On the July air in Manhattan, a couple stood beneath the glowing neon of a cinema.
David, twenty-one, with hair brushing his shoulders and a "Vietnam Moratorium" button pinned to his denim jacket, looked at the poster for Hacksaw Ridge with curiosity.
Beside him, his father, Bill, a man whose leg was a permanent straight line from years in the infantry during Korea, checked his watch.
"I don't know, Dad," David said, gesturing to the image of De Niro carrying a man. "It looks like more of the same. Just glorifying the war."
"It's about a man who wouldn't carry a gun, Davy," Bill said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Your mother read about it in the papers. At least, it's better than watching those French films where nobody says anything for two hours."
They went in. Two hours and eighteen minutes later, they emerged into the twilight. They walked in silence for a full block.
"He was a brave man," Bill finally said, lighting a cigarette with a steady hand.
"It said 'Based on True Events'," David replied softly. "I wonder if the guy is still alive?"
They didn't argue about the war that night. For the first time in years, the gap between them felt less wide.
Duke sat in his suite at the St. Regis, watching the city lights. The phone rang a direct line that bypasses the hotel switchboard.
"Connor. It's Jack."
Jack Valenti, the President of the MPAA and the undisputed king of the Hollywood-Washington bridge, sounded energized.
"Jack. I assume you've seen the weekend totals," Duke said.
"The totals are historic, Duke. You've done something even the Old Guard couldn't do. But that's not why I'm calling."
Valenti's tone shifted, dropping into a low tone. "I heard about the acquisition. I heard you're trying to take Paramount off Charlie Bluhdorn's hands."
"Information moves fast," Duke noted.
"In this town, it moves before it even happens," Valenti chuckled. "Listen to me, Duke. I love that you're doing this. Hollywood needs a mogul who knows how to read a balance sheet and a script. But Nixon... he's getting restless."
"He doesn't like the way the industry is leaning. He's looking for ways to squeeze the 'liberal elite.' If he tries to weaponize the Justice Department or the FCC against the studios, I'm going to need a friend who can be of help."
"You have it, Jack," Duke said. "By the way, what's the surprise you had for me?"
"Check the papers in forty-eight hours," Valenti said. "Nixon is about to sign an executive order. He's launching something called the Environmental Protection Agency."
"It's a populist move to steal the 'green' thunder from the democrats. But Duke... think about what that does to industrial conglomerates."
Duke's mind, fueled by his knowledge of the future, clicked into place instantly.
"It's going to hammer the factories," Duke said. "Smelters, chemical plants, manufacturing. Everything like that is about to become a liability."
"Exactly," Valenti said. "And Charlie Bluhdorn is sitting on a mountain of mines and auto-part factories. When that news hits, Gulf + Western's stock is going to take a nose-dive as investors realize the cost of compliance."
"Use it, Duke. Use that news as your leverage. Give them a victory to announce so they can hide the loss."
"Jack, you're a godsend."
"Just remember me when you're sitting in the big chair. And stay tuned, kid."
The call that came an hour later was less expected.
"Duke? It's Evans."
"I know, Duke. I heard about the LBO. A contact at G+W couldn't keep his mouth shut."
Evans paused, and Duke could practically hear him adjusting his sunglasses over the phone. "I'm not even mad. I'm impressed. It's the gutsiest move i ever saw."
"I was going to tell you soon, Bob," Duke said. "Once the ink was dry."
"Waiting is for amateurs," Evans said. "Listen, I've been thinking. If you take over Paramount, you're going to be buried in the corporate side with Boards, dividends, SEC filings."
"And well, I don't want to be the 'Head of Production' at a conglomerate anymore. I'm tired of asking permission from the big guys."
"What are you proposing?"
"I want to be CEO of Ithaca Productions," Evans said, "Make Ithaca your prestige label. Move the Allied distribution assets under it. I run Ithaca and we keep it boutique. I handle the directors, you handle Paramount."
"It gives me the autonomy I crave and gives you a studio head you can actually trust. What do you say?"
Duke smiled. It was a perfect tactical alignment. By making Evans the head of Ithaca, he kept Evans's brilliance allied to his empire while giving Evans the "title" and the "independence" he needed to stay motivated.
"It's a deal, Bob. We'll draft the papers as soon as the G+W board signs off."
"Then go get 'em, Duke."
The boardroom of Gulf + Western was a cold, windowless chamber.
Charles Bluhdorn sat at the head, looking unusually subdued. He had presented Duke's offer, but the board was skeptical.
"Mr. Hauser," one of the elder board members said, tapping a pen against a thick stack of papers. "We appreciate the cash offer. Thirty million is... significant. But we are struggling with the logic."
