Shortly after Fields announced Clive was going after Crusader, Anschutz fired back. His countersuit accused Clive of blackmailing Crusader by withholding consent over the script, inflating the numbers of Pitt books sold, slandering the movie before it opened, making derogatory remarks about blacks and Jews, and attempting to organize a fan campaign to coerce Crusader into letting him write the screenplay.
While the case wound its way through the legal system - it would be three years before Cussler v. Crusader Entertainment ended up in court - the cameras were rolling in Morocco. Bedeviled by blinding sand storms, flash floods, fierce winds, 120-degree temperatures and unscrupulous bureaucrats demanding bribes, principal photography for Sahara wrapped in January 2005.
A month later, Matthew McConaughey served as the Grand Marshall at the Daytona 500. After watching Jeff Gordon take the checkered flag, the actor climbed into his pickup truck - towing an Airstream trailer that had been turned into a rolling billboard - and set out on a six-week publicity tour to promote Sahara. According to McConaughey, the campaign was dreamed up by one of the film’s executive producers. Stopping at major cities, tiny hamlets, military bases, parking lots, and trailer parks, the actor covered more than 8,600 miles. Along the way, he handed out 3,000 hats and 4,000 T-shirts.
Talking to reporters along the route, McConaughey declared, “Is it my obligation to go on the road to sell the film? No. But it’s a win/win - usually.” Asked about Clive’s well-publicized aversion to the film, the actor tried to put on a happy face. “Please, baby [Clive]. Just come see this,” he pleaded. “See what we did . . . This should be a great limelight time for him ‘cause this is not Raise the Titanic. We went off and worked hard . . . I had a lot of great conversations with Clive, and then there were none.”
The producers also tried to put a positive spin on the situation. A few days before the film’s release, Howard Baldwin announced, “Cussler is a terrific guy. He had somewhat of a distrust of Hollywood . . . But we developed a positive relationship and then thanks to forming our partnership with Phil Anschutz we were able to get the whole deal done.”
Sahara’s premier was held on April 6, 2005, at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. McConaughey made his grand entrance from his Airstream, parked in front of the theater. Breck Eisner considered having Penelope Cruz ride a camel past the photographers, but was afraid she might fall off. Instead, the actress, radiant in a backless pastel green gown, led the animal down the sand-colored carpet on a halter.
Dayna was the only member of the Cussler family invited to the premier. When Eisner was informed Dayna had sent in an RSVP, he called her the morning of the event to explain the plane crash scene had been cut from the film. “It wasn’t that much of a surprise,” Dayna says. “I’ve worked enough in the film industry to know this happens all the time. However, I found it rather peculiar he decided to break the news on the morning of the premier.”
Dayna invited a friend to accompany her to the event. While they were driving down Hollywood Boulevard, Dayna began to have second thoughts. “I was curious to see how the movie came out,” she says, “but I decided, because of the lawsuit, it was probably not in my Dad’s best interests to show up.” Spotting a young couple near the theater, she asked if they would like to see a movie. Dayna laughs, “They happened to be tourists and couldn’t wait to tell their friends they were going to walk down the carpet at a Hollywood premier.”
Sahara’s closing credits list James V. Hart, Thomas Dean Donnelly, Joshua Oppenheimer, and John C. Richards as screenplay writers (they neglected to mention the additional six) based on Clive Cussler’s novel. One week after it opened, Sahara was the number one rated film and went on to ultimately earn $122 million in gross box-office sales, a respectable performance until the film’s production costs - $160 million (twice the original budget) - and $81 million spent on distribution are figured into the equation. After all the numbers were computed, Sahara lost $84 million, placing the film (as of 2016) the top ten list of all-time box office bombs behind Cutthroat Island, The Alamo, and The Adventures of Pluto Nash.
The critics were unkind. Writing in the New York Observer, Rex Reed declared, “Despite the vast beauty of location settings in Morocco and Spain, the vast lack of chemistry between the two stars is appalling.” The Washington Post’s Stephen Hunter stated, “a mediocrity wrapped inside a venality, toasted in a nice, fresh cliché.” The Toronto Star’s Peter Howel was equally unimpressed. “Unlike Raiders of the Lost Ark, which this movie wants so desperately to be, there’s nothing here to engage the brain along with the eyeballs.” Claudia Puig, USA Today’s film critic stated, “A testosterone-drenched escapade that misses because it lacks the tension to make it a thrill ride.” Roger Ebert was a tad kinder, “Sahara is essentially a laundry line for absurd but entertaining action sequences.” Rotten Tomatoes gave the film an anemic 39 percent rating.
