Duke realized by the second week of December that the advertising strategy of Love Story had served its purpose.
He knew how the American public worked in 1967, they were already cynical about the government and the war, and they were starving for something sincere regardless of story.
Part of the reason why 1967 was the year, the Hollywood New Wave kicked off was because of that sincerity in the storytelling.
Love Story was sincere in every aspect, part of the reason why Duke decided to go for it apart from the high box office, was also cause culturally it felt like a fit for the current time.
He had approved the advertising strategy of Love Story for him to be a sort of reclusive author that wrote a beautiful romance story. But now he wanted a change.
He called Jeffrey and the Doubleday marketing team into a late-night session in a smoke filled suite.
"The reclusive author act is done," Duke told them, tossing a copy of the book onto the table.
"We're changing the narrative, Gregory House is me and I want to use my face to do the advertising."
Jeffrey looked slightly panicked. "Duke, the reclusive author thing is working! It's in a way classy. After all, you're slightly too young."
"I'm 20 already," Duke countered.
"In 1967, people want someone authentic, they want someone who's been in the mud."
Duke leaned on his cane as he stood up and looked at the Doubleday representative in the face.
"I want to tell the press, I was a door gunner on a Huey in Vietnam. And that I spent my time there with an M60 in my hands, and that's why I wrote a book about how much it hurts to lose someone."
(Door Gunners were one of the craziest positions in Vietnam, check some stories. Everyone remembers Tunnel Rats but most dont know Door Gunners)
The pivot was surprisingly effective.
Within forty-eight hours, the mystery author had transformed into a human interest.
Doubleday organized a blitz of signings and meetups.
They started at the iconic The Strand Bookstore in Broadway.
The line stretched three blocks into the freezing December wind.
Duke didn't sit behind a velvet rope. He insisted on a podium in the middle of the floor. When he stood up to speak, the room went so quiet you could hear the radiators hissing.
"I wrote this book because I'm a hopeless romantic," Duke told the crowd of five hundred, mostly women clutching copies to their chests.
"I wrote it because every man I meet on Vietnam keep thinking on the person who was waiting for him to come home."
He paused, letting the silence hang.
He wasn't just trying to sell the book, he was selling an emotional perspective.
(I know little about marketing but this is inspired by Nike branding/PR)
"I love this story," he continued, his voice dropping to a gravelly, honest tone.
"I love Oliver and Jenny because they don't have forever. None of us do."
"This book is my way of telling you to hold on to the people you love while you still have the breath to say it."
"And if you want to see that love come to life, come see the film on January 16th. Our whole team poured our soul into it too."
The tour moved fast.
Jeffrey coordinated with Doubleday to hit the American hubs Chicago, Detroit, Boston, Philadelphia. In every city, Duke followed the same ritual.
In Boston, at a packed bookstore in Copley Square, a young woman approached him with her copy in her hand.
"How can you write about something so sad when there's so much sadness already?" she asked.
"Because sadness isn't the enemy," Duke responded softly.
"Indifference is. Oliver can still cry for Jenny, it means he cares for her. Go see the movie in January. Bring your mother, your friends, we must remind people that it's okay to feel."
(Im listening some Romeo Santos, so maybe i'm writing some corny shit.
Anyone remember the "Come over here and kiss me on my hot mouth, Im feeling romantical" meme)
The sales numbers were great.
By December 23th, Love Story was shipping 50,000 copies a day.
The book was a great Christmas gift.
Duke was following a guide, on every radio interview, every newspaper profile, he followed a strict script.
A brief, humble mention of his service.
He then would focus on his message, life is short, and love is everything.
Then at last always repeat, "I love this story so much I had to film it. Will be released on January 16th. Don't miss it."
Back in New York, Joe Levine was watching the bookstore reports with wide-eyed greed.
"Since when have you become such a genius," Levine shouted in his office, tossing a copy of The New Yorker magazine onto his desk.
Inside was an article story about "The New Sincerity," featuring a profile on Duke.
"The January 16 release is everywhere. People are talking about the movie even though we have invested somewhat little for now."
Jeffrey, basking in the sunlight looking tired, nodded.
"The advance ticket sales are unprecedented, Joe. People are buying tickets because they've read the book."
Duke was exhausted on the couch.
The physical toll of the tour, the constant standing, the endless handshaking, the biting winter weather was brutal on his leg.
He was leaning more and more on the cane, his face growing leaner.
But he was still full of energy, he remembered clearly, in his past life, this movie saved a studio.
In this life, he need it to do more. He need it to get his initial capital capital to become a mogul.
He tapped the window with his knuckles bored, while Levine and Jeffrey talked. "January 16th is the day I truly win my freedom."
---
On Christmas Eve, Duke did one final appearance on a local New York talk show.
The host, a man who usually poked fun at "weepy" literature, was as usual making some snyde remarks.
"Duke," the host asked, "People are calling you the voice of a new generation. Do you feel that's accurate?"
Duke looked into the camera, he was already ready to leave, last person he wanted to be with on Chrismas Eve was a person with bad vibes like this host.
"Labels are flattering but vague. I'd rather people read the book and tell me what it meant to them." Duke said.
"It also gives me hope. We're living in a time where everyone is shouting at each other."
"Everyone is angry. But when people read this book, they're more understandable. At the end of the're all just people trying to make it through the winter."
He didnt wait for a response by the host, instead he leaned forward, his voice a warm tone.
"If you found this book under your tree today, read it with someone you love."
"And then, on January 16th, come and see what we built for you. Hear the music. Let's all go to the movies and remember how to feel."
The show went to commercial.
Duke stood up, his cane clicking on the studio floor. He was done.
The final week of December was a blur of preparation.
The Audience Test results from New Jersey had emboldened Levine to triple the print count.
They weren't just opening in New York and LA, they were opening in 8 theaters simultaneously, a massive release that was unheard of for a drama in 1968.
That showed Levine believed more in Love Story than even in The Graduate, who only had a 2 theaters simultaneous release. And only got to 29 screens after eight weeks.
For context, in his past life, when Love Story actually released in 1970, it followed a slow rollout.
It opened on 2 theaters in New York. It then had an initial expansion to approximately166 theaters by Christmas Day.
And had a wide general distribution by June 1971, nearly six months later.
Duke spent New Year's Eve in his home, quiet and alone.
He watched the festivities on TV, but his mind was on his film sitting in cans on Embassy Pictures.
He had done everything right.
He had exploited his own history, his own pain, and his knowledge of the future to create a perfect marketing storm.
On January 1st, the first full-page ads for the film appeared in every major newspaper.
It didn't show a scene from the movie.
It was just a stark, white page with a single sentence in the center.
"Love means never having to say you're sorry."
And at the bottom, it read January 16, a film by Duke Hauser.
---
Its Marty Supreme