During the war, Getty was in Tulsa, managing an airplane factory, a subsidiary of one of his oil companies. By this time, his eccentricities were manifold. He not only ran the operation in Tulsa from a concrete bunker, but also lived in it, in part out of fear of being bombed by the German Luftwaffe. He made a point to chew each mouthful of food thirty-three times, and he had taken to washing his own underwear each night because of his antipathy to commercial detergents. By age fifty-five, he had had his second facelift and was dyeing his hair a funny kind of reddish-brown, all of which gave
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