The Love Machine (57 page)

“No, stay, Judith,” Gregory said. “This is an important decision.
I want you to hear it. Robin, how would you like to be president of IBC?”

Robin didn’t answer. It was Cliff Dome who reacted.

“President of IBC?” Cliff repeated. “What is Danton Miller?”

Gregory shrugged. “Dan is president of Network Television.”

“And what exactly is president of IBC?” Cliff asked.

“A new title I’ve just made up. It merely means a division of power while I’m away.”

“But do you think Dan will sit still if Robin is placed up there with him?” Cliff asked.

“Yes, because Dan still has the same power. He’s always had to report to me, only this time he’ll do it through Robin. And Robin can check everything with me.”

Cliff nodded. Then for the first time they both looked at Robin.

Robin stood up. “Sorry, but I pass.”

“Are you insane?” Gregory sputtered.

“I’d be insane to take such a job. As I see it, I’d have two months of infighting with Dan, yet actually I’d be nothing more than a glorified watchdog and messenger boy. Then you return from Palm Beach with a nice tan and I go back to being president of News, with a brace of enemies and one of Dan’s ulcers.”

“Who said you go back to News?” Gregory asked.

“I assume the job is temporary. Any created title always is.”

Gregory rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps it
was
in its original inception, but the more I think of it, the more sense it makes to keep it as a permanent setup.”

“But essentially I’m a newsman,” Robin said.

“Balls!” Gregory shouted. “You’ve jazzed that Happening show into a real piece of entertainment. Without realizing it, Robin, you have unconsciously gone away from News. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were also after power.”

Robin’s smile was easy, but his eyes were like steel. “Perhaps I am.”

Gregory smiled. “I don’t make snap judgments. I’ve done my homework on you.” He reached for a sheaf of papers on his night table. “You doubt me? Okay: you’re from Boston. You’re going to come into money of your own someday. Your father was one of the biggest lawyers there. Your mother lives in Rome. She’s
not well—I’m sorry about that. You have a sister in San Francisco whose husband is wealthy in his own right. Now a man with this kind of background likes to do a job well. He has built-in security, so he does not hunger for power. You take me, Robin—I grew up on Tenth Avenue, one of the kids I played with went to the chair. I know it sounds like a Bogart movie, but it happened that way. Some of the kids on my block also made it big as lawyers, politicians, and doctors. Because the kids on that street
had
to have power. If they went into crime, they didn’t fool around with robbery. They became killers. And if they went into business they became killers. I’m a killer. Dan’s a killer. You aren’t. I wouldn’t trust you with running the financial end of a network for five minutes. You always went way over budget with
In Depth
. You built it into a prestige show. Now that Andy Parino is on it and Cliff, here, keeps an eye on things, the show’s making money for the first time.”

“It’s also not as good,” Robin said. “I was planning to have a meeting with Andy next Monday. We’re doing too many shows based in New York. We need some European flavor.”

“You’ll have no such meeting,” Gregory snapped. “That’s what I mean about you and finances. The show has decent enough ratings. We can milk another season out of it. Fortunately we’re getting a big enough price on the Happening show to make some money—even with you running it.” Gregory smiled to take the bite out of his words. “But I didn’t ask you here to lecture you on the economics of television. Dan knows them well enough. Cliff knows them even better. And one thing about Dan, he’ll never recommend a show that won’t make a profit.”

“What about quality?” Robin asked.

“The public doesn’t want quality. We have a few quality shows that we keep on. And they’re losers. You know what the public wants.
Shit
—that ’s what it wants. The high ratings of the old movies prove it. I won’t go that route yet. As long as I can, I’ll try to create new shows for prime time. But we can still be commercial. And that’s what Dan is. Now, if we combine your taste with Dan’s commercialism—we’ve got a winning ticket.”

Robin built his fingers into a pyramid. He studied them. Then he looked up. “Who moves to president of News?”

“I’ll let you make that suggestion.”

“Andy Parino.”

“I don’t think he has the ability,” Gregory said.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. He’ll report directly to me.”

Gregory nodded. “Okay, I’ll go along.”

“What about a contract?” Robin said.

“Dan has no contract.”

“I want one.”

“For how long?”

“One year.” Robin did not miss the fleeting expression of relief on Gregory’s face. “Gregory, this may not work out. But I want you to know something. I am not going to be just your telephone pal. I’m going to
be
president of IBC. I’m going to come up with ideas, throw them at you, fight for them if I think they’re right. I need the assurance of one year. No one can tell anything in six weeks. But after a year, well, either it works or I walk away from the title and go back to News.”

Gregory nodded. “That’s fair enough. What do you think of sixty thousand a year plus expenses?”

“I think it’s ridiculous.”

“Dan started at fifty.”

“What is Dan making now?”

“Seventy-five, plus expenses and stock options.”

Robin nodded. “That sounds better.”

Gregory was silent for a moment. Then he smiled. “I like your guts. I also like the idea that you want to carry the ball. Okay, Cliff will draw up the contract.” Then he held out his hand to Robin. “Good luck to the president of IBC.”

Robin smiled. “And may the chairman of the board have an excellent vacation.” Then he looked at Judith with a hint of intimacy in his smile. “Take good care of him, Mrs. Austin.”

The news ripped through Madison Avenue like a tornado.

Dan Miller was in a state of shock but he pretended that Robin’s new title had been his idea. He faced the press with his usual smile and made a statement. “He’s a good man, and I need someone to pitch in while Gregory is away.”

But he spent hours staring at the skyline from his window, wondering what everyone in the business thought. He took tranquilizers and avoided “21” and restaurants where he might run into agency men. He holed in at night, and when he read that Robin was taping the Diana Williams Happening, he prayed that Diana would do one of her famous walkouts—then Robin would be stuck with egg on his tape.

