The conference room on the 42nd floor of DoubleClick's Midtown headquarters was a cathedral of quiet precision. Sunlight sliced through the floor-to-ceiling glass, illuminating the polished walnut table like a stage under spotlights. Six men walked in from the cold — heavy coats, expensive watches, too many opinions — and not a single one expecting what was about to unfold.
James stood already waiting, arms folded, posture relaxed, like a chess master who'd already played the endgame in his head.
The delegation from Westwood One came expecting a pitch — something modest, maybe a series A investment opportunity. They'd brought with them a war chest and a mindset sharpened by decades in terrestrial radio: buy equity, extract value, ride out the internet hype.
But James had no intention of letting them buy a single share.
"Gentlemen," he began as they settled in, his tone calm, confident — not warm, not cold, just... exact. "Before we talk numbers, let's talk context."
He turned to the whiteboard and began sketching three curves: Radio. Television. Internet. The lines intersected at a brutal, undeniable future.
"I know why you're here. You're looking for a stake in the next rocket ship before it takes off. That's fair. You've got capital, infrastructure, history — and fear. The kind that hides behind balance sheets and legacy cash flow."
He uncapped a marker and circled the "Radio" curve as it dipped.
"You're watching listenership fragment. Advertisers are drifting to digital. You bought 5,000 affiliates in five years just to keep scale. You dominate sports and talk radio — NFL, NCAA, coast-to-coast syndication — but the gravity's shifting. Fast."
He looked up at them now, piercing, surgical.
"You came to invest in my company. To buy in with cash."A pause. He smiled.
"I'm not interested in your money."
The room stiffened. One exec blinked, as if hearing a foreign language.
"I'm interested in your infrastructure," James continued, walking toward the projection screen. "Your national radio grid. Your affiliate syndication power. Your audience command. The people trust you. But trust is a currency — and I'm offering you a way to multiply it."
He clicked the remote. The screen lit up with a sleek, minimalist interface:AdNova — pulsing quietly like the heartbeat of a machine learning god.
"This," James said, "is the most advanced audio monetization platform on the planet."
They leaned forward.
"You don't need to invest in me. You need to integrate with me."
Another click. The screen shifted. Words appeared, bold and sharp like headlines.
What Westwood One Gains From AdNova
1. Audience Matching"AdNova analyzes historical listener behavior across your 5,000 affiliates. NFL, NCAA, Rush Limbaugh, late-night jazz in Toledo — we match ad slots to real-time demographic fingerprints. No more gut-feel scheduling. It's audience science."
2. Smarter National Buys"Right now, you manually juggle ad buys across dozens of regional networks. AdNova automates the whole process — national campaigns get deployed with surgical precision. Faster deals. Less friction. More revenue."
3. Revenue Uplift"Dynamic pricing. Just like airline seats. When demand spikes — Friday before Super Bowl, morning talk in swing states — AdNova raises rates in real time. That's a direct lift to your bottom line."
4. Advertiser Self-Service"Right now, you need a sales team to onboard every local mattress shop and political candidate. With AdNova, they can launch campaigns themselves. You unlock long-tail advertisers you're currently leaving on the table."
5. Data Feedback Loop"Every campaign generates region-by-region results. AdNova feeds you the insights — which shows convert, which stations underperform, what listeners really engage with. That's not just advertiser value. That's programming strategy."
6. Offline + Online Sync"You're not just a radio network anymore. With DoubleClick, we can offer advertisers cross-channel campaigns — radio plus banner plus video. One dashboard. Total coverage."
7. Brand Modernization"This partnership plants a flag. Westwood One becomes the first legacy broadcaster to fully integrate next-gen tech. You stop being the dinosaur. You become the meteor."
Silence. Tension. Impact.
One of the older execs — silver hair, serious watch, blue-chip stare — leaned back.
"You want us to give you infrastructure... in exchange for software?"
James chuckled lightly. "No. I want partnership. I bring the brain. You bring the body. We move together, or we become prey for the digital swarm."
Another exec, younger, skeptical: "And how do we control anything in this setup? What stops you from replacing us once you're in?"
James's gaze sharpened, not cruel but unshakable.
