Duke's leather shoes clicked against the concrete path.
He walked with his hands in his suit pockets.
Robert Evans followed a few steps behind, with no sunglasses today.
The mid-seventies were a transition. The founding generation was dying and corporate men were taking over.
Duke stopped at a well designed headstone with the name Adolph Zukor.
He'd lived to a 103 years old, and died while Duke was busy shooting Star Wars.
Orphaned by age seven, Hungarian immigrant Adolph Zukor started with just $25 in his pocket.
He built a thriving business in New York and Chicago before pivoting to penny arcades.
Recognizing the potential of cinema, he founded the Famous Players Film Company in 1912, eventually merging it into Paramount Pictures.
Born in Ricse, Hungary, in 1873, Adolph Zukor lost his father as an infant and his mother shortly thereafter.
Taken in by a rabbi uncle who wanted him to study theology, Zukor was determined to pursue a life in business.
And so by age 16, he had immigrated to the United States and began working as an apprentice in a fur store. He later opened his own fur shop.
Zukor was one of the first to recognize the limitations of short, crudely made films and envisioned a future where feature-length dramas were screened in theaters.
To realize this, he took a risk in 1912 by importing the full-length French film Queen Elizabeth which paid off nicely.
As president of Paramount, Zukor revolutionized Hollywood by being the first to control the 3 main pillars of the film industry: production, distribution, and exhibition.
Duke stared at the engraving.
Evans stayed back with his head bowed.
Duke sighed. "I never really spoke much with you," he said to the grave. "You were the last giant. I missed my chance."
He crouched, and brushed a fallen leaf off the granite. "But I know the foundation you poured."
He stood, adjusting his cuffs. "I'll make Paramount the strongest studio in history. I won't lose your spirit."
The words hung in the air.
He turned, nodded to Evans. They walked back down the path, leaving Zukor to rest while they returned to the world.
The limousine's leather seats were cool against Duke's back.
He unbuttoned his jacket, watched the cemetery gates shrink in the rear window.
Evans exhaled loudly beside him, and grabbed the crystal decanter of sparkling water.
As he reached, his hand brushed a manuscript beside Duke's briefcase. Evans snatched it, his producer instincts flaring.
"What's this?" He flipped past the cardstock cover. "You said you were taking a break. Don't tell me you're outlining the Jaws sequel already."
Duke smiled. "It's not a script. It's a book. Just a personal project."
Evans adjusted his reading glasses, scanned the first pages.
The title read Fullmetal Alchemist.
He frowned, reading about mechanical limbs, forbidden sciences, and two brothers trying to resurrect their dead mother.
"This is too different than what i like," Evans muttered.
Duke laughed. "It's about equivalent exchange. Sacrifice and loss. You can't gain without giving up something of equal measure."
He gestured to the manuscript. "It asks what a human soul is worth. Young men playing God, and suffering consequences."
Evans was skeptical, but curious. He tapped the binder against his knee, staring out the window at palm trees.
"You know, when Zukor built this town, things were simpler," Evans said, reflective now. "The moguls were fans, they loved movies, even fought over art."
Duke nodded. Mayer, Zanuck, Warner, all ruthless tyrants, but passionate.
"And now?" Duke prompted.
Evans scoffed, tossing the manuscript onto the empty seat. "Now? None of them are fans. Every one is a businessman from Wall Street. They don't care about films, only quarterly reports."
The corporate era had come for the industry.
"You're different, Duke." Evans pointed a finger. "You love this stuff, youre a writer in your spare time and care about lighting and character arcs, not just budgets."
Duke looked out the window as the Paramount gates came into view.
"Zukor's opponents loved pictures," Evans said, his tone turning serious as the car slowed at the security checkpoint.
"They fought over art. Your opponents? They fight over market share. It's sad if you think about it."
The limo passed through the gates, Duke knew Evans was right.
Although he did find a bit jarring that Evans, the man who had been so proud of doing a 'Jaws copycat' was now speaking about men obssesed with money.
"Then we'll win on both fronts, Bob," Duke said firmly, gathering his briefcase and manuscript. "We'll get box office numbers, and art. Our competitors will only become better once we step up"
___
The late afternoon sun casted long shadows across the lawns of Owlwood Estate.
Duke grabbed his briefcase as he stepped out of the car, and walked through the front door.
He dropped his keys on the entryway table, and loosened his tie.
"Bradley?" he called down the hallway.
A moment later, tiny footsteps came from the kitchen.
An 18 month-old Bradley rounded the corner, moving with speed, wearing blue overalls and a striped shirt.
A smiling nanny followed close behind.
"Dada!" Bradley shouted, arms outstretched.
Duke crouched, caught him, and lifted him high. "Hey, little guy. I missed you."
Bradley giggled, grabbed a handfuls of Duke's hair.
Duke carried his son into the living room where the carpets had a few scattered wooden blocks, a plush bear, and a painted toy rocket.
Duke didnt though it was a mess, if anything it added personality to the house.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, as Bradley wriggled out, grabbed the blocks.
The boy walked confidently now, practically running.
"He's been active," the nanny said, gathering stray toys. "Learned 3 new words. Figured out how to open the lower cabinets too."
Duke smiled, but a little guilt tugged at his chest for not knowing about it.
Bradley handed him a red block.
Duke accepted it with exaggerated gratitude, placed it on a tower.
Bradley knocked it over with a joyful shriek, clapping his tiny hands.
They played for an hour. Launching the rocket across the carpet.
As the evening sun dipped, Bradley's energy waned.
He rubbed his eyes, leaned against Duke's chest.
Within a few minutes, Bradley's breathing slowed and fell asleep against Duke's chest, small fingers gripping his shirt.
Duke also decided to take a nap on his own.
___
I have had a bad week, idk why, everything that could have gone bad... went bad. But anyways
Thoughs on next book(should be a graphic novel, either anime, videogames or something. But it will be a graphic novel instead of a book)