Chapter 24
Okay, not much going on in this chapter, so I am going to make this as quick as I can. Started a new job, so my writing time has, in a way, gotten better and worse at the same time. What I mean is I am busier at work, leaving me little time to take notes, but I work solid hours now, so I know when I have to be at work and when I am off. So I get to spend more time writing, which allows me to do longer chapters, depending lol.
Anyways, this chapter, to me, is a bit dry, to be honest, but necessary for the story to move on. So sorry if it's a bit boring, and hopefully the next chapter will be better.
That said, on to reviews.
MidnightNemasu I so forgot about that movie. It's on the list. Not sure for what year, but I think it can fit pretty much anywhere.
roronoa2 as always you're welcome.
Somnifer, you're welcome
Bxnjmin, you're welcome
I think that is everything, and till next time. I wish everyone the best who reads this story or any of my other stories.
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"Did I ever worry that someone would steal credit for my work or ideas? Of course not. Only a fool believes true originality exists. Mark Twain put it best: "There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn, and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages." It's a harsh truth, but true all the same. If you doubt it, read a few books, and you'll see how right he was. All I care about is telling my own version of the same old story." -Ruth 'Morris' Lucky Luciano
-1940-
- Samuel POV-
Today was a good day for business, I thought as I reviewed this year's final take, while the others waited. I would like to say they did so quietly, but that would be a lie. Ruth hid her excitement better than the rest, but we were all eager to hear the numbers. After all, while the total wasn't everything we had hoped for, we hadn't paid out of pocket for anything again. That was the trick: using other people's money to make money.
We may have done most of the work, but we still pocketed all the profits without investing any of our own money in the films. It was risky for both sides, but as long as a film turned a profit, we came out ahead. If it didn't, that would be another story entirely.
"So, come on, Sammy, how much did we make?" Toby asked.
I looked up and glared at him. I hated being called Sammy, and he knew it, but I let it go. There was no point in starting a fight when things were going so well. Setting down my pen, I gave him and the others a small smile. "We did alright."
"How alright?" Raimondo asked, trying to sound calm and collected, though he was anything but. I could tell he was just as eager as Toby to hear the numbers. I, on the other hand, was simply relieved we had made enough to keep the doors open for the time being.
Even Ruth, who was already wealthy in her own way, wanted to know, though for different reasons. I wouldn't say she devalued money, but to her, money was meant to be used. It did no good sitting idle in a bank. The sooner she knew how much we had made, the sooner she could plan for the year ahead.
"Stop teasing the boys, Sammy. You're being mean," she scolded in a playful, sing-song voice. I glared at her for calling me Sammy, but she just childishly stuck her tongue out at me.
"Alright, alright," I said, raising my notepad as I began.
"First, Boom Town brought in a total of $4,538,000," I said, starting with the numbers we had already covered.
"God, I love hearing that number," Toby said, his expression turning dreamy. He didn't care that none of it went directly into his pocket. Why would he, seeing as it still paid for all the events and parties he attended? After all, connections had to be built, and those connections would prove useful later on down the road.
"Next, the Academy Awards filming brought in $575,000. All told, we had a strong first half of the year," I said, satisfied with what we had accomplished.
"I'd say so. A little over five million to start the year is nothing to dismiss, especially when we only made about 1.7 million last year," Raimondo said with a pleased smile.
"Very true, and let's not forget our investments. They're already bringing in more than I expected," I said with a smile of my own. I was still a little concerned about how long we could keep this up, but I would discuss that with Ruth another time. I didn't want to be the bearer of bad news unless things actually changed.
"How much are they bringing in, Sam?" Ruth asked while dropping the playful nickname she knew her old friend hated.
"Not millions, but we're already seeing significant returns in the thousands. At this pace, we should recoup our investment by this time next year, as long as nothing changes," I said evenly. Ruth had already warned us to be prepared, since the war would soon be right on our doorstep.
I still didn't fully believe the United States would enter the war, though part of me wished it would. I couldn't see it as clearly as Ruth did, but then I didn't have the close connections Ruth had to the wives and daughters of powerful politicians. If her prediction came true, they could be sitting on a bottomless gold mine. For us, it would be an enormous opportunity and make me personally feel better. As both a Jew and a decent human being, I would have loved nothing more than to see the Nazi party and all those affiliated with it put down like the dogs they were.
"That's good. We should consider investing more while the window is still open," Ruth said.
"Agreed, but first, let's review the second half of the year, Sam," Raimondo chimed in.