Moviegoers struggled to give Sahara a break. “I am sure Mr. Cussler feels like they threw out his baby with the bath water, but please enjoy the movie as a movie.” “For the first shot as a real attempt at a Cussler book - not bad at all.” “Matthew McConaughey, graduate of the Keanu Reeves school of acting is a dumbed down version of the book Dirk Pitt but he still has his moments.”
Clive’s readers, disappointed the movie had little resemblance to the book, were not as forgiving. “Sorry folks. Sorry Clive. Sahara was pretty sorry. I gave it 2 out of 5.” “Steve is just not a ‘swarthy’ Italian, with a body ‘like a fireplug.’” “I left the movie knowing that to enjoy a Clive Cussler story you must read the book.” “McConaughey comes across as a shallow, slow-talking former frat-boy, or maybe ex-football jock who never lost his taste for weekend keggers.” Speaking for the majority, one unhappy fan suggested, “Clive, have you considered producing a Dirk Pitt movie yourself and writing the script the way it should be done?”
In May 2005, a routine physical exam indicated Clive was suffering from heart fibrillations. “I had been feeling a little out of sorts,” he says. “Nothing serious, just tired. My doctor told me not to worry because the situation could be controlled with pills.” A few days later, the phone rang, and the caller informed Clive he was scheduled for heart surgery on Thursday.
“I was completely taken by surprise,” Clive recalls. “It’s Monday, and this guy is talking about heart surgery on Thursday? I asked, ‘Who the hell are you and what are you talking about?’” Dr. Michael Caskey, a cardiothoracic surgeon, had reviewed the results of Clive’s angiogram and determined his arteries were so clogged that he required immediate quintuple bypass surgery. Clive dutifully reported to the hospital on Thursday, and the operation was a complete success. After spending four days in the hospital and recuperating for a few weeks, Clive was back at work, “With more energy than I had in quite a while.”
Clive would need that energy. During the next three years, Putnam published Treasure of Kahn, the second Dirk Pitt novel co-written with Dirk Cussler; two books in the Oregon Files series, Dark Watch and Skeleton Coast, co-written with Jack Du Brul; one book in the NUMA Files series, The Navigator, co-written with Paul Kemprecos; and he officiated at the grand opening of the Clive Cussler Museum.
Friends, car clubs, and the occasional journalist were always welcome to tour Clive’s car collection, but for the majority of the time, the cars resided in hushed seclusion.
“The idea for a museum,” Teri Cussler says, “first came up when Dirk, Dayna, and myself were tossing around ideas for the collection’s future. We all agreed something had to be done because it was sad. All of those beautiful cars were just sitting in the warehouse, and very few people had the opportunity to see them.”
When the decision was made to create a museum, Teri, who lives in Denver, was elected to explore what would be required to make it happen. “I was a little scared at the thought of running a real business,” Teri says, “but the museum has turned out to be an exciting and rewarding challenge.”
Named the museum’s director, Ter
i set up an office in an unused room at the warehouse and The Clive Cussler Museum welcomed its first visitors on June 13, 2005. Assisted by her daughter Amie and son Jason, Teri is delighted with the museum’s growing popularity. “The numbers have gone up every year since we opened,” she says. “Our visitors seem to be evenly divided between people who like cars and Clive’s fans who want to see the Dirk Pitt cars.”
Teri’s enthusiasm is echoed by Keith Lowden. Thirty-five years after he stepped in as curator - with his brother, Ron Posey, and Wade Klein - Lowden is still looking after Clive’s collection. “Turning the collection into a museum has meant more work, but it’s worth it to see people’s reactions.” Lowden will often accompany a group of visitors and provide them with a history of the automobiles and their connection with Clive. “Keith,” Teri says, “is a walking encyclopedia when it comes to anything about cars, especially the collection’s history.”
