It was April 8, 1975 and the 47th Academy Awards had started, with searchlights swepping across the sky, and hundreds of fans pressed against the ropes, cheering and holding up autograph books.
A black limousine rear door opened, and Duke stepped out into a storm of camera flashes, wearing a black tuxedo.
On his arm was Charlotte Rampling, a British actress known for her beauty.
Duke invited Charlotte as his companion to maintain his public persona as an eligible bachelor, keeping Margaux and his son hidden away. And of course, Charlotte agreed cause she could appear in front of a lot of cameras by being with him.
Reporters leaned over the ropes, shouting questions over the crowd.
"Mr. Hauser! Who is your date tonight?" one journalist yelled, holding out a microphone.
"Mr. Hauser! Any comment on Paramount plans for the future?" another called out.
"Will you ever respond to Andy Warho comments?" asked a third.
Duke offered a practiced smile to the press line and raised a hand in a friendly wave but did not slow his pace.
He knew better than to stop for random interviews on a live carpet.
He gently guided Charlotte toward the grand entrance, leaving the shouting reporters behind them.
"You handle them well," Charlotte murmured with a soft laugh.
"It's better to ignore than to respond," Duke replied, his tone light, they stepped through the doors and into the lobby of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.
Duke and Charlotte found their seats near the front row, seated right in the middle of the Paramount group.
Robert Evans sat just a seat away, with his girlfriend, actress Claudia Jennings, beside him. Evans was already looking antsy, scanning the room.
Duke settled into his seat, noticing a tension buzzing in the air tonight.
There was a nervous whisper circulating among the attendees regarding the evening's political climate, the Vietnam War was still a sensitive topic for the country.
Just this morning, a rogue South Vietnamese pilot, sympathetic to the communists, flew an F-5 fighter jet and dropped bombs directly on the Independence Palace (the presidential residence).
The Academy organizers were clearly nervous about potential protests or unscripted moments during the live television broadcast. Specially since the 1974, naked man that streaked across stage.
Despite the underlying anxiety in the room, Duke felt a strong sense of optimism.
Paramount had a great slate of nominations, he patted Charlotte's hand as the house lights began to dim. The orchestra struck up a musical number, and the Academy Awards officially began.
The early ceremony proceeded smoothly, with the audience clapping politely for each winner.
Bob Hope stepped up to the microphone, delivering a few classic jokes that earned chuckles from the crowd.
Lauren Hutton and Danny Thomas introduced the next category, Best Documentary Feature, and the nominees were read aloud to the room.
The presenters tore open the envelope.
"And the Oscar goes to... Hearts and Minds," A burst of applause echoed through the pavilion, though it was slightly more subdued than the cheers for the mainstream categories.
The film was a critical look at the ongoing conflict in Vietnam.
Bert Schneider, the documentary's producer, stood up and began his walk to the stage.
He was a well-known figure in the Hollywood leftist community, a vocal friend of Jane Fonda and the anti-war movement.
The audience settled down, expecting a standard thank-you speech.
Winners usually thanked their families, their directors, and their studios before rushing off the stage.
Instead, Schneider leaned close to the microphone, "It's ironic that we're here at a time just before Vietnam is about to be liberated"
"I will now read a short wire that I have been asked to read by the Vietnamese people. It is sent by Ambassador Dinh Ba Thi, who is the chief of the Provisional Revolutionary Government's delegation to Paris, the Paris political talks.," Schneider began.
The words hung heavy in the air.
"It says: Please transmit to all our friends in America our recognition of all that they have done on behalf of peace and for the application of the Paris Accords on Vietnam. These actions serve the legitimate interest of the American people and the Vietnamese people. Greetings of friendship to all the American people. Thank you very much." He read the message with a steady tone.
The auditorium went silent, a few audible gasps echoed from the balcony seats.
Down in the front rows, some scattered applause broke out from the left-leaning attendees, showing their support for the anti-war sentiment.
