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wake. Their achievements represent a bare echo of their father's massive conquests in oil, but the boys are diligently and quietly making their mark. In April 1956, to cite an example. Bunker, then 30, Herbert, 26, and Lamar, 22, staged an invasion of Pakistan and secured the oil rights to 20, 000 square miles of the nation's most promising territory. They have also leased a huge slice of Libya.

Papa still rolls up the heavy artillery, though, to negotiate what the petroleum trade press gets excited enough to call a "fantastic deal." Such was the description of a successful agreement with the government of Kuwait, oil-soaked island in the Persian Gulf. Even at 71, H.L. indicates no symptoms of loss in energy, skill and drive. In the last few years he has ranged in his quest for expanded production through virtually every area of the world this side of the Iron Curtain.

Hunt travels abroad as he usually lives at home - in obscurity. He remains a mystery man, even to other Texas titans of the petroleum business. Clint Murchison, Sid Richardson and Hugh Roy Cullen, the major multimillionaire oil independents, either had never met him or were barely acquainted. Only Clint Murchison of the three now survives, and he has never publicly expressed an opinion about Hunt.

Cullen, however, expressed himself to intimates as disliking Hunt exceedingly. A former Texan, now a New York cotton broker, says that Cullen regarded Hunt as "the stingiest man who ever lived in the state of Texas," Hunt says, "I never met Mr. Cullen 

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H. L. baffles and infuriates almost all of those he deals with in business, particularly those who operate in the high stratospheres of finance. He is a neverending topic of discussion, curiosity and speculation in major-league oil circles around the globe, whether in Paris, London, Tokyo or Kuwait. He has established a formidable reputation in the petroleum industry both for boldness and bluntness in manner. 

A New York financier who is noted for his ability to detach himself from personal emotions in business negotiations emerged from a breakfast meeting with Hunt, his face pale. "You know," he said, "I've figured him out. He actually delights in not winning friends. 
     
Publication of his novel marks the second time Hunt has publicly revealed any of his feelings and opinions. From 1952 until 1956 he spent most of his time and energy in the development of a multi-million-dollar "non-partisan, non-political, non-profit educational" organization which originally was chartered as Farm Facts Foundation. In his words, "The purpose was to give deserving farm youngsters, without financial means, an opportunity to learn the science of farming.

"However, one of my daughters came to me and said she did not observe there was danger of people in America starving to death for lack of food supplies, but

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there was danger of their losing their freedom for lack of interest in American government and public affairs. Facts Forum itself would take no stand on the issues, but encourage citizens to find out for themselves."

So was Facts Forum born. It remained a lively center of controversy right up to the day Hunt killed it. While it liked to refer to itself as "non-partisan and non-political," this belief was not universally shared. The early supporters included former America-Firsters, isolationists, McCarthy supporters, anti-Semitics and anti-Catholics, and one man whom the Attorney General's office had labelled a 
"fascist."

The various radio and TV programs did present both sides of the issue, but critics noted that considerably more enthusiasm was evidenced by those defending the arch-conservative viewpoint. A Bulletin charged that the main characteristics of Hunt's organization were "isolationism, ultra-conservatism and McCarthyism," and noted that they were fond of charging any and all critics as guilty of "subversion, betrayal and treason."

Time Magazine summed up the "non partisan, non-political" Facts Forum as "one of the biggest private political-propaganda machines in the U.S." 

It was because of Facts Forum that I came to meet Hunt. I was then appearing with author William Bradford Huie as a panelist on a CBS-TV show called "Chronoscope," and one evening he was announced as our guest. My first reaction was, "Who the hell is Hunt?'

At this point the subject strolled into the studio, trailed by his constant companion, sometime business associate and old crony, Herbert W. Williford, a spry old gentleman some 10 years the oilman's senior.

While Hunt was introduced elsewhere, Williford said to me,"Glad to meet you, son. You got a large safety pin? Well, you better get one and pin it on the pocket you keep your money in, 'cause Mr. Hunt's in town. He! He! He!"

Hunt was escorted to the makeup room, for the usual powder-puff treatment, leaving Williford to chat with Huie and me. Huie said to him, "What do you do for Mr. Hunt, anyway? Help him count his money?"

His sharp eyes glinting behind his spectacles, Williford snapped back, "Son, how old are you?"

Huie told him he was about 40.

"Well, son," said Williford, "let me tell you something. If you lived to be a hundred and ten, and if you never slept, and Mr. Hunt's money was piled up in $10,000 bills, well, before the pallbearers came to tote you away, you might count it all. But I doubt it. He! He! He!"

At first appearance, Hunt impressed me as about the most benign-looking man I ever saw. He wore a bow tie, a plain black suit, white shirt with soft collar, and the cut of his clothes was generally in keeping with the style a man a bit younger would usually have selected. He was 68 at the time. His eyes

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