They transitioned from the executive suites of the St. Regis to the gray industrial reality of Derby, Connecticut.
Duke didn't mind it. In fact, as his black sedan pulled off the highway and began navigating the potholed streets of the Naugatuck Valley, he felt a strange sense of grounding from it.
Beside him, Stanley Jaffe looked out the window with curiosity.
"You're sure about this, Duke?" Jaffe asked, adjusting his tie. "It's a long drive for a comic book company that most people probably don't even know."
"That's exactly why we're here, Stanley," Duke replied, watching the smokestacks of the local factories rise into the overcast sky. "Marvel and DC are offices in Manhattan."
"Charlton is the only company in the business that owns their means of production. In a world of rising paper costs and union strikes, the man who owns the presscan lower their overhead."
The Charlton Comics building was a sprawling, multi-story brick fortress that looked like it had been abandoned and then rebuilt.
As they stepped out of the car, the air hit them a metallic scent of industrial ink.
Inside, the noise was a constant, low-frequency vibration. Duke and Jaffe were ushered into the office of the owners, John Santangelo and Ed Mascolo.
These weren't elite creative directors, they were blue-collar businessmen who treated comics with the same detachment as a butcher treats a piece of beef.
"Mr. Hauser," Santangelo said, while he shook Duke's hand with a strong grip. "We heard you were coming but didn't believe it. Why does a guy who just bought Paramount want to talk to two guys in Derby about superhero books?"
"I'm not here to talk about superheroes, John," Duke said, sitting across from him. "I'm here to talk about acquiring your company."
"I know for a fact that your margins are being squeezed by that distribution system that favors the giants, even though you have a very low overhead compared with anyone in the business."
Duke leaned forward, his eyes locked on the owners. "Look, you've been fighting for nickels and dimes on the newsstands while your presses sit idle three days a week. Not even mentioning that your Union is treatening to strike."
"I want to buy Charlton, the building, the presses, and the distribution network. I want to make Charlton the primary publishing hub for the Ajax Group."
Jaffe stepped in. "We're looking to consolidate our promotional material, our movie programs, and the manuals for our technology division under one roof. We want to take your idle capacity and turn it into a twenty-four-hour operation."
The owners looked at each other. Duke saw the weariness in their eyes. They had built something impressive, but they were tired of the grind.
Duke offered them a cash price of 2 million, a number that wasn't just fair, it was an exit into a comfortable retirement.
"You keep the staff?" Mascolo asked.
"The ones who want to work, but i do warn you, i won't cuddle the union," Duke said. "I'm going to modernize the equipment, but i would still appreciate the experience."
While Jaffe and the owners moved into the back office to begin the legal due diligence, Duke excused himself.
He didn't want to look at the books, he wanted to check out the place.
He wandered through the editorial department, filled with drawing tables, and ink jars. In the very back, in a corner, sat a man hunched over a drawing board.
He was thin, wearing thick glasses and a plain, button-down shirt. This was Steve Ditko.
In Duke's previous life, Ditko was a legend, the man who co-created Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, the man who walked away from Marvel at the height of his fame because he refused to compromise on his vision.
Here, in 1970, he was working for pennies, drawing mystery shorts and "Blue Beetle" stories for a company that barely knew who they had.
"Mr. Ditko," Duke said softly.
The artist didn't look up immediately. He finished a line on a character's cape, then slowly set his pen down.
"You're the Hollywood guy," Ditko said. It wasn't a question.
"I'm the man who is buying this building," Duke replied. "And I know who you are, Steve. I know what you did at Marvel, and I am a very big fan."
Ditko stiffened.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to ask you to draw Spider-Man," Duke continued. "I'm here to offer you Autonomy. I'm turning this place into a subsidiary Comics."
"No editors will be breathing down your neck to make the characters more 'marketable.' No corporate committees. Just you, a drawing board, and the best paper and ink money can buy."
Duke pointed to the Blue Beetle pages on the table. "I want to take Ted Kord, the Blue Beetle and make him the foundational hero of a new universe."
Ditko studied Duke. He saw a man who wasn't a fanboy or a corporate shark.
"You'll give me the final say on the line work?" Ditko asked.
"Total quality control," Duke promised. "I want the most beautiful books in the world, Steve."
Ditko nodded once.
Duke walk in peace lasted exactly 90 minutes.
As Duke walked back into the main office, he found Jaffe talking with three men in heavy flannel shirts and work boots.