However, the majority of the crowd sat frozen in silence.
Schneider calmly walked off the stage with his Oscar.
The camera went back to the hosts, who looked visibly uncomfortable.
Duke watched the fallout with a neutral expression. He knew this exact moment was coming.
In his past life, it was recorded as one of the most controversial live television moments in Oscar history.
He turned his head to look at Evans, the producer was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the break in the formal atmosphere.
"Well," Evans whispered. "That is definitely going to cause a stir in the morning papers."
Duke gave a small nod, sharing his producer's perspective.
Duke leaned over, whispering back to Evans. "Let's go take a walk backstage. I want to see the chaos for myself."
Evans's eyes lit up, he loved being in the middle of the action.
They both stood up, slipping past the knees of the other attendees in their row, heading toward the side exit.
They pushed through the curtains and stepped into the backstage of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.
Stagehands rushed past them, carrying clipboards and headsets.
As they walked, Evans started complaining about Francis Ford Coppola.
"Francis does not respect me anymore, Duke," Evans muttered. "He wouldn't even return my phone calls this week. After all the battles we fought together."
Claudia Jennings walked close beside Evans, listening to his rant with affection for the producer.
Duke largely ignored Evans's familiar ramblings.
Coppola was a genius, and geniuses were always difficult to manage.
Duke kept his focus purely on the scene unfolding ahead of them. The backstage area looked like a war room during a major crisis, with people shouting over one another in a panic.
It was a pandemonium. Bert Schneider stood in a corner, arguing with a red-faced network executive.
Phones were ringing in a relentless manner.
Network bosses, angry politicians, and outraged viewers from across the country were calling in to voice their displeasure over the speech.
Howard W. Koch, the veteran producer of the telecast, was pacing back and forth across the floor.
Bob Hope stood near a monitor, holding a piece of white paper, looking furious.
Duke approached the tense group, offering a reassuring nod. "So... what is the plan?" Duke asked calmly.
Bob Hope turned to Duke, holding up the page.
"We are going to read a disclaimer," Hope explained, his voice filled with frustration. "We are going to distance the Academy from Schneider's radical statement. Frank Sinatra is going to read it live. We have to do damage control."
Koch stopped pacing and nodded in agreement.
"We cannot let this stand unanswered," Koch said, "The public is going to lose their minds if they think the Academy supports that kind of message. We have sponsors to worry about and also the network is breathing down our necks right now."
Duke took the paper from Hope's hands and quickly read the text. "We are not responsible for any political statements made on this program, and it does not reflect the attitude of the Academy."
He handed it back to the comedian. "Smart move, just don't make it a bigger story. Keep it brief."
Bob Hope muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "First we had the Sacheen Littlefeather incident back in 1973."
"Now we have this mess. The Godfather movies are cursed, I tell you. Every single time one of your mob pictures gets nominated, someone uses our stage to make a political statement." Hope sighed, looking exhausted.
Duke almost smiled at the older man's complaint.
He remembered the Sacheen Littlefeather moment well.
She was the Native American activist who spoke on behalf of Marlon Brando, and tried to reject his Best Actor Oscar for the first Godfather film but Evans took it and just never gave it back, even now it still sat on Duke's office.
Now, with the sequel heavily nominated, the cloud of political controversy had returned to the ceremony.
Across the room, Frank Sinatra stood near a door, the singer wore a tuxedo, and looked visibly irritated.
Hope walked over, pressuring Sinatra to read the disclaimer on camera.
Sinatra resisted the idea. He argued that he did not want to be the one to deliver a harsh scolding to the theater audience.
Hope stepped closer to Sinatra, his patience finally snapping. "If you won't read it, Frank, I will, I will walk out onto that stage right now and read it myself. Do not test me on this. We have to protect the integrity of the show."
After a moment, Sinatra sighed, recognizing that Hope was not going to back down. "Fine, Bob. Give me the paper. I will read the damn thing."
