The executive boardroom on the Paramount lot was bathed in a morning light.
The air conditioning hummed low and steady, keeping the temperature low. But the atmosphere was anything but relaxed.
Every man present knew they were standing on the edge right now.
At the head of the table, perfectly at ease, sat Duke.
To his right sat Barry Diller, the architect of their strategic planning, visibly exhausted, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he organized a thick stack of manila folders.
Next to him, Michael Eisner's eyes darted around the room.
Across the table, Robert Evans leaned back with an open shirt, flanked by his loyal right-hand man, Peter Bart.
Further down sat Jeffrey Katzenberg and Archie, the head of DC Comics division and PULSE comics.
Despite the collection of brilliant minds, the room's collective attention kept drifting toward a glaring anomaly, an empty leather chair halfway down the left side.
Until yesterday, that seat had belonged to Frank Yabrans, one of the studio's top executives, the man who'd initially spearheaded the theme park initiative.
No one had dared ask for details, but rumors had spread like wildfire before the sun even set. Duke let the silence stretch, allowing the weight of that empty chair to register before he finally spoke.
"I imagine you're all wondering about the current seating arrangement," Duke began, his voice calm.
He folded his hands on the table. "Frank Yabrans is no longer an employee of Paramount Pictures. Nor will he ever find work in this town again if I have any say in the matter."
"We discovered yesterday afternoon that Frank attempted to leverage his position on the physical development board to solicit a substantial, under-the-table kickback from Sumner Redstone and National Amusements in exchange for favorable contracts."
He paused, sharp gaze moving slowly around the table, making direct eye contact with each executive. "I fired him yesterday after it was discovered."
He let that land.
"I want to be perfectly clear." Duke's voice dropped slightly, "We are building something unprecedented here. There is unlimited wealth and prestige available to every man in this room, provided you possess the talent to earn it."
Then, suddenly, he smiled.
"I don't care about egos. I don't care about inter-departmental rivalries. I care about the work, and I care about absolute loyalty to the Paramount brand. If you work hard and play by the rules, I will make you richer than you can imagine, and I will back your creative visions."
His smile faded. "But if you try to steal from this company, for a quick paycheck, I will kick you from this company. We don't have time for the dead weight of small-minded men. Is that understood?"
Murmurs of quiet agreement circled the table.
Eisner nodded sharply.
Evans adjusted his immaculate cuffs with renewed focus, a little nervous remembering he drunkingly told Duke about giving roles to his ex wife Ali.
Katzenberg jotted something on his legal pad.
Duke leaned back, satisfied. "Excellent. Now that the housekeeping is done, let's talk about the actual future of this company. Paramount Parks. Barry, walk us through the project."
Barry Diller stood up slowly, exhausted but fueled by adrenaline.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and moved to the front of the room, where a large easel held a series of covered presentation boards.
"Thank you, Duke." Diller's voice was raspy, "When I first started looking into a theme park, the natural instinct was to see it as an extension of our marketing arm, a place to sell merchandise and screen our films."
"But the deeper I dug into the economics of the leisure industry, the more I came to realize that a physical park can be an entirely separate, highly lucrative corporate pillar."
"If executed correctly, it generates steady, predictable daily cash flow that can completely offset the volatility of the theatrical box office."
Diller flipped the first cover off the easel, revealing a topographic map of the United States with a single, large red circle drawn violently around central Florida.
"Gentlemen, according to a previous year study done by... Frank Yablans, geographical analysis, infrastructure review, and demographic forecasting, the strategic planning division has reached a conclusion."
"The ideal location for the inaugural Paramount Park, assuming a hypothetical opening window between late 1978 and summer 1980, armed with the IP's of DC Comics superheroes and the Looney Tunes roster, is Orlando, Florida."
"It's the only location that makes both short-term logistical sense and long-term financial sense. Everything else is a distant second choice."
The room immediately started talking. Diller held up his hand to stall the incoming questions, tapping the map with a wooden pointer.
"Let me walk you through the logic before you start talking."
"Reason one: established, world-class infrastructure. Orlando already has a robust network of major highways, thousands of existing hotel rooms, and a rapidly expanding international airport."
"We don't have to spend a dime building the roads to get tourists to our front door, the state of Florida and our competitors have already done the heavy lifting. We just have to build the destination and tap into an artery of tourism that's already bringing millions of people into the region every year."