They were the leaders of the local printing union, and they looked like they were ready for a fight.
"Mr. Hauser," the leader said, a man named Miller with a permanent scowl. "We heard the news about the new owner. The previous administration has been avoiding us."
"We figured it was time to talk about the new contract. We're looking for a thirty percent wage hike across the board, increased pension contributions, and a 'no-layoffs' clause."
Jaffe looked at Duke, his eyes opened wide.
Duke didn't look at Jaffe. He didn't even sit down.
"Look," Duke started speaking. "let me tell you what's going to happen. I didn't come here to play games. Charlton is a month away from being shut down if i want to."
"If we don't sign these union papers today, this building is a parking lot by Christmas, and you're all standing in the unemployment line."
"You're bluffing," Miller spat. "You need these presses."
"I need presses," Duke corrected. "I don't need these presses. I can have a team on standby in Alabama and Georgia. I can buy a warehouse in a 'Right to Work' state, ship the equipment out of here on flatbeds by Tuesday, and be printing by Friday."
"I told the owner I'd keep the jobs in Derby but there is noc lause for it in the contract. I'd rather give you a several year stability agreement that guarantees your jobs as we expand. But I will not be shaken down."
Duke pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was a summary of the 1970 industrial manufacturing reports.
"The economy is cooling, Miller. Inflation is rising. Companies are closing left and right. You want to gamble your members' livelihoods on a thirty percent hike that doesn't exist?"
Duke held out a pen. "You sign a stability agreement today, five percent raise now, two percent annual cost-of-living increases or I walk out that door and you can explain to your men why they don't have a job on Monday."
Miller looked at his associates.
Miller took the pen. He signed.
"Smart move," Duke said, taking the pen back. "Get the people ready. We're going to be busy in a while."
As Duke and Jaffe walked out of the brick fortress of Charlton, a courier was waiting by the car.
He handed Duke a telex from New York. It was from Frank Yablans, the head of distribution at Paramount.
Duke opened it. The numbers for Hacksaw Ridge's international opening weekend were typed in stark, black letters.
To: Hauser, C.
From: Yablans, F.
International Rollout - Hacksaw Ridge
London: $1.25 Million - Record Breaking. Veteran Groups Are Chartering Buses.
Paris: $910,000.
Rome: $780,000.
Berlin: $640,000
Tokyo: $0. Refused Booking. Protest at US Embassy.
Total Internatiobal Weekend: $3.58 Million.
Duke handed the telex to Jaffe. "The universal message of the film worked, Stanley. People everywhere understand the concept of conviction and it seems World War 2 veterans are playing a role in our box office."
"Except Tokyo," Jaffe noted.
"I expected Tokyo to not like it," Duke said.
The drive back to New York was quiet. Duke spent it looking at the stack of Charlton comics he had taken from the plant. He compared them to a few Marvel issues he'd picked up at a newsstand.
As he flipped through the pages of The Avengers and The Fantastic Four, a cold, brilliant realization settled over him.
He was in 1970. He knew every major creative shift, every "reboot," and every billion-dollar character that was going to be created in the next thirty years.
None of it had been written yet.
He looked at the Blue Beetle sketches Ditko had done. He realized he didn't need to "buy" Marvel right now. He could simply Pre-Create the future.
(Wolverine for Charlton?)
He arrived at his office in Manhattan just as the sun was setting. The desk was piled with progress reports, Atari prototypes, Paramount casting calls, Charlton inventory lists.
The phone rang. It was the private line.
"Duke?" The voice was high-pitched, slightly nervous, and buzzing with creative energy. It was George Lucas.
"George. Give me the news from the North."
"Francis is deep in it," George said, referring to The Godfather. "He's arguing with Evans about the lighting even though its pre-production, Francis wants it dark.."
"And your project?"
"I finished the rough cut of THX 1138," George said, "It's weird, Duke. It's not like anything else out there, but I want you to see it. You know since youre a mysterious mogul now, if you come, maybe Warner will pay more attention to it."
Duke leaned back, looking at the Atari circuit board on his desk. "I'm ready whenever you need, George.."
"And Duke?" George asked. "I've been thinking about that other thing. I've started writing some notes. About a teenager cruising with his friends."
"Keep writing, George," Duke said. "I'm saving a spot on Paramount for you."
Duke hung up the phone. HHe reached for a pen and began to write the first character bio for the new Blue Beetle.
___
Yo, how is it going