Herbert Allen and Matty Rosenhaus, meanwhile, were not reacting kindly to the news from Howard Holtzmann that the Columbia executives were assembling. It was suggested to Joe Fischer by phone Monday evening that "drumming up people to come in" was a violation of his responsibility to the company. (Fischer, who was spending the weekend at home in New Jersey, actually had played a minimal role in the recruitment, although he strongly favored it.) Matty Rosenhaus also telephoned Norman Levy, the studio's head of marketing and distribution, who was at home in Los Angeles, and told him it would be "improper" for him to come to New York—"a display of disloyalty."
"We can solve our own problems with Hirschfield," Rosenhaus said. "You have too much at stake, Norman, to get involved in this thing. It might hurt your career. I recommend that you not come."
Levy replied, "I've made my decision, Matty. I'm coming to New York, not as an act of disloyalty to the board, but in the hope of trying in some small way to make a contribution to the company in terms of Alan's problems."
By midnight in New York the rain had become torrential. By 3
A.M
.
it was leaking through the ceiling of H
erbert Allen's apartment at the Carlyle
. Herbert summoned the night porter and together they placed garbage cans under the leaks. Fay Vincent, who on Friday had been tentatively offered Hirschfield's job, was due at Allen's apartment at 8
a.m.
so that Herbert could take him to meet Rosenhaus. It was still raining when Vincent arrived.
"C'mon in, Fay," Herbert said. "If you get this job, I guarantee you'll live as well as I do." Vincent walked in and saw six streams of water flowing from the ceiling into six garbage cans in Herbert's elegant living room.
They were driven through the wet streets—deserted on that holiday morning—to the apartment of Matty Rosenhaus at the Pierre. By noon. Fay Vincent had Rosenhaus's blessing.
The East Hampton contingent drove into Manhattan t
hat afternoon. Hirschfield, Adler,
and Davis went to
Hirschfield
'
s office, along with Mark Maged,
who suddenly had become an important adviser. They were met there by Robert Haines, Hirschfield's personal lawyer; Sidney Silberman. the proxy-fight specialist whom Hirschfield and Adler had been
consulting; and Jonathan Rinehe
art, a Manhattan public-relations man.
Hirschfield
and Adler began removing sensitive material from their files and secreting it elsewhere in the building to guard against the possibility, however remote, that the entire executive team would be fired and their offices seized the next morning.
In St. Tropez, Dan Melnick had set his alarm for 6
a.m
.. five hours after his conversation with Adlcr. Leaving Marie-France at the villa, he set off for the Nice airport in his rented Mercedes. He was unfamiliar with the car and the road. While glancing about for a sign in the middle of a confusing intersection, he accidentally bumped another car. His gaze swung instantly from the cluster of signs to the other car, and he found himself looking at two irate police officers.
Melnick
had hit a police cruiser. The officers emerged from the cruiser shouting at Melnick. Knowing very little French, he got out of the Mercedes shouting.
"Faux pas! Faux pas!"
The policemen did not speak English. Although the damage was negligible, they ordered
Melnick
to pull off the road and laboriously inspected his driver's license, passport, and everything else in his wallet. Finally they let him go without so much as a written citation.
By the time he reached the Nice airport, his flight had left, but an accommodating Air France clerk helped him charter a private plane, which got him to Paris in time to catch his flight to New York. He was at JFK by four that afternoon. New York tim
e, in his suite at the Sherry Nethe
rland by 5:30, and in Alan
Hirschfield
's office by six.
The group at 711 Fifth Avenue considered each of Hirschfield's options—what he should do and say publicly and privately if he was fired and if he was not fired. Since Hirschfield and his advisers did not know precisely what the board would do—especially when confronted by the corporation's entire executive team—they could only make contingency plans. For the first time,
Hirschfield
confided to a wider group of people than just his lawyers and Allen Adler that he was considering a proxy fight. If he was fired the next day, he would have to mount the battle from outside the company— not a hopeless task but surely a daunting one.
Dan Melnick and Give Davis telephoned Herbert Allen during the evening and learned for the first time that Herbert already knew that the executives were gathering. The board meeting was scheduled for ten o'clock Wednesday morning. If there were to be other meetings, they would have to be early. Herbert agreed to confer with
Melnick
and Davis at Melnick's suite at the Sherry at 6:30
A.M
.
It surely would be the earliest meeting in the history of show business.
Recalling that room service at the Sherry Netherland did not open until seven. Melnick walked over to a delicatessen on Sixth Avenue after the Tuesday night session broke up and purchased some instant coffee and orange juice.
SIXTY
The earliest meeting in the history of show business launched one of the most extraordinary days in the history of show business or any business. The heads of the operating divisions of major corporations—whether they make light bulbs, electric generators, and TV sets (in the case of General Electric); or Chevrolets, Buicks, and Pontiacs (in the case of General Motors); or motion pictures, television programs, and pinball machines (in the case of Columbia Pictures Industries)—normally spend most of their time following orders and implementing policy. It is very unusual for them as a group to defy their immediate boss, the corporation's chief executive officer. It is truly extraordinary for them to march en masse to headquarters and make demands upon the corporation's ultimate autho
rity, the board of directors. If
it had ever happened before Wednesday. July 5, 1978, it had happened very rarely.
The rain had passed and Manhattan glistened in the early morning sun. The temperature was just edging upward past sixty and a north breeze braced the few people in the quiet streets. It was a day that belonged in April, not July.