The Cussler Museum’s 120 vehicles (at last tally) constitute one of the world’s finest vintage car collections owned by one individual. With a few exceptions, the vehicles fall into three categories: foreign classics, town cars, and American luxury cars of the 1950s. The late Gordon Apker, a noted Seattle collector, concours judge, and Duesenberg authority, described Clive’s collection as unique. “Clive has always been interested in the entire world of classic cars, and the collection reflects his diverse interests. This is especially true of the town cars, a group of very rare and important cars.”
Teri admits feeling lukewarm about her father’s cars when she was growing up. Her association with the museum has not only provided her with a new appreciation for the collection, she has several favorites - “the 1948 Talbot, the 1939 Mercedes Benz 540K, and the 1958 Buick Limited. I also have a personal connection with the 1925 Minerva town car.”
Named for the Roman goddess of wisdom, Minervas were manufactured in Belgium between 1902 and 1938. Advertised as “The Car of Kings and Queens,” the marquee’s customers included royalty, movie stars, and captains of industry.
When Teri was planning her wedding, she asked Clive if it would be possible to use the Minerva. The event was scheduled for September 10, 1977, at the Bear Tooth Lodge in Evergreen, a mountain town located fifteen miles west of Denver. Clive explained it would be impossible to drive the vintage vehicle up I-70’s steep grades. Teri was disappointed but understood her father’s decision.
On the day of the ceremony, Teri and Barbara left early to drive to Evergreen and oversee the preparations. When they were approaching Genesee, the women spotted a truck plugging along in the slow lane with smoke pouring out of the back. Clive was driving, and the Minerva was secured to the back of the truck. He had planned on getting to the lodge before everybody else, but the Minerva weighed so much, he was having a hard time negotiating the hills.
“When everybody arrived for the ceremony,” Teri says, “Dad played chauffeur and Bob and I rode in the back seat for our grand entrance. The surprise my father planned might have been lost, but it was a wonderful gesture. I still cry when I think about it.”
Clive’s collection has received worldwide acclaim, though some purists disapprove of his preference for colorful paint jobs. The candy-colored vehicles include a mauve 1936 Avions Voisin (a tribute to Tom Swift’s electric runabout?), an opulent 1932 Stutz town car dressed in vibrant aqua, a 1931 Marmon in ravishing lavender, and an extremely smart two-tone burgundy and buff L-29 Cord. Leo Gebhart is conflicted. “Some of Clive’s cars are painted a little too bright for me, but you can still tell what they are, and for me, that’s the point.”
Clive recalls several animated arguments he had with the late Otis Chandler — Los Angeles Times’s publisher and well-known automobile collector. “Otis thought my paint jobs were much too garish,” Clive says. “After going back and forth, I would always end the argument by telling him I didn’t care what he or anybody else thinks. They are my cars, and I’ll paint them any color I want.”
Clive’s decision to write a children’s book originated with the bedtime stories he told his children. “After we were tucked under the covers,” Dayna says. “Dad would tell us wonderful adventures about a set of twins named Winkie and Binkie whose favorite modes of transportation were a blimp and a submarine. The stories were so much fun because we never knew what he was going to come up with next.”
Although he had been writing bestsellers for thirty years, Clive quickly discovered his new audience - children between six and ten - would require a new language. “It took me several months to figure out the writing style,” Clive says. “I had to reconsider the elements I was comfortable with - sentence structure, vocabulary, dialogue, and plot. After I finished The Adventures of Vin Fiz, I asked three librarians who specialize in children’s literature to read the manuscript and give me their thoughts. They were extremely helpful in pointing out words or ideas children in that age group might not understand.”
Clive’s inspiration for The Adventures of Vin Fiz was the first successful U.S. transcontinental flight. Inspired by a $50,000 prize, Calbraith “Cal” Rogers left Brooklyn on September 17, 1911. Flying a Wright biplane, Rogers, sponsored by the Armour Company to promote the company’s new grape soft drink, Vin Fiz, arrived in California eighty-four days later. Although he missed the prize deadline by nineteen days - Rogers crashed sixteen times - the intrepid aviator was welcomed by a cheering crowd of 20,000. The airplane is on display today at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. As for Vin Fiz soda, it was described as “tasting like a cross between river water and horse slop” and had a very short shelf life.
