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on his many bills, he found his reputation greatly enhanced among creditors and future backers. He also found that he now had even greater alignment with important backers who knew they could trust him even at the worst of times, and this would remain the case for him moving forward. “They all wanted to sell to Conrad Hilton because he was the one who didn’t declare bankruptcy,” said Donald Hubbs, “and that’s partly how he was able to acquire so many hotels in the future.”
    In 1939, Conrad would expand his influence to the West Coast with the purchase of the elegant and tasteful Sir Francis Drake Hotel in San Francisco—twenty-two stories tall with 450 rooms and a $300,000 luxury nightclub, built at a cost of $4.1 million. Hilton got it for a cash outlay of $275,000. He also now owned a hotel in Long Beach, California, and another in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Now that the Depression was finally over, there seemed to be no stopping Conrad Hilton.
    It was 1940 when Conrad finally moved to Los Angeles. His siblings were doing well, too. While his brothers had continued with their educations, one sister married well and lived in a mansion outside of Boston; another had become an actress, and yet another was valedictorian of her high school graduating class.
    A year after moving to the West Coast, Conrad established his company’s first headquarters outside of Texas, with offices on Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills. By this time, most interested Americans were well aware of the Hilton name and what it represented in terms of quality hotel accommodations at reasonable prices. Without a doubt, Conrad Hilton had become a major player—arguably the major player—in the hotel business, respected not only for his instincts and business acumen but also for the fact that he had not only survived but had gone on to thrive during a time when most American businessmen had no choice but to throw in the towel.

Georgia on His Mind
    H e had never met anyone quite like her. But, then again, few people had.
    It was a California winter’s night early in the first week of December 1941 when Conrad Hilton and a date found themselves having a drink at the popular Ciro’s nightclub on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood. If one wanted to be seen in Hollywood, Ciro’s was the place to go. All of the most famous of stars socialized with one another there—Joan Crawford, Cary Grant, and Barbara Stanwyck—with photographers stationed just outside the club’s doors in order to preserve their celebrity sightings for the next day’s newspapers. There was always a gaggle of fans patiently waiting out front with their autograph books open in the hopes of spotting their favorite movie star, and maybe even getting a signature. With this crush of people pushing and shoving for a better view as flashbulbs popped off all around them, it was always a mad scene at Ciro’s.
    As Conrad and his companion immersed themselves in the bustling nightspot, a stylish young woman and her handsome escort swept into the club, immediately drawing the attention of practically everyone in the small room. This was the era of the “grand entrance,” and the new arrival certainly understood how to make one. Wearing a dark blue satin dress with turquoise embroidery, she moved confidently with feline grace. Although she was only five foot three, her voluptuous carriage made her seem taller and her high waist made her legs appear to be long. Her lovely face was surrounded by soft red hair in a bouffant style. With milky skin, high cheekbones, a straight nose, hazel almond-shaped eyes, and sensuous lips, this attractive woman certainly seemed as if she belonged among the elite in Ciro’s, but in truth she’d yet to accomplish anything in Hollywood. Adding to her mystique, she was on the arm of dashing celebrity attorney Gregson (Greg) Bautzer, former fiancé of Lana Turner.
    As the attractive couple walked into the club, they were followed by an equally