Love Conquers All

by Galia Albin

  Chapter 53

  “The magazine is going downhill,” Keiserman pronounced sternly. They were sitting in her office by the coffee table. Talia would not let him sit across her desk; after all, Keiserman had been her father’s best friend. He was a wise and modest man, very skilled at his profession and with a mild and pleasant disposition. He was the only one at the magazine, she felt, who truly cared for her and looked after her interests. She never regretted having brought him to the magazine, even though he didn’t always tell her what she wanted to hear.

  This meeting is not going to be very pleasant, Talia thought, and lifted her head. Like a little girl, she watched Keiserman’s lips, waiting for him to speak.

  “I want to resign from overseeing the magazine’s finances. You must understand, Talinka, it is not against you. You are the daughter of my dear friend, and I don’t want to upset you or myself, but I don’t enjoy my work here. You don’t’ take my advice, and I just sit here and watch the magazine eat up your money. If this continues, it will end badly. And I do feel a responsibility toward you and the children.”

  “But we get more readers every month!” she countered.

  “Our problem is not the readers. We have 83,000 subscribers, which is very nice for a small country like ours, and in such a short period of time! What the magazine lacks are advertisers. You must stop publishing those risqué articles and the nude pictures! You don’t realize the damage they cause to the magazine’s image, not to mention your own image. It really hurts me to watch all this happening.”

  “What’s going on with the ads?”

  “All the food and cosmetics companies have stopped advertising because of pressure from the religious community. They threatened to revoke the ritual permits of those who advertise here. The hotels have already stopped giving us their ads. We no longer receive bonuses like holidays and weekends. Even ‘neutral’ institutions, like banks and pension funds, won’t give us their business. The D.C.S. car company recanted at the last moment, afraid to antagonize the Orthodox Minister of the Interior. Nobody wants to get into trouble.”

  “So what do you suggest we do, Moshe? I’m paying you to give me good advice.”

  “Break your contract with Galiani and invest more effort in marketing, Talia. This is not impossible.”

  “This means a confrontation with a real sleaze ball, perhaps even getting involved with the Mafia.”

  “You have no choice, Talia. And frankly, I’m not worried. You do have a tendency to get into trouble, but you always know how to get out of it.” “Yeah, Jonathan used to say about such situations: fools rush in where angels fear to tread. I wonder what Jonathan would have said now.” Suddenly she felt tears choking her. “If Jonathan were alive, all this would not have happened.”

  “We have no time to waste on what might have been, Talinka. We must deal the here and now. Let me tell you what you’ve got in spades— charisma! So use your charm. It’s worth more than those lewd pictures. You must assume the responsibility for attracting advertisers. Organize events, participate in meetings with advertisers, plead with them, suck up to them; nobody ever died of flattery and fawning, neither the giver nor the receiver. And first and foremost, replace your adman. I may be older than he, but I have eyes and a younger head on my shoulders. You should be your own advertising executive. Listen, you have good ideas and excellent intuition.” When orthodox fanatics set fire to the “Ktav-Or” printing shop, there was no choice but to make another trip to Palm Beach, Florida, to confront Galiani and bring about the termination of the contract. Talia made a point of not announcing the purpose of her visit beforehand. Galiani’s representative in Israel, attorney Zeev Schwartzblatt, warned her of “unpleasantness, to put it mildly: Tommy doesn’t like his contracts being busted. He hates being on the losing side. I’m not telling you what to do, Talia, but you’d better be careful what you do.”

  On the way thee, she planned how to break the news to Galiani. Her heart pounded wildly as she ascended the marble stairs of his white castle. She barley glanced at the statues and priceless artifacts expressing the beauty of the human body—both male and female. This time, she was impervious to the megalomaniacal grandeur of one of the most famous and most photographed mansions in the world. She had no idea what and how to tell Galiani of her decision without infuriating him. He was a bilious, ill-natured person, a catholic-Italian who, for some reason, took a shine to Israel, but who would certainly not relish hearing about severing his ties to the land of the Savior.

  “Mr. Galiani, I’m terribly sorry, but I have to give you back the concession,” she said feebly. Galiani did not react. His massive body filled the armchair, making him look like an enormous beast.

  “Mr. Galiani,” she raised her voice a little, “I’ve come to tell you that we must put an end to our business relationship.”

  “You think I don’t know? My lawyer has already informed me,” Galiani barked at her, “I heard what you had to say, but it doesn’t concern me. You can’t annul the contract we had, do you hear?”

  “But Mr. Galiani, what would you do if you were in my shoes? Unfortunately, Israel is a clerical state. The time hasn’t come for a magazine like yours to be distributed there. Perhaps in the future...”

  “Don’t talk to me about the future, lady! I’m talking about the present here. And at present, ‘Hit’ continues to be distributed everywhere it is published. You don’t close down a Galiani magazine, ever! Nowhere in the world! You try to close down Galiani’s magazine, and you’ll have to deal with Galiani!”

  “But you don’t know what’s happening to me! You have no idea what they’re doing; they burned down the press, they bum up the papers! The advertisers ostracize me! I’m losing money.”

  “Then fight back! You think I had it easy? You think I didn’t have to fight? Nobody would give me their ads; my name was mud. But I fought and I won! I never sell less than five million copies a week now!”

  “But you’re in the U.S, not in Israel! It’s not the same, Mr. Galiani. Israel is a religious country. I get hate letters every day, full of threats. My children suffer. They are abused and reviled because of me! I can’t put up with this!”

  “Then pay me! You will pay to the last cent! And not just money! It may take me some time, but I’ll get to you and I’ll straighten you out, just wait and see!”

  Flustered and scared, Talia muttered something inaudibly. She saw the Italian aide walked into the room with a menacing expression on his face. Galiani did not look at her, he was shouting like a maniac, “Get out of here, bitch! Get the hell out this instant!”

  Through the law firm of Zeev Schwarzblatt, Galiani sued her for three million dollars for loss of reputation and income, but he lost the case, and the Israeli court found in favor of “society,” even though there was breach of contract with Galiani. Talia congratulated herself on having hired Yoram Messner, the best lawyer in town. Messner proved that the attacks of Orthodox groups on printing shops, kiosks and newsstands, and the religious coercion that prevented businesses from advertising in the magazine constituted force majeure, the redeeming clause that permitted one side to annul or invalidate a contract.

  It was a crushing triumph, and Talia who, throughout the trial, often felt like little David taking on the cruel giant goliath, breathed a sigh of relief. The magazine was awarded $10,000 for court expenses, half of which was paid to the lawyer, Yoram Messner. Talia had never been so happy to pay a lawyer.

  And yet, her happiness was not complete. Henceforth, she faced many years of anxiety and apprehension, fearing the long arm of the Mafia, Tommy Galiani’s Cosa Nostra.