Did You Hear the Story About Howard Hughes and the “Mormon Will”?

Blog Post by:  Melissa C. Platt, Esq.

The majority of Americans (2 out of 3) don’t have a will, according to a study done by Consumer Reports. So, what happens to the property of all those people who die without a will? Well, Utah (and most every state) has “intestate” laws that say who gets a person’s property if the person died without a will. What if you don’t agree with what the law says? Too bad. What if you have no idea what the law says? Doesn’t matter. Think it’ll be okay if you just tell people what you want done with your property? Sorry, the laws—and not your unwritten wishes—control, even if everyone knew what your wishes were.

“Estates without wills are almost always more difficult, complicated and expensive than those with one,” write legacy expert attorneys Andrew and Danielle Mayoras. So, why are so many people willing to just leave the outcome of their legacy up to the laws of the state—especially when it usually takes a greater emotional and financial toll on their loved ones? I have my list of theories, and towards the top of that list is, “Fear.”

It’s not exactly easy to broach the subject of death and incapacity without sounding morbid. I mean, really, how do you bring up a topic of conversation like that? “Hey, Dad, as long as we’re all here celebrating your 60th birthday, we’d like to talk about who gets yours and Mom’s stuff when you guys finally croak.” Or maybe, “Honey, now that we’ve got some alone time away from the 5 kids, let’s start this romantic evening off right and talk about what we’d want to happen in case one or both of us unexpectedly dies or becomes disabled. How’s that sound?” Facing our own or a loved one’s mortality is stomach-churning, and although it’s easy to be flippant about these issues in a hypothetical, the devastating consequences to families are all too real.

So, how can you bring up these sensitive subjects without seeming insensitive? In their book, Trial and Heirs: Famous Fortune Fights…And What You Can Learn From Celebrity Errors, the Mayoras suggest using celebrity estate planning stories as conversation starters. I’ll admit that I enjoy shaking my head in disbelief at the celebrity headlines in the grocery checkout. C’mon, you do too. Can you believe that Brad wants to remarry Jennifer, and is Lindsay Lohan really back in rehab again? Our interest in celebrities’ lives can actually help you approach some difficult subjects in a non-threatening way. Here’s one story to get you started….

In December 1967, Melvin Dummar, a gas station operator, discovered a dirty, unshaven man lying on the side of a stretch of U.S. Highway 95 about 150 miles north of Las Vegas. The man asked Dummar to take him to Vegas, and in the final minutes of their encounter the man revealed himself as Howard Hughes, the richest man alive at the time.

Eight years later, Howard Hughes died on April 5, 1976. Originally, court documents were filed stating that Hughes had died without a will (i.e., intestate), and Hughes’ distant relatives—cousins and uncles well removed—were the only heirs of his $2.5 billion estate.

But then a three-page handwritten document mysteriously surfaced on a desk at the Salt Lake City headquarters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The document, supposedly written by Hughes in 1968, came to be known as the “Mormon Will,” and included gifts of 1/16th of Hughes’ estate (worth a cool $156 million) to Melvin Dummar and 1/16th to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Hughes’ heirs quickly challenged the document as a forgery. The case went to trial in 1978 before a Las Vegas jury. Dummar initially claimed he knew nothing about the will but changed his story when his fingerprint was found on the envelope that contained the will. He then said that a well-dressed man had delivered the will to him and instructed him to deliver the will to the church headquarters. Investigation also revealed that Dummar’s wife had worked for a magazine called Millionaire, and that her job had allowed her access to Hughes’ memos and signature.

Not surprisingly, the jury found the purported will was invalid. The moral of the story? The Mayoras say, “Whether or not Dummar told the truth, one thing is clear—the richest man alive could have easily prevented this drama with a proper will, prepared by an attorney. That way, there would have been no question about Hughes’ true wishes. …There is no reason to rely on this type of shortcut when it is so easy to prepare a will the right way.”