The moment Michael Kingston agreed to lead as Edmond Dantès, pre-production for The Count of Monte Cristo surged forward with a swift, decisive momentum. Now officially designated as the studio's most prestigious project, this flagship film was intended to set the standard for the cinema. In the pivotal role of Mercedes, Michael was joined by Evelyn Richards, the studio's premier talent, who was tasked with portraying the emotional heart of the story.
To fill the crucial role of the treacherous Fernand Mondego, Michael signed a young, charismatic talent named King Baggot. Though Baggot was only at the dawn of his career in 1909, Michael recognized the raw screen presence and natural athleticism that made him the perfect foil to the brooding, calculating Count.
[Note: King Baggot was historically recognized as the first "King of the Movies" and the industry's first international superstar, whose legacy can be explored through his landmark roles in early cinema classics like the 1913 version of Ivanhoe].
For the role of the wise and tragic Abbé Faria, Michael reached out to William J. Ferguson, a veteran stage actor with over four decades of experience on the New York stage, known for a versatile career spanning dozens of major productions since his debut in the 1860s. Ferguson carried a professional weight that few other actors could claim, giving his performance as the dying prisoner a seasoned gravitas.
To play the cold, calculating prosecutor Villefort, Michael secured the services of George Arliss, a distinguished stage veteran who had built a formidable reputation over twenty years in London's West End before conquering Broadway in the early 1900s.
[Note: George Arliss was the first British actor to win an Academy Award—which he won for his performance as Victorian-era British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli in Disraeli (1929)].
Rounding out the conspirators was Lionel Barrymore as the greedy Philippe Danglars.
[Note: Lionel Barrymore was a future Academy Award winner and legendary character actor, famously remembered as Mr. Potter in It's a Wonderful Life, and the great-uncle of modern actress Drew Barrymore].
With the cast finalized, Michael turned his attention to the script, which he had personally streamlined into a visceral ninety-minute narrative. The most significant departure from Alexandre Dumas' original text was the complete removal of the Haydee subplot. Michael made this decision to keep the emotional focus squarely on the tragic relationship between Edmond and Mercedes. In this version, the motivation for Mercedes marrying Fernand was given a new layer: shortly after Edmond's arrest, Mercedes discovered she was pregnant with his child. Believing Edmond was dead and fearing for her son's future in a judgmental society, she married Fernand solely to give the child, Albert, a name and protection. The climax was where Fernand's disgrace ended not in a silent suicide, but in a brutal, high-stakes physical battle between him and Edmond—a duel that allowed Michael to showcase the Count's absolute mastery of combat.
The logistical scale of the production was equally unprecedented, with the production budget alone finalized at $150,000. To ground the film in geographic reality, Michael dispatched a second unit to France to capture actual exterior footage of the Château d'If. These haunting shots of the island fortress would then be integrated with the interior sets constructed on the Los Angeles lot, where massive stone cells were designed to accommodate advanced lighting and microphone placements.
The maritime sequences were allotted the highest portion of the cost, as Michael insisted on filming the ship scenes in actual water rather than against painted backdrops. Although the filming took place in the relatively shallow waters off the California coast to ensure the safety of the heavy camera rigs, it required a massive crew of hundreds to manage the period vessels and the movement of technical equipment across the tides. This painstaking preparation paved the way for a grueling production window.
**********
September 2, 1909: Los Feliz, Los Angeles
As the pre-production for The Count of Monte Cristo continued at the studio, Michael remained focused on his other businesses. That morning, he reviewed reports for Kingston General Stores, which had grown to 3,200 locations, staying on track for his goal of 4,000 by the end of 1910.
A sharp knock sounded at the door of the Los Feliz study. "Come in," Michael called out, not looking up from the retail ledger.
Jack Copper entered the room carrying a telegram with the official seal of the New York Court of Appeals. He placed the document on the mahogany desk, his expression reflecting professional satisfaction.
"The news we've been waiting for has finally arrived, sir," Jack said, his voice steady. "The litigation that has shadowed Kingston Motors for the last three years has officially concluded. The court has ruled entirely in our favor. The ALAM's case has effectively collapsed."
Michael finally leaned back, tapping a silver pen against his chin as he scanned the legal summary. For three grueling years, the Association of Licensed Automobile Manufacturers (ALAM) had attempted to force Kingston Motors into submission. This predatory cartel, which had its roots in the Manufacturers' Mutual Association before merging its interests with the Electric Vehicle Company to form the ALAM, utilized George Selden's U.S. patent for a "road engine" to collect royalties and gatekeep the industry. They had sought to tax the future by claiming ownership of the very concept of the gasoline carriage.
Selden, a Rochester patent lawyer by trade rather than an engineer, had never actually built a functioning version of his "road engine" during the long years his application sat in the patent office. It was a "paper patent" in the truest sense—a theoretical design for a carriage powered by a liquid-hydrocarbon engine. The design was laughably primitive, essentially a horse-drawn buggy with a crude, two-cylinder engine bolted to the front axle. It lacked a dedicated chassis, an integrated cooling system, or any of the sophisticated engineering that characterized a Benz or a Kingston vehicle. It was a legal snare rather than a mechanical invention, designed to catch an industry that Selden had accurately predicted but never had the skill to actually create.
