When Hollywood Had a King

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by Connie Bruck


  Legislative material, 122 Congressional Record §13,384, Aug. 4, 1976.

  Articles

  Anson, Robert Sam. “Hurricane Charlie.” Vanity Fair, Apr. 2001.

  Berges, Marshall. “Lew and Edie Wasserman: The Movie Usher Grew Up to Be Chairman of the Board.” Los Angeles Times, Dec. 2, 1973.

  Gottschalk, Earl C., Jr. “If It’s Show Business, Chances Are MCA Inc. Is Deeply Involved in It.” Wall Street Journal, July 10, 1973.

  Hersh, Seymour M., with Jeff Gerth. “Double Life of Sidney Korshak.” New York Times, June 27–30, 1976.

  Maslin, Janet. “Film: Golden Ages; Just Before They Invented the Blockbuster.” New York Times, May 1, 1994.

  Scheer, Robert. “Line Drawn Between Two Worlds.” Los Angeles Times, Jan. 30, 1978.

  Schuyten, Peter J. “How MCA Rediscovered Movieland’s Golden Lode.” Fortune, Nov. 1976.

  Steiger, Paul E. “Sidney Korshak: Man Who Makes Things Happen.” Los Angeles Times, Sep. 15, 1969.

  Miscellaneous

  Stein, Jules. Letter to the Trustees of the Jules Stein Eye Institute, Franklin D. Murphy Papers, Department of Special Collections, Charles E. Young Research Library, University of California, Los Angeles.

  Stein, Jules. Unpublished draft of a memoir, based on interviews with Stein by Murray Schumach.

  CHAPTER 5: WASSERMAN & SON

  Documents

  United States of America v. Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc.; Getty Oil Company; MCA, Inc.; Paramount Pictures Corporation; and Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation, U.S. District Court, Southern District of New York, 1980.

  Books

  Pye, Michael, and Lynda Myles. The Movie Brats. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1979.

  Reischauer, Edwin O. The Japanese Today: Continuity and Change. New York: Longitude, 1995.

  Articles

  Articles in Mainichi Shimbun and Yomiuri Shimbun, October–December 1990.

  Bruck, Connie. “Leap of Faith.” New Yorker, Sep. 9, 1991.

  “Down to the Wire on Fin-Syn.” Broadcasting, Oct. 24, 1983.

  Egan, J. “A Hollywood Thriller: MCA v. the Sharks.” U.S. News & World Report, Sep. 7, 1987.

  Fabrikant, Geraldine. “A Movie Giant’s Unfinished Script.” New York Times, Oct. 20, 1985.

  Harris, Kathryn. “MCA Takes the Cautious Road as Competitors Plunge Ahead.” Los Angeles Times, Nov. 22, 1981.

  Kroll, Jack, with David T. Friendly. “The Wizard of Wonderland.” Newsweek, June 4, 1984.

  Lardner, James. “The Betamax Case.” New Yorker, Apr. 6 and Apr. 13, 1987.

  “Networks Nervous over Reagan Briefing from FCC’s Fowler.” Broadcasting, Oct. 10, 1983.

  Robb, David. “Evans Paints ‘Picture’ of Korshak ‘the Consigliere.’” Hollywood Reporter, Aug. 19–21, 1994.

  CHAPTER 6: LOST EMPIRE

  Articles

  Archerd, Army. “Home Is Close to Edie’s heart.” Variety, July 9, 1996.

  Bruck, Connie. “Bronfman’s Big Deals.” New Yorker, May 11, 1998.

  Davis, David. “A Well-Nourished Mogul.” Los Angeles Magazine, Oct. 27, 2002.

  Deutsch, Susan. “LEW!” California Magazine, Mar. 1985.

  Dunne, Dominick. “The Last Emperor.” Vanity Fair, Apr. 1996.

  Farhi, Paul. “The Man Who Remade Hollywood; Lew Wasserman Fades Out Quietly After Changing the Face of Show Biz.” Washington Post, July 23, 1995.

  Rose, Frank. “Twilight of the Last Mogul.” Los Angeles Times, May 25, 1995.

  Miscellaneous

  Wasserman, Lew. Oral history, interviewed by Joe B. Frantz, LBJ Library Oral History Collection, Dec. 21, 1973.

  Acknowledgments

  When I decided to write this book, I had no idea whether the voices of my two protagonists, Lew Wasserman and Jules Stein, would be heard in any fresh way. I was immensely heartened, therefore, when Wasserman decided to talk to me (ambivalent though he was). I warmed to him over the course of our interviews; he was a pale reflection of the commanding, ruthless figure he had been, and I found myself sometimes straining to align the two. I often thought that I would have preferred to write about him when he was Lew Wasserman—rather than now, at the end of his remarkable life, when he was old, ailing, and dispossessed, and an infinitely softer, more sympathetic subject. I did my best, in any event, to get him right, earlier and later, and I wrote always believing that he would read the book (most of it was written before he died) and looking forward, more or less, to his review. I remain very grateful to him. As for Stein, it was his daughter, Jean Stein, who made it possible for her father to speak in these pages. She was so unstintingly generous (while never breathing a syllable of a query about how her father’s story was turning out) that it is difficult for me to express the depth of my gratitude to her. I know that Jean, a biographer, respected the process; but she might have respected it and still not been nearly as magnanimous as she was.