"Control?" he echoed. "Gentlemen, you don't control the future. You co-architect it — or you're made irrelevant by it. This isn't a hostile takeover. It's a time machine. I'm offering you a seat on the next train."
He let that linger. Then moved in for the close — slow, deliberate, each word carved from certainty.
"Sign with me now, and Westwood One becomes the first fully programmatic national radio network in America. AdNova turns your stations into intelligent ad reactors. You keep your brand. You keep your voice. I just make sure it survives the century."
The execs exchanged glances. No one reached for the investment documents they'd brought. No one said no. Not yet.
James saw the hesitation. And he twisted the knife — gently.
"You came with checkbooks. I'm offering you a compass."
Then, with a soft finality, almost like prophecy:
"The broadcast war is coming. AdNova is your shield."
The silence broke with a slow, approving nod from the silver-haired executive.
"You speak like a man from the future, Mr. Callowy," he said. "And I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."
Another added, "We didn't expect this. But we'd be idiots to walk away blind."
The tone had shifted. Less defensive, more intrigued — even reverent.
"What kind of agreement are you proposing?" the younger executive asked, adjusting his cufflinks, eyes now focused.
James tapped the remote one last time. A clean slide appeared, titled simply:
Agreement Type: Radio Network Syndication & Data Sharing Deal
What James Offers Westwood One:
2% equity in DoubleClick
Exclusive pilot program for personalized radio ad targeting using AdNova
Co-sponsored campaigns using real-time radio feedback data
Early access to a planned cross-platform analytics dashboard
What Westwood One Must Provide:
Airtime slots for pilot campaigns at no cost for 6 months
Integration of AdNova into their radio ad stack — targeting by genre, region, demographics
Listener engagement and demographic data across affiliates
National co-branding: DoubleClick named publicly as their ad tech innovation partner
James leaned in, voice calm but unmistakably dominant.
"You get the tools of tomorrow — today. I get your reach. We both win."
There was a moment of collective silence. Then the senior executive gave a short nod.
"Bring the draft agreement to our legal team. We'll review it back in Washington."
He looked at James with a mix of caution and respect.
"You'll have our answer soon. But... this is damn compelling."
James smiled. Another wall had fallen.
As the Westwood One executives filed out, their polished shoes echoing against the floor, Marcus turned slowly toward James, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Where the hell did you find the time to draft a full agreement… and memorize their entire affiliate portfolio?"
James gave a half-smirk, loosening his collar with one hand. "Lunch."
Marcus blinked. "Lunch? You did all that over lunch?"
James opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, the assistant cracked the conference room door open with practiced urgency.
"Sir," she said, her voice crisp. "The Gannett team is here."
James straightened his jacket, the faintest glimmer of mischief in his eye.
"Perfect," he murmured. "Let's keep the pulse going."
Three sharp-suited executives from Gannett Company entered, ushered in with a cordial nod by James's assistant. They moved with the composed air of legacy powerhouses — the type who still trusted print margins and believed scale was the only moat they needed. One of them paused briefly, eyes catching the USA Today front page from 1982 framed on the far wall. Nostalgia lingered in their footsteps.
James didn't wait for them to sit before speaking.
"Gentlemen," he said, striding to the head of the table like it was wired to his nervous system. "You don't sell newspapers. You sell trust. Across ninety dailies, a dozen local TV stations, and the kind of brand equity startups would kill for — you own the public square."
He gestured toward the glass wall behind him, now glowing faintly with sunlight from the east. "But even town criers had to evolve."
They sat, instinctively attentive.
James clicked a remote, and a sleek dashboard lit up on the embedded conference screen. It showed a simulation: a mid-sized furniture store in Des Moines, struggling to spend $8,000 on advertising without knowing who to call — TV rep? Print? Radio? Digital?
James looked at the Gannett execs, smile as sharp as the tie he wasn't wearing.
"That's your customer. And that's their problem."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Now imagine this — they never have to call anyone again."
A mock-up of AdNova appeared. The UI was clean, drag-and-drop, intuitive even to the technophobic. Templates preloaded. Campaign goal selected. Channels matched by AI in seconds. A map lit up, showing placements across Gannett's own empire — local newsprint, regional TV, a digital banner on a mid-tier sports site, a morning radio plug.