I nodded and said, "Citizen Kanewas a shocking hit. I'll be honest: I didn't expect it to do well, especially after Mr. Hearst took such offense to it. But thanks to Ruth's quick thinking and Raimondo's charm, we turned the situation around and forced him to back down." I started to continue, but Toby cut me off.
"I'm sure that old geezer won't take that lying down for much longer," Toby said angrily, his fists clenched tight.
I let the interruption slide because I knew how Toby felt. I was angry about Mr. Hearst's attack too, but like him, I knew there wasn't much we could do. Raimondo was working behind the scenes to turn Hearst's old friends against him, but we were still too new to the game for people to choose our side over his. Even MGM, or rather Louis B. Mayer, who had been furious about the double-cross at first, made it clear he was willing to let bygones be bygones and expected us to drop any grudge against Mr. Hearst. We did, despite Toby's protests.
"Yes, well, whatever he feels now, he actually did us a favor. In total, Citizen Kane earned $9.7 million at the box office," I said, reading from my notes.
A low whistle slipped from Toby's lips as I continued. "Needless to say, it was a huge success—far bigger than I think anyone, even you, Ruth, expected." We knew it would do well, but the final numbers still surprised us.
Ruth nodded. "You can say that again. I badly underestimated public opinion and sentiment."
That made us all laugh. Ruth was rarely caught off guard, and seeing it happen was almost enjoyable. Not for long, though. I had to step in with the bad news, whether I wanted to or not.
"Unfortunately, we won't get to keep all of it. Twenty-eight percent goes to MGM, which comes to $2,716,000," I said.
Toby scoffed, so I cut him off before he could speak. "And before you say anything, Toby, it could have been worse. Thanks to Raimondo talking them down, we only had to pay 28 percent instead of 30."
All things considered, it was generous enough. They were still fucking us over, but other studios had offered far worse terms. The fact that Raimondo managed to win even a small reduction was a miracle in itself.
"See? I told you that you were dashingly charming," Ruth said to Raimondo, who beamed. I had a feeling that would go straight to his head.
"Yeah, yeah, good job," Toby said bluntly, sounding as if he barely meant it. I understood why.
Like Toby, I still hated that MGM was taking such a large cut for doing almost nothing. Ruth and I had planned everything, from advertising to filming, and those costs were already built into the film's budget. Yet we still had to pay MGM for using their theaters. It was more than a little irritating, and it made me want to get creative with the numbers, but I held back. We could deal with MGM later. For now, we were still building, but eventually they would get what was coming to them.
"Another $3,970,000 will go to Mr. Dragna and his organization. Some of it, I hear, is making its way back to you, Ruth." I gave her a pointed look, and she turned away as if she had no idea what I meant. Oh, Ruth. I see what you're doing.
"That's right. I forgot you just moved into a villa in Beverly Hills for some mysterious reason," Raimondo said, giving Ruth the stink eye. I understood the feeling. I was a little bitter too.
"Wait a minute. When did this happen?" Toby asked, clearly surprised by the news.
"A few months ago. Jack was very thankful for the hit film and decided to get me a little gift as a thank-you. He did the same for Jenny and Orson Welles as well," Ruth explained, trying to defend herself.
"True, but a brand-new Cadillac is hardly the same as a $50,000 mansion," I said with a small glare. I wasn't really angry at her for what Jack did with his money, but I suspected she had a larger role in acquiring that villa than she was admitting. After all, there was no way a brand-new villa could be built in less than a month. I felt a bit envious now.
"Actually, it was about $75,000, and it has six bedrooms, five bathrooms, and a pool," Ruth said with a hint of a smile, trying to downplay it as if it were nothing.
"Of course it is," I said, rolling my eyes as I tried to move on from thoughts about her reward.
"That is so unfair," Toby remarked, though he was somewhat used to Ruth being treated differently.
"Oh, stop complaining. You'll be getting your own villa soon enough. After all, we can't have you three keep living in small houses or crappy apartments. We have an image to protect and cultivate," Ruth said emphatically. I sighed, hating that she was right. In this business, image often mattered more than ability. At least we would be getting nicer homes now.
"I'm already looking into real estate," I added. "Beverly Hills is my first choice, of course, but I'm also considering Bel Air and Malibu."
"Malibu? What the fuck is Malibu?" Raimondo asked.
"Nothing yet, and that's exactly why I'm looking there," I answered, hearing Ruth giggle. "It's cheap, underdeveloped, and cheap is what matters."
