Dinner with Maheu showed softer side of powerful Hughes stand-in

Most people remember Bob Maheu and think of his weird 15-year relationship with the even weirder Howard Hughes, because the two never met in person, yet Maheu morphed into Hughes’ alter ego before they parted ways. In his 1992 book "Next to Hughes," Maheu thanked Hughes "who taught me so much about life through his own unhappiness."

Maheu’s life was one of depth and breadth and deeds of derring-do. Hard to forget his fronting for the CIA in a plot to assassinate Fidel Castro.

But my final memory of him is a sweet one.

It was Sept. 21, 2007. I’d been invited to celebrate my friend Janice Allen’s 80th birthday, a surprise dinner party planned by her husband, Fred. As I looked around the private dining room at Becker’s Steakhouse, I realized I was lucky to be invited. The crowd was almost entirely old Las Vegas. Some I knew; some I didn’t. Seating was assigned and I was lucky to be between two elegant older women, beautifully coiffed, tastefully dressed and bejeweled. I didn’t know either one.

To my left was Virginia Richardson, widow of real estate developer Jack Richardson and a Beckley, one of the oldest pioneer families in Las Vegas. On the other side of Virginia was her date … Bob Maheu.

When I shook his hand, he had a grip of steel, something he was noted for throughout his life.

He and Virginia were most definitely a couple. I’m not sure how long they’d been dating; but it didn’t take me long to spy that throughout almost the entire dinner, they were tenderly holding hands under the table.

Bob, who died Monday at the age of 90, would have been 89 at the time. He and Virginia showed a sweet consideration for each other throughout that memorable dinner, but their hand holding was one of those memories that makes you see someone in a different light. A man I had viewed as powerful and ruthless when necessary was clearly smitten … at 89.

Soon afterward, I tried to set up a lunch with Bob and Virginia, but they were leaving on a cruise.

During the dinner, we talked about old Las Vegas as well as current events. I restrained myself from launching into my interview mode and just had a conversation, but dearly wished I’d had a tape recorder running to memorialize the stories.

Although Maheu had talked freely about his history with Hughes, often calling him "the poorest man in the world," I refrained from peppering him with Hughes questions.

But in a crowd of old Las Vegans, inevitably there were other Hughes ties.

On my right, the other distinguished lady was Jewel Brooks, who talked about how her late husband, Bob, had palled with Hughes in those early Hollywood years, when her husband owned the popular Seven Seas nightclub and the two men dated Hollywood starlets.

These two women, along with Maheu, knew this town’s history better than I could ever hope to.

Although I never interviewed Bob Maheu, I remember introducing myself to him and his wife, Yvette, when we were standing in line to get into a Barrick Lecture Series event. Their marriage had lasted 62 years when Yvette passed away in 2003. They had met in Maine when she was 10 and he was the older guy at 11. Maheu was at the party because he and Yvette had become friends with Janice Allen after Hughes and his empire moved into Las Vegas in 1966.

Now two from that dinner party are gone. Maheu and Fred Allen.

Allen, who left his mark on this town by drilling water wells in the valley, giving the desert town what it desperately needed, died June 29 at the age of 86.

Maheu left his mark by buying casinos for Hughes from the mob and opening the door for corporations to invest in this city, a pivotal point in making gaming a legitimate industry. That’s a big legacy.

But I’ll remember him as the 89-year-old gentleman holding hands under the table with Virginia Richardson. And his crushing handshake for me and everyone else.

Jane Ann Morrison’s column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. E-mail her at Jane@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0275.