A warm California sun fell on the historic campus of the University of the Pacific.
It was May 1, and Duke Hauser walked along the brick pathways, taking in the serenity of the academic campus in Stockton.
To his left walked Marcus, his trusted financial manager, carrying a briefcase.
To his right walked Ronald Reagan, the former governor of California.
Reagan looked relaxed and friendly, his charm radiating easily as he offered smiles to passing students.
Reagan had approached Duke since the moment he had decided to buy University of the Pacific to support him with political connections in the state, of course, in exchange Duke hired a lot of Reagan allies as advisors.
Of course, it helped that Reagan saw him as a key ally for his future career.
They headed together toward a private meeting room.
Duke took a comfortable seat at the head of the wooden table, feeling optimistic about the deal they were about to finalize.
Marcus didn't bother with too many formalities, he just popped the brass latches on his briefcase and slid a spaper across the wood.
"Let's talk about why men with your kind of money create Universities," Marcus said, tapping his pen against the table.
"First, the IRS. Every dollar you push into a non-profit foundation vanishes from your taxable income. Which means you get to keep what you earn."
He flipped the page, revealing a black-and-white photograph of the campus. "Second is the halo effect. You write a check for a university, and overnight, you can stop being a ruthless studio boss and become a patron of knowledge, the best PR money can buy."
Marcus pointed his pen toward the window, gesturing at the green lawns outside. "But the real prize is leverage."
"You control a major campus, you control the local mayors, the zoning boards, the economic committees. The Carnegies and Rockefellers didn't build schools to be nice guys, they did it to gain power and PR."
Duke took a sip of his coffee, and pulled a map of the university toward him and uncapped his pen.
"Here is how we play the board," Duke said, tracing a circle around the other 2 campuses of UOP.
"The Hauser Foundation buys the Stockton campus. These 2 campuses stays UOP. We keep their institution alive, less price and they can keep their alumni."
He moved his pen, drawing a line through the Stockton Campus. "But this campus? We take the old signs down. From day one, this becomes Hauser University."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "And the current administration? The board of regents?"
Duke pulled a printed page from his folder.
It listed nine names, most of them local politicians who were Reagan allies.
"The old board must be swept clean, UOP can keep them," Duke answered. "I already have new guys who know how to smile and vote 'yes.' We cut them annual checks just to keep the seats warm. I want zero problems."
Duke leaned over the table, and looked at Reagan. "Hauser Univesity will expand to become a research park. I want to focus on Tech. Computers, software, things like that."
Reagan was also a member of the board, Duke decided to invite him cause in the future, when he's president, he will give a lot of money to the military for tech related research.
He tapped the center of the map. "If some kids have a good business idea, we can give them free rent, free power, and whatever they need to build it."
Duke sat back, crossing his arms. "In exchange, Hauser University takes a slice of their equity. We give them the resources, and we keep a piece of their future success."
Reagan rested his forearms on the table, as his face broke into a wide smile.
"Duke, the state will not stop your takeover," Reagan assured him, "I have made sure of it. You have my full backing on this project. California needs this kind of forward-thinking investment to remain a leader in the world. The russians are not resting in their race to catch up with us."
Duke smiled, sincerely thanking the older man for his assistance. Building a strong relationship with a future president was good business.
"You know," Duke said, "a Ronald Reagan Center for Cinematic Arts would be positive publicity for you. I can build it in the future."
Reagan let out a laugh that echoed in the room. "I will hold you to that generous offer, Duke. A center like that sounds like a wonderful addition to a new university."
As the meeting proceeded, Duke allowed his mind to drift toward his long-term vision.
A campus where the future will be born. He knew the impending technological revolutions were just around the corner.
Imagine a bustling research hub where VHS tapes, portable Walkman, CGI, and the next generation of consumer technology could be developed.
It would be a place where academic research was unburdened, where wild ideas were shared openly over coffee, and where early equity stakes in barre bones startups could make him billions.
He remembered the Tiger Cubs.