The fundamental flaw in Selden's broad classification was his attempt to claim the entire concept of a gasoline-powered vehicle, rather than a specific mechanical process. In reality, the difference between his "road engine" and a modern Kingston motor was a matter of fundamental physics. Selden's patent was tied to the Brayton cycle—a two-stroke, constant-pressure combustion system that was heavy, inefficient, and essentially a high-pressure furnace. In contrast, every successful automobile on the road, from the Benz to the Kingston M-2, relied on the Otto cycle—a four-stroke, constant-volume process. To the court, Selden's claim was as scientifically unsound as a man holding a patent for a candle trying to collect a fee from the inventor of the electric lightbulb just because both produced illumination.
The Court of Appeals explicitly took this point as the cornerstone of their decision, ruling that a patent cannot grant a monopoly over a general concept while ignoring specific, non-infringing implementations. By affirming that the four-stroke technology utilized by Kingston was based on a separate mechanical principle from Selden's two-stroke theory, the court ruled decisively in favor of Kingston Motors.
For those three years, the ALAM had fought a relentless legal battle fueled by predatory greed, attempting repeatedly to secure injunctions to halt Kingston Motors' production lines. However, these efforts were met with a wall of judicial reality. By the time the cartel had sought a preliminary halt, Kingston Motors had expanded with such velocity that it had become a vital part of the American economy.
No judge in their right mind would grant a summary injunction against an industrial titan that was popular with both politicians and the general public. The courts recognized that stopping the lines would effectively sabotage national progress, and they refused to allow a legal loophole to obstruct a superior industrial reality.
Jack added with a look of profound relief crossing his face, "Without the threat of the Selden patent, the ALAM is a hollow shell. Their leverage over the industry is gone, and we no longer have to fear anyone."
Michael folded the legal summary, his expression unchanged by the victory. "They were never a threat, Jack. The true threat to Kingston Motors is compliance. We have to keep on innovating before the others catch up to us."
Jack understood the subtext immediately. Michael was undoubtedly thinking of Henry Ford, whose Model T had emerged as a formidable competitor to the Kingston M-1, offering similar rates and features that appealed to the common buyer. While the Kingston M-2 currently maintained a clear technological superiority, Michael knew that there was no assurance that such a lead would stay that way without constant advancement.
"And what about rubber, Jack? With our production lines expanding at this rate, our demand for raw latex will likely double before the year is out."
Jack pulled a separate file from his folder. "The situation is precarious. We are currently heavily dependent on German and British interests. However, Liberia is the key. The country is struggling with a massive German dependence, both commercially and politically, and they are searching for a way out of the European orbit."
"Do they want financial independence?" Michael asked.
"Desperately," Jack answered. "But they are drowning in debt to the British—roughly $1.58 million. It is a staggering weight that allows foreign powers to dictate their internal policy and land use."
Michael shook his head, a flicker of genuine sadness touching his eyes. For a man who could generate that amount of capital approximately in a single day, the idea that a sovereign state could be brought to its knees by such a sum was a stark reminder of the world's cruelty.
For a country situated on the West African coast with an estimated population of around one and a half million and a GDP of approximately $12 million to $15 million, the math was impossible. Their total annual revenue barely reached $380,000, collected mostly through meager taxes and customs duties. These taxes were insufficient to both run the country's basic infrastructure and service the mounting debt. As a result, the interest and fees alone consumed nearly every cent, causing the principal to slowly and relentlessly accumulate. It left the government unable to pay its own soldiers or maintain its roads. It was a debt designed not to be repaid, but to turn a republic into a permanent financial colony held by private British bondholders.
"$1.58 million?" Michael repeated, the figure tasting like ash. "We can settle that entire debt without even blinking, Jack, but for a country like Liberia, it is everything. It's the price of their soul. Tell them we are prepared to pay off Liberia's national debt in its entirety."
Michael leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. "But we won't follow the British model. Tell them the agreement is this: we settle their debt, and we do not interfere in their internal financial affairs or governance. In exchange, we want a ninety-nine-year lease on the rubber-growing lands in the interior. Furthermore, we want the right to open Kingston banks, general stores, and factories on their soil. We will bring our motors to their roads and manufacture the full breadth of the Kingston catalog in local factories—but ensure the labor contracts are built on a foundation of fair, dignified wages. I have no interest in the starvation pay of the European colonies; I want a workforce that is empowered to participate in the very market we are creating."
Jack paused, his pen hovering over the notepad as he processed the shift. "So, rather than a debt colony, you're proposing an industrial partnership?"
"An ecosystem, Jack," Michael corrected. "We provide the capital to clear their past and the infrastructure to build their future. We get the raw materials we need and a dedicated market that grows as we grow. It's a fair trade—the kind that builds a foundation instead of a cage."