He snatched the paper from Hope's hand, looking over the words with an unhappy expression on his face.
Just then, Duke's assistant, Simpson, appeared at his elbow, the young man looked slightly breathless, having navigated the corridors running.
"Mr. Hauser," Simpson said stepping close. "The phones in your office are ringing a lot. Several prominent Republican party members are calling. They want to know what you are going to do about this situation."
Duke offered an unbothered shrug. He was not going to let politicians damage his evening.
"What exactly am I supposed to do, Simpson?" Duke asked with a smile. "The speech was already broadcast to millions of homes. We cannot unsay the words. Tell them that guy Bert is blacklisted from working with Paramount if that makes them feel better."
Simpson nodded, looking relieved that his boss was not panicking, promised to relay the message to the callers and disappeared.
Duke turned his attention back to the monitor, after a few more minor awards were handed out, Frank Sinatra finally took the stage for his hosting segment.
He walked to the center microphone, looking uncomfortable in the spotlights.
Sinatra looked down at the words and began to read.
"We are not responsible for any political references made on the program, and we are sorry they had to take place this evening." Sinatra paused, taking a breath before delivering the final sentence.
"We do not condone it," Sinatra finished, he quickly folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. The audience reaction was mixed, some applauses but mostly silence.
Sinatra did not linger on the moment. He quickly moved on to introducing the next award presenter, eager to get the show back on track.
Duke watched the monitor from the back, he knew this specific moment would be remembered for decades, analyzed by film historians and cultural critics alike.
However, Duke also knew it would not go down as a massive scandal.
In his past life, the disclaimer was generally viewed as a necessary, if clumsy, correction.
It was not seen as an overreaction by the mainstream public.
Evans chuckled softly beside him. "Sinatra looked like he was reading a eulogy,"
Duke nodded in agreement, keeping his eyes on the television monitor. "He definitely did not want to do it, but Bob Hope is a tough bastard. He knows how to protect the brand."
Shortly after Sinatra left the stage, actor Warren Beatty and his famous sister, Shirley MacLaine, stormed in.
They were both furious, their faces flushed with anger.
They spotted Bob Hope standing near the production desks and marched directly toward him. Sinatra had already told Beatty about Bob Hope forcing him to read the paper.
The crew members quickly stepped back, giving the angry stars plenty of space.
Beatty pointed a finger at Bob Hope, the comedian and co-host of the night.
"That was outrageous, Bob," Beatty declared, "You silenced a political statement. Schneider had every right to say what he said on that stage. This is a free country, and he used his platform to speak up. You had no righ-"
Hope pushed back immediately, "This is an entertainment awards show, Warren, people tune in to celebrate movies and forget their troubles. They do not want to listen to Viet Cong telegrams while they sit in their living rooms."
Shirley MacLaine jumped into the fray, "This is about the war, Bob, real people died over there. Our boys are dying. You cannot just sweep that harsh reality under the rug because it makes your wealthy sponsors feel a little bit uncomfortable."
Duke decided he had heard enough, since when did reading a telegram by Americans enemies was a good thing? Specially after winning an american award.
It didn't also changed his view on most of these leftist, using the name of soldiers to defend anti-american propaganda.
Bert Schneider, the guy who did the speech was born to a wealthy Jewish family, his father was Abraham Schneider who once acted as the president of Columbia Pictures. Nothing more than rich people that want to feel better about themselves.
He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, placing himself right in the middle of the argument.
"Everyone needs to calm down," Duke said, his voice calm. "The statement was said. The disclaimer was read. The moment is over. Let's move on and enjoy the show."
Beatty spun around, turning his anger onto Duke.
"Who the hell are you to tell us to calm down?" Beatty snapped, stepping closer to Duke. "Shut up when adults are speaking, Hauser. You only care about your bottom line. You have no soul, and no artistic integrity. Of course you wouldn't understand."
