Pharaohs’ curse for ‘Sahara’ jurors

Day 55.

Author Clive Cussler, whose pulp novels have inexplicably found millions of readers, is in the witness box for the fifth straight day of an exasperating, torturous civil trial in downtown Los Angeles, and several jurors are on the edge.

Not the edge of their seats. The edge of slumber.

Cussler, who speaks as if he’d swallowed a small furry animal and had lockjaw, is evasively answering questions that sound like slightly reworded versions of the last 10 or 15 questions. Did he see a screenplay, read it, reject it, remember it, remember what he remembered, forget what he forgot?

I see a juror reach for her neck, first with one hand and then the other. For a brief moment, it looks like she’s thinking of strangling herself.

Another woman, in the back row of the jury box, has discovered that her head weighs more than she ever imagined. One hand cannot support it, and two hands make for a tough maneuver. Her lids are drooping as she nods one way, then the head begins wagging over to the starboard side, to where it almost appears that it’s resting on the shoulder of another juror.

Is she finally asleep?

For her sake, one can only hope.

This isn’t a trial, it’s a clash of egos and an endurance test. Multimillionaire Cussler and multibillionaire Philip Anschutz have sued and countersued each other over a bomb of a movie called “Sahara,” which, as my colleague Glenn Bunting has reported, is $105 million in the hole.

In perhaps the biggest boneheaded financial decision ever made by a billionaire, Anschutz’s film company gave Cussler $10 million per book for the rights to his Dirk Pitt adventure novels and control over things like the cast and script.

Now the two of them are fighting about whether Anschutz’s company breached the contract after creative disputes with Cussler -- disputes any nitwit could have predicted -- and whether Cussler fraudulently exaggerated his book readership in cutting the deal and then sabotaged the film by badmouthing it before it was even released.

After careful analysis of the legal issues, my question is:

WHO CARES!?

Even Cussler’s fiancee, sitting in the front row, seems bored to tears. She’s doing the USA Today crossword, in which the clue for 10-down is: “Choice upon meeting a skunk on a bridge.”

I’m not sure whether the real issue on trial is greed or vanity or both, but Anschutz and Cussler should have settled their silly little dispute out of court and spared working stiffs the interminable task of doing their accounting.

The jurors have been on the case since late January, taking time out from jobs and families for the grand sum of $15 a day plus transportation costs unless their long-suffering employers pay for long-term jury service. When the lunch bell rings and they slog off for a quick bite of gruel, Cussler and his high-priced ventriloquist -- celebrity attorney to the stars Bert Fields -- step to the curb and a chauffeur pulls up.

Fields and I had just been talking about beach access at his digs on Carbon Beach in Malibu when the lunch transport arrived -- Fields’ sleek black Bentley Arnage.

Moments earlier, jurors had seen a clip in which Cussler, speaking at the National Book Festival in the nation’s capital, said he’d score a windfall regardless of whether the 2005 movie “Sahara” was a blockbuster. If it wasn’t, he’d sue their pants off.

“If it’s a big success,” he added, “I’ll puke all the way to the bank.”

None of the jurors -- who live normal lives in places like Downey, Burbank, Glendale and Sun Valley -- were laughing.

Three jurors have been clever enough to get dismissed. The last one was excused last week by Judge John P. Shook after throwing herself on the mercy of the court, arguing she would miss a prepaid vacation to Puerto Rico.

“I’m jealous,” said one of the 15 remaining jurors and alternates as the lucky juror dashed for the exits.

One of Anschutz’s attorneys from O’Melveny & Myers was overheard telling a colleague the jurors “should get a lifetime exemption” from ever having to serve again.

They should also get medals of valor and free legal services from the army of hired attorneys. There are enough lawyers on this case to field their own baseball team.

The jury was told way back in January that this trial would last eight or nine weeks, and it’s now Week 13. Shook has said to the attorneys in chambers, outside the presence of the jury, that this thing could drag on until July.

The same judge has told the lawyers, “I have given you free rein out here” and “I let you run it,” which, it seems to me, is part of the problem.

After just two hours in the courtroom, I was ready to run up to the bench, grab the judge’s gavel and throw it at the next attorney who asked an already-answered question. Time’s a-wasting, and it’s not as if Shook had nothing else on his calendar.

The average caseload for judges in that logjammed courthouse is 365. So it’s wait, wait, wait for hundreds of people, while Anschutz and Cussler tie up this taxpayer-funded courtroom staff for months on end.

Tuesday’s afternoon session began with an Anschutz attorney objecting to Fields asking Cussler the same questions that had been covered in the morning session.

One juror scribbled on a pad. Was he making a comment on a legal point or writing a suicide note?

Another juror closed her eyes and was either escaping into sleep or perhaps daydreaming that Cussler’s adventure hero Dirk Pitt would bust into the courtroom on a rescue mission, tie up and gag Cussler and all the attorneys, and usher the jurors out of the building.

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steve.lopez@latimes.com