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Even if a clear and authentic last testament by Hughes is found, a gigantic scramble for the remaining money seems certain to break out anyway. That fight, which could have incalculable consequences, would pit Hughes' long-estranged, patrician Houston relatives against a triumvirate of insiders at Hughes' Summa Corp., the umbrella company formed in 1972 to oversee his vast holdings (see box).
The uncertainty of the situation raises serious questions about the fate of Hughes' empire. In Nevada, his aviation companies and seven hotels and casinos—including the Sands, the Desert Inn and the Castaways—are the second largest employer (more than 6,000 people) after the Federal Government. His aviation and defense companies even now affect the national interest; for example, Hughes Aircraft, which is the U.S.'s ninth biggest defense contractor, produces the Phoenix air-to-air missile, the Hellfire air-to-surface missile and radar.
While the fate of Hughes' legacy was in doubt, the world could only once again try to probe the mysteries of his life—and death. There was even dispute over the cause of death. An autopsy in Houston, the home town that Hughes had not visited in 21 years, ascribed it to kidney poisoning. But a Summa Corp. spokesman insisted that Hughes had suffered a massive stroke two days earlier, forcing the emergency trip to Houston.
After the autopsy, the body was claimed by Hughes' relatives, including his only surviving aunt, Mrs. Frederick Lummis Sr., 85, and eight cousins. At an eight-minute Episcopal ceremony attended only by them and their families—about 20 people in all—Hughes was laid in a grave beside his mother and father in Houston's Glenwood Cemetery. "We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out," said the priest. "Remember thy servant Howard."
Hughes had lived for so long in utter isolation that many people questioned whether the body was actually his. The Internal Revenue Service, which had been on the verge of declaring him legally dead in order to claim the huge estate tax, took fingerprints from the corpse to check against genuine Hughes prints on file with the FBI in Washington. It was Hughes, all right.
Self-imposed Imprisonment
No one could be blamed for doubting. He had not been seen in public since 1958, and the most recent photo dates from 1952. Dr. Jack Titus, the chief pathologist at Methodist Hospital, performed the autopsy. He found Hughes to be a skeleton of a man, weighing only 90-odd lbs., with wispy gray hair down to his shoulders and a sparse beard.*