LATIMES.COM S SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2019A
of that marriage, Parker, a toddler,
was diagnosed with leukemia. The
disease went into remission after
Hughes took him to a Minnesota
physician for experimental treat-
ment. The cancer returned two
years later, and Parker died in 1998
at age 8.
Hughes was devastated but
grateful for the extra time with his
son and gave $40 million to found a
clinic supporting the work of the
doctor, Fatih Uckun.
“Two years of life for my boy was
worth everything for me,” Hughes
told a Minnesota newspaper in
2000, when the Parker Hughes
Cancer Center opened.
Uckun said in an interview that
Hughes was focused on his money
making a difference for other fam-
ilies.
“It was never about his child
only, it was about children in gen-
eral,” Uckun said.
Hughes immersed himself in
the details of cancer research, and
in the years that followed his son’s
death, he sometimes became a life-
line for people with relatives newly
diagnosed with the disease.
Woolley, his former employee,
was running rival Extra Space
Storage in 2007 when he learned his
daughter-in-law, a mother of five
young children, had leukemia. He
had largely fallen out of touch with
Hughes, he said, but called him in
desperation.
“I said, ‘Wayne, I’m in big trou-
ble,’ ” Woolley recalled. Hughes, he
said, connected him with a cancer
researcher who worked with his
daughter-in-law’s doctors. “I feel
like I owe my daughter-in-law’s life
to Wayne.”
Hughes started a charitable
foundation in 1997 that today fo-
cuses on funding pediatric cancer
research. Tax filings show he and
his family have contributed more
than $70 million to it over the years.
Except for the clinic named for
his son, Hughes has rarely ac-
knowledged his charitable gifts.
After wildfires killed and threat-
ened horses throughout California
in 2017, Hughes gave $50,000 and
flew in veterinary supplies and vol-
unteers on a private plane from
Kentucky, philanthropy that only
came to light a month later when it
was mentioned in passing in a rac-
ing industry association news re-
lease.
In conversations with associ-
ates, Hughes has said he believes
giving secretly is ennobling. Uckun,
the Minnesota physician, said the
billionaire once presented him
with a copy of “Magnificent Obses-
sion,” a 1929 novel by Christian
minister Lloyd Douglas.
The book tells the story of a
feckless young heir whose life is
changed by the posthumous exam-
ple of a brain surgeon named
Wayne Hudson who had helped
countless people with anonymous
gifts and clandestine acts of chari-
ty.
The message, Uckun said, was
“your own awareness is sufficient
reason to be happy and proud of
what you have done. It does not re-
quire validation by other people.”
Trojans’ ‘passionate fan’
On a spring evening in 1972,
Hughes took an up-and-coming
Trojan wide receiver to dinner.
Lynn Swann had gazelle-like
moves and had earned a starting
spot in his sophomore year. He
thought he was doing everything
right, he would later recall.
Then the businessman booster
across the table asked him a ques-
tion that stopped him cold.
In the biggest games, Hughes
asked, why do you play so ordi-
nary?
“I’d never had a coach or a team-
mate ask me such a thing, and
while I liked Wayne, he was merely
a passionate fan,” Swann later re-
counted to ESPN.
Afterward, Swann watched
game film and “saw the ugly truth.”
“I wasn’t the guy making the big
catch. I wasn’t the guy making the
long run. In fact, I was just, for lack
of a better word, a guy,” he said.
“That’s when I decided to take my
game to a different level.”
In the years that followed,
Swann became a first-round draft
pick and won four Super Bowls
with the Pittsburgh Steelers. When
he was inducted into the NFL Hall
of Fame in 2001, he thanked
Hughes.
Swann’s experience with
Hughes was not unique. However
busy he was running his business
and tending to his family, Hughes
made room for Trojan football. He
attended practices and, in an era
before modern National Collegiate
Athletic Assn. regulations, spent
time off the field with the team’s
best players.
When their Coliseum days
ended, Hughes offered jobs, finan-
cial advice and investment oppor-
tunities in his race horses and
other projects. Cowlings took a po-
sition with Public Storage after re-
tiring from the NFL, according to
sworn testimony in the Simpson
civil trial. Swann got a seat on the
corporate board of a Hughes com-
pany, American Homes 4 Rent,
and a directorship on the board of
Hughes’ charity.
When Swann ran as a Republi-
can candidate for governor in
Pennsylvania, Hughes, a conserva-
tive who has given millions to GOP
candidates and super PACs, and
his family donated more than
$165,000. Swann lost the 2006 race.
