"What about our friends over at Time, Inc.?" Hirschfield asked.
"Well, they're very white-shoe and wouldn't want to get their skirts dirty. They think the picture business is a dirty business."
Neither man spoke for a few moments.
"Let's think about it." Hirschfield said.
The conversation with Adler, of course, was not Hirschfield's first thought of independence from the
Allens
. Even before the Begelman problem had arisen, he had resented Herbert Allen's dominion over his life.
Hirschfield
considered himself a smarter, abler businessman than Herbert, who occupied his station in the business world, Hirschfield felt, in large part because he had been born to it, not because he had earned it. Particularly over the past year or so, with Columbia's recovery nearly complete,
Hirschfield
had pondered how he might assert his independence of Herbert. Until their relationship had ruptured in the wake of the
Begelman
revelations, Hirschfield's thoughts had been inchoate musings. In the last month, however, he had begun to think specifically not only about how he might win the battle over Begelman, but about how he could win what seemed to have become a battle for control of the company itself and a direct, bitter, and very personal contest of egos. The intensity of Alan's fury clouded his ability to think clearly. Moreover, he had been so preoccupied with the day-to-day twists of the
Begelman
controversy that he had been unable effectively to consider possible long-range solutions.
The conversation with Adle
r helped
him focus his thoughts. Adle
r was right, of course. The only way he could win was to enlist the aid of an outsider willing and able to help him win.
Hirschfield
resolved to try to find such help. He knew the search would be risky and would have to be conducted in the strictest secrecy. If Herbert learned of his intentions before he was ready to implement them, not only would he fail, but his defeat almost certainly would be swift and painful, and he might never recover. In all probability, Herbert had the power to destroy Hirschfield's business career if he chose to. Still, Hirschfield had to try.
THIRTY-FOUR
Ira Harris had become one of the half dozen or so leading investment bankers in America in the eight years since Salomon Brothers, the large and prestigious New York-based securities house, sent him to Chicago to head its corporate-financing activities there. He had conceived and fostered many major mergers and acquisitions, including the purchase of the Avis rental-car company by Norton Simon Incorporated, and Columbia Pictures Industries' purchase of the Gottlieb pinball-machine company.
A forty-year-old native New Yorker, Harris was an imposing man: Aggressive and self-assured to the point of occasional abrasiveness, he was tall and portly, chain-smoked cigars, and liked to ride around in telephone-equipped limousines. As a deal maker, he was both creative and tenacious and had brought a number of deals to fruition where others had failed.
Harris and Hirschfield met for cocktails Wednesday evening in the bar of the Regency Hotel. They had been fond of each other since becoming acquainted at the time of the Gottlieb acquisition, and though they had not discussed the Begelman problem, Harris had gleaned the general impression from other sources that the top echelon of Columbia had divided into two contending camps over the issue.
"You simply would not believe it," Hirschfield said. "I can't b
elieve what's going on. I'm in a
battle over whether to take him back or not."
"How can there be any argument?"
"There shouldn't be, but there is. It's become a test of wills, and I'm in an untenable, no-win position. If I bring him back, the company will look terrible. It will look like I'm coddling a criminal. If
I
don't bring him back, the board has made it plain that it will crucify me in every way they know how. They have no confidence in me and feel the company can't run without Begelman."
"Amazing," Harris said.
"I'm totally exhausted. The only thing I have to look forward to is going to London next week for the opening of
The Deep.
Sort of a forced vacation. But I have no idea how this situation is going to be resolved. I think there's a real chance that this company is just going to tear itself apart.
Begelman
is no longer the issue. The issue is control of the company."
"That's really tragic," Harris said. "Is there any chance the
Allens
might want to get out?"
"I doubt it."
"Or that the whole company could be bought?"
"I don't know. Actually, maybe there is. They're so down on me, and they feel the company's going to collapse without Begelman, maybe there is a chance they would be receptive to the right approach."
"Since you're going to be in England," Harris said, "there's someone there I think you should meet. He might be interested in this situation."
"I'll talk to anybody. I'm really at my wits' end."
"It's Jimmy Goldsmith, Sir James Goldsmith," Harris said.
Though he had heard of Jimmy Goldsmith. Hirschfield had never done business with the flamboyant multimillionaire tycoon, who controlled major European food companies and the United States-based Grand Union supermarket chain and had ret itly purchased
L'Express,
the French weekly news magazine, and a sizable interest in the Beavcrbrook Newspapers, publisher of the
The Daily Express
in London. A citizen of both Britain and France, Goldsmith also led an openly double personal life. He had a wife and two children in Paris, and in London lived with Lady Annabel Birley, by whom he had two children.
"Jimmy's been looking for an opportunity in the entertainment business," Ira Harris was saying. "He and the
Allens
know each other. If he thought there was an opportunity at Columbia, he just might be willing to buy them out. He'd be a good kind of partner to have. He'd let you run the
company without interference. I
think you ought to meet him." "If you can arrange it, I'd be delighted."
