'I adored Ann Warner,” Gully said. “Jack had fallen for her because of her glamour. When you’re glamorous, it doesn’t matter where you come from. “Back to Ann—yes, there was a physical thing between us. But when it came down to having an affair, we were old-fashioned. Both times that we got into bed we asked each other, ‘Why do we have to go through with it? It’s not the right thing to do to Jack.’” The Warners terminated their arrangement with Gully in 1958. “He was called by the comptroller of the studio and told he was through,” Hedda Hopper reported disapprovingly on May 7, adding loyally, “He knows everybody everywhere and I don’t know a more popular man.” Gully said, “Ann fired me, out of aggravation. She was sick of Jack having a mistress, and the three of us having more fun than she. She couldn’t fire her husband, so she fired me.” Unknowingly, Gully had set the stage for his own expulsion by introducing Warner to “the mistress of Jack Hilton, a famous bandleader in England who became a theater impresario. Jack Hilton unloaded the girl onto Jack Warner, who smuggled her into Hollywood. I had to cover up for him. He kept her in a hotel on Beverly Drive and Crescent. Before, with Jack, they came and went. This English girl was a real mistress.” When Warner learned that his wife, in a calculated maneuver, had abruptly returned from a New York clothes-buying trip, the studio tycoon hastily entrusted Gully with several thousand dollars as a payoff to the girl, whom his assistant sent packing to England. Gully bore no grudge against Ann Warner. “I owe my whole life to Ann. She was more important to me than a mother, a sister, or a friend. Without her, I probably would have starved to death.” Ann, in turn, forgave Gully. During her long tenure as a recluse, she still spoke to him regularly—a ritual she had already instituted by 1957, when she stopped hostessing the dinner parties in her own majestic house. “After all the guests had left,” Barbara Howard says, “Richard or I would go upstairs to report to her on the evening.” And when Ann Warner died, obscure and obese, in 1990 (the Los Angeles Times illustrated her obituary with another woman’s photograph), “she left me money in her will”—a sum of $10,000. Gully also stayed friendly with Jack Warner, who became a deposed king, without country or courtiers, following his ill-advised sale of the studio.