There’s a lot to know. That’s because Kirk Kerkorian packed several lifetimes’ worth of activity into one life, including building the world’s largest hotel … three times. (Living to age 98 with one’s faculties undimmed helps.) But Kerkorian had more than longevity in his favor. As the New York Times summarized his career, "He pursued strategies that baffled business rivals and Wall Street analysts and that left him sometimes on the verge of bankruptcy. Other times, his moves brought him windfalls." At various times in his career he bested Howard Hughes, Ted Turner and Steve Wynn.
Born Kerkor Kerkorian in 1917, in Fresno, the future tycoon would have long and painful memories of a vagabond, poverty-ridden childhood (his father once owned 10 farms but lost them all, due to heavy mortgages) to motivate him. "Everyone was hungry. We had to move every three months," older sister Rose told the Los Angeles Times "because we couldn't pay our rent." During one of his family’s many stopovers, he sold papers on the streets of Los Angeles. Although he would become a summa cum laude of the business world, Kerkorian struck out on his own with no better than an eighth-grade education. As he would later be quoted in The First 100, "When you’re a self-made man, you start very, very early in life."
As a young man, he entered the boxing ring and quickly earned the nickname "Rifle Right Kerkorian," ringing up a 29-4 record and a Pacific amateur welterweight championship before hanging up the gloves at age 22 in favor of a new pursuit: flying. While installing furnaces with Ted O’Flaherty, Kerkorian would hang out with him during lunch break, watching O’Flaherty tool about in his Piper Cub. Coaxed – with some reluctance – into the passenger seat, the future airline owner was besotted at once with the experience and sought flying lessons immediately.
Kerkorian eventually made his way to California’s Happy Bottom Riding Club, run by fabled aviatrix Pancho Barnes. His sales pitch: "I haven’t got any money. I haven’t got any education. I want to learn to fly. I don’t know how I can do it. Can you help me?" In return for shoveling manure and milking cows, Kerkorian was taught to fly airplanes, eventually becoming a flight instructor.
With the coming of World War II, Kerkorian wanted a piece of the action, but the U.S. was initially neutral. However, Canadian factories were making Mosquito fighters for the Royal Air Force and having them flown to Great Britain. It wasn’t a mission for the faint of heart: the fatality rate exceeded 50 percent. There were two routes overseas, a subarctic semicircle that required many refueling stops, or a direct path to Scotland that demanded pushing the Mosquito’s fuel capacity to the limit. Displaying characteristic daring and riding a jet stream called "the Iceland Wave," the straight line was the route Kerkorian took, sometimes landing with little more than fumes in the tank.
Paid $1,000 a month, Kerkorian saved his RAF salary assiduously. Reports the New York Times, "After the war he bought surplus military transport planes, refurbished them and sold them around the world, using the profits to buy a small air charter operation [Los Angeles Air Service], based in Los Angeles, in 1947." Running Los Angeles Air Service entailed frequent trips to Las Vegas, igniting a romance with the city that would last until Kerkorian’s death. "I was just overwhelmed by the level of excitement in this little town," he said. Although even he eventually swore off gambling, for a time Kerkorian was a high roller, known for his composure whether running the tables or getting cleaned out.
Kerkorian’s romance wasn’t strictly with the city. He met and married Vegas choreographer Jean Maree Hardy, his second wife. He would name his investment vehicle, Tracinda Corp., after their daughters, Tracy and Linda. Kerkorian and Hardy stayed together for the better part of three decades.
In 1962, Kerkorian made two fateful transactions, selling his now-Trans International Airlines to Studebaker Corp., and buying an off-Strip tract of land. Still in operation control of TIA, he propelled it into a major expansion of routes and destinations. Then he bought it back from Studebaker, then sold it twice more in subsequent years. The proceeds he received from these transactions are credited with giving the capital to diversify in transportation, and into casinos and film studios. He leased his Las Vegas real estate to Caesars Palace at $1 million before selling it outright for $5 million in 1968.
Having godfathered one Las Vegas success story, Kerkorian thought, ‘I can do this, too.’ He bought a big chunk of land on Paradise Road and set about building the world’s largest hotel, the International. Characteristically, Kerkorian deferred plaudits for its success to executive Fred Benninger. "I can’t take much credit except for seeing the big picture," he demurred, "the amount of rooms, what kind of showrooms. I’m into that part of it. But when you get to the nitty-gritty, I don’t have the education to really get in there and dissect it."
Kerkorian’s interest in showrooms paid off quickly, as the International became synonymous with entertainment. Barbra Streisand was its first headliner and Elvis Presley’s residencies are still the stuff of legend. "I don’t know of any hotel that went that big on entertainment," Kerkorian recalled.
Tomorrow: Kerkorian comes back, bigger than ever, with the MGM Grand, when tragedy strikes again.
