Charlie Lee and Howard Hughes' Aviation Partnership
As the background music faded, the theater held its breath in profound silence. It wasn't until Charlie Lee stood, turned to face Howard Hughes, and clapped with a warm smile that the audience awakened from their stupor, breaking into thunderous applause.
Hughes, who had been clutching his fists anxiously, finally relaxed at the sound. For him, it was never about money—it was about recognition. Tonight, he succeeded.
The headlines rolled in:
"An Unprecedented Production: Howard Hughes Ushers in a New Era in Hollywood…" read Hollywood Headlines.
"This Year's Must-See Film…" declared Variety Magazine.
"A Magnificent Masterpiece: With a $4 Million Investment, People Now See What Movies Should Look Like…" praised Pioneer Express.
News of the premiere spread across the nation via radio, with every broadcaster painting Hughes' cinematic triumph in glowing terms. Newspapers were printed and shipped en masse, carrying the same exuberant praise to cities far and wide.
However, the man behind this groundbreaking production was locked in his editing room, obsessively poring over minor flaws in his film.
"Hughes," an assistant called softly as he pushed the door open.
"Wait for Volume 15… Yes, there's too much noise there. I heard a cough—cut it out. And Volume 17, during the plane crash scene…" Hughes trailed off, his focus fixed.
"I'm sorry," the assistant apologized to Charlie Lee and Eva, who stood nearby. "He's always striving for perfection."
"Geniuses are wired differently," Charlie Lee said with an understanding smile.
"Exactly," the assistant agreed, stepping aside to let them in.
Finally looking up, Hughes addressed them with an apologetic smile. "Charlie, sorry for the mess today. What can I do for you?"
"Just a quick chat," Lee replied with a polite smile.
"Of course." Hughes gestured for them to enter, and the assistant quietly closed the door behind them.
"Charlie, are you interested in the movie? DreamWorks doesn't have its own theaters, as far as I remember," Hughes teased, straddling the back of his chair.
"No, not the movie. I want to talk about airplanes," Lee said, going straight to the point.
"You're building airplanes?" Hughes' eyes lit up.
"I'm not planning to—I'm already doing it," Lee replied, handing over documents provided by Eva.
"I heard you want to be the best pilot in the world. Are you interested in collaboration?"
"You're into flying too?" Hughes asked, intrigued.
"No, not the flying itself. I'm drawn to the thrill, the records, the wild applause," Lee admitted with a wry smile.
"My company, Skunk Works, has 49 aviation designers and experts. Our goal is to build the fastest and largest aircraft ever," Lee explained.
The mention of "fastest" and "largest" captured Hughes' full attention. It was as if Lee's vision mirrored his own dream—creating a cruise ship for the skies.
"So, how much are you investing?" Hughes leaned forward eagerly.
Lee held up a single finger and said, "Unlimited."
"Charlie, I love that number!" Hughes laughed, his voice echoing in the room.
"Now, your terms," Lee said, leaning back confidently.
"I want 30% of the shares, and I'll contribute my expertise to Skunk Works," Hughes proposed.
"Ten percent," Lee countered, smiling faintly.
"Twenty-eight percent," Hughes replied, handing the papers back to Eva.
"Twelve percent."
"…" Hughes hesitated, visibly annoyed by the negotiation. He despised haggling like he was in a department store. "Fifteen percent—but I want 49% of the voting rights."
"No deal," Lee said firmly. "You can decide the research and development direction, but 49% of the voting rights? That's not happening."
Lee understood the risks of giving Hughes too much control. If they ever clashed over a creative decision, the designers at Skunk Works could be torn apart, and Lee had no intention of letting his hard work go to waste.
"What about control over funding approval?" Hughes tried again, pushing the limits.
"Absolutely not," Lee replied, shooting him a sharp look.
"Alright, 15% of the shares, decision-making rights for R&D, and an annual R&D budget of no less than $4 million," Hughes offered, backing down slightly.
"Deal," Lee agreed. His goal wasn't to control every detail—he simply wanted the luxury and safety of owning the ultimate aircraft.
The agreement was finalized, and they decided to sign the contract the next day. As Lee and Eva left the building, the streets buzzed with excitement. People were animatedly discussing the grandeur of Hell's Angels and the visionary persistence of Howard Hughes.
"Boss, why did you agree to his terms?" Eva asked as they walked.
Lee smiled knowingly. "Do you think I gave him a good deal?"
"Yes," Eva admitted. She thought Hughes' terms were overly generous.
Eva couldn't fully understand why Lee would involve an outsider in such a crucial project. Skunk Works already had top-tier engineers, abundant funding, and his full support. Why risk letting Hughes interfere?
"Eva, what do you think of think tanks?" Lee asked suddenly.
"They're essential for integrating resources and providing efficient solutions," Eva replied.
"When I first met Ben, he was just a stock manager," Lee reminisced, referring to his trusted strategist.
"You're saying Hughes has the potential to be like Ben?" Eva asked skeptically.
"No, not like Ben. Hughes is unique. Trust me—he'll bring applause, praise, and maybe even miracles," Lee said, his tone full of conviction.
Eva still had her doubts, but she couldn't deny Lee's knack for spotting talent.
Later, Garbo, Lee's confidante, expressed her disbelief. "I can't believe you're encouraging Hughes to build airplanes. My God!"
"Haven't you heard of chasing dreams?" Lee replied with a chuckle.
"Sure, but flying a plane doesn't mean you know how to build one!" she argued.
"Maybe not for most people, but Hughes is different," Lee said. "He knows more about airplanes than most designers because it's his passion—it's in his blood."
Garbo sighed, conceding defeat. "Fine. If it makes you happy."
Charlie Lee understood that success required collaboration. In the past six months, he had learned the importance of sharing power, showing humility, and respecting others' expertise.
Ben was his first stroke of luck. Disney was a calculated gamble. And Hughes? Hughes was the wild card.