History Warp (1/09-1/15): Recluses ‘r’ Us

It’s been awhile since I’ve offered up a pithy intro to these weekly nuggets of historitude. So, I felt compelled to do it this time around.

So now I have. Now, enough, fast forward to the past.

Leo DeCaprio is being acclaimed for his portrayal last year of iconic FBI founder and FBI director for life J. Edgar Hoover. It’s not the first suitably notable bigger than life wacko he’s played on the silver screen.

Remember when he did Howard Hughes? About whom this snippet centers. Hughes, believed to be the richest man in the world while he was alive, became an OCD recluse, who lived in the penthouse of a hotel he owned in Vegas. Or, so it is believed.

After he went into hiding, nobody had seen or heard from him for years. Until January 9, 1972. Seems there was this fellow Clifford Irving, who concocted an autobiography of Hughes that purported to provide lots of insider info. Turns out he made it all up.

Which we know because Hughes on that date picked up the phone and called reporters to unmask Irving. At least we thought it was Hughes. The guy on the other end of the line said he was Hughes.

* * * * *

Now the moon is almost hidden/ The stars are beginning to hide/ The fortune telling lady/ Has taken all her things inside/ All except for Cain and Abel/ An the hunchback of Notre Dame/ Everybody is making love/ Or else expecting rain/ And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing, getting ready for the show/ He’s going to the carnival tonight/ On Desolation Row

Thank you, Bob Dylan. Oh, what the heck, because we can, let’s hear the whole dang song.

And, now, since you are waiting, the connection between those lyrics and another bit o’ info from the past.

On January 15, 1831, the notoriously tardy author Victor Hugo, son of one of Napoleon’s officers, finished writing “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” The main character of which novel was somewhat of a recluse himself.