I rolled my eyes at her. She and the others had teased me for years about being cheap, but I didn't care. Raimondo had his new suits, Toby had his cars, and Ruth had, well, Ruth. I knew the value of a dollar, and I preferred to invest mine rather than waste it on things that would end up in the trash. I was being practical. Real estate was one place where my money could actually grow.
"Man, I don't want to live in the middle of nowhere," Toby said, though he knew he had little say in how the studio's profits were spent. He had his share, of course, but trusted me to handle it wisely. He wasn't stupid; he knew exactly what he would do the moment he had money in his hands.
"Moving on, *Raging Bull* more or less did what we expected it to do. We budgeted around 3 million dollars, and thanks to Ruth, we were able to cut 250,000 from the overall production cost, which I then allocated to the studio accounts. So, thank you for that, Ruth," I said, feeling genuinely appreciative.
"You're welcome," Ruth replied.
I let out a sigh and added, "That being said, due to backlash from certain groups and the overall tone of the film, *Raging Bull* performed a bit poorly at the box office, bringing in just over 6.1 million dollars." It wasn't a complete disaster, thankfully, but we knew what we were getting into when Ruth decided on that movie.
Everyone leaned back at hearing this low figure. We all nonchalantly understood why.
"Well, we already anticipated the controversy the film would spark upon its release," Raimondo commented neutrally, though he seemed somewhat indifferent about it.
"The critics loved it—well, most of them, anyway. It's especially popular with the younger crowd," Toby added, framing this as another success in a different way.
Laughing a bit, Ruth said, "It was the fight scenes that made the difference. By the way, great job on the choreography, Toby. I always knew you would excel, but everyone, even the actors, was on point during filming. It saved a lot of time and money on retakes."
Toby waved her off, trying and failing to sound humble. "Ah, think nothing of it. It was easy with professionals I could trust and work with."
Still, we all noticed the small, satisfied smirk on his lips. He was proud of himself, and he had every right to be. Raging Bull may have been deeply controversial, but the boxing scenes were outstanding. Many people said they could hardly tell them apart from real matches.
Even so, I had to say it. "That may be true, but compared to its budget, the film still underperformed. From the $6.1 million box office total, $1,708,000 goes to MGM. Another ten percent goes to Mr. Lansky, on top of the three million we already owe him for the budget, bringing his total to $3,610,000. Finally, we owe Mr. Ladd and Miss Scott $122,000 and $61,000, respectively. Including the $250,000 Ruth saved us, our cut comes to about $849,000—our lowest profit so far, not counting the Academy Awards filming."
Everyone in the room frowned. There was nothing we could do about it, but the loss still stung.
Ruth sighed. "At least it's pure profit, since we didn't put up any of our own money."
"Still hurts to give up that much after all the work we did," Toby said, blowing out a breath.
Ruth leaned forward. "So where does that leave us for the year?"
"Altogether, we brought in a little over $9.1 million this year. I'm still working through the taxes, but I should be able to net us about $6.2 or $6.3 million," I answered with a smile.
"That's not too bad," Ruth said, smiling with clear satisfaction.
"I'll say. I'm still annoyed we had to give up so much, but $6.1 million or $6.3 million is still a shit ton of money. So, are we rich now, Sam, or still broke?" Toby asked with a smirk.
I smiled at my friend and answered flatly, "You're still broke. The company, however, is doing just fine."
He flipped me off, and the whole room burst into laughter.
Once the laughter died down, Ruth spoke up. "Let's move on. I want to renegotiate Jenny's contract before anyone else comes knocking."
I sighed. "I figured as much. What kind of numbers are we talking?"
Looking at Toby and Raimondo, Ruth asked, "Where do we stand with the Academy Awards?"
"We've submitted all the paperwork," Raimondo answered, though he knew that wasn't what she meant.
Toby picked up from there. "I've been talking to people in and around Hollywood's elite. Word is Jenny, Jake, and Welles will at least earn nominations. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Citizen Kanewins Outstanding Production, though I suspect that has more to do with Miss Campbell's highly publicized death."
The room fell quiet. We all felt guilty for using that poor girl's death to our advantage, but the alternative had been letting the film fail, and we couldn't allow that. Still, knowing we might benefit even more from her death by the end of it made me feel sick. Once the ceremony was over, we would have to make it right somehow.
Ruth sighed again. "What do you think their chances are?"
Toby thought it over. "I'm not sure. If I had to guess, I'd say better than fair."
