PART THREE
THIRTY-SIX
A euphoric David
Begelman
flew back to Los Angeles on Monday in time to accompany his wife to a party whose timing could not have been better. Given by producer Allan Carr at his home in Benedict Canyon, the party honored the pu
blication of a book that Gladyce
Begelman had coauthored—a book which had become an embarrassment both to the Bcgelmans and to Columbia Pictures because of its coincidental juxtaposition with the investigation of David for "unauthorized financial transactions." Entitled
New York on $500 a Day (Before Lunch),
the book was a tongue-in-chee
k but quite comp
rehensive guide for wealthy free
spenders.
The Begelmans' embarrassment (if not Columbia's) had been instantly nullified, however, by Hirschfield's decision to reinstate David to the presidency of the studio. Despite all of Todd Lang's warnings, David had convinced himself that when he returned to his job it could be made to appear that he was being exonerated on the "matters of judgment" that had been in question, and that no one except the inner circle ever would know what he had really done.
Since David's restoration was to remain confidential for a few days, he and Gladyce could not give free rein to their joy while at Allan Carr's party. But it was with light hearts indeed that they mingled with the two hundred or so guests, many of whom were close friends—Ray Stark, Sue Mongers, Dan
Melnick
, David Geffen, Candice
Bergen, Marty Ransohoff, Ed McMahon, and many others. Allan
Carr, producer of the soon-to-be-re
leascd
Grease,
had a reputation for giving some of the more flamboyant parties in a town long noted for flamboyant parties. Carr's invitations were imitation
"Master Charge" cards in Gladyce
Begelman
's name. Six colorfully cos
tumed carolers roamed through the crowd singing Christmas
songs. And red and white poinse
ttias were everywhere.
Ray Stark, as it happened, a
lready knew David's news but re
sisted the temptation to spread it around the party. However, the glaring irony of Gladyce's book and David's predicament, whatever the outcome, was a source of amusement rather than discomfort for the guests in general. Hollywood is a town that takes delight in spitting in the face of irony.
For Alan Hirschfield, the next several days amounted to a brief period of pretending—pretending that the
Begelman
crisis had been contained, pretending that a week in London and Paris would ease his problems in New York and Los Angeles, and pretending that he could meet secretly with Sir James Goldsmith, one of the world's most rambunctious business tycoons, without anyone's finding out. In part, the pretending reflected a natural yearning for rest and recreation after three months of intense, seven-day-a-week pressure. But in a more fundamental sense, it reflected the somewhat homespun naivete" that was a deeply ingrained part of Alan's character— "the Oklahoma in him" as
Berte
saw it—a quality that endeared him to many people but also occasionally left him vulnerable.
Alan and
Berte
flew to London on Tuesday to head the Columbia Pictures delegation at the British premiere of
The Deep.
The premiere, which Prince Charles and Lord Mountbatten would attend, was
to be held on Thursday evening a
t the Odcon Theater in Leicester Square as a benefit for the English National Opera and Sadler's Wells Benevolent Fund, and the Variety Clubs of Great Britain.
The most important event of the week, however, was not the premiere. It was the rendezvous with Jimmy Goldsmith. In two phone conversations with Ira Harris on Monday in New York,
Hirschfield
had agreed to a meeting Friday afternoon at Goldsmith's estate outside London. The plans for the meeting were highly confidential;
Berte
, for one. was acutely conscious of the secrecy and made a point of reminding herself not to mention it. even t
o close friends they were to see
in London.
It was Alan Hirschfield's first royal premiere and he savored all of it—walking up the red carpet, being announced to the prince, and being a center of attention at the gala dinner dance after the movie in the ballroom of the Savoy. Director
Peter Yates, producer Peter Gube
r, and the author of
The Deep.
Peter Benchlcy. flew in for the event. Most of the leading figures in the London film world were present, as well, and most of them paid their respects to Hirschfield, the man who had saved Columbia Pictures. Aside from a few whispered exchanges through the evening, nothing was said about the Begelman affair. So far as the guests knew, it was still under investigation, and Hirschfield said nothing to the contrary.
In New York, Cliff Robertson and Dina Merrill had begun hearing rumors that Columbia was going to reinstate David Begelman to the presidency of the studio. Incredulous, they pondered what to do. Cliff decided it would be inappropriate for him directly to contact Leo Jaffe or anyone else at Columbia. Dina, however, had an idea. As one of the wealthiest women in the nation and the daughter of the late E. F. Hutton, she knew people in Wall Street and had met Charlie Allen on occasion. It occurred to her that Charlie might not know the nature of David Begelman's misdeeds and that if he were informed, he might prevail upon Columbia Pictures
not to reinstate Begelman. Dina
tried to contact Charlie but was unable to reach him. She was telling her troubles to a friend over lunch at "21" when the friend pointed out that Charlie Allen's daughter, Terry Allen Kramer, was seated just across the room. Dina, who had never met Terry, went over and introduced herself, and explained that she had been trying to reach Terry's father to discuss David Begelman. She had heard a rumor that Columbia was about to reinstate Begelman and was sure there must have been a misunderstanding of what Begelman had done. Terry assur
ed her that Columbia and the All
ens were fully informed and that Dina should not worry about it.
"But you don't understand." Dina said. "David
Begelman
forged my husband's name on a check. He's a crook."
Terry Kramer assured Dina that she
did
understand and the situation was under control. She repeated her suggestion that Dina not worry about it.
Dina turned and walked away, nonplussed. "You'll never believe what just happened to mc." she said to Cliff a few minutes later at the UN Plaza.