"All booked," James said. "In under five minutes."
One exec blinked. "And that covers TV, print, digital... all of it?"
"All of it. One click. One invoice. One data pipeline."
Another executive leaned in, tapping the edge of the tablet mock-up. "But that would completely change how we sell."
"Exactly," James said, eyes glinting. "You consolidate operations, reduce friction, and unlock modern ad flow. Think about it—right now, each division operates like its own kingdom. AdNova makes it one empire."
They shifted in their seats.
He continued, voice smooth and certain. "A small business logs in, picks a goal, selects a budget — and boom: their campaign goes live across USA Today, a couple local papers, maybe your evening news segment, and even local radio. That kind of cross-media buy was impossible before."
"Without calling a sales rep?"
"Self-serve. Intuitive. Tailored for SMBs. We're talking manpower savings for you, and speed for them. No back-and-forth. No faxes. No voicemails."
The screen shifted again, this time showing heat maps of underutilized ad inventory — blank print slots, off-hour TV, unbooked radio promos.
James walked slowly around the table as he spoke. "You've got ad space going stale every week. AdNova fills that — dynamically, smartly. It doesn't just find any advertiser. It finds the right one, and suggests the right slot, based on audience match, inventory health, and market demand."
One of the execs frowned. "But how do we maintain relationships if advertisers never talk to reps?"
"You retain your top-tier buyers," James said, "but you unlock a whole new layer beneath that — local bakeries, clinics, online stores. Clients who never thought they could afford to advertise. You make it easy for them to come in, run ads, and come back. You're not losing control — you're gaining scale."
Silence held for a moment as they processed that.
"And let's not forget," he added, "this gives you a tech edge. Hearst, Tribune — they don't have this. Not even close. You leapfrog them without spending a cent on R&D."
The lead executive nodded slowly, "So you're saying we can sell more ads, more often, with less staff — and bring in clients who were too small or overwhelmed before?"
"Exactly. More efficient sales. More sell-through. Especially of the leftover spots."
"And national buys?"
James's eyes lit up.
"Let me show you this."
He tapped the screen. A new dashboard appeared — national brand campaign simulation.
"Before, you had to negotiate with every region separately. Now? One click. Boom — Gannett becomes a unified national platform."
He folded his hands, not as a gesture of politeness — but dominance.
"You modernize. You scale. You reduce cost. You retain customers. You win."
He slid a slim folder across the table. Inside: mock campaign dashboards, integration maps with Gannett's CMS and ad inventory systems, a sample regional impact report, and a single-page term sheet.
"My offer is simple. Preferred access to your advertising inventory across all Gannett properties — print, local TV, digital. In exchange? 3% of DoubleClick."
One of the execs raised an eyebrow. "No cash investment?"
"Nope. Not a dime. I'm not here for your capital. I'm here for your channels."
Agreement Type: Preferred Inventory & Data Access Partnership
What James Offers Gannett:
3% equity in DoubleClick
Preferred AdNova integration with Gannett's media assets
Dedicated client onboarding portal built into Gannett's websites
Custom dashboards showing ad performance across their properties
First access to multi-format campaign templates (TV, print, radio, digital)
What Gannett Must Provide:
Priority access to ad inventory slots for AdNova campaigns
Cross-platform data feed (impressions, conversions, reader engagement, etc.)
Permission to brand DoubleClick as a Gannett innovation partner
Internal coordination between ad teams and AdNova AI interfaces
Why Gannett Would Agree:
Increased ad revenue with zero up-front cost
Streamlined ad booking system for thousands of SMBs
Competitive edge over regional papers and slower media conglomerates
Brand modernization — Gannett becomes a media-tech hybrid overnight
The lead executive nodded slowly, eyes never leaving James.
"We'll need to review this internally."
"Of course," James said smoothly, collecting the remaining folders with surgical elegance. "Take your time. But not too much time."
As the Gannett team stood to leave, cordial but clearly affected, Marcus exhaled beside him. "That went better than expected."
James just smiled, already tracking the next play in his mind.
The assistant returned, opening the door with impeccable timing.
"Sir, the Interpublic team has arrived."
James turned toward the light, a quiet confidence settling over him like armor.
"Show them in."