William White had to return to the U.S. The situation was really strange, as the Futures Trading Commission had suddenly flipped out.
This was actually expected. The Hunter family had gone completely off the rails. Silver was exceeding forty dollars per ounce, enough to drive anyone crazy!
William White didn't care about the fate of others. Why were they even investigating his trading account? Were they planning to use him as a scapegoat?
William White wasn't going to take it lying down. If anyone dared touch his wallet, he was absolutely going to show them a thing or two.
Anyone with eyes knew that the catfight between the two families was over -- with the White family victorious in their great escape. Now, they were buying planes and mansions just to rub it in.
The trading markets in Chicago and New York knew the scoop. Now, it was just about trying one's luck.
The Trade Commission had been played by the Hunter family once before with the soybean contracts, and now they were humiliating themselves again.
"Fulton, let our lawyers notify them and prepare a lawsuit. I will hold a press conference tomorrow afternoon, questioning why they intentionally failed to regulate, allowing over seventy percent of the silver to fall into the Hunters' hands, aiding them in manipulating silver prices."
Fulton was dumbfounded upon hearing this. Could he really say it like that? But upon thinking it over, it actually made sense, and at least a lot of the public would believe it.
Conspiracy theories were prevalent in every era. It's just a question of whether they dared to take the blame.
The Hunter family had been setting this up for ten years. The amount of silver they held was in the billions by now.
How much silver did the market actually need annually?
Just twenty million ounces would suffice.
You guys decided to keep quiet for bigger transaction commissions, and now that things went off the rails, you're coming out swaggering.
I must ask, did you all lose your marbles?
Silver had already surpassed forty dollars. This was a game of a thousand dollars driving twenty thousand units; a 0.5% fluctuation meant bankruptcy. Was there such a laughable trade anywhere else in the world?
Could the insiders not know?
William White's accusations of enabling were understated; calling it collusion wouldn't be too much.
It was all for the sake of profit. If they raised the price of the futures contracts, trading volume would naturally take a hit.
Had the Hunter family not gone overboard, the trading centers wouldn't have intervened. Bought-out losses were deserved.
Trying to mess with William White was just envy at its finest, and most infuriating of all, he simply stopped playing.
...
After dealing with the Trading Commission, William White continued his filming work. With lawyers squabbling with the jerks, he wasn't concerned.
The movie shoot was sporadic, but the crew wasn't too uncomfortable. William White's films were like templates, much like an assembly line product.
This approach drew criticism from many seasoned folks who saw it as a desecration of the art of film.
"Ha, when your box office surpasses mine, I'll naturally respect your art. Right now, I'm still broke and need to fill my belly before thinking of anything else."
William White's remote response left several old fellows fuming.
For those babbling about art, just make the films you like. Why belittle others?
Hollywood in this era was in a bit of an identity crisis. People making commercial films wanted to appear prestigious, while those making serious films desired box office success.
Now, the veneer was ripped off mercilessly -- fill your stomach first, or you'll starve to death.
No one believed William White was poor. Home Alone's box office stopped at 150 million, but global earnings exceeded 250 million.
Say what you will; he succeeded, and not just once.
William White saw through it -- someone was stirring the pot again.
...
William White didn't have time to worry. He needed to finish filming quickly, as post-production time was tight.
He didn't yet know how they were going to market the new Star Wars film. If they threw in more than 10 million, the entire summer box office might explode.
Money is a good thing. For Lucas, it was hard to resist being generous.
Some felt promotion was unnecessary, as commercial surveys showed huge audience anticipation for the film.
Lucas certainly wanted promotion. His interests extended beyond box office. His big earnings came from merchandise. If the movie reached new heights, he could just rake in cash passively.
Despite all efforts, Lucas barely secured five million for marketing, refusing even to make a trailer citing concerns over film leaks.
Knowing this absurd reason, William White almost burst out laughing. He needn't worry anymore. This film would likely have the same fate as its historical counterpart, just a $200 million American box office.
Beverly Hills Cop was spaced out by more than a month, so it shouldn't suffer much impact.
William White's career was developing fast, meaning he'd have less time to direct movies himself. He had to find a suitable director for his series films.
It was like changing chefs -- get a good one, and the restaurant thrived. Choose poorly, and you'd lose regular customers.
*****
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