The new year, 1969, hit Ithaca's office like a blast of cold, windy air, but inside his corner office, Duke wasn't feeling the chill as he worked on company matters.
The pressure was absolutely relentless.
That giant Marvel debt clock was ticking louder than ever, but Duke could breathe easy on one vital point the company was unequivocally solvent.
Duke wasn't running around stamping out fires anymore.
Instead, he was leaning back, reviewing three organized stacks of internal reports from his key executives.
The feeling was incredible, like watching a complex, custom-built car and run exactly as you designed it.
He started with Chen's finance report, which, for once, was delightfully boring.
Ithaca had barreled into 1969 with a strong cash balance. This wasn't luck; this was the diversified portfolio Duke had built finally showing it's hand.
The company's combined, consistent revenue streams had successfully covered every single immediate debt payment scheduled for the tail end of 1968.
Marvel Comics, the ruthless negotiation forcing the revamped distribution deal with Charlton had worked.
A high-margin, predictable revenue from the comics was finally flowing cleanly.
The enthusiasm in the Marvel Office had translated directly into certified cash. It was the rock-solid annuity he knew it could be.
Creedence Clearwater Revival, Walsh's report confirmed that CCR's late-1968 album sales and absolutely brutal touring schedule had poured massive, reliable liquidity into the holding company.
They were still a financial pillar keeping things steady.
As for Night of the Living Dead.
The low budget horror movie that Duke invested so much on, had turned out to be the perfect, high-margin surprise, delivering quick cash exactly when the company needed it most.
"We have a small distribution success now," Duke muttered, flipping the page.
Duke lingered over the film's earnings sheet, which was nothing short of miraculous.
The picture, released quietly in October 1968, had cost peanuts to produce.
A true micro-budget, but the return was exponential.
Even Duke who already knew the movie would be a success was stunned when it first got released.
The film became a genuine word-of-mouth phenomenon.
It sidestepped the snooty critics and found its audience in drive-ins and late-night theaters, generating fast, reliable revenue that fed back into operations.
"It's still going strong," Duke mused.
The film had achieved spectacular returns on its tiny investment, proving the viability of Ithaca's low-budget genre division. Sadly, Duke didnt remember every popular Low budget movie of this era.
Duke shifted his focus to Jensen's reports, which detailed the final stages of the two primary film productions.
The update on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was pure, unadulterated good news.
Jensen confirmed the production was a model of efficiency from start to finish.
Even with the challenges of location shooting and pairing two massive, competitive stars, the film wrapped without a hitch.
Crucially, Steve McQueen and Robert Redford were professional throughout the entire shoot.
Jensen's firm, unyielding control over the production schedule meant the film finished not only on time but, surprisingly, under budget.
It was now sailing through post-production, right on track for a massive late-year commercial release.
The next report from Jensen was on True Grit.
The film was officially wrapped and moving through the editing bay, despite the immense star power and ego battles Duke had to face down.
The overall assessment was that the film finished with completely manageable issues.
The key victory here was one of managerial muscle.
John Wayne's attitude improved dramatically following Duke's personal intervention and, perhaps more importantly, after Hal Wallis essentially stopped showing up to the set.
Wayne had reserved his professional respect for the two men he seem to have a good opinion on Duke and Jensen.
The production issues were contained, the film was done, and it was moving through post-production on schedule.
The machine was running, the money was flowing, and the first major challenges had been met and overcome with ruthless efficiency and strategic deployment of resources.
Duke remembered he still had almost 51 years of memories to draw from.
(I may regret a little making this guy be in this era)
The focus shifted in Duke's review stack.
After the relief of the financial reports and the steady professionalism of the Butch Cassidy team.
He turned his attention to the one film that promised to be either his greatest artistic triumph or his biggest managerial headache Easy Rider.
Duke flipped open the report from Jensen,
The memo confirmed the film was still deeply entrenched in the editing phase.
This wasn't a surprise; Duke heard in his previous life about how Easy Rider had a crazy production.
Of course, Ithaca's true problem with the project now was the editing itself, and the subsequent final release date.
Jensen wrote "We are still in the final cut process, but due to internal disagreements, the projected release date has shifted again. The current, approximate target is now July 14, 1969 and Goldberg plans to work with that release date."
Easy Rider was meant to be the massive box office hit that would help define Ithaca's reputation as the home of the New Hollywood.
A delay meant more pressure on the other films and more tense conversations with the creditors.
The core reason for the delay was pure creative tension, a battle of wills that defined the very spirit of the New Hollywood movement Ithaca was banking on.
Jensen's description of the editing room was vivid Dennis Hopper the film's visionary, but notoriously intense and mercurial director and the editor were locked in a contentious debate over the final cut and shots that were deleted.
Hopper, having been given almost unprecedented creative freedom by Duke, was clearly using every inch of it.
He was determined to make an authentic, raw, and uncompromised statement about the counter-culture, and if that meant a longer, more meandering film with challenging artistic choices, so be it.
Jensen detailed the arguments.
Hopper was fighting every attempt to shorten the film for commercial viability.
The studio consensus, backed by the marketing team, wanted a tight, hour and a half runtime that maximized screenings per day.
Hopper wanted the audience to feel the endless road trip, the sense of drug-fueled drift, and the inevitable tragidy.
The most heartening part of Jensen's memo, was the managerial breakthrough that had occurred amidst the tension.
Jensen noted a recent interaction that signaled a subtle, encouraging shift in the volatile director's relationship with the new structure of Ithaca.
"Despite the ongoing tension in the edit suite," Jensen wrote, "Dennis Hopper approached me late last week. He offered a genuine apology for his previous outburst during the Easy Rider production."
This was huge. Hopper had a history of being combative and disrespectful toward authority.
Even more critically, Hopper had acknowledged Jensen's financial concerns regarding the current runtime and scheduling.
He hadn't agreed to shorten the film, but he had conceded that the financial stability of the studio was a factor he was willing to consider.
"Hopper seems to change his opinion cause Peter Fonda is now willing to support him more." Jensen concluded.
Duke smiled, leaning back in his chair.
The chaos was contained, the artist was showing maturity, and the film despite the delays was still set to define a generation.
July 14, 1969 that was the date that mattered.
The reports were filed, the phone calls were done. And the immediate chaos was delegated.
Duke leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking softly.
The past few years had been about building a reliable engine; now, it was time to point that engine toward the future and hit the accelerator.
The year 1969 was poised to be a spectacular proving ground for Ithaca Holdings.
Every single division comics, records, and film was finally synchronized, ready to deliver a sustained, multi-front assault on the consumer market.
Duke's mind immediately focused on the near-term certainty The Jackson 5.
The March 1969 launch of their debut album was already planned.
Walsh and his team were executing the marketing plan flawlessly, creating a nationwide buzz fueled by radio play and youth magazine features.
But the true genius lay in the timing of the national push from the Diana Ross special.
That television appearance was scheduled to air shortly after the album release. It was a perfect, high-impact cultural one-two punch.
On the album, 'The Jackson 5', hits stores, giving the boys an established, massive pop foundation.
On spring, the Diana Ross special airs a month after the album release.
Every household in America sees the biggest pop star in the world introduce these five dynamic, young black performers, giving them immediate crossover legitimacy.
Duke felt a wave of confidence about the music division current plans, 'I should reinvest more into the label.'
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Im in a mexican party so late chapter cause i need to stay till 3-4 am and i been here almost all day