Nodding in understanding, Lew Wasserman asked, "What are the settlement terms?"
Barry Gordon said, "Daenerys Entertainment will abandon its plan to build a film and television production base in Toronto".
"Permanently?"
Barry Gordon shook his head. "Three years".
Lew Wasserman fell silent again.
Such settlement terms were simply giving the three major unions a barely passable way out.
After controlling MCA for so many years, Lew Wasserman knew very well that building an overseas film production base was by no means easy.
Shooting in California might cost more and come with union restrictions, but it offered a stable, mature filmmaking system.
By contrast, shooting in an unfamiliar location often brought endless headaches; uncooperative local governments, hostile residents, price-gouging merchants, even gang harassment, usually costing the production far more than it saved.
Daenerys Entertainment secured generous incentives and government cooperation in Australia only because the Westeros wife's family was a powerful local force. Thinking the same model could be copied in Toronto was naïve.
Probably no one would call Simon Westeros naïve.
So the Toronto production-base plan had likely been a bargaining chip to pressure the unions from the start.
With the unions retreating first, Daenerys could offer that never-intended chip as a face-saving step, suffering no real loss.
Barry Gordon took another few puffs of his cigar. Seeing Wasserman quiet, he asked, "Lew, what are you going to do?"
The question grated on Lew Wasserman; he stubbed out his cigar. "I suppose this studio will have to be handed over to the young after all".
He had hoped the unions' lawsuit would pressure Daenerys enough, while he mobilized resources to keep creating obstacles in the press and government, forcing Westeros to abandon the takeover, or at least leave MCA in his control.
Yet the unions, on whom he'd pinned such hopes, folded in less than two weeks under almost one-sided pressure.
Apart from the board he firmly controlled, Wasserman had little leverage; most shareholders wanted cash now, fearing a worsening U.S. economy would sink MCA's stock. Given current trends and the looming threat of war, that fear was well-founded.
If he played any more cards, Wasserman sensed, Simon Westeros would target him personally next.
Perhaps with the same charge levelled at the unions, "abuse of power."
He could almost hear it: Daenerys would accuse him of the same. He did want to hold on to power, who in Hollywood didn't? Steve Ross, Martin Davis, Michael Eisner, Sherry Lansing—everyone.
Once you've tasted power, you instinctively crave more; few can let go easily.
That twenty-two-year-old would undoubtedly wield the greatest power in Hollywood for decades to come, and judging by his recent manoeuvres, he could handle it.
Twenty-two.
Hard to imagine someone who should just be graduating college being so brilliant.
Thinking of his own middle-aged, still-useless son, Wasserman felt even more defeated.
The two old men were idly chatting when a knock came; the secretary peeked in, pointed to the corner TV, and said, "Mr. Wasserman, you might want to see this".
Wasserman nodded; the secretary entered, switched to a local Los Angeles channel.
A press conference was underway.
Seeing Matthew Broderick among the young people recounting their stories, Wasserman roughly grasped what was happening.
It had been one of Michael Ovitz's backup plans.
After Simon Westeros rose to fame, the tale of how he once broke five legs became Hollywood folklore; insiders knew the details. Because the youths were hardly in the right, and with Meg Ryan backing out, neither Ovitz nor Wasserman had bothered to use this card.
They hadn't expected the youngsters to jump out on their own.
Watching the central figure, his false teeth removed, lips sunken like an Old Man's, weepingly recount his misery, Wasserman almost believed it himself.
Matthew Broderick and four others, including Mark Stein who'd once had teeth knocked out by Simon's elbow, completely reversed the facts, claiming that after a bar argument years ago the vindictive Simon tracked them down and ambushed them, breaking five of their legs and later forcing Broderick to pay damages by threatening his reputation.
At the time Broderick had several hits in a row; to protect his name he'd paid $500,000. Yet even after Simon became famous, he supposedly kept retaliating, ruining Broderick's career so that for more than a year he'd had no film offers.
When reporters asked how Simon dared attack six of them alone, the gaunt-lipped Mark Stein said Simon had brought a baseball bat while they were unarmed, and he cited Simon's Melbourne ring feat, knocking out ten pro fighters in a row, as proof of his ability.
At the end the five announced they would sue in L.A. District Court, citing lasting physical and mental trauma.
Matthew Broderick separately sued Simon Westeros for violating California's Unfair Competition Law, accusing him of maliciously using his influence to destroy another's career.
