The morning sun of April 9, 1975, poured through the windows of Duke's office at Paramount Pictures.
Duke walked through his door, carrying a steaming mug of coffee.
He wore a dark suit, looking well rested for a man who had stayed up late celebrating an Academy Awards victory night.
A stack of morning newspapers rested in the center of his desk.
Duke settled into his chair, taking a sip from his mug before reaching for the papers.
He picked up the Los Angeles Times first.
The headline read, ""Godfather II" Sweeps Oscars." Duke scanned the article.
The reporter also focused on the political fallout of the unexpected documentary speech, but the tone remained respectful.
Next, he grabbed the Hollywood Reporter.
""Coppola's Night: 'Godfather II' Makes History as First Sequel to Win Best Picture"
They praised Francis Ford Coppola's masterful direction and the studio's bold vision.
Duke read the positive reviews twice. Making a sequel to a beloved masterpiece was a massive risk, but the gamble had paid off.
Then, his eyes fell upon the National Enquirer.
"Mogul vs. Movie Star: Duke Hauser and Warren Beatty in Explosive Backstage Brawl!" Duke let out a laugh.
The tabloid article was wildly exaggerated, painting a picture of a fierce physical confrontation.
The article claimed Duke had physically threatened the famous actor, insisting that a dozen security guards had to separate them. It read like a script for a cheap action movie.
Duke tossed the tabloid onto the edge of his desk, still chuckling.
He made a mental note to just let them print whatever crazy stories they wanted.
Anyways, the Oscars were over, and Paramount was on top.
The controversy regarding the political speech would fade into the background soon enough.
A knock at the door interrupted his morning reflections.
His dedicated assistant, Simpson, appeared in the doorway holding a stack of telephone message slips.
"Good morning, Mr. Hauser," Simpson greeted with a polite nod. "The phones have been ringing since I opened the office. Several reporters are calling about the rumored Beatty incident. They want to know if you have a comment on the alleged backstage fight."
Simpson stepped further into the room, glancing at the tabloid on the desk. "Also, Warren Beatty's publicist just issued a statement to the press. They are denying any physical altercation took place and are calling the Enquirer piece a work of irresponsible journalism."
Duke waved a dismissive hand through the air, "Ignore the calls, Simpson. We do not lower ourselves to comment on tabloid nonsense."
"If anyone serious asks, just tell them I had a pleasant evening and I am proud of the studio's accomplishments... Also leak Shirley MacLaine affairs with men to a tabloid."
Simpson smiled, "Understood, Mr. Hauser. I will field the press inquiries and focus on the Oscar victories. You also have a financial review scheduled for late morning with Marcus. He should be arriving soon."
Duke thanked his assistant, who quicly exited the office.
For the next two hours, Duke focused on reading scripts, approving production budgets, and making congratulatory phone calls to the various award winners.
By late morning, the door to Duke's office opened again, and Marcus stepped inside.
The family financial manager carried a battered leather briefcase. Duke always looked forward to these meetings, trusting Marcus's guidance with his growing personal fortune.
Of course, he had a top 4 accountant firm working on his accounts to make sure no weird business would happen.
"Good morning, Duke," Marcus said, taking a seat in one of the guest chairs.
He popped the latches on his briefcase and began pulling out folders filled with financial reports.
"Congratulations on the wins last night. Its a very good day to review the books, especially considering the influx of capital we have experienced over the past sixteen months."
Duke leaned back, steepling his fingers as he watched his financial manager organize the stack of documents.
"Thank you, Marcus. It was a memorable night for all of us. Tell me how the family accounts are looking. I want to make sure we are positioned for the future."
Marcus adjusted his glasses and opened the topmost folder.
"Here is exactly where we stand today, Duke. Ever since the Vanguard Petroleum sale finalized back in January of 1974, we have been sitting in a strong position."
"Let us review the major transaction first," Marcus began, "We sold Vanguard Petroleum to Armand Hammer and Occidental for a total of 80 million dollars."
"From that windfall, we paid 27 million dollars in capital gains taxes, a steep tax bill, but paying it clean leaves us free of any lingering government scrutiny."
Duke nodded slowly, complaining in his mind about the taxes of this era.
Marcus flipped to another page. "After the taxes, we allocated 3 million dollars for various personal expenditures."