The Adventures of Vin Fiz begins on a California herb farm owned by the parents of ten-year-old twins Lacey and Casey Nicefolk. Mr. Sucoh Sucop (“hocus-pocus” spelled backward) arrives one day and offers to work for room and board. After a few months, Mr. Sucop moves on, but before he leaves, presents the twins with a magical mat that can transform a toy into the real thing. After trying the mat out on a tractor - it works - Casey turns his Wright Flyer model airplane into a full-sized aircraft the twins christen Vin Fiz. Accompanied by their faithful basset hound Floppy, the twins set out on a cross-country adventure. Along the way they discover the airplane is endowed with magic tricks that help them foil gold robbers, stop a runaway train, and rescue two girls about to plummet over Niagara Falls. Clive also includes a brief history of Cal Rogers and the cross-country flight of the real Vin Fiz.
The Adventures of Vin Fiz was published on February 21, 2006. Although several reviewers were put off by the “overly cute names” and “subtle ethnic and gender stereotyping,” Kidsreads.com praised the book as, “A fun and imaginative high flying adventure . . . For an extra bonus, Cussler slips in some interesting trivia, like how a steam engine works, so readers may even learn something along the way.”
In May 2010, the twins appeared again with the publication of The Adventures of Hotsy Totsy. Casey Nicefolk uses the magic mat to turn a model boat into a full-sized powerboat named Hotsy Totsy. The original Hotsy Totsy was a championship hydroplane that raced during the 1930s. Entering a race on the Sacramento River, the twins manage to outwit a gang of bank robbers, and aided by their faithful dog, Floopy, cross the finish line first.
In November 2005, Clive attended a charity ball at a Scottsdale hotel. Janet Horvath, a Phoenix art consultant, was supervising the event’s silent auction. “At some point, a man walked in the door,” Janet says. “I told my friend I would like to meet that guy. Later that evening, the ball’s chairman pointed to the man I had seen earlier. ‘That’s Clive Cussler, the author. Would you like to meet him?’ I told her to forget about that. He’s famous, probably has a huge ego and wants a couple of twenty-five-year-olds.”
There was no denying Clive was famous, but as far as his having a huge ego and lusting after young women, Janet could not have been further off the mark. After Barbara’s death, Clive recalls feeling, “Kind of at sea. Barbara had always been there, and I realized how much I missed her. Now, I
was all alone. I went out with several women. They were nice, and we had fun, but nobody I felt compatible with. Going on a date - getting dressed up and meeting a stranger who expected a famous author to be witty and charming - was actually kind of a chore. I’d go to a friend’s house for dinner and inevitably be introduced to a woman they were trying to set me up with. If I was going to meet somebody I wanted to get to know and spend time with, the answer was a dating service.”
Coincidentally, Janet, “tired of the bar scene and meeting people I didn’t have anything in common with,” signed up with the same dating service. In late July 2006, the matchmaker called Janet. She wanted to introduce her to a very successful author. “Perhaps,” she asked, “you’ve heard of Clive Cussler?” Janet almost dropped the phone. “It had been a year since I first saw him at the charity ball,” she says. “I repeated my reservations, but she finally wore me down, and I agreed to go to dinner with him.”
“The service called,” Clive says, “and gave me the pitch on Janet - attractive blonde, college graduate, had her own business.” Two weeks later, Clive called Janet. “We ended up talking for forty-five minutes,” Janet recalls. “He asked me if I would like to attend an event at the Hermosa Inn. The hotel has an artist-in-residence program, and Clive was the artist.” Since the hotel was sending a car, Clive suggested Janet should drive to his house, and they would go together. “I parked the car,” Janet says, “took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Clive appeared and said, ‘My, you’re very pretty.’ It caught me off guard. The way he said it didn’t come off like a line.”
They had only been at the party for a few minutes when the hostess rushed over, put her arm in Clive’s and told Janet, “Hope you don’t mind, dear, I’m only going to borrow him for a moment.” Two hours later, Clive reappeared, and the couple sat down to dinner at a table for twelve. “Everybody was firing questions at Clive,” Janet says. “Except for ‘please pass the salt’ or ‘do you take cream in your coffee,’ Clive and I never said a word to each other.”