Howard Hughes: American Enigma

Industrialist, aviator, movie mogul, recluse -- Howard Hughes was one of the most accomplished and mysterious figures America has ever produced ... and, in many ways, one of the most pitiable. Above: Hughes climbs into the cockpit of his Northrop Gamma H-1 plane (refitted with an engine he helped re-design and re-tool) on January 18, 1937, prior to breaking the speed record for transcontinental flight. He took off from Burbank, Calif., and landed in Newark, New Jersey, 7 hours, 28 minutes, and 25 seconds later, besting his own 1936 record time by almost two full hours.

The 'Spruce Goose'

The "Spruce Goose," a massive sea plane designed and built (largely out of wood) by Hughes, pictured under construction in 1947. Today, the plane is probably the engineering feat for which Hughes is best-remembered -- although, at the time, scandals around the costs and methods of its creation almost destroyed Hughes and his company, Hughes Aircraft.

Howard Hughes: Fastest 'Round the World

Even in the midst of his Hollywood success, Hughes continued to fly, and shatter distance and speed records. Here, he sits in a car with New York Mayor Fiorello "Little Flower" LaGuardia, who lights a pipe as the car leaves Floyd Bennett Airfield in New York, July 14, 1938. Hughes, exhausted and unkempt, and his crew of three had just landed his plane at the field after setting a new speed record for flying around the world (3 days, 19 hours, and 12 minutes -- more thanfour days faster than the old record).

The Outlaw

One of the most famous and controversial movies of Hughes' career was The Outlaw, starring Jane Russell (above). The film was made in 1941 but not widely released until five years later; Hollywood's censors had issues, it seems, with the way that the almost implausibly curvaceous Russell's dresses kept threatening to fall off. The publicity around the censorship, and the innumerable pictures of Russell illustrating exactly why the censors were so worked up, made her a star before the movie was even released, and pretty much guaranteed that the film would make money. Which, of course, it did.

On Set

Hughes studies the script as he sits on the set of The Outlaw. In everything he did, whether producing films or flying and engineering fast (and faster, and faster) planes, Hughes was a hands-on kind of guy.

Building Hercules

When Hughes was contracted by the U.S. government in the mid-1940s to build a military troop-transport plane, he responded in his usual modest style and set about creating the H-4 Hercules, a massive wooden plane later famously dubbed the "Spruce Goose" which would, when completed, be by far the largest flying machine ever built. The plane was actually made of birch, not spruce: the contract required that the aircraft be built of "non-strategic materials" during the war. But the nickname -- which Hughes hated -- stuck.

The Spruce Goose: View Toward the Tail

Spruce Goose: View Toward the Cockpit

The Goose was 219 feet long, with an awe-inspiring wingspan of nearly 320 feet. (Boeing 747s, by contrast, have wingspans ranging from 195 feet in the earliest models to 224 feet in today's 747-8 class.) Hughes' plane had a tail height of nearly 80 feet -- roughly that of an eight-story building.

Transport Titan

Despite its enormous size, the Goose was meant to be flown with a crew of only three people. Its planned "cargo," meanwhile, was impressive: up to 750 fully-equipped troops, or one 35-ton M4 Sherman tank. Here Hughes and a colleague check one of the plane's huge instrument panels.

The Aviator

Hughes sits in the Spruce Goose, under construction in 1947. "I want to be remembered for only one thing," the billionaire once said, "and that's my contribution to aviation."

The Player

As driven as Hughes was, his life was not only about work. Seen here with Ava Gardner (who, at the peak of her stardom, was frequently referred to as "The World's Most Beautiful Woman"), Hughes was romantically linked through the years, in fact and in rumor, with the likes of Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn, Paulette Goddard, Hedy Lamar, Lana Turner, Gene Tierney ... Get the picture?

Senate Hearings: 'The Sweat of My Life'

Hughes testifies before a Senate committee after being accused by Sen. Owen Brewster (R-Maine) of misusing $40 million in government funds during the development of two planes: the F-11 and the HK-1 ("Spruce Goose"), neither of which was ever successfully delivered to the government. During the hearings, which ended inconclusively, Hughes stirringly defended his work on the HK-1: "The Hercules was a monumental undertaking. It is the largest aircraft ever built .... I put the sweat of my life into this thing. I have my reputation rolled up in it and I have stated several times that if it's a failure I'll probably leave this country and never come back. And I mean it."

Fixing to Fly

Hughes, looking miniscule, stands atop the prototype of the HK-1, directing operations for pulling it away from its dry dock on Terminal Island, Long Beach, for a test flight in Los Angeles Harbor, November 1947.

Pilot Hughes

November 2, 1947: Howard Hughes sits in the cockpit of the Spruce Goose on the day of its celebrated, long-delayed test flight.

Thing of Beauty

Unpublished | A portrait of the HK-1 by LIFE photographers Allan Grant and J.R. Eyerman captures something often overlooked when people discuss the mammoth plane. Namely, its sheer, sleek aesthetic power. Putting aside for a moment the technical complexities and challenges inherent in designing a flying vessel of this size, one can focus on the beauty of the thing: a monumental sculpture that looks like something Brancusi might craft -- if the great Romanian sculptor dabbled in aeronautics.

No Turning Back

Unpublished | Howard Hughes and his co-pilot, David Grant, jockey the Spruce Goose into position for takeoff.

Speeding Toward History

Unpublished | Accompanied by a scattered flotilla, the HK-1 races across Los Angeles Harbor, gathering speed for the moment that Hughes' numerous and vocal detractors were certain would never come: liftoff.

Liftoff: November 2, 1947

Hughes and co-pilot Grant (a hydraulic engineer who did not have a pilot's license) fly the Goose over Los Angeles Harbor. The plane flew only once, at about 70 feet above the water for just about a mile. But it was a triumph for Hughes, who for years had been fighting allegations that the plane was nothing but a boondoggle kept alive by the grandiose dreams of a crazy man. After this vindication of his singular vision, Hughes put his considerable energy and almost limitless money behind defeating (and, in fact, humiliating) the loudest of the plane's opponents, Sen. Brewster of Maine. Brewster lost the 1952 Senate race, and never held office again.