Not only that, Matthew Broderick's lawyer also stated there is reason to believe Simon Westeros used the $500,000 extorted from Matthew Broderick to produce 'Run Lola Run'. Broderick will likewise file suit demanding Simon Westeros return the original $500,000 in cash and every dollar it has since earned.
By the end of the press conference the reporters on site were practically boiling over.
Even journalists who knew some industry inside stories had to force themselves to believe the nonsense spilling from those guys. If the claim about the half-million's earnings were true, the fireworks would be spectacular.
Everyone knows Simon Westeros built his fortune on the huge profits of 'Run Lola Run', then founded Daenerys Entertainment and, during the 1987 crash, made a killing by perfectly timing S&P 500 index futures. If you traced today's $21 billion net worth back to that original $500,000, every cent came from it.
Watching the youths on TV leave under media siege, Lew Wasserman, who had sat through the whole conference, couldn't help a sigh.
Barry Gordon, president of the Screen Actors Guild, had also heard whispers of the old affair. He glanced at Wasserman and asked, "Did you set this up?"
Lew Wasserman shook his head. "I knew about it, but I didn't arrange anything".
When the whole circle already knows the inside story, how do you stage-manage it?
Wasserman had never considered reversing black and white the way those kids just did; the tale was too flimsy to survive scrutiny.
Yet on reflection he understood: Matthew Broderick and the rest had nothing left to lose. By holding a loud press conference they seized the initiative; even a shaky story gains sympathy when the public sides with the underdog.
After all, Simon Westeros was simply too powerful.
Early this year the video of Westeros knocking out ten guys in a Melbourne club had stunned plenty of people, so fierce a man might well attack six others single-handed.
Especially when he'd brought a baseball bat.
Seeing Wasserman deny involvement, Gordon looked back at the screen and chuckled, "Well, we've got another show to watch".
Lew Wasserman smiled as well.
Throughout the takeover Simon Westeros had dismantled Daenerys Entertainment's obstacles step by flawless step, leaving Wasserman with no counter-moves. Now he was curious how Simon would untangle this shameless entanglement.
In this era, putting money into the big telecoms meant one thing above all: stability. After a century of growth, investing in AT&T and the seven Baby Bells, quasi-monopolies, offered neither dazzling returns nor devastating losses.
Their share prices simply tracked the macro economy, and with the U.S. still sluggish, a 30% premium from Westeros Company was enough to make most Bell Atlantic shareholders let go.
So once the Bell Atlantic board struck a deal, the subsequent shareholder vote, carefully shepherded by Westeros's team, passed smoothly.
Next came filing with the Department of Justice and the Federal Communications Commission, the telecom regulator.
After setting things up in Los Angeles, Simon spent these weeks shuttling between New York and Washington to secure government approval.
Although Justice is a cabinet department whose attorney general is presidentially appointed, the Bush Administration plainly dislikes Simon; yet the White House does not control the department outright.
In November's mid-terms the Democratic Party won big, seizing majorities in both Senate and House. High-ranking Democrats inside Justice ensured the Bell Atlantic buyout would not face unanimous opposition.
The FCC side looked even better for Simon.
As an independent agency it answers directly to Congress, not the White House.
Besides, the Bush Family are seasoned politicians; unless essential they won't make an implacable enemy of a billionaire with vast wealth and social influence. The acquisition poses no antitrust threat to the industry.
Therefore the deal is virtually a done deal.
From late November to early December Simon mainly used the Bell Atlantic affair to deepen and consolidate his political contacts.
When news of Broderick's press conference broke, Simon had just finished lunch in Washington with Congressman David Meros, whom he'd met recently.
Janette had lived through the original incident; over the phone she exploded, vowing to crush those shameless liars and ordering Simon to stay out while she handled it herself.
The world is never short of truth-twisting. Though annoyed, Simon, already stretched thin, agreed without protest and let Janette take charge.
Meanwhile Broderick & Co. had clearly rehearsed their tale. Though not airtight, it sounded plausible, and the media, always eager for a circus, quickly fanned the flames.
Daenerys Entertainment naturally fought back in the press rather than let the story run unchecked.
Unfortunately the incident had left no official police record; the victims looked too wretched even for statements. Both sides soon settled, and after Broderick's people worked on the cops, the department opted to let sleeping dogs lie.
With Broderick seizing first-mover advantage, each side now had its own narrative, edging the affair toward a Rashomon stalemate.
After the press conference, L.A. outlets quickly revealed the youths' further demands.
Mark Stein and four others sued in L.A. Superior Court for a total of $100 million, citing lasting physical and mental trauma. Matthew Broderick went further, demanding a staggering $1 billion.