Duke was momentarily stunned.
In all of his years navigating Hollywood, no one had ever spoken to him like this.
Beatty was 10 years older, an established star, but that did not matter.
Duke's expression hardened, "I am the man who signs your paychecks, Warren, don't forget that, and at the end of the day, you are nothing but a laborer. An actor with no real power here."
Duke took a step closer to the older star. "You have no influence in this town, despite how much you like to shake your ass for the Democrats at their fundraising dinners."
Beatty's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to reply, but Shirley MacLaine stepped forward, stepping right in front of her brother.
"What about you? You come from bum-fuck nowhere, Texas," Shirley spat, her face contorted.
"It must be exhausting, standing at the top of the town, terrified that someone might ask you to spell the word 'Cinematography'. You dimwit."
She glared at him, trying to intimidate him. Duke did not blink, his posture remaining straight while he though. 'Do these people really think im Illiterate just cause i come from the south?'
Beatty regained his footing and added his own insult to the mix. "You didn't even finish high school, did you? Well, I didn't claw my way through this industry just to be told how to act by a man who dropped out of school. Some of us actually earned our caree-"
A smile spread on Duke's face as he raised his voice for the first time too.
"You're right, Warren, you're right" Duke said, "I did not finish high school. Some of us actually had to work hard to be known in this town with no connections."
Duke tilted his head to Shirley. "We couldn't all rely on an older sister to whore out a career for us by getting with every old geezer in this town."
Shirley's face instantly went red. She pointed a finger at Duke, and started rushing to him.
2 large security guards stepped forward, sensing that the verbal argument was about to turn physical.
Duke held up a hand, signaling the guards to back off from him. "It is fine, gentlemen," Duke said, turning his back on the siblings. "I am done here. The conversation is over."
Evans and Claudia hurried to catch up with him, leaving Beatty and MacLaine fuming.
Once they were out of earshot, Evans burst into a fit of laughter. "Did you see Beatty's face? Looked like someone just pissed in his cocaine."
Claudia walked beside Evans, offering Duke a smile.
"Robert told me a little bit about your history in this town," she said, reaching up to touch her earlobe. "I actually took off my earrings back there. Just in case you wanted to beat up the Shirley girl. I was ready to swing for you, boss."
Duke laughed, shaking his head. "Don't listen to Evans, he reads too many scripts. I'm a peaceful man. I buy properties, and go fishing. Calm guy."
"Bullshit," Evans laughed, nudging him. "Tell that to the Oscar Winner who bit your arm in your office."
"That was a tragic accident," Duke countered, "He lost his footing. I was just applying chest compressions with my legs."
They chuckled as they pushed through the curtains, leaving the chaotic backstage area behind them.
They walked back and slipped into their seats.
The political tension in the room had mostly eased, though Duke knew the controversy would dominate the morning papers.
Duke sat down next to Charlotte, adjusting the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket with a sigh.
Charlotte leaned over, an unconfortable smile playing on her lips. "Did you enjoy yourself back there?" she whispered, trying to enter a conversation.
Duke offered a relaxed smile. "Always," he turned his attention back to the bright stage, ready to watch his studio dominate the rest of the evening.
The rest of the ceremony felt like a victory lap.
The Godfather Part II was a juggernaut, winning 6 Oscars from its 11 nominations.
It was a truly historic night for Paramount.
The Godfather Part II became the very first sequel in history to win Best Picture.
Meanwhile, Chinatown matched it with 11 nominations, but it only took home a single statue for Best Original Screenplay.
Paramount's production of The Great Gatsby also won 2 technical Oscars.
Mel Brooks's comedies, Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, received technical and music nominations but ultimately won nothing.
Duke was not surprised by the snub, the Academy always carried bias against broad comedy and Horror.
He knew this would spark debate, but he did not care. The films were hits, and box office success mattered most to him.
___
Another chapter in a few hours