The board of directors of Columbia Pictures Industries assembled at 711 Fifth Avenue for their regular monthly meeting at one o'clock on Thursday, December 8. Although the most important directors, Hirschfield, Rosenhaus, Allen, and Kramer, had conferred several times informally, the entire board had not been together in one room since November 16, when David Begelman had made his dramatic plea for mercy, the majority of the board had endorsed his reinstatement, and Hirschfield had stated his opposition. Since then, in a succession of ugly clashes, Hirschfield had tried to make his decision adhere, but the board's increasingly severe pressure had broadened the dispute into an acute crisis of authority within the corporation. Even though it had appeared briefly over the previous weekend that
Hirschfield
had won. Herbert's position had hardened again by Monday, and by Thursday it was clear not only that the
Begelman
issue remained unresolved but that the authority crisis had deepened still further. The hatred and loathing in the boardroom were palpable.
The meeting began with a brief report from Todd Lang on the conclusions of the investigation of
Begelman
. He had misappropriated a total of S61,008.* With interest, the amount came to $67,225. The investigators also considered him responsible for an additional $23,200. representing travel, entertainment, and other personal expenses which the company had paid but which had been improperly documented. In all, he owed $90,425, a portion of which he had already repaid.
*Even though Begelman had embezzled
in the Robertson. Choate. Groleau. and Rill episode, it was determincd that a portion of the
$35,000
stolen by means the the bogus Choate-Tommy contract and used for Begelman's home projection room would have been allowed by Columbia
it
Begelman had asked for it properly. And that in any event Columbia benefited by Begelman's having
a
nice projection room. Thus, it was determined that he should run have to repay the full Choate embezzlement.
The board then discussed Columbia's future relationship with Begelman. Matty Rosenhaus, in a typically impassioned speech, proclaimed that if
Begelman
was not to return to the presidency of the studio, he must have producing and consulting arrangements that would "make him whole and happy" financially. "He has saved this company, and it's not his fault that he's not coming back," Rosenhaus declared.
Alan Hirschfield said: "I have an obligation to this board to tell you that it makes no sense to get into more trouble for giving away the store to
Begelman
than we would get into for bringing him back into the company. This entire deal will be subject to public scrutiny. It's going to have to pass the smell test at the SEC. There are people out in the woods who would love to get their hands on this, and if it appears that we are rewarding him for his transgressions, we're all going to look like a bunch of fools, we'll have no integrity left, and we're going to be subject to legal action."
"You're making too much out of this," Herbert Allen asserted. "Just go ahead and make a deal with him."
"It's not just another production deal, Herbert," Hirschfield responded. "I've got to negotiate with him at arm's length, and I've got to have the board's backing in order to do that."
"What do you mean 'production deal'?" Rosenhaus shouted. "It's a production
and consulting
deal! Are you trying to make just a production deal?"
"No Matty, I misspoke,"
Hirschfield
retorted contemptuously. "It's obviously a production and consulting deal."
Rosenhaus proposed that Columbia Pictures purchase full-page advertisements in the industry trade publications "thanking David Begelman for his enormous contributions to the company." Leo Jaffe suggested that if that were done, ads also should be run thanking "Alan Hirschfield for his leadership and contributions to the company." Herbert Allen responded: "Alan's still here. We don't need to take any ads for Alan right now." No ads were taken for either man.
Later in the meeting, Leo Jaffe presented for board approval a television production arrangement between Columbia's television company and two Hollywood producers. The deal had been approved by the top officers of the television company, as well as by Hir
schfield. Joe Fischer, and Jaffe
, but it was standard procedure to clear such deals with the full board.
Matty Rosenhaus insisted that David Begelman's approval be sought before the board voted.
"But Matty,"
Hirschfield
said, "this already has been approved by all the appropriate people."
"Are you afraid to let David express his opinion?" Rosenhaus asked.
"Matty, David's no longer with the company."
"Well, he's a consultant, isn't he?" Rosenhaus said. "We just authorized him to be a consultant. In his capacity as a consultant, he should approve deals like this."
"Matty, David has nothing to do with this deal," Hirschfield said. "You're not going to be able to run to David every time you want to approve a movie or television project."
"But that's what consultants are for," Rosenhaus insisted. "He's supposed to approve these projects."
"Matty's right," Herbert said. "That's a great suggestion. That's what we've got David as a consultant for. We'll really get our money's worth."
Leo Jaffe
was instructed to go to his office and telephone
Begelman
in Los Angeles.
Begelman
blessed the TV deal.
Toward the end of the board meeting Herbert Allen reiterated his opinion, expressed the previous week, that Dan Melnick was not capable of running the studio, and that several important producers might leave if Begelman were not reinstated: Peter Guber, Jon Peters, even Ray Stark.
Hirschfield
repeated his confidence in Melnick and his belief that the producers would stay.
"You'd better get the next Streisand movie," Herbert said to Hirschfield.
"What do you mean, 'I'd better get it'? Is that some sort of threat?"
"Never mind," Herbert said. "Just be sure you get it."
The meeting ended after the board ordered Hirschfield to summon David Begelman to New York immediately and conclude a production and consultation deal with him by the beginning of the following week.
In his office with Fischer and Adler, Hirschfield felt like a battered soccer player in a locker room after a losing game. He slumped speechless at his desk.