Herbert Allen and Clive
Davis arrived at Melnick's suite at 6:30. Steaming cups of instant coffee were produced. Davis and Melnick told Allen that they wanted their mission to be constructive, not destructive, and that they wanted to help calm the strife, not inflame it further. But they were determined to sec the board. The rest of the executives were gathering at Columbia's suite at the Drake Hotel five blocks away, waiting for word of when and where the meeting would be held.
Herbert knew that a confrontation between the board of directors and the executives, all in a room together, would be volatile and difficult to control. There probably would be displays of temper. There might even be a rash of resignations. But Herbert also knew that a refusal by the board to sec the executives might have similar results. A refusal to meet would be regarded as deeply insulting, an act of high arrogance, and could be inflammatory. Herbert had given the dynamics of the moment a lot of thought over the weekend, and proceeded with what proved to be one of the more adept maneuvers of his business career.
"I want you fellows to be effective," he told
Melnick
and Davis, "and if you all come barging together into the board meeting and make a lot of demands, it won't be effective. The board will stiffen up and probably tell you to mind your own business. What you need to do to accomplish your purpose is t
o win them over. I'd like to see
this thing settled, but some of these board members are awfully upset. We're all upset with Alan's lett
er. So what I suggest is that we
do this in smaller groups. You divide yourself up into groups and each of us will see you individually. You can present your case, but it will be lower-key that way and you'll have a better chance of being effective." Davis and Melnick agreed.
Walking down Fifth a few minutes later. Herbert told Dan about Hirschfield's letter. Dan was sympathetic. It sounded to him as if Alan had been needlessly provocative and had exaggerated his grievances.
Although the dozen executives at the Drake were unanimous in their determination to confront the board and try to save Hirschfield, they felt very odd. They sensed the singular eccentricity of their unprecedented mission.
"It's bizarre, unreal, out of character, out of role, out of context, out of place," said Norman Horowitz, of the television division. "It's not as if we're trying to make a rational presentation with charts and graphs to try to convince them to buy or not buy another company. They won't even listen to a
rational
argument that Hirschfield is doing a good job. What we're doing isn't even based on business reality! It's based on—holy shit—this whole drama that's unfolded! We're talking about how to create a new drama to reverse the old drama! How do we deal with what's going on in Herbert Allen's head? How do we deal with what's going on dynamically with Matty?"
At 8
a.m
.. Davis and Melnick briefed the others and they adopted Herbert Allen's approach. It seemed reasonable—within the unreasonable setting. The executives divided into groups of three and at nine o'clock went to the Allen & Company offices where the board of directors, each in a separate office, awaited them. (
Hirschfield
, Fischer, and Adle
r did not participate.)
Through the morning, each in his own way, the division heads gave the directors the same message: We don't know everything that has transpired between you and
Hirschfield
, but whatever it is should be subordinated to the reality of
Hirschfield
's performance as president of the corporation. He may not be the most decisive executive in the annals of American business. He may have some annoying habits, such as not returning your phone calls. But he has presided in the last five years over one of the most dramatic turnarounds in history. He has brought talented people into this company. He has supported us in our individual businesses, each of which is doing well. Therefore, he should remain as president.
Furthermore, the executives said, two thieves do not mean that the company is "out of control." If you impose enoug
h controls to prevent the last 1
per
cent of the larceny, you will create a police state, you will spend more money policing larceny than you now lose from larceny, and you will destroy people's ability to conduct business. Each of us can certify that his business is f
irmly under control. However, we
have no objection to a study of the company's control systems, so long as the study is performed by a qualified and independent expert, and not by a man—Robert Stone—whom some of us know personally and will refuse to report to, and who we believe will be a disruptive force in the company.
Herbert Allen was uniformly cool, polite, and noncommittal toward each of the advocates. Matty Rosenhaus, however, while cordial toward the highest-ranking executives, Melnick and Davis, was angry and menacing toward those a step down the chain of command. Rosenhaus proclaimed that Hirschfield's letter to the board was one gigantic lie. Regarding the claim that the board had forced
Hirschfield
to reinstate Begelman. Rosenhaus declared: "Alan was free to do whatever he wanted without one bit of pressure from this board! He
chose
to bring David back! How dare you people come in here and say otherwise!"
Irwin Kramer as usual was belligerent. "This industry is full of selfish, spoiled, overpaid people, and most of them are replaceable," Kramer said. "I want you to know that I've got people I pay f
orty thousand dollars a year to,
and they're happy to have the forty thousand dollars, and there isn't a man in this group here today who doesn't take home an income well into six figures, and—"
Norman Horowitz interrupted. "You want to fuck up Columbia's businesses. Irwin? Just send some of your forty-thousand-dollar people out to run them!"
The meetings broke up at noon, and everyone went to the eleventh floor—the directors to the board meeting, and the executives to await the results of the board meeting.
A nearly hysterical Matty Rosenhaus opened the board meeting by expressing the board's "outrage" at Hirschfield's letter.
"I'm sorry feelings
are
running so high." Hirschfield replied, "but you have to realize that I've taken a pretty good beating over the last
nine months. I feel that what I
said in my letter was totally accurate. If it sounded harsh, it certainly represented my thinking and my emotions at the time. It's hard to have no emotions after nine months of living through a nightmare."
Each of the directors then read aloud letter
s that they had written to Jaffe
or directly to
Hirschfield
rebutting
Hirschfield
's letter.