Hughes also supported former
players’ charitable efforts, such as
the nonprofit founded by former
Trojan quarterback Peete and his
wife, actress Holly Robinson, to aid
families living with autism and
Parkinson’s disease. Swann, Cowl-
ings, Allen and Simpson were regu-
lars at Hughes’ homes over the
years, sometimes tossing footballs
in the front yard with other friends
and their children. The relation-
ships extended through genera-
tions, with Hughes’ children and
grandchildren forming friendships
with the players, their wives and
children.The trial of the century
That loyalty was put to the test
in 1994 when Simpson was arrested
on suspicion of murdering his for-
mer wife, Nicole Brown Simpson,
and her friend Ronald Goldman. It
was Cowlings who broke the news
to Hughes, according to sworn tes-
timony in the Simpson civil trial.
During the famous white
Bronco chase, when Cowlings
drove a despondent Simpson
through a mesmerized Southern
California, another USC alum,
Robert Kardashian, read aloud
what purported to be a suicide
note. The first friend Simpson
mentioned and thanked in the let-
ter was Cowlings. The second was
Hughes.
Hughes plunged himself into
aiding Simpson during the trial.
He visited him in the county jail,
acted as a legal guardian for the
couple’s two young children and
met with the lawyers charting a de-
fense strategy.
Robert Shapiro, one of Simp-
son’s attorneys, recalled in his 1996
memoir that Hughes “wanted to
take over the entire financial as-
pect of the case — and also dictate
how the case itself should pro-
ceed.”
At a meeting at Hughes’ Malibu
home, Shapiro said, the billionaire
expressed a desire to be chief exe-
cutive of the legal team, asked for
meetings with forensic experts
Henry Lee and Michael Baden, and
offered theories on how best to win
an acquittal.
“I told him that if he wanted to
be a good, supportive friend, we
would welcome that; if he wanted
to lend financial aid to O.J., thatwould be appreciated also. But I
could not go beyond that,” Shapiro
wrote.
It is unclear whether Hughes
ponied up money. Asked whether
Hughes paid for Simpson’s de-
fense, Shapiro wrote in an email, “I
had no financial dealings with Mr.
Hughes.”
The businessman had been
close to Brown Simpson and knew
of at least one incident of alleged
domestic violence. In 1982, before
the couple married, she arrived at
Hughes’ home and complained
that Simpson had struck her, ac-
cording to court records. She was
upset and visibly injured, the re-
cords show.
In the wake of the killings, au-
thorities scrutinizing the Simpson
marriage interviewed Hughes.
Court records offer limited and
conflicting accounts of what oc-
curred. Superior Court Judge
Lance Ito, who presided over the
criminal trial, wrote in a 1995 ruling
that during their conversation,
Brown Simpson “asked Hughes to
speak with” her then-boyfriend.
But the following year, a Simpson
lawyer disputed that to a different
judge, saying in a civil proceeding
that when Hughes “asked Nicole
Brown Simpson ... if she wanted
him to ever discuss this with O.J.
Simpson, she said no.”
In the end, jurors heard exten-
sive testimony about times Simp-
son hurt his wife or was alleged to
have done so, including a 1989 beat-
ing that resulted in a conviction for
spousal battery. But they didn’t
hear from Hughes. Ito ruled that
the 1982 conversation at his home
“provides only indirect evidence of
assaultive conduct.”
Simpson and Hughes appeared
to remain friends for some time af-
ter the acquittal. When Simpson
regained custody of his children,
Hughes stayed on as their legal
guardian in probate court, over-
seeing the money and belongings
they inherited from their mother.
In this role, he sued Brown Simp-
son’s relatives to recoup more than
$260,000 they made from sellingher diary and other items. The case
settled confidentially in 1997.
The current status of the rela-
tionship between Simpson and
Hughes is not publicly known.
Simpson didn’t respond to a re-
quest for an interview through a
publicist. Asked last year by a Ken-
tucky journalist whether Simpson
had visited Spendthrift, a farm
spokesman said, “I wouldn’t think
anytime recently.”Big gifts, no fanfare
When the Galen Center, USC’s
basketball arena, opened in 2006,
observant fans noticed an unfamil-
iar name emblazoned on the floor
in crimson.
Jim Sterkel Court.