"I spoke with Mr. Mayer. He feels the same and wants to rerelease both films just before the ceremony," Raimondo answered.
"In that case, I suggest raising Jenny's salary to $20,000 a year for the next four years, plus a one percent box office share," Ruth said.
I nodded. "Seems fair enough."
"More than fair. That's nearly what Mr. Ladd makes, and more than Miss Scott," Toby said.
He said no more, but we all understood what he meant. Liz had been with us from the beginning, was in our first film, and the first actress we had signed. It didn't feel right to give Jenny more, but the truth couldn't be denied. Jenny was the stronger actress, and her likely nomination needed to be reflected in her salary. We could have let her current contract run out, but that wasn't the point of giving her a raise. We were trying to make a statement and lure others to us.
"What about Jake?" I asked, noticing Ruth had left him out.
"Well, that will be more difficult," Ruth said while looking frustrated about it.
"What's wrong with Jake?" I asked.
Ruth looked away, more frustrated than before, so Toby answered for her. "Jake wants out."
"Out? What do you mean?" I asked, confused.
Toby let out a breath. "Jake came to me a few weeks ago and said he didn't want to act anymore—or at least not star in anything. He says he hates the fame. Can't say I blame him. A couple of days ago, some jokers threw eggs at him and called him the 'scum of the earth.'"
I rubbed my forehead and nodded. I had heard how people were talking about his character in Raging Bulland noticed they were struggling to separate the man from the role. I just hadn't realized it had gotten this bad. We had expected some backlash, but hearing about it was different from understanding it.
"Well, Ruth, we could try throwing more money at him, if you want," I said. Jake was undoubtedly one of the best actors in the world. That was why people had so much trouble separating him from the role. He didn't merely play a character; he became that person.
Ruth shook her head. "No. The look on his face when he spoke to Toby and me made it clear he won't change his mind. Pay him well and let it go. We'll use him in the background when we need to."
That was a shame, but if that was what Jake wanted, I wasn't going to fight it.
"Very well. I'll handle it. Now, about next year's films. Ruth, I believe you already have three scripts written," I said to her.
"I do, but I really need to hire a scriptwriter soon. I can't keep pulling scripts out of my ass like this. At some point, I'll need help." She picked up several copies and handed them around.
We each took a copy and began reading, half afraid we had another Raging Bull on our hands. But the first script, Casablanca, quickly drew me in. Like Raging Bull, it was engaging, but aside from its clear anti-Nazi stance and darker undertones, it was tame by comparison.
There was some concern about how German audiences might react, but I didn't see that as much of a problem. Most Americans still believed we should stay out of the war, but that didn't make them pro-Nazi. They weren't exactly anti-Nazi either, but there were enough who would come to see the film—and perhaps, just perhaps, it might help turn public opinion against those murderous fuckers.
Yes, I knew I was letting my emotions get the better of me when I shouldn't have, but I wasn't alone. I could see it on my friends' faces. Every one of them hated the Nazis as much as I did. Ruth may have hated them even more. She despised Hitler and made that clear to anyone who asked. She was careful not to call openly for war, but she had never spoken against it either.
I let the script settle for a while before finally saying, "This is a good script, Ruth."
"Thank you," she said, though she didn't smile. That wasn't surprising. I was sure she saw the script as flawed because it was restrained in its portrayal of the Nazi Party. Others might not notice, but I knew she had held back a great deal, and I loved her all the more for it.
"How much do you think it will cost to make?" I asked, though I didn't really care. She could have asked for the full eight million we made this year, and I would have given it to her for this film.
Ruth thinks about it for a moment. "Well, I was hoping we could set it to be filmed on location, maybe Hawaii," Ruth says.
"That would raise the cost, though not by much. Would you direct it?" I asked.
Ruth shook her head. "Not this time. I have other plans for the start of the year."
"I see. Then who will direct it? Welles?" I asked.
"I'm thinking Michael Curtiz," Ruth said.
The room went quiet for a moment before Toby spoke up. "Isn't he working for Warner Bros?"
"He's between contracts at the moment," Raimondo answered.
"He's also Jewish," I said, looking at Ruth. "Is that why you want him for this film—to entice him over to us?"
Ruth smirked. "I won't pretend it isn't. The fact is, Mr. Curtiz is one of the best directors in Hollywood, and he's more than worth the effort."
"Even if those methods are underhanded?" I asked.
"Especially if they're underhanded," Ruth replied without shame.