Julian Robertson's Tiger Management, founded in 1980, was one of the world's most successful early hedge funds.
Before it closed in 2000, it operated as a sort of "talent factory", with Robertson mentored dozens of young analysts, giving them training.
When these protégés left to start their own firms, they became known as the Tiger Cubs.
By 2026, those Tiger Cubs were managing well over $200 billion.
In his past life, FAANG was an acronym for the five most dominant U.S. tech companies, Facebook (who later turned into Meta), Amazon, Apple, Netflix, and Google.
Duke was already planning to not let Netflix survive by the time streaming arrived.
He did hoped at least one of the other future FAANG came from Hauser University.
He also thought about California's overall future.
He really liked this state and wanted to see it thrive.
He wanted to build a substantial political power to help shape its civic policies for the better... no homeless.
A state with a clean environment where families could walk the sunny streets without worry about homeless or drug addicts.
In the future, he did not want to see people suffering on the sidewalks... they could suffer otside of public view in another state.
By building educational engines, he could help provide real opportunities and lift the entire region upward, and avoid crazy leftist from being too soft on crime in the future.
That way he could also avoid Austin being filled with homeless people.
Marcus checked his wristwatch, signaling that it was time to wrap up the meeting. "The final deal will close within 60 days."
Reagan stood up, smoothing his jacket, he reached across the table, extending a hand to Duke. "This is the very beginning of something big, Duke, you are building a remarkable piece of american history here today."
Duke stood up as well, returning the handshake with a smile. "I know, Ronald,"
Duke replied, and turned to look at Marcus. "Oh, invite the media for the signing... and also send invitations to Warren Beatty and Shirley MacLaine."
___
2 days later, they were in Dallas, Texas, evening of may 3, 1975.
Inside a brightly lit sports arena, where the local Dallas Chaparrals of the ABA were playing a basketball game against the Denver Nuggets in a best-of-seven series lasting from April 20 to May 3.
The Dallas Chaparrals were playing the Western Division Finals against the Nuggets, if they beat them they would go on to face the Kentucky Colonels who were the champions of the Eastern Division.
Duke sat comfortably in a private luxury suite high above the court.
The suite was spacious, with leather seating, a catered buffet, and a private bathroom.
However, the room was almost empty, occupied only by Duke's small, intimate family.
Margaux sat nearby on a sofa, looking beautiful but relaxed.
She was half-asleep, casually flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine with the family nanny bringing Margaux a cup of fresh coffee to help her stay awake through the evening.
Sitting on Duke's lap was young Bradley, who was now roughly 4 and a half months old.
The adorable baby boy had the Dallas Chaparrals logo painted on his chubby cheek.
He was also dressed in a tiny, matching team outfit that Margaux had specially ordered for the occasion.
Bradley was surprisingly alert for a baby his age, his wide eyes tracking the lights and the movement of the tall players down below.
He waved his tiny fists in the air whenever the crowd erupted into cheers.
Down on the court, George Gervin, more known as "The Iceman," was having an spectacular game.
The best player of their Dallas team was sinking shots from all over the floor.
Duke pointed a finger toward the court, trying to direct his son's attention to the athlete.
"Look right there, Bradley," Duke whispered, bouncing the baby gently on his knee. "That is our best player Iceman. Dallas has a good team this year with 3 All Stars on the team."
Bradley laughed happily, agreeing with his father's assessment.
Duke continued to talk to Bradley, explaining the business mechanics of the sport as if the infant could understand any word at all.
"You see, son, the ABA and the NBA are going to merge next year," Duke explained . "It's going to change the landscape of professional sports."
Duke spoke with confidence about the future.
"There is currently a antitrust lawsuit filed by Oscar Robertson trying to block things," Duke noted, rubbing the baby's back.
"But don't worry. That lawsuit will be defeated since the merger is inevitable, and its going to be wonderful for us."
Bradley stared at the scoreboard for a few moments, mesmerized by the lights.