Intrigued, Times sports col-
umnist Bill Plaschke researched
Sterkel and found that he had been
an unremarkable Trojan player for
two seasons in the 1950s. When
Plaschke phoned his widow, she
knew nothing of the court dedica-
tion.
“Are you sure?” Joanne Sterkel,
asked Plaschke. “His name is on
what?”
USC would say only that an
anonymous donor had given
$5 million to name the court.
Plaschke interviewed the donor for
a column but agreed not to name
him. He described him as a “ty-
coon” who had attended Mark
Keppel High and USC with Sterkel
and had lost a young son to cancer.
“The joy I have in remembering
Jim would be significantly reduced
if people knew who I was,” the
donor said.
Two sources outside the news-
paper confirmed that Hughes was
the donor. The floor is believed to
be among the first major gifts
Hughes made to USC.
University President Steven
Sample had tapped Hughes to be a
trustee in 1999, but Hughes’ most
significant giving appears to have
occurred under Sample’s succes-
sor, Nikias. From the time he was
named president in 2010, Nikias
cultivated a close relationship with
the Hughes family. He and his wife,
Niki, became so close to Tamara
Hughes Gustavson that they des-
ignated her as one of two people
who could hold power of attorney
for them in case they became inca-
pacitated, public records show.
Nikias, who stepped down last
year, praised Hughes in a state-
ment as “a man of impeccable
character, loyal to his family and
his philanthropic causes.”
“He is a devoted Trojan,” the
president emeritus said.
One of Nikias’ strategies to ele-
vate USC’s ranking and reputation
was to secure what he called
“transformative gifts,” the eight-
and nine-figure donations that ac-
celerated a $6-billion capital cam-
paign.
News releases soon heralded a
$200-million contribution from
David and Dana Dornsife, steel
magnates from Stockton; $50 mil-
lion from Pasadena tech entrepre-
neur Ming Hsieh; $70 million from
Silicon Valley venture capitalist
Mark Stevens and his wife, Mary;
and $150 million from the W.M.
Keck Foundation.
Hughes was writing huge
checks too, but there were no an-
nouncements. He directed much of
the money to the athletic depart-
ment, sources familiar with the
gifts said. Some of the money went
to pay for the state-of-the-art foot-
ball training facility named for for-
mer coach John McKay.
That building bears one of the
few markers of the family’s gener-
osity, a lobby atrium named for
Parker, the son Hughes lost to leu-
kemia. A plaque there reads, “Our
little man wanted to be a Trojan.
And now he is.”
Through the years, Cowlings
has remained a confidante to
Hughes, often traveling with him to
Kentucky and joining him at USC
football practices. The retired
player, who turned 72 this year,
lives at Hughes’ sprawling Malibu
compound, according to voter re-
cords.
When Nikias was raising money
for a campus expansion known as
the Village, Hughes offered to give
$15 million to build a dorm named
for Cowlings, sources knowledge-
able about the deal said.
Some in the administration
thought Cowlings’ connection to
the Simpson case made the build-
ing’s naming unseemly, but Nikias
supported accepting the money,
and the trustees’ executive com-
mittee ultimately signed off. When
Cowlings Residential College
opened in 2017, Nikias said it paid
tribute to the retired football play-
er’s “tremendous passion for his
alma mater.”For longtime friend,
a big-time job
For Hughes and other Trojan
superfans, the state of the football
team three years ago was a source
of anguish.
The program had cycled
through four head coaches in six
seasons. Athletic director Pat
Haden famously fired one coach,
Lane Kiffin, on the LAX tarmac af-
ter a midseason loss to Arizona
State. Steve Sarkisian was ousted
halfway through his second season
after slurring his words and
shouting profanities at a booster
event. He later acknowledged that
he had been battling alcoholism,
which raised doubts about the vet-
ting USC had done.
When Haden announced he was
stepping down in 2016, USC hired a
search firm to scour the nation for
an athletic director many hoped
would bring modern leadership
and professionalism to the depart-ment.
There was no trouble lining up
impressive candidates.
Those interested included
McKay’s son, Rich, a Princeton
graduate and attorney who is CEO
of the Atlanta Falcons; Syracuse
athletic director Daryl Gross, a for-
mer USC athletics administrator
who now heads Cal State L.A.’s
sports program; and Steve Lopes,
the longtime No. 2 in USC’s ath-
letic department.
Multiple rounds of interviews
winnowed 200 prospects to about
seven finalists. One person knowl-
edgeable about the search process
said Hughes indicated to Nikias
that he preferred Swann for the
job. Hughes’ attorney said it would
be “wholly inaccurate” to say he
had lobbied Nikias to appoint
Swann.
