ROBBINS Harold - The Carpetbaggers

"That's about it," McAllister said. "Any questions?"

"It sounds good," Dan Pierce said. "But what guarantee have we got that Jonas will keep us in business once the million dollars is gone? None at all. But he's completely covered by his stock and debentures."

"You're right," McAllister agreed. "You have no guarantee, but then, neither has he any guarantee about what his stock will be worth if your operation of the company should prove unsuccessful. As I see it, it's up to you two to make it work."

"But if the study David made is correct," Dan continued, "we won't be halfway through our first picture before we'll be unable to meet our weekly payroll. I don't know what got into Jonas. You can't make million-dollar pictures without money."

"Who says we have to make million-dollar pictures?" David asked quietly.

Suddenly, the whole pattern was very clear. Now he was beginning to understand what Jonas had done. At first, he had felt a disappointment at not being put in charge of the studio. He would have liked the title of President on his door. But Cord had cut through the whole business like a knife through butter. In reality, the studio was only a factory turning out the product of the company. Administration, sales and theaters were under his control and that was where the money came from. Money always dictated studio policy and he controlled the money.

"For a million bucks, we can turn out ten pictures. And be taking in revenue from the first before the fifth goes into production."

"Not me," Dan said quickly. "I haven't come this far in the business just to make quickies. That's for Republic or Monogram."

"Columbia, Warners and RKO aren't too proud," David said, a new hardness coming into his voice.

"Let them if they want to," Dan snapped. "I’ve got a reputation to maintain."

"Don't give me that crap," David exploded. "The only thing this business respects is success. And they don't care how you get it so long as it adds up at the box office. The whole industry knows you maneuvered Cord into buying the company so you could become a producer. You won't have any reputation left if you walk out."

"Who said anything about walking out?"

David relaxed in his chair. A new feeling of power came over him. Now he understood why his Uncle Bernie had found it so difficult to let go. He shrugged his shoulders. "You heard what Cord said. If you won't do it, somebody else will."

Pierce stared at him for a moment, then looked at McAllister. The attorney's face was impassive. "That's all very well for you to say," Pierce grumbled. "But while I’m out there getting my brains kicked in, what're you going to be doing?"

"Seeing to it that we survive long enough for you to get your production program working," David answered.

"How?" McAllister asked, an interested look coming over his face.

"Tomorrow I'm laying off forty per cent of personnel throughout the company."

"That's pretty drastic," McAllister said. "Will you be able to function under those conditions?"

David watched the attorney's face. This was another kind of test. "We'll be able to function," he said quietly.

"That's no way to make friends," Pierce injected.

"I couldn't care less," David replied caustically. "I’m not trying to win a popularity contest. And that will be only the beginning. I don't care who gets hurt – the company is going to survive."

For a moment, the attorney stared at him. Then David saw a frosty glimmer of a smile lurking deep in his eyes. McAllister turned to Dan. "What do you think?"

Dan was smiling. "I think we'll make it. Why do you think Jonas wanted him to stick around?"

McAllister reached into his brief case. "There's your contract," he said to David. "Jonas wants you to sign it tonight."

David stared at the lawyer. "What about Dan?"

McAllister smiled. "Dan signed his the day of the board meeting."

For a moment, David felt anger climbing up inside him. The whole thing had been an act. They had put him through the wringer just to see what would happen. Then he drew in his breath. What difference did it make? He reached for the fountain pen the attorney held out toward him.

This was only the beginning. They were still outsiders and it would be a long time before they knew as much about the company as he did. And by that time, it wouldn't matter any more.

Once he signed the contract, he was in charge.

The connecting door between his room and his uncle's opened and light spilled through into the darkness. "Are you in there, David?"

He sat up on the bed and swung his feet to the floor. He reached out and turned on the lamp next to the bed. "Yes, Uncle Bernie."

Norman came into the room. " Nu ?" he said. "You saw him?"

David nodded, reaching for a cigarette. "I saw him." He lit the cigarette. "He looks terrible. Rina's death must have hit him pretty hard."

The old man laughed. "Sorry for him I can't feel," he said bitterly. "Not after what he's done to me." He took a cigar from his pocket and stuck it into his mouth unlit. "He offered you a job, no?"

David nodded.

"What job?"

"Executive vice-president."

His uncle raised his eyebrows. "That so?" he asked interestedly. "Who's president?"

"Dan Pierce. He's going to make the pictures. I'm to run everything else – administration, sales and theaters."

The cigar bobbed up and down excitedly in the old man's mouth. A broad smile came over his face. "My boy, I'm proud of you." He clapped his hand on David's shoulder. "I always said someday you'd amount to something."

David looked at his uncle in surprise. This wasn't the reaction he had expected. An accusation of betrayal would have been more like it. "You are?"

"Of course I am," Bernie said enthusiastically. "What else did I expect of my own sister's son?"

David stared up at him. "I thought- "

"Thought?" the old man said, still smiling. "What difference does it make what you thought? Bygones is bygones. Now we can really put our heads together. I'll show you ways to make money you never dreamed about."

"Make money?"

"Sure," Bernie replied, lowering his voice to a confidential tone. "A goyishe kopf is always a goyishe kopf . With you in charge, who will know what's going on? Tomorrow, I'll let all the suppliers know the old deal is still on. Only now you get twenty-five per cent of the kickback."

"Twenty-five per cent?"

"What's the matter?" Bernie asked shrewdly. "Twenty-five per cent isn't enough for you?"

David didn't answer.

"So your Uncle Bernie ain't a chazer . All right. Fifty, then."

David ground out his cigarette in the ash tray. He got to his feet and walked silently to the window. He looked down into the park across the street.

"What's the matter?" his uncle said behind him. "Fifty-fifty ain't fair? You owe me something. If it wasn't for me, you'd never have got this job."

David felt his bitterness rise up into his throat. He turned and looked at the old man. "I owe you something?" he said angrily. "Something for all those years you kept me hustling my tail off for a lousy three fifty a week? Every time I asked you for more money you cried about how much the company was losing. And all the time, you were siphoning off a million bucks a year into your own pocket."

"That was different," the old man said. "You don't understand."

David laughed. "I understand all right, Uncle Bernie. What I understand is that you've got fifteen million dollars free and clear. If you live to be a thousand, you couldn't spend all you've got. And still you want more."

"So what's wrong with that?" Bernie demanded. "I worked for it. I'm entitled to it. You want I should let go everything just because some shlemiel screwed me out of my own business?"