"This covered the cash payment of the Idaho ranch, a few minor property upgrades, and some small acquisitions. That leaves us with 50 million dollars in liquid cash." Marcus paused.
Duke took another sip of his coffee. "And where exactly is that 50 million sitting right now?"
Marcus offered a smile. "The entire sum is parked in 3 month United States Treasury Bills. They are steadily growing while we decide on our next move."
Marcus tapped a line on the financial ledger with his pen. "In fact, those Treasury Bills have already returned 5 million dollars in interest over the past year. We are making a small fortune just by letting the government hold your money."
"However, we cannot simply leave it there forever. The current economic climate requires us to be more strategic to outpace the rate of inflation."
The financial manager flipped to a fresh section of his thorough report. "We need to deploy this cash, Duke. Sitting on its safe, but its slowly losing purchasing power due to inflation."
"I have prepared a few options for your consideration." Marcus leaned forward, eager to present his plans.
"First, there is the University of the Pacific," Marcus stated, referencing the deal they had discussed in previous months.
"The institution is available for a 15 million dollar cash purchase. It's a good investment in education to avoid taxes and provides philanthropic optics for your name. At the same time, can also give you some political leverage if it grows."
Duke nodded in agreement. He felt very passionate about the university purchase, mostly cause he could investigate the technology from his past life.
"Yes, move forward with the university. I want that deal closed as soon as possible. But that still leaves us with 35 million dollars in cash to invest. What do you recommend we do with the remaining balance?"
Marcus pulled out an architectural rendering and laid it flat on the desk.
"For the remaining balance, I recommend deploying the capital into premium New York real estate. I have been looking closely at a specific project, It's a vanity tower in a prime location. We could call it 'Hauser Tower.' It would be a mixed-use building with luxury retail spaces, premium corporate offices, and high-end residential condos."
Duke for a moment couldn't help but remember Trump's 'Trump Tower.'
Marcus pointed to the lines of the skyscraper, his voice rising with enthusiasm. "It's a great tax-avoidance vehicle, Duke. The depreciation schedules on a commercial property of this scale alone will shield your personal income for many years to come."
"Plus, owning a landmark building in the heart of Manhattan is the ultimate status symbol for a man of your considerable means and influence. Best of all, New York is sort of going through a bankruptcy as a city right now so we could get a lot of tax benefits on top of the normal ones."
Duke raised a curious eyebrow, studying the proposed skyscraper.
The building was ugly, a monument of glass and steel reaching into the clouds. Duke hated the design, no personality, like the Columbia Logo if it was a building.
"A tower named after me?" Duke asked, his tone laced with skepticism. "It feels a bit flashy, I'm a filmmaker, Marcus, not a real estate tycoon trying to plaster my name across the skyline."
Marcus offered a shrug, unfazed by Duke's hesitation. "It's good branding, Duke. In the modern business world, your name is your currency."
"A tower solidifies your legacy and honestly, the tax benefits are so significant that we would be foolish not to at least consider the option. You need physical assets to anchor the wealth."
Duke leaned back, taking a moment to genuinely consider the proposal.
He certainly did not need a vanity project feeding his ego, but he did understand the necessity of protecting his wealth from the IRS. "What about a museum instead?"
Marcus paused, "A museum? Are you talking about purchasing an existing art collection, or building a private gallery for tax purposes? Art is a fine investment, but it does not offer the same steady depreciation schedules as commercial real estate.
Commercial real estate depreciation is a tax strategy that allows owners to deduct the cost of a property's wear and tear over its useful life, reducing their annual taxable income.
The IRS mandates that nonresidential commercial buildings are depreciated using a straight-line method over a 39-year schedule, meaning the owner deducts an equal portion of the building's value every year.
Basically, your property is damaged through time, and you can deduct that from taxes.
"I have been thinking about it for a while," Duke explained, "Not a traditional art gallery but a museum dedicated specifically to cinema with props and places for people to take pictures."
"We could showcase Paramount's history, the evolution of Hollywood, and the craft of making movies. It would be a vital cultural institution like what the Gettys did."
Marcus slowly lowered his pen, and nodded thoughtfully, "I will look into it . A non-profit cultural museum could still provide some tax benefits, though the legal structure would be very different from a commercial skyscraper. I will consult with the tax attorneys and have a feasibility study ready for your review in two weeks."
