still entitled to a writer's credit. Howard, though, had no intention of being giving recognition to a suspected communist. And when the Las Vegas story premiered In February of 1952, Paul's name was missing from the credits. The Screenwriters Guild protested the omission and threatened to take action against Howard. The Guild's options included a boycott of RKO scripts, even an industry wide strike. But the guild was walking a fine line. It had a duty to protect its members. But like everyone else in Hollywood, the guild's leaders feared being viewed as communist sympathizers. So in the end, they offered Jericho private legal support, but stopped short of open confrontation with rko. Howard took advantage of this hesitancy by going on the offensive. He filed a preemptive lawsuit asking a judge to declare that Paul had no right to seek damages. Paul responded with a countersuit seeking damages, claiming that being fired by Howard and RKO had harmed his reputation. And he demanded $350,000 in compensation for the equivalent of 4.2 million today. Still hoping for an amicable settlement, the Screenwriters Guild encouraged the two sides to submit to private arbitration. But Howard had no intention of settling quietly. Instead, he called a press conference and announced that he was fed up with Hollywood dragging its feet in its efforts to root out communists. Drastic action was needed, he said, and Howard was prepared to take it. Rko was firing 100 employees and they wouldn't be rehired or replaced until Hollywood's communist problem, as he described it, was solved. Outside of the industry, Howard won praise. Senator Richard Nixon applauded his anti communist zeal. The American Legion and other veterans groups awarded him with medals for loyalty and patriotism. But inside Hollywood, some suspected a different motive. From the moment he'd taken over rko, Howard had slashed its workforce. Now he was getting rid of the rest. Some thought that Howard's anti communist purge was just phase two of a cost cutting crusade that he'd always intended to carry out. That idea became central to Paul Jericho's case when the lawsuits reached court in November 1952. Under intense questioning, Howard denied that he was using politics to cover up his business decisions. He deflected questions that compared his treatment of Paul to that of actor Robert Mitchum, who may also have run afoul of his morals clause after being busted for drug offenses four years earlier. Then, when it was time to argue their case, Howard's lawyers sought to shine the spotlight back on Paul Jericho. They berated him over his decision to invoke the Fifth Amendment during his testimony to the House UN American Activities Committee. And when Paul took the stand, they provoked him into anger and Paul criticized the committee as an unconstitutional witch hunt. This defiant tone backfired. On November 26, 1952, the judge ruled in favor of Howard Hughes. In the court's eyes, by invoking the Fifth Amendment, Paul was essentially admitting that he was either a former Communist, a current Communist or a communist sympathizer. That meant that Howard was legally justified in invoking the morals clause in Paul's contract to fire him and to ignore his obligation to credit Paul on the Las Vegas story. As a result, Paul Jericho was forced out of Hollywood and he would spend the next two decades making movies in Europe. But he was not the only loser in the case. RKO's chance of making a recovery took a hit too. While Howard had focused all his attention on his anti communist crusade, production at his studio had virtually ground to a halt. And by the time this court case came to an end, RKO had only one film scheduled for release. Blackbeard the Pirate had only survived the cut because shooting had commenced before Howard announced his studio wide shutdown. RKO finances were already in freefall. Now Howard Hughes self imposed work stoppage had erased any chance of the studio returning to profit. And it Seemed that Howard knew it because all the while he was waging a loud public crusade against communism. Behind the scenes, he was on a covert mission to find find a buyer for rkr.
Speaker B: I'm Raza Jaffrey, and in the new season of the Spy who we open the file on Benedict Arnold, the Spy who Betrayed the American Revolution. America is fighting to free itself from the British Empire and one of its foremost generals is Benedict Arnold. He's a smuggler turned, um, battlefield hero and admired for his aggressive tactics. But when a war wound, a new wife, debts and politics test his loyalty to the mags, he turns spy and devises a plot to shatter the revolution and help Britain capture rebel commander in chief General George Washington. And that plot would make him the most infamous traitor in U.S. history. Follow the Spy who now Wherever you listen to podcasts, you can also listen to the full season of the Spy who Betrayed the American Revolution. Early uh, and ad free on Audible.