  From the start, my partner in this undertaking was my editor, Ann Godoff, the former president, publisher, and editor-in-chief of Random House. It was her instinctive enthusiasm for this book (I sometimes thought she grasped its scope better than I did) that brought me to Random House. She had promised me she would give the manuscript her close attention, despite the press of her other duties, and she was as good as her word. She read with alacrity the sections I submitted. When I was at a complete loss for a title, she made it her mission to find it—calling with one idea after another, for weeks on end, as though it were her most important task, until finally she had the right one. She edited the manuscript closely at the end. She was extravagant in her praise, but she also told me flat out that my first attempt at an introduction was not usable—and by that time I trusted her so implicitly that all I wanted was to be able to write one she liked. This happy collaboration came to an abrupt end when Ann was fired in late January 2003. The book, on the verge of moving into production, seemed orphaned. However, within days of Ann’s departure, Jonathan Karp stepped into the breach. He read the manuscript promptly and offered valuable suggestions, which I scrambled to implement. I am singularly lucky he was there, I admire his talents, and I appreciate enormously everything he’s done; but he would be the first to say that this is Ann’s book.

  I am grateful to my friend and formidable agent, Binky Urban, who was very much there when I needed her, in the aftermath of Ann’s departure, and who consistently extended herself for me—seeming to ingest sections of the book whole when I sent them, never leaving me in suspense about her reaction for longer than a weekend. At Random House, I am grateful, too, to Meredith Blum, who as Ann Godoff’s assistant was attentively shepherding the book, and to Jonathan Jao, who took over when Meredith left, and displayed such care, taste, and efficiency that I came to rely on him enormously. Thanks to Libby McGuire, the associate publisher; to Steve Messina, in charge of production, for his hard work and outstanding patience; to Dan Rembert, who designed the book’s cover; to Casey Hampton, who did its interior design; and to Elizabeth Fogarty, the book’s talented publicist. Thanks also to Laura Goldin, for her legal advice and good judgment. My photo researcher, Larry Schwartz, did an outstanding job on a tight time schedule, and photographer Stephanie Diani, while a perfectionist, made sitting for my picture not so onerous.

  I especially want to thank my friends at The New Yorker. Its editor, David Remnick, has been extraordinarily patient with my extended leave—and I owe him. Pieces I wrote for the magazine have found their way into this book, albeit in altered form, and it has been excerpted, too, in The New Yorker. So, as always, I am in the debt of my longtime, cherished friends and editors, John Bennett and Dorothy Wickenden. Thanks, also, to my numerous other colleagues at the magazine who have helped to make my pieces better, and life more enjoyable. I hope the many will forgive me for mentioning just the few: Martin Baron, Virginia Cannon, Perri Dorset, Henry Finder, Ann Goldstein, Dana Goodyear, Eleanor Gould, Mary Hawthorne, Pamela McCarthy, Erin Overbey, Elizabeth Pearson-Griffiths, Maurie
Perl, Lauren Porcaro, Nandi Rodrigo, and Amy Tubke-Davidson. I am also grateful to the magazine’s former editor, Robert Gottlieb, who brought me to The New Yorker, and who assigned me to write about the sale of MCA to Matsushita, back in 1991 (my introduction to Lew Wasserman). I owe a great deal, in addition, to Tina Brown; among a host of other things, it was under her aegis that I wrote about the metamorphosis of MCA, headed by Edgar Bronfman, Jr.

  I am extremely indebted to my research assistants. Quite a few came and went, over the five-year course of this project: John Dietrick, Lisa Fingeret, Jennifer Hamm, Todd Hurvitz, and Katy O’Connell. They were all diligent and provided valuable help. It was Kathryn Beaumont, however, who worked for me for the longest period of time, and—because of her curiosity, acumen, sound judgment, and commitment to the project—I came to rely on her the most.