But as January passed, Dan’s fears began to diminish. The cancelations had been decided several months back. The new shows had been selected by Gregory in November: a few seemed to be making it, a few were bigger bombs than their predecessors. And now it was time to start viewing pilots for the fall season.

By February he had completely regained his confidence. Then he heard about Robin’s new offices. A suite on the penthouse floor! Dan went storming into Cliff Dome’s office.

Cliff tried to dismiss it. “Where can we put him? You tell
me
. Andy Parino has inherited Robin’s office. There just is no space. Gregory had a thousand feet of space closed off up there. He always intended to make it into a gym and sauna bath. Because of the shortage of space, he’s turned it into offices for Robin.”

“How does it make
me
look—Robin sharing the penthouse floor with Gregory!”

Cliff sighed. “Okay, tell me where to put him and I’ll be glad to oblige.”

“They should have put
me
there,” Dan snapped. “And given Robin
my
office.”

Cliff smiled. “Not very good thinking for a man who’s telling everyone Robin has been kicked upstairs. Put him in your office, Dan, and he’s replacing
you
. Then you’re kicked upstairs for real.”

Dan had no recourse but to remain grimly silent. The newspapers were going all out on Robin’s new assignment. In the beginning Robin had refused to comment. But he finally capitulated and gave a mass interview the day he took possession of his new suite of offices.

He stook behind the large desk as the questions were fired at him. His answers were polite but evasive. The press sensed his reluctance to talk, and feeling they were covering an important
story, they zeroed in on him. As an ex-newspaperman, Robin felt an empathy for them. Their job was to get a story.

“Let’s talk about television itself, rather than my new title,” he said with a smile.

“What about television?” a young man asked.

“It’s an octopus. It’s no longer just a little box, it’s the Love Machine.”

“Why the Love Machine?” a reporter asked.

“Because it
sells
love. It
creates
love. Presidents are chosen by their appeal on that little box. It’s turned politicians into movie stars and movie stars into politicians. It can get you engaged if you use a certain mouthwash. It claims you’ll have women hanging on your coattails if you use a certain hair cream. It tells the kids to eat their cereal if they want to be like their baseball idol. But like all great lovers, the Love Machine is a fickle bastard. It has great magnetism—but it has no heart. In place of a heart beats a Nielsen rating. And when the Nielsen falters, the program dies. It’s the pulse and heart of the twentieth century—the Love Machine.”

The newspapers all carried the story. Dan read it and glowered. Especially when columnists began to try to tag Robin as the Love Machine. “Perhaps Mr. Stone is comparing the box with himself,” wrote Ronnie Wolfe. “His way of giving unlimited time to a beautiful girl is well known. And like the machine he speaks of, Mr. Stone can also turn off with equal ease.”

Dan threw the paper across the room. Dammit, that was only adding to Robin’s image: call a man a heel with women and suddenly he gets charisma. He reached for another tranquilizer, gulped it down and wondered what the son of a bitch was doing in that plush new office. What new scheme did he have going? Rehearsals for the Diana Williams show had been postponed for two weeks. The newspapers reported that Byron Withers, the leading man, had bowed out, claiming his part had been cut down from the original concept, in deference to Diana. Byron Withers! Where did these has-beens get their nerve—thinking they could come to Broadway after three pictures and share equal billing with Diana Williams? Although he was rooting for Robin’s demise, Dan still respected Diana’s talent. He put down the newspaper
and hoped it was a phony item and that it was Diana herself who was being difficult.

Robin also wondered if Diana was being difficult. Was she on the pills and booze? Ike Ryan swore she was fine and eager to begin rehearsals. “As soon as we find the right leading man,” Ike said. “He doesn’t even have to sing great—just look the part.”

He was just leaving for the viewing room when his secretary peeked in. “A Mr. Nelson is waiting outside to see you.”

For a moment Robin looked blank. As he stared at her, the secretary added, “It’s Dip Nelson, the movie actor.”

Robin’s smile was warm. “Of course, show him in.”

Dip strode in giving the secretary a radiant smile. She fluttered with excitement and stumbled out of the room. Robin laughed. “She’s a forty-year-old virgin, she’ll never be the same.”

Dip shrugged. “If that’s the case, I may even grab her by the ass when I leave—let the poor woman die happy.” He whistled as he took in the office. “Well, old buddy pal, this is quite a layout you got yourself.”

“How’s it been going, Dip?”

The handsome blond man sat on a chair and threw his long legs over the side. “Between you and I, it’s been going lousy until today.”

“What happened to your Persian Room engagement? I kept watching for the announcement.”

Dip shrugged. “The act bombed. We kept it on the road for over a year and milked what we could out of it, but I didn’t dare bring it into New York. See, I did some analyzing. Pauli and me—we don’t mesh.”

“You mean the marriage is over?”

“Over! It’s never been more solid, pal. It’s just that our personalities don’t go to form a good act. Look, when she does comedy or straight singing on her own, she’s great. And when I do my old song and dance, I’m great. I kill them with my imitations. I swear when I do Godfrey with the uke—buddy boy, you can’t tell the difference. Ted Lewis
knows
he’s listening to himself when I say, ‘Is everybody happy?’ But the thing is, I’m one style and she’s another. But listen, buddy boy, my agent told me Ike Ryan is looking for a leading man to play opposite Diana Williams—and the
Big Dipper is a natural for the job. You once said you owed me something. Well, how about booking Pauli and me on
The Christie Lane Show
? It would serve as an audition for me for Ike Ryan, and also we could use the scratch. I hear they pay five G’s for guests. And it will give Pauli some coverage too. She’s gonna be mad enough if I get the lead opposite Diana Williams and split the act—but if it comes from the Chris Lane show, it won’t look as if I went after it.”