Speaker C: As Americans, we're constantly grappling with a fundamental question. Do we settle for the world as it is, or do we strive to create the world as it should be? Our answers tend to ebb and FL flow through the decades. But once, just after a war that nearly tore us apart, we came as close as we've come to answering it. And it's a story worth a closer look. I'm Michelle Obama and I'm proud to announce Higher Ground's new podcast, the Unfinished Promise. Guided by best selling author Malcolm Gladwell and featuring my husband, Barack Obama, this limited series uncovers the untold stories of reconstruction, what they mean for us today, and how our past can shape the future we choose to build. Reconstruction the Unfinished Promise is available now on Audible or wherever you get your podcast.
Speaker A: It's the morning of September 23, 1952, at the Beverly Hills Hotel in California, right in the middle of Howard Hughes's court battle with Paul Jericho. Howard presses his fingers to his temples, then surreptitiously puts them in his ears. Across the table, 34 year old Chicago businessman Ralph Stalkin taps his pen as he reads through a stack of documents. A noise that is driving Howard crazy. Normally, Howard would snap, but he can't afford to antagonize Ralph today of all days, because Ralph is about to buy rko. Still, Howard needs to get Ralph to stop tapping, so he leans forward and clears his throat. Well, we've gone back and forth over these details a hundred times, Mr. Stalkin. Everything we've agreed is in there. Oh, I believe you, Mr. Hughes. But you know, as a Fellow businessman, I'm sure you understand the importance of due diligence. Oh, sure, I respect that. As long as you can respect my 11:00am tee time. Uh, I think you can delay your game for 7 million. I'm just checking a few details. Ralph points at one of the documents. Uh, this looks like the wage bill. Obviously down at the moment. But you say that it's ready to ramp up again? Yeah, sure. We've implemented new screening measures to weed out undesirables. You could start making movies straight away. And I can guarantee there'll be no communists rewriting the endings. All right. Good to know. We have big hopes for rko. We plan to bring production back to pre war levels, as you should. And I can assure you that the studio's in a fine position to deliver. You're going to make a killing. Ralph continues reading the contract and starts tapping again. Howard's eye twitches and he quickly butts in. You're new to Hollywood, right? That's right. Born and raised in Chicago. And how did you make your money? Mail order catalog. Started with a $15,000 loan and then turned it into a $3.4 million business. That's impressive. But the returns you'll get from RKO might make that look like loose change. Yes, I can see that. And everything looks to be in order with the paperwork. Just need to add my mark to it. Ralph signs the bottom paper with a flourish and then slides it across the table. Howard picks it up, folds it carefully and puts it in his jacket pocket. Well, congratulations, Mr. Stolkin. You are now the new owner of RKO Pictures. Ralph holds out his hand for Howard to shake, but Howard keeps his firmly by his side. Ralph lets his hand fall. Uh, so what's next for you? New plane running for office, But Howard is already on his feet and heading for the door. Nope. I've already told you 18 holes of golf. Howard Hughes knew that he was laying it on thick when it came to RKO's rosy prospects for revival. The studio was not ready to restart production and it certainly wasn't about to make a profit. Still, Howard was prepared to bend the truth to ensure that Ralph Stolkin bought the studio. But he wasn't the only one at the table who hadn't told the truth. In the fall of 1952, RKO made an announcement that stunned Hollywood. Howard Hughes was selling the studio and walking away from the movie business. Howard's successor as RKO's biggest shareholder was a five person syndicate headed by Chicago businessman Ralph Stolkin to pull together the equivalent of nearly $90 million today. Ralph partnered with his father in law, two Texas oil barons and uh, a Los Angeles theater chain owner. Aside from the movie owner, though, no one in the syndicate boasted any experience in the motion picture industry. But that didn't matter to Howard. The Syndicate offered him $3 per share above market price. Despite the fact that RKO's stock was in a steady decline and the studio had posted losses for four straight years. Howard was offloading a sinking ship at a premium, thanks in part to the rosy picture he'd painted during negotiations. So on October 2, 1952, Howard cashed a check for the initial payment of, uh, $1.25 million. The rest of the money would follow in installments. Over the next two years, he and two allies resigned from the board. They were replaced by representatives from the syndicate and Ralph Stalkin was named RKO president. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a clean break. But within only two weeks, the deal began to unravel. In mid October, the Wall Street Journal published a series of articles that delved into the business history of RKO's new leadership. And the narrative was not flattering. The expose revealed that the five man syndicate had links to organized crime. One member had business ties to mobster Frank Costello. Ralph's father in law had been indicted by a grand jury in Illinois for insurance fraud. Ralph himself had made a fortune through a mail order business. But he'd accumulated a host of complaints and investigations, with the Federal Trade Commission citing him for deceptive sales practices and fraud, and US Postal authorities issuing him a warning against running an illegal lottery by mail. And with Hollywood already under fire for its supposed communist infiltration, there was little tolerance for even more unsavory headlines. So the industry turned its back on the new RKO leaders. Studio heads vowed not to work with them, and independent directors and producers said they'd take their pictures elsewhere. So with Hollywood rebuffing them, the syndicate's dreams of making it big in Tinseltown quickly collapsed. Only one month and one day after the deal went through, Ralph resigned from the RKO board. Two other syndicate appointed directors went with him, but the syndicate remained the largest shareholder and the remaining board members refused to ratify any new appointees until the messy situation was resolved and the syndicate sold its share. There was only one person interested in stepping into this chaos. Howard Hughes. In February 1953, Howard agreed to reverse the sale. He took back the shares that the syndicate had bought from him less than three months earlier. No money exchanged hands But Howard got to keep the initial $1.25 million down payment. Essentially, Howard made the modern equivalent of more than $15 million for only temporarily ceding control of a losing business. But the RKO that Howard returned to was in even worse shape than before. Movie production still hadn't restarted and now the distribution arm was failing too. Thanks to the negative stories that emerged during the recent crisis. Samuel Goldwyn had decided to end his distribution deal with rko. Other independents threatened to follow him out the door too. So Howard needed to reassure Hollywood that he had a grip on RKO's problems. But instead of mending fences, he set one on Fire. For 18 years, RKO had distributed Walt Disney's features to theaters. During that period, Disney had released several box office smashes, including Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Fantasia and Cinderella. But Howard balked when Disney showed him a preview of his latest feature, a nature documentary about the American Southwest titled the Living Desert. Howard didn't think that many Americans wanted to watch a 69 minute film about Buffalo and cacti. Disney disagreed, and the negotiations between the two men grew so acrimonious that Disney severed ties with rko, electing to set up his own distribution company to release all forthcoming Disney features. For Howard and rko, this came at a cost. The Living desert pulled in $2.6 million at the box office, more than 30 million today, and RKO missed out on its share. This was just the latest in a series of questionable decisions and misjudgments Howard had made since taking over at rko. Finally, his fellow shareholders had had enough. Howard had promised them a bright future, but instead was running RKO into the ground. And while Howard's net worth was propped up by the Hughes Tool Company and Hughes Aircraft Company, many other shareholders did not have such large reserves to fall back on. A significant group of them banded together, united by their dissatisfaction with Howard, and filed a suit for mismanagement. This alliance of shareholders accused Howard of violating his fiduciary responsibilities to the company, citing the long self imposed production shutdown that had slashed income. They called out Howard's propensity for self dealing too, including paying himself inflated sums to secure the rights to actors and movies previously under contract to his other independent film company, the Catto Company. One shareholder even alleged that Howard used inside information when RKA was sold to and bought back from Ralph Stolkin Syndicate. Another criticized Howard for hiring actresses based only on their beauty, not their talent in front of the camera. Soon enough, Howard faced five separate lawsuits from minority shareholders. Embroiling RKO