  I was fortunate to encounter a number of dedicated and generous archivists. Linda Seelke, at the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library, in Austin, consistently went out of her way to respond to my myriad requests. Her colleagues, Claudia Anderson and Kyla Wilson, were also very helpful. At the Margaret Herrick Library at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in Los Angeles, Barbara Hall guided me to illuminating material, very important to the book; and she was a pleasure to work with as I returned to the library again and again. At the National Archives, John Powers led me through the maze of the Nixon Presidential Materials Project, and David Paynter also lent considerable assistance; without their help, my research there would have taken much longer, and been far less rewarding. Megan De Noyer, at the Kennedy Library in Boston, took an interest in this project, too, as did Steven Plotkin. I am indebted to the Columbia University Oral History Project in New York, where Alexander Freund, Gregory Culler, and Kate Foster lent their assistance. Thanks, too, to Ann Sindelar, of the Western Reserve Historical Society, in Cleveland, Ohio; to Ned Comstock, at the University of Southern California Cinema-Television Library, in Los Angeles; to Russell L. Martin III at the Degolyer Library at Southern Methodist University, in Dallas; and to Jeanie Child, on the archives staff of the Office of the Circuit Court Clerk of Cook County, in Chicago. I am grateful to Valerie Yaros, at the Screen Actors Guild, for providing long-ago photos from the Guild’s archives.

  Thanks to Wayne Johnson, at the Chicago Crime Commission. And, also, to Linda Colton of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Sam Morrison of the U.S. Justice Department, and Hannah Hall and Reba Freeman of the Securities and Exchange Commission, all of whom responded to my Freedom of Information requests at their respective agencies.

  I am singularly grateful to Alice Berman, who spent an inordinate amount of time and energy to help me with research materials that were absolutely vital to the telling of this story.

  Among the friends whose advice I sought on portions of the manuscript were Peter Baumbusch, Lucy Eisenberg, Ken Goldman, Bill Kilberg, and Nick Nicholas. Another friend, Ken Mate, gave me the benefit of his investigative skills. John Schulman of Warner Bros. was especially helpful in handling my permissions request when time was short. And I also owe special thanks to a number of fellow journalists who shared insights and, in some cases, files with me: Lowell Bergman, Gary Cohen, Jim Drinkhall, Pat McGilligan, Warren Olney, Maurice Posseley, Dave Robb, Robert Scheer, Murray Schumach, and Sandy Smith. I am especially indebted to Sandy—for his recollections, and the carton of documents he sent.

  Family members generally come last in these lists, but they are of course the most important. To begin, I want to thank my aunt, Doris Bornstein, who has been my devoted reader all my life, and who—though she is very ill—swore to me that she would not miss the publication of this book.

  As ever, I am immensely grateful to my son, Ari Schlossberg. Much as he suffered the writing life involuntarily when he was a child, now that he is an adult he has chosen that life for himself, and his extraordinary talent and accomplishments have buoyed my spirits on the most dismal of writing days. For his balanced judgment, keen insight, leavening humor, and innate generosity, I cannot thank him enough. My three stepchildren, Adam, Jake, and Cara Levine, have also learned now what it is like to live with someone writing a book; it was not always easy, but they generally remained their good-natured, highly engaging, lovable selves, and I appreciate their forbearance. I am grateful, too, to Dena and Irv Schechter, and Shirley Levine, for welcoming me so wholeheartedly into their family, and overlooking my being derelict in countless ways as I struggled to finish this book. It was my husband, Mel Levine, however, who bore the brunt of the process, as he witnessed my absorption and travails, close up. It still amazes me—he’s not a saint—that he remained consistently steady, cheerful, sympathetic, encouraging, and (perhaps most important) interested in this project over its long life. My beloved companion, he was also my mainstay, my trusted sounding board, my counselor, my first reader, my proofreader at the end (and the best chapter titles were his). I always believed writing a book had to be a fundamentally solitary pursuit for me; but he has proven me wrong, to my unending delight.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Connie Bruck has been a staff writer at The New Yorker since 1989; she frequently writes about business and politics for the magazine. In 1996, her profile of Newt Gingrich, “The Politics of Perception,” won the National Magazine Award for reporting. She has won two Front Page Awards from the Newswomen’s Club of New York for her 1990 piece “Deal of the Year” and her 1997 piece about Tupac Shakur. She has also won a 1991 Gerald Loeb Award for excellence in business reporting, and a 1991 National Magazine Award for Reporting. Bruck is the author of two books: Master of the Game, about Steve Ross and Time Warner, which was published in 1994, and The Predators’ Ball, published in 1988, about junk bond impresario Michael Milken. She lives in Los Angeles.

  ALSO BY CONNIE BRUCK

  Master of the Game

  The Predators’ Ball

  Copyright © 2003 by Connie Bruck

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House, an imprint of The Random House Ballantine Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Bruck, Connie.

  When Hollywood had a king : the reign of Lew Wasserman, who leveraged talent into power and influence / Connie Bruck.

  p. cm.

  1. Wasserman, Lew. 2. Chief executive officers—United States—Biography. 3. Music Corporation of America—History. I. Title.

  PN2287.W4525B73 2003

  338.7'617914'092—dc21

  [B] 2003041418

  Random House website address: www.atrandom.com

  eISBN: 978-1-58836-299-5

  v3.0_r1

 

 

 


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