The large table in Duke's office was spread with a bunch of location photos, dense budget sheets, and meticulously annotated shooting schedules.
Seated around it were Duke, Mark Jensen, and an earnest looking Steven Spielberg, who was trying his best to absorb the information.
"The three of us are going to be the producing team on True Grit," Duke stated, his gaze moving between them.
"Wallis and Wayne will have their own people embedded, which means our primary job is oversight and insulation. We ensure the creative vision aligns with the budget and the schedule. Jensen, you're the Executive producer and only have contact with the director when necessary. Spielberg, you're going to be boots on the ground and contact us if you can't solve something."
He tapped a map of Colorado. "Principal photography begins September 5th. The weather window is tight since winter could drag production."
"We need to be efficient." He then slid the Easy Rider budget across the table. "Our other immediate priority. Shooting starts this month. We're the producers here, too."
Jensen, who had been deep in the Easy Rider pre-production since the deal had been reached, leaned forward.
"A quick rundown on the key people," he said, directing his comments mostly to Spielberg. "Dennis Hopper is the vision. He also loves to overdo things another take, another angle, another… well, let's just say he spends money very easily and doesn't care much where it comes from."
"Peter Fonda is the counterbalance. He's budget-conscious, more stable. He understands this is a business, not just an art project. But he won't rein Hopper in too hard; they're a package deal."
"There's also Jack Nicholson, a friends of Peter who is going to help oversee production, he's going to work close to us to get the dailies done on time specially since we're going to shoot on location so many times"
Spielberg swallowed, his face a little nervous. "Right. And I'm supposed to be the guy in charge? I have seen Mr. Hopper and he doesn't exactly seem like the type to listen to a…"
He stop speaking, not wanting to say 'kid.'
"He won't," Jensen said calmly, placing a reassuring hand on the table.
"Not at first. That's why I'll be on set with you. You're the eyes and ears, I'll be the voice. You find the problem, we'll present the solution together."
Duke watched this exchange, his expression unreadable. "The budget is locked," he reiterated, his voice a flat line of authority.
"Hopper and Fonda have creative control, but we have fiscal control. If they go even a dollar over, we need to know why before they spend a second. Spielberg, your reports are necessary for this."
Spielberg nodded, his aura becoming a little more calm. "Understood. It's a tight schedule. They're supposed to wrap by late April."
Duke turned his gaze fully on Spielberg. "This is your training. Easy Rider is the exercise. Handle the volatility there, and you will be my main producer on set for True Grit. That is the objective.".
---
Later, Larry Goldberg entered, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and his tie loosened. He carried the scent of airplane air and distant cities, dropping a worn leather satchel onto a chair before sinking into another.
"The buzz on Targets has cooled," he reported without preamble, rubbing a hand over his tired face.
"It had its moment in the coastal cities. But I just got back from Wichita, Omaha, places like that. Funny thing—it's still playing in a dozen theaters out there. Not big numbers, but steady. The American heartland seems to get a kick out of a sniper picking off folks in the suburbs. Who knew?"
"But it's the last gasp. The returns are diminishing fast." He fixed Duke with a direct look. "A little more advertisement money, just for the Midwest, we could squeeze a few more weeks out of it."
Duke didn't even glance at the financials. "It's ok if Targets doesn't make much, after all it was our first distributed movie and the capital was already allocated. What's next?"
Goldberg nodded, accepting the decision, his energy immediately pivoting from the past to the future. "Night of the Living Dead. October 1st. Perfect timing for Halloween."
He leaned forward, his eyes gaining a gleam. "I've been laying the groundwork. Been on the phone with drive-in owners from Portland to Buffalo. I'm using every connection I made back in my Allied Artists days."
"These guys owe me favors, and I'm calling them in. I've got handshake deals lined up in Oregon, California, Texas, and New York. They'll give it a one-week trial. If it succeeds, we expand."
He unzipped his satchel and pulled out a series of mock-ups, slapping them onto Duke's desk. They were stark, visceral, and cheap to print.
One featured a grainy, terrifying black-and-white close-up of a ghoul's face. The headline screamed: THEY'RE COMING TO GET YOU!
Another showed a silhouetted figure against a burning farmhouse.
"The campaign is simple and dirty," Goldberg explained, his finger stabbing at the mock-ups.
"I plan on buying full-page ads in every monster mag we can find Famous Monsters of Filmland, Creepy, Eerye, etc. That's the kind of audience that would want to watch a black and white horror film."
"For the drive-ins themselves, I consider we should do a promotional blitz, gift several tickets to the local college radio stations for giveaways and to the entertainment editors at the nearby newspapers."
"We create a local event. A thrill, a cheap, terrifying night out, we'll use the tagline: 'The Night Everyone Will Remember… If They Live!' No art-house pretense. Just pure, sellable terror."
---
Inside his office, Duke was surrounded by the quiet chaos of production, location scouts from Colorado for True Grit were spread across his desk.
A soft knock, broke his concentration. "It's open."
Jonathan Powell, the William Morris agent, slipped inside, his expensive suit looking rumpled at the end of a long day.
He carried a brown paper bag that gave off the glorious, greasy aroma of In-N-Out.
"I come bearing tribute to the king," Powell said, placing the bag on a clear corner of the desk. "Saw the light on. Figured you'd be fueling on coffee and pure willpower."
Duke leaned back, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips. "Coffee was the plan. This is an upgrade."
He opened the bag, the smell of Animal Style fries filling the room. "Sit. Tell me you're not here to sell me that script again."
After their several conversations about the Love Story script they talked for some time and came out with a somewhat small friendship.
Duke knew the Love Story project was big, it was one of the few romance films to reach the number one spot on the yearly box office.
The only romance films that he knew of that reached that number one spot on the yearly box office were Titanic, Ghost and Love Story.
"If i sell it I may get attention from the boss of WMA," Powell said, settling into a chair and loosening his tie. "So, what's consuming Duke Hauser tonight? The fate of the free world?"
"Close," Duke said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "The fate of a fake Western town outside Durango. The location manager says the river's will be too cold and fast during the shooting and that maybe Insurance will have a problem. Also Dennis Hopper has apparently decided to rewrite half of Easy Rider while on the road, which is causing our line producer to have a nervous breakdown over long-distance phone calls. So, the usual."
Powell chuckled. "The glamour of filmmaking. And here I thought you'd be at some premiere."
"Premieres are for finished films. I'm still just shooting films." Duke took a bite of his burger, studying his friend. "You didn't bring two double-doubles just to hear me complain about river temperatures."
"A man can't check on his most successful friend?" Powell's tone was light, but his eyes were sharp.
"I was just wondering… have you given any more thought to our little Love Story discussion? The author is getting anxious."
Duke took a slow drink of water, his expression unreadable. "I've thought about it. It's a compelling property. But my slate is full, Jonathan. True Grit, Easy Rider, I still need to develop Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid… a sentimental romance doesn't quite fit the machinery right now."
It was a subtle, graceful rejection, but a rejection nonetheless. Powell, however, was prepared. He leaned forward.
"I hear you. But hear me out. The landscape has shifted. I got permission to sell the script without baggage as long as WMA is given certain roles in the cast."
Duke was silent for a moment, as if mentally scrolling through his calendar and balance sheets.
"I think that kind of deal would interest me," he said finally, his voice calm but absolute. "But i would like to speak to the scriptwriter before buying it."
Powell stared at him, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"I'll take those terms back to Howard Minsky," Powell said, standing up and clapping Duke on the shoulder. "You drive a hard bargain Duke, good night."
...
Had something come up with a professor in University so i got home too late.