Diller flipped to the next chart, a comparative meteorological breakdown of several major American cities.
"Reason two is purely operational. Climate. Unlike potential sites in the Midwest or Northeast, Central Florida has extremely mild winters. That means three hundred and sixty-five days of continuous, uninterrupted daily operation."
"We don't have to shutter the gates for four months because of snow. Furthermore, the lack of freezing temperatures drastically reduces mechanical wear and tear on steel roller coasters and hydraulic ride systems, saving us millions in preventative winterization and maintenance."
Diller moved to a slide showing vast, unbroken tracts of green space. "Reason three is expansion and acquisition. Central Florida offers vast, incredibly cheap swamplands and former citrus groves."
"To create a good Theme Park, we need hundreds of acres of buffer zones to control sightlines and ensure the outside world doesn't bleed into our immersive environments. We can buy land in Orlando for pennies on the dollar compared to the coasts, securing the footprint we need for phase one, while simultaneously banking thousands of adjacent acres for future hotels, secondary parks, and retail districts."
Diller took a sip of water, preparing for his final, most controversial point. "And finally, reason four. Proximity to Disney."
He paused, letting the weight of it settle. "Now, I know what you're thinking. Why would we build our park right next to the largest, most successful competitor in the history of the industry? Because, we're aiming to capture the 'second-day' tourist crowd. When a family saves up for three years to fly to Florida, they don't go for one afternoon. They go for a week."
"Disney is the magnet that pulls them across the country, but they can't spend seven consecutive days looking at the mouse. By positioning ourselves in the same geographical orbit, close enough for convenience, far enough to maintain a distinct identity we offer a high-quality alternative. We let Disney spend the marketing dollars to bring them to the state. Then we siphon off their vacation budget on day offs while we build our park experience."
Before Diller could transition to financial modeling, Robert Evans leaned forward, his perfectly tanned hands flat on the mahogany table. He shook his head, a look of disappointment on his face.
"Barry, Barry, Barry, I hear the numbers. I see the logic. It's very sterile. Very corporate. But it completely misses the soul of what Paramount Pictures actually is."
He turned to Duke, appealing directly to him. "Duke, we are a Hollywood institution. Our history is here, it lives in California. If we're going to build a physical monument to this studio, it needs to be in our own backyard. We should be looking at Los Angeles. Build it close to the actual studio lot, where tourists can feel the movie industry."
Evans swept his hand through the air. "Imagine a park in the valleys of Southern California, right in the epicenter of the entertainment capital of the world. Land out here might be more expensive, and the climate might be less predictable for year-round coaster maintenance, but the brand synergy of having Paramount Park here is priceless. Paramount is the oldest Hollywood Studio, and we're the market leaders right now-"
Michael Eisner let out a dismissive scoff, instantly cutting through Evans's romanticized monologue. He sat forward.
"Bob, with all due respect to the romance of the silver screen, people in Ohio don't care about the proximity to your office." Eisner turned his gaze directly to Duke, entirely bypassing Diller.
"Duke, Barry's logic about year-round operation is sound, but his geography is flawed. If we're going to leverage DC Comics and Pulse Comics, we have to look at where those demographics actually live."
"The absolute core of the comic book market is New York, the epicenter of the DC universe. Metropolis and Gotham are both East Coast cities."
Eisner tapped his finger on the table for emphasis. "I propose we abandon Florida and look at the Meadowlands in New Jersey. Large tracts of undeveloped land less than ten miles from the heart of New York City."
"We're talking about putting a world-class theme park within a one-hour drive of twenty million people. The population density is the biggest selling goal. We wouldn't have to rely on people saving up for cross-country vacations, we'd rely on millions of local teenagers and young adults driving over the bridge every single weekend."
Barry Diller shot Eisner a cold glare. Eisner's interjection was a blatant attempt to hijack the presentation and assert his own strategy in front of the Chairman.
Eisner completely ignored the glare, keeping his eyes locked on Duke, waiting for his aproval.
Duke simply steepled his fingers, his expression entirely unreadable.
Rather than stepping into the crossfire, Duke casually turned his head toward the end of the table.
"Katzenberg, you've been remarkably quiet. I want your perspective. Which location gives us the biggest advantage over the next twenty years?"
Jeffrey Katzenberg adjusted his glasses, looking up from his meticulously organized legal pad.