in a civil war. And it only further delayed the studio's recovery. Howard faced a choice. He could fight these cases in court, but that would be a long, drawn out process. He could try to find another buyer, but RKO's prospects were dwindling and the price he'd get was going down by the day. Or he could plot a new route. Howard chose this third way, the opposite to what he had tried a few months earlier. Rather than sell shares in rko, he'd buy them. Howard made an offer to buy out the minority shareholders, who between them owned around 3/4 of RKO stock. And he proposed a price designed to blow them out of the water. $6 per share was almost double the market price. Not far off the cost of RKO stock. When Howard had originally bought his his stake five years earlier, the offer was too good to turn down for all but one holdout. After writing a check for $23.5 million, almost $300 million today, Howard became the owner of almost 95% of RKO Pictures. He was the biggest shareholder in any major studio since the silent movie era. But then Hollywood was just entering a golden age. Audience numbers were booming, film star studios were raking in enormous profits and cinema was the most popular entertainment media. Now though, profits were down across the board and rko, with no self produced movies in the pipeline, was suffering the most. The studio was in a tailspin. And to pull it out of the dive, Howard Hughes would reach out to the industry that was the biggest threat to motion pictures. Television. M It's July 1955 in the cockpit of a Lockheed Constellation somewhere in the skies over the United States. More than a year after Howard Hughes took majority ownership of RKO, 40 year old television and radio executive Thomas O' Neill grips the edge of his seat tightly to his left. Howard calmly pilots the aircraft, one hand resting lightly on the controls. Howard glances over and notices Thomas white knuckles. Something got you unsettled? Thomas? You know, you've chosen some unusual spots for negotiations the past two months, but this one tops them all. Well, it's important that we speak with total privacy. I know that we can talk freely up here. I understand that confidentiality is important, but so is staying alive. Howard turns to him, his eyes suddenly intense. What I have to say to you doesn't leave this cockpit, THOMAS Howard, don't look at me. Pay attention to the controls. Promise me. THOMAS all right, all right. My lips are sealed. You want to buy the television rights to Archeo's entire film library, right? Thomas Brow furrows in confusion. His negotiations with Howard are no secret. Everyone in Hollywood knows. Yes, that's right. Well, you can have the whole thing for 25 million. Thomas snorts. 25? You're dreaming, Howard. No, I mean the whole thing. The entire RKO operation. Movies, assets, rights, everything. I don't want the whole thing. The plane dips suddenly as Howard adjusts course. Thomas stiffens and holds his breath. Oh, relax. I'm just getting us below some rough air. Now, what were you saying? I said I don't have any desire to control a movie studio. That's not my business. Yeah, but you know stories. And let me ask you, would you rather be a hero or a villain? Are we still negotiating a deal here, Howard? Because I don't know. Look, if you buy RKO intact, you'll be keeping a historic Hollywood name alive. You'll be an American hero. Howard, I don't do business based on emotions. But that's the thing. This is not about emotion. Think about it. You will own the studio that made King Kong and Citizen Kane. And more importantly, you'll have full control over exactly who. Who gets to air those classics on television. That's not sentiment. That's strategy. That's an interesting proposition. I give you that. Thomas ponders this proposal quietly, for a moment as Howard turns his attention back to the controls. You take your time to think it over. I'll get us on the ground. On, um, July 15, 1955, Howard Hughes and Thomas O' Neill closed the largest cash deal in Hollywood history for $25 million, nearly 300 today. Ownership of RKO passed to Thomas Co. General Teleradio. Howard was finally free of RKO, this time for good. But he hadn't totally given up on moviemaking. The sale of a major Hollywood film studio to a television and radio company marked a turning point in American Entertainment. In the 1950s, television was transforming the movie media landscape. TV ownership skyrocketed from just 9% of households in 1950 to 90% by the end of the decade. Such a huge cultural shift inevitably encroached onto Hollywood's territory. And with more Americans opting to stay home and watch the small screen, movie theater attendance declined. But television networks still needed content. And that's where RKO held value for Thomas o'.