Eventually, the stimulus of a basketball game took its toll. Halfway through the second quarter, the baby's eyelids finally drooped, and he fell asleep.
The nanny stepped forward, offering a smile.
She gently lifted the sleeping infant from Duke's lap, careful not to wake him.
She layed Bradley comfortably into his padded stroller in a corner of the suite, covering him with a blanket to block out any chill.
With the baby resting, Margaux set her magazine aside and walked over to the glass window overlooking the court.
She took a sip of her coffee, and watched the players run back and forth for a moment before turning her curious gaze back to Duke.
"I have a question," Margaux said, a smile touching her lips. "Why didn't you just buy a real NBA team instead of this scrappy ABA team? It seems like you want to be at the very top of the food chain, yet here we are watching the... lesser league."
Duke smiled, "You do not understand the points of asset business yet, It was far cheaper and significantly better for my portfolio to buy it like this."
He gestured down toward the brigh court. "The ABA is undervalued right now by the mainstream market. Most people think it is failing. But when the merger happens next year, the value of this specific franchise is going to skyrocket overnight."
"I'm already receiving calls from a lot of powerful Dallas tycoons who want to know if i'm either willing to sell or to part with some shares."
Margaux listened, processing the financial strategy. She then looked left and right, gesturing toward the row of identical luxury suites stretching around the arena. "Well, that is a nice theory," she noted dryly.
"But look around, Duke. The only occupied suite in this section is ours."
She offered a teasing laugh. "And we are not even paying full price for it, because you happen to be the owner of the team. The place is half empty among the private suites."
Duke offered a slightly awkward look. She had a keen eye for detail, and she was entirely correct about the lackluster attendance by the rich of Dallas.
"It takes time to build a loyal audience," Duke countered playfully, trying to defend his investment. "We're not lacking regular people coming to watch the games, look the place is filled to the top. But private suites are inherently an expensive thing."
Margaux laughed again at his mild awkwardness, finding his stubborn optimism a littlee endearing.
"Listen," Duke explained, "Sports franchises do not actually have to make a direct profit. That is a common misconception among investors."
"Every other business I own. My studio, Atari, the tech investments, will make the money. This basketball team is designed to be a loss leader in a way. Not that we're losing money either."
When Duke first bough the Chapparralls they were playing in semi empty stadiums, now they were filling seats and were selling several times more merch than before.
Most rich people did not like the team yet, but there was a surprising large amount of fans who enjoyed the games, Tickets generally ranged from $2.00 to $7.00, depending on where you sat.
Of course they now had better players who costed more, but the sale of tickets and Merch was enough to make a tidy profit.
"Owning a team also guarantees you seat at the most important tables in the country. Its a golden ticket."
Margaux squeezed his hand affectionately, teasing him once more. "So, you bought a professional basketball team just so you could sit in an empty arena and call yourself a VIP?"
"Exactly," Duke agreed with a wide grin. "And its already working perfectly. Speaking of sports, I have some fun plans for us this coming summer."
"In June, I want to take Bradley to watch the Dallas Tornado play against the New York Cosmos. They are soccer teams"
Margaux raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift. "The Tornados? Are they any good? I used to play Soccer in school."
Duke nodded . "The NASL is growing fast. The Cosmos just signed Pelé who is arguably the most famous athlete on the entire planet."
The NASL stands for North American Soccer League.
"I just wish I owned the Tornados right now. I have been making offers, but Lamar Hunt and Bill McNutt are being stubborn. They are flatly refusing to sell the team to me this season, no matter what price I offer."
Margaux watched his face closely, "Why not go the other way, who currently owns the New York Cosmos?" she asked innocently, taking another slow sip of her warm coffee.
Duke's expression darkened slightly.
"The Cosmos are owned by Warner Communications," Duke replied, "Specifically, they are run by Steve Ross."
She offered him a soft smile, reaching out to gently trace the line of his jaw.
"Don't worry," Margaux whispered confidently, "You will get them next time. You always win in the end."
___