From his suite at Claridge's,
just before leaving to see Jimmy Goldsmith. Alan
Hirschfield
participated by telephone in a meeting of the Columbia board of directors, which was called to ratify the reinstatement of
Begelman
. It was agreed that his return to the studio would be announced the following Monday.
* * *
Hi
rschfield's limousine required t
he better part of an hour to make its way through the late Friday afternoon traffic to the estate in the London suburbs. Jimmy Goldsmith turned out to be an engaging man—strapping and energetic—whose baldness made him look older than his forty-five years. Tea was served in the study in front of an open fire. Children were about, and it occurred to Hirschfield that Christmas was only nine days away.
Someone—presumably Ira Harris—had sent Goldsmith two of Columbia Pictures Industries' annual financial reports, but it appeared that he had only glanced at them. As an astute businessman, he knew that an annual report contained only a minor portion of the information that one needed before making an investment. Hirschfield spoke for more than an hour about the American entertainment business, about Columbia and its financial recovery, about the
Begelman
problem, and about the festering enmity at the top of the company. Goldsmith was very interested and made it clear that if he were to invest he would want to purchase all the stock owned or controlled by the
Allens
and by Matty Rosenhaus—a total of just under 1.5 million shares, or about 18 percent of the company. On the open market the block was worth S30 million, but a single purchaser buying directly from the owners would be expected to pay a premium. The amount of the investment did not faze Goldsmith. He told
Hirschfield
that he would speak to the All
ens, whom he had known for a number of years, on his next trip to New York.
Hirschfield had not had such a cordial and hopeful meeting with anyone in weeks, and he was optimistic when he returned to Claridge's. His mood at dinner with close friends that evening, and in Paris over the weekend, was brighter than it had been in weeks—perhaps since the Tuesday before Thanksgiving in Los Angeles when he and Berte had dined at Ma Maison and toasted the firing of David
Begelman
.
In his suite at the Plaza Athenee
late Sunday morning,
Hirschfield
met with one of his closest European business acquaintances, David Karr. A shadowy, controversial figure, David Karr had made a fortune in recent years acting as the broker in b
usiness deals between the
Soviet Union and various corporations in the United States, Europe, and Japan. The fifty-eight-year-old Brooklyn native had worked in the United States as a newspaperman, theatrical producer, public relations man, and hotel manager before moving to Paris in the early sixties. When Allen & Company posted Alan Hirschfield to Paris to establish an office there, he got acquainted with Karr, who
then owned both the Plaza Athe
nee and Georges V hotels. At one time the two men considered going into business together.
David Karr was friendly with a number of leading Democratic politicians in the United States—Edward Kennedy, John Tunney, Alan Cranston, Sargent Shriver, Henry Jackson, and Jen
n
y Brown, among others—and occasionally acted as an informal and secret liaison between the Soviet and U.S. governments on issues such as arms limitation and the emigration of Soviet Jews.
Karr also did business occasionally with Jimmy Goldsmith. He knew of Goldsmith's interest in the motion-picture business, and coincidentally, just before Ira Harris had placed Hirschfield in touch with Goldsmith, David Karr had telephoned former Senator John Tunney to ask about investment opportunities in Hollywood. Having lost his 1976 bid for re
-
election to the Senate, Tunney had been practicing law and doing business in Los Angeles, and had excellent contacts in the film community. Among the people John Tunney contacted on Karr's behalf wa
s Herbert Allen, with whom Tunne
y had been very friendly since Allen had contributed to his 1970 Senate campaign. Tunney was generally familiar with the Begelman trouble at Columbia Pict
ures and thought perhaps the All
ens' interest, or even the whole company, might be for sale. Herbert assured him (hat it was not, and after making a few
more inquiries, Tunne
y reported back to David Karr that there did not appear to be any current opportunities for Jimmy Goldsmith in the motion-picture business in America.
Karr was quite surprised, therefore, when he learned on Sunday, December 18, in Alan Hirschfield's Paris hotel suite of
Hirschfield
's meeting with Jimmy Goldsmith less than forty-eight hours earlier. Actually, Karr had heard a rumor about the meeting before seeing Hirschfield.
On Monday. David
Karr again telephoned John Tunne
y in Los Angeles.
"Did you know," he asked Tunney, "that Alan Hirschfield is over here talking to Jimmy Goldsmith about buying Columbia Pictures'?"
"You must be kidding," Tunney replied. "No, he met with Jimmy on Friday in London, and I talked to Alan here over the weekend."
"I can't believe it."
"This must be kept confidential."
"Of course," Tunney said, "but I
do feel obliged to tell Herbie Allen because of our previous inquiry."
Tunn
ey called Allen in New York. "Herbie
, you won't believe what I
just found out!"
"What?"
"Alan Hirschfield is in Europe trying to sell Columbia Pictures to Jimmy Goldsmith!"
As information on
Hirschfield
's secret negotiations with Goldsmith was being flashed quietly from Paris to Los Angeles and back to New York that Monday, Columbia was disseminating a press release about the return of David
Begelman
.
for immediate release
New York
(December 19, 1977)—Columbia Pictures Industries Inc. announced today that David
Begelman
has been rein-slated as President of its Motion Picture and Television Divisions. Mr.
Begelman
has been on a leave of absence since September 30, 1977, pending completion of an investigation by the Audit Committee of the Board of Directors into a number of unauthorized transactions involving Mr. Begelman and the Company. The investigation established that in a number of separate and unrelated transactions from January 1975 to May 1977, Mr.
Begelman
obtained through improper means corporate funds in the amount of $61,008 for his personal benefit, and that the emotional problems which prompted these acts, coupled with ongoing therapy, will not impair his continuing effectiveness as an executive.