Speaker B: Neill.
Speaker A: Over the next few months, Thomas sold off the television screening rights to RKO's archive of 740 movies, a move that recouped half of his investment almost overnight. He briefly revived RKO's production arm, and several movies began shooting. But Thomas soon decided that moviemaking was expensive and unpredictable. It did not fit General Teleradio's business model, and the production comeback was brought to an end. RKO's studio assets were sold off to a television studio. Its distribution arm was equipped, acquired by Universal, and any movies in the can were greenlit for release as General Teleradio sought to squeeze every last dime out of rko. But this gave Howard Hughes one last chance for a Hollywood encore. He paid General Teleradio $12 million for the rights to two movies that he had personally championed. The first was the Conqueror, a lavish historical epic that starred John Wayne as Genghis Kahn. Prior to the sale, Howard had hoped this film would restore RKO's reputation as a top tier studio. But even with its high production values, the film earned just $4.5 million. For Howard to avoid making a loss on his $12 million deal, he needed his second movie to really fly. But it barely left the ground. Jet Pilot also starred John Wayne, but was filmed years before, hoping to capitalize on the public interest at the time of Chuck Yeager breaking the sound barrier for the first time. Shooting wrapped in May of 1951, but by the time it finally screened in September 1957, Americans had lost interest in the new jet age. The film crashed and burned at the box office, recording a significant loss. It was also the last movie to bear Howard's name as a producer, and it brought his filmmaking career full circle. From his beginning in Hollywood, Howard tried to make a name for himself by making big budget blockbusters. Hell's Angels was his first attempt to spend big, to score big. But despite Howard's bluster and promotion, it didn't pay off. And over the next three decades, Howard never learned the lesson. He kept returning to the same formula time and time again. Whether it was Scarface, the Outlaw Stromboli, or Jet Pilot, Howard followed the same. Spare no expense, make headlines, aim for spectacle. But his ambitions were rarely rewarded with a profit. It made no difference whether Howard worked outside the system as an independent or inside as a studio boss. His approach to filmmaking made headlines, but not money. By the time Howard was finished with rko, the studio was effectively dead. Today, it's the only one of the big five major studios from Hollywood's golden age that no longer exists. Still, Howard did leave his mark. And modern studios routinely spend extraordinary amounts on new releases, building hype through scandal and spectacle and orchestrating marketing blitzes that dominate the headlines. And sometimes this investment is worth it. With top grossing movies now routinely reaching $1 billion at the box office, but as Howard found out, for every hit there's a flop. Howard Hughes never quite stuck his landing in Hollywood, but his wild stunts and bold maneuvers help change its trajectory forever. From Wonder Eat this is Episode four of Howard Hughes Blows Up Hollywood for Business Members. On the next episode, author Jeffrey Richardson discusses Howard Hughes's film career and evaluates how much he changed the American film industry. If you'd like to learn more about Howard Hughes time in Hollywood, we recommend Howard His Life and Madness by Donald L. Bartlett and James B. Steele Howard Hughes and the Creation of Modern Hollywood by next week's guest, Jeffrey Richardson. Sex, Lies and Stardom and Howard Hughes Hollywood by Karina Longworth and RKO the Biggest Little Major of Them all by Betty Lasky A quick note about our dramatizations. In most cases, we can't know everything that happened, but all our reenactments are based on historical research. Business Movers is hosted by, edited and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga sound design by Molly Bach. 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 William Simpson for Airship and Aaron o', Flaherty. Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Louie for Wondering.