Duke smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "Do that, Marcus. I would rather invest in preserving history than building a monument to myself."
Specially if the monument was ugly.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to review a final summary sheet, he looked up at Duke, "Before I leave, I want to give you the grand total."
"Your current net worth, Duke, is estimated to be between 400 and 450 million dollars. And that is despite no longer owning Vanguard Petroleum."
Marcus broke the fortune down into clear categories. "Paramount Pictures, on a group basis, is currently valued between 250 and 300 million dollars. That valuation includes the physical studio lot, DC Comics, the Atari division, and the upcoming Paramount Park project. The studio is a gold mine basically."
"On top of the studio," Marcus continued, "Your Fund holds 40 million dollars in shares."
Duke let the numbers wash over him. "Not bad for a guy from Texas,"
Marcus chuckled, snapping the latches of his briefcase closed. "Not bad at all, Duke. In fact, its unprecedented."
The men shook hands across the desk, and Marcus departed the office, leaving Duke alone with his thoughts again.
Duke spent the next hour reviewing the financial documents Marcus had left behind, just as he was finishing his second cup of coffee, the intercom on his desk buzzed.
Duke pressed the flashing button on the console. "Yes, Simpson?"
"Mr. Hauser, Steven Spielberg is waiting in the outer office to see you. He does not have a scheduled appointment, but he says the matter is urgent. Shall I ask him to come back later?"
Duke looked up from his paperwork, mildly surprised by the unexpected visit. "No, do not send him away, send him in right now."
The door swung open, and Steven Spielberg walked into the room.
"Duke," Spielberg said, his voice carrying a slight tremble of nervousness. "Thank you for seeing me without an appointment. I know how busy you are, especially today, after the Oscar wins last night."
Duke offered a smile, gesturing to the leather chair Marcus had recently vacated.
"My door is always open, Steven," Duke assured him. "The Oscars were fun, but today is a new day. We always have to look toward the future. Please, sit down, what is on your mind?"
Spielberg sank into the chair, placing a thin folder on his lap. "I need to tell you something, Duke, I know I pitched the Thomas Crapper movie a few months ago and you approved it."
Duke smiled, recalling the bizarre pitch meeting, he was still dating Lynda back then.
"I remember it well," Duke replied cheerfully. "What about it? Do you need more money for the set designs?"
Spielberg winced, "Right. Well... I cannot do it, I really tried. I honestly did. I sat down at my typewriter every single day for a month to hammer out the script, and I just... I couldn't write it."
Duke let out a laugh. "So, you are sitting here telling me that you cannot write a script about a Victorian plumber?"
Spielberg ran a hand through his messy hair. "I know it sounds ridiculous to back out now, but I would much rather sit here and be honest with you than waste your money on a film I do not believe in."
Duke waved a hand through the air, dismissing him. "Steven, relax. Maybe your ideas got flushed out. But if you do not believe in the story, we do not make the movie. It's really that simple."
Spielberg's tense face relaxed and he eagerly opened his folder and slid a few pages across the desk. "I have something else, Duke. Something I actually believe in."
Duke picked up the pages, his eyes landing on the title.
Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
A thrill of anticipation ran down Duke's spine. In his past life, this specific film had become a hit that defined the science fiction genre.
Spielberg leaned forward, "It's a film about ordinary, everyday people who experience UFOs. About making contact. But it's not an alien invasion movie. Its about peaceful communication."
"Tell me more," Duke encouraged, "Walk me through the vision. Let me see what you see in your head."
Spielberg launched into the pitch and described a shadowy government cover-up designed to hide the truth. He detailed the journey of an ordinary man who abandons his normal, safe life to chase the impossible.
Duke listened to every word, nodding to the pitch.
"It sounds ambitious, Steven," Duke finally said, "It also sounds very expensive to shoot. It will be heavy on special effects too."
Spielberg nodded, bracing himself for a gentle rejection. "I know it's a risk, Duke, but its the story I want to tell."
Duke set the pages down on his desk, "Then we will make it. What is your budget estimate for a picture of this scale?"
Spielberg blinked, stunned by the swift approval. "Wait... you mean... you are saying yes? Just like that? You are greenlighting based on a 10 minute conversation?"
Duke's smile grew wider, "I believed in you when you wanted to make a film about a Victorian toilet, Steven,"
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