"Orlando is the only viable option, Duke," Katzenberg stated firmly, "Bob, I love California, but building a major thrill park in Los Angeles is an operational nightmare. The land isn't just expensive, it's a legal nightmare."
"The moment we open phase one, we're immediately out of room to grow, and local zoning boards will fight us tooth and nail over noise ordinances the second a roller coaster start running."
He turned to Eisner. "Michael, your logic about Meadowlands density is great, but you're completely ignoring the operational devastation of a Northeast winter. A steel roller coaster simply cannot operate safely when the track is covered in ice."
"If we build in New Jersey, we're operating at zero revenue for four months out of the year while still paying huge property taxes and maintenance overhead. It ruins the cash flow model. Florida gives us unlimited space, cheap dirt, and three hundred and sixty-five days of revenue. Diller is simply right."
Duke nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a satisfied smile. He looked back to the front of the room, motioning for the presentation to continue.
"The Florida approach wins the day," Duke announced, ending the debate. "Los Angeles is too small. New Jersey is too cold. Florida is the site. Barry, you have your location. Where, and how much is it going to cost to get the gates open?"
Diller let out a breath of relief, silently thanking Katzenberg for the assist, and quickly flipped to the next slide.
"Regarding site selection within Orlando, we're looking at two primary corridors. First, southwest along the Interstate 4 corridor, positioning us to intercept traffic flowing toward Disney's 1971 development. The alternative is near the planned Bee Line Expressway, which offers more isolation but a faster direct route from the international airport."
"At current 1973 market rates, we're looking at undeveloped swampland for roughly two thousand to five thousand dollars per acre. To ensure a big opening day, we need an initial footprint of three hundred to five hundred acres for phase one, with aggressive options to purchase surrounding parcels."
Diller pointed to topographic maps highlighting Central Florida's high water tables. "The primary physical hurdle is environmental drainage. Florida's water table is notoriously difficult, and while we're operating prior to full enforcement of federal clean water acts, local environmental concerns about wetlands and wildlife disruption are very real."
"We'll have to dredge, fill, and engineer a system of artificial lakes and canals to manage runoff before we can pour concrete."
"But the dirt is not really a problem," Diller continued, his energy rising as he moved into creative strategy.
"The real question is competitive positioning. How do we build a park ten miles from the Magic Kingdom without looking like a cheap imitation? The answer is stark differentiation."
"We lean into aggression. Disney has cornered the market on wholesome, family-friendly rides."
"Our idea is simple: Disney is for kids. Paramount is for boys. We're going to build towering, high-speed thrill attractions. Target teenagers, young adults, and families looking for something different."
Archie, the head of DC Comics, leaned forward eagerly, finally finding his entry point. "Yeah, we have the Justice League. We can make something like a Gotham City sector with gothic architecture and put the guests right in the middle of action."
"And for the younger demographic?" Duke asked, wanting a complete, well-rounded business model.
Archie smiled widely. "We use the Looney Tunes. Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, the Tasmanian Devil. Disney has wholesome, polite anthropomorphic animals. We can build a vibrant and highly interactive children's area with kiddie rides and live walk-around characters that rely on slapstick humor and irreverent comedy."
Diller took the floor back, wrapping up with the hard financials. "Because Paramount outright owns both National Periodical Publications and the Looney Tunes catalog, we pay absolutely zero licensing fees. We own the IP completely."
"Regarding capital expenditure: Disney spent roughly seventy million to open their gates in 1961, but that included two hotels and a monorail infrastructure."
"By focusing strictly on the gated park layout and letting the surrounding economy handle hotels for now, we project a phase-one Cap of fifty to eighty million dollars in 1973 capital."
"If we price daily admission at four dollars and fifty cents, slightly undercutting Disney's four-seventy-five we project conservative first-year attendance of one point five to two million guests, growing to three million by 1980. The financial modeling shows a very healthy return on investment, with full payback within eight to ten years."
"Gentlemen," Duke said, standing up, signaling the absolute conclusion of the meeting. "The numbers are sound. The creative vision is sharp."
Before anyone could offer another round of applause, Duke checked the gold watch on his wrist, his demeanor shifting instantly.
"That will be all for today." He walked away from the table, pressing the intercom button on the wall near the door. "Simpson, get my private office prepped. I need the Barry Lyndon production files and a fresh pot of coffee. Stanley Kubrick will be here in an one hour, and I do not want to keep him waiting."
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Hope this is understandable for everyone