"You are a filmmaker. You're also twenty-five years old and you are asking us to accept a hundred and twenty million dollars in debt notes from a company, Ithaca that is essentially a start-up. If the film market crash, we are left holding a bag of air."
Duke stood at the end of the table. He didn't use a projector or a pitch deck. He simply leaned forward, resting his hands on the wood.
"I understand your hesitation, also i'm twenty four," Duke said. "You look at the film industry and you see volatility. But I'm not here to talk to you about movies. I'm here to talk about your survival for the next fiscal year."
The board members shifted. Bluhdorn narrowed his eyes.
"In less than forty-eight hours," Duke continued, his voice dropping into a calm, authoritative tone, "President Nixon is going to announce the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency. It's an executive order."
"It will mandate immediate and aggressive federal oversight of industrial emissions, waste disposal, and manufacturing runoff."
The room went deathly silent. These men lived and died by industrial manufacturing.
"Gulf + Western is an industrial powerhouse," Duke said. "You own the mines, the smelters, and the bumper factories. When that announcement hits the wire, the market is going to react."
"Analysts are going to look at your factories and see billions of dollars in retrofitting costs. Your stock is going to take a hit. It might even trigger a sell-off."
"How do you know this?" a board member demanded.
"I have friends in Washington who care about the stability of the American economy," Duke lied smoothly. "But the 'how' doesn't matter. The 'what' does. When the EPA news drops, you need a counter-narrative."
"You need to be able to tell the Wall Street Journal that Gulf + Western is ahead of the curve. Maybe the news that you have just successfully divested a volatile, non-core asset like Paramount for a massive cash infusion."
Duke slid a paper across the table.
"Thirty million dollars in immediate liquidity," Duke said. "You announce the sale of Paramount at the same time the EPA news breaks. You frame it as a 'Strategic Realignment Toward Industrial Core.'"
"The stock won't fall. It might actually rise because you've demonstrated decisive leadership in a crisis."
Bluhdorn looked at Duke, a slow grin spreading across his face. He loved a good play.
"He's right," Bluhdorn barked. "If Nixon launches a 'green' crusade, our factories are the first targets. We're going to be needing that thirty million."
"And the debt?" the elder member asked, though his voice was wavering.
"The debt is secured by the future," Duke said. "Ithaca owns the patents for home video technology and the arcade market. Those are emerging markets that are growing fast. Soon you'll be the primary creditors for the fastest-growing sector of the 1970s."
Duke straightened his jacket.
"Gentlemen, you can keep a studio that makes you look 'frivolous' to your investors, or you can take the cash, protect your core business, and let me take over Paramount."
Bluhdorn raised his voice and looked around the table. "I move that we accept the offer of Ithaca Productions for the total acquisition of Paramount Pictures. All in favor?"
A chorus of yes rippled through the room. There was no dissent. The fear of Nixon's new agency had provided the final push.
"Motion carries," Bluhdorn said. He stood up and walked over to Duke, shaking his hand with enough force to dislocate a shoulder. "You're good, Hauser. We should have dinner to celebrate later.."
"Yeah, we should, but maybe next time im in New York." Duke smiled.
The sun was setting behind the Hollywood Hills as Duke's flight touched down at LAX.
He didn't go to his house. He told his driver to take him straight to the gate of Paramount Pictures.
It was nearly 9:00 PM. The lot was quiet, the giant soundstages standing like silent cathedrals in the moonlight.
The security guard at the gate, a man named Mac who had worked there for twenty years, stepped out of his booth to check the car.
He saw Duke in the back seat. He had seen Duke a hundred times as a producer. But something was different.
"Mr. Hauser," Mac said, tipping his cap. "Late night for a script meeting?"
Duke looked at the iconic arched gate.
"No, Mac," Duke said, "I'm just checking on the property."
"Sir?"
"I acquired Paramount today, Mac."
The guard froze. He looked at the car, then back at the giant "Paramount Pictures" sign above the gate.
"You... you bought it? All of it?"
"All of it," Duke said. "And don't worry, nobody's losing their job."
Mac straightened his shoulders, still looking confused and let him in. "Ok, Mr. Hauser."
The gates swung open.
Duke watched the lot go by. He saw the water tower. He saw Stage 18.
He was twenty-four years old. He now owned a prestigious film studio in the world. He had a tech monopoly growing and a lot of work to do.
He got out of the car in front of the Administration Building. He walked to the center of the plaza and looked up at the stars.
Things were working
___
Decided not to dabble in the acquisition too much
Also, the EPA did affected the stock of G+W