Swann had never run an ath-
letic program, let alone worked at a
university, and he had scant man-
agement experience beyond serv-
ing on the boards of companies and
charities. USC’s athletic director
would oversee a budget of $100 mil-
lion, 21 varsity teams and at least
650 student-athletes.
Nikias chose Swann, a decision
that left many in collegiate sports
slack-jawed. In a statement re-
sponding to reporters’ questions,
the former president said he had
made the decision himself without
input from trustees.
“At no point was there any influ-
ence from any donor or member of
the board,” he said. “None whatso-
ever.”
Swann’s tenure was initially un-
remarkable, but last year, the foot-
ball team suffered its first losing
season since 2000, including a hu-
miliating defeat by UCLA. Boost-
ers, alumni and others who travel
to every game and obsessively fol-
low the team grew more and more
disenchanted with head coach
Clay Helton as the season went
along.
Many wanted Swann to oust
him and looked to Hughes for help
making it happen.
“Heritage Hall insiders know
the only person [Swann] will listen
to does not even work on campus,”
journalist Scott Wolf wrote about
Hughes on his popular USC sports
blog.
Before a November game
against Notre Dame, a chartered
plane flew a banner over the Colise-
um reading, “Lynn Swann —
Please Fire Clay Helton!”
The next day, Swann an-
nounced that he had decided to
keep Helton on. The backlash was
swift, furious and sometimes di-
rected at the man boosters saw as
responsible for Swann’s reign.
A hyperbolic January post on a
message board for USC superfans
began, “Wayne Hughes Destroyed
USC Athletics.”
The college admissions scandal
this spring dealt another blow to
the athletic department and
brought further criticism of
Swann.
He professed ignorance of the
criminal ring allegedly operating in
his department, telling a Times
columnist, “I think everybody was
blindsided by this.”
In response to questions from
The Times, Swann said he was
proud of his performance and
noted that “graduation rates are at
all-time highs” and that student-
athletes were receiving “an unpar-
alleled collegiate experience.”
He did not answer specific que-
ries about Hughes’ sway at USC
but said, “I am fortunate to have
[Hughes] as a friend. Like many
loyal alums, he has a deep passion
for this university and is a generous
supporter.”A final goal
When the University of Ken-
tucky basketball team gathered for
a preseason workout one Monday
last September, Hughes was in at-
tendance. The Wildcats’ practice
facility is a 20-minute drive from
the horse farm where Hughes
spends much of his time these
days.
The billionaire, dressed in a
blue sweater and washed-out
jeans, was joined by Cowlings, an-
other longtime friend, and his son-
in-law.
“Had our friends from USC and
Spendthrift Farm at practice to-
day,” coach John Calipari later
tweeted.
Hughes is slowing down profes-
sionally, associates say. In May, he
turned over the reins of American
Homes 4 Rent to his daughter in
what the company said was a re-
tirement.
Over lunch earlier this year with
Woolley, who sits on the company
board, Hughes said he hoped to
dedicate what was left of his life to
the eradication of the disease that
killed his son.
“He said, ‘All this money, but I
can’t eat it,’ ” Woolley recalled. Cur-
ing cancer, Hughes said, was some-
thing that had real meaning. “I had
never really thought of him being a
spiritual person, but he really ex-
pressed it almost like a calling from
God.”
Whether he will continue to give
to USC is not known publicly.
Few students now settling on
campus for the start of the aca-
demic year will have heard of
Hughes or his role at USC. When
first-years are indoctrinated in the
mythology of the Trojan Family,
Hughes won’t be mentioned.
In an out-of-the-way corner of
Heritage Hall, a small picture of
him stares out from a collage of
several notable alumni. There’s
no plaque explaining who he is,
but alongside the display in
large chrome letters is one word:
faithful.GARY STEVENS is congratulated by horse owner B. Wayne
Hughes after the Breeders’ Cup Distaff at Santa Anita in 2016.Jae C. HongAssociated PressHUGHESand Dr. Fatih Uckun in 2000 open a Minnesota cancer
center named for Hughes’ son, who had leukemia and died at 8.Judy GriesedieckStar TribuneIT’S BELIEVEDthat the $5 million USC received to name Jim
Sterkel Court was among Hughes’ first major gifts to the school.Mel MelconLos Angeles Times[Hughes,from A18]