That suited her perfectly. As far as I knew, Ruth had no limits and no line she wouldn't cross to get what she wanted.
I looked to Toby, who spoke with more directors and actors than any of us. "Toby, what do you think? Would Mr. Curtiz be willing to join us?"
Toby took a moment to consider it before answering. "Hard to say. I've spoken with him more than once. I can't say I like him, but he had good things to say about the films you produced, Ruth. He was especially impressed when I told him how often you spent long hours on set and barely slept during filming."
Ruth laughed at that, clearly amused.
"The problem is the cost," Toby said seriously. "Like many others, he's interested in the percentage deals we offer, but more than that, many directors feel trapped. After Raging Bull came out, he and several other directors were wondering why they couldn't express their artistic expression as much as you do. So you never know. He may be willing to jump ship for the right price."
I thought it over. We had money to work with, so we could make him a strong offer. As the one responsible for finances, I also handled hiring decisions.
Finally, I said, "Raimondo, I'll approve $50,000 a year and five percent of the box office. See if that brings him over. If not, you can go higher, at least enough to get him to direct Casablanca—assuming we already have investors lined up for it."
"We do. I won't name names, but some people in Chicago are very interested in getting into the film business," Ruth said. None of us asked who she meant.
"Very well. What about the other two films?" I asked.
"I've already shared the script for Dragon Seed with Orson, and he's very interested. It still needs rewrites, though—something to give it more edge," Ruth said with a smile. We had spoken with the original author about the idea and seen the draft she was working on. Once she gave us her approval, we moved forward with the film.
"Do I even want to read this?" I asked.
"You should," Ruth said, smiling. I wasn't sure I wanted to know why, but I would see what she had written.
"What's the budget on this one?" I asked.
"Well, it's Orson. Whatever we give him, we should expect him to go over. I'd say around $2.5 to $3 million should do it," Ruth answered.
"Investors?" I asked, wondering who would pay for it.
"Mr. Dragna was very pleased with his returns on Citizen Kane and made it clear he wants to be Orson's sole investor on his next film," Ruth answered.
I sighed, uneasy about how deeply we remained tied to the mob, but let it pass. It was too late to cut them out. Maybe once we grew bigger, we would need them less; for now, they were still too useful to ignore.
"So I'm guessing The Flowers of War is the film you'll be working on?" Toby asked, pointing to the script.
"It is, but not until later in the year. Preproduction can wait. First, I want to finish my documentary on Babe Ruth," Ruth said, excitement clear in her voice.
We all groaned. It reminded us just how much of a fangirl Ruth was when it came to the Great Bambino. We all admired him, but she took it further than anyone. She had attended his last three World Series, including one we had gone to together, and she owned what might have been the largest private collection of Babe Ruth memorabilia. She kept it locked away for safekeeping. Forget seeing her ball signed by the Babe; she wouldn't even let anyone look at one of the five baseball cards she owned.
"I'd forgotten you were working on that. When do you expect to finish?" I asked. Timing mattered if we were going to plan around it.
"Hmm. I already have nearly everything ready; I just need to conduct the interviews. It shouldn't take more than a few months, so I expect to start work on Flowers of War around midyear," Ruth answered.
"And how much will both projects cost?" I asked.
"Since we'll be the main investor in the Babe Ruth documentary, I'd say no more than about $500,000. As for Flowers of War, the total cost shouldn't exceed $3.3 million," Ruth answered. My eyes widened slightly. Given how extensive the scenes looked in the script, I hoped we could use the budget efficiently. God help us if it went over.
"Will your godfather back that? I mean, Raging Bull wasn't exactly a money-maker," Raimondo asked.
"If my godfather cared about making money from this venture, he never would have backed us in the first place. All he really wants is his money back, plus about ten percent. Anything beyond that is pocket change to him." Ruth says it casually, but I have the strange feeling she's holding something back. What it is, I don't ask. Frankly, the less I know about what is going on between her and her godfather, the better.
"Well, I think that covers everything. I'll start getting things ready, but we should seriously consider hiring a producer. I can't keep managing the company's finances and producing the films as we grow." I say tiredly. At this rate, I'll go gray before we get the help we need.
"Agreed, you're already a grumpy old man. We don't need the gray hair to complete the picture," Toby says, causing everyone to laugh while I give him the finger.
After the meeting, we all went our separate ways, and got back to work. Both inside the studio and outside of it. Planning for upcoming events, things that needed to be done before the start of next year. There was still so much to be done; it seemed endless, but I loved it.