Since the meal went pleasantly, the contract was naturally signed just as smoothly.
The total investment for King Kong exceeded $650,000. Part of it had already been secured by RKO (Radio-Keith-Orpheum) Pictures. Now, with the money from Frederick and Nyle, the funding was basically sufficient. Of course, filmmaking is one of those things where, as long as you're willing to spend, there's no end to how much you can spend. It's entirely possible more funding will be needed later — but that'll be RKO's problem to handle.
Merian Cooper actually had a few other investors lined up too. Coming to New York this time was also a chance to visit them. After all, RKO Pictures had a strong reputation — one of Hollywood's Big Eight studios. They'd also been doing quite well financially, with several films previously achieving solid box office success.
They had built up a certain amount of credibility and attracted the attention of many film investors. For wealthy individuals with keen vision, this was an ideal industry — you could promote your mistress, make money, and even launder some cash if needed.
Only people like Wilkie, a more conservative old-money type, had no real understanding of the film business. Like in Yes, Minister, where Hacker believes the government should support popular art like movies, while Humphrey insists that only high culture like theater or opera — the kind preserved by fascist regimes like Germany and Italy (as Hacker mocks him) — are the true foundation of a nation.
It's not just a matter of insight; maybe it's also a matter of background and mindset.
But in the end, even Wilkie, the lawyer in charge of handling the contracts, was tempted. He had his own worries — he couldn't just keep all his money at home, that would be far too risky. He needed to diversify his investments across various ventures to avoid losing everything in the Great Depression.
So he actually handed Merian a check and had him take it back to Hollywood. In total, Nyle, Frederick, and Wilkie invested $320,000 in King Kong — covering half of the total budget.
Merian was grinning from ear to ear. Nyle was curious to see how he planned to transport $320,000 in cash across the country. But Merian gave him a vivid lesson: he handed the money to Western Air Express, locked himself in the plane with the money in a safe, and flew straight to Hollywood — no food, no water, no bathroom breaks. Just a man and his money in a locked box. A real tough guy — extremely committed to his cause.
Wilkie, however, suggested a more civilized method. For smaller sums, like a few thousand or twenty to thirty thousand dollars, you could simply deposit the money at an airline counter and pick it up using a check from the airline at your destination airport.
America's aviation industry was developing rapidly, and airlines had their own internal financial systems.
Leonardo DiCaprio — no, not that eunuch, the actor — in Catch Me If You Can, starts off pretending to be an airline pilot. When he goes to get a uniform from a tailor, they say the company will pay directly — no cash needed. That's how the system worked.
Soon, Merian sent word from Hollywood: he and the cash had arrived safely in Los Angeles. Barring surprises, filming would begin before the end of the year, and the movie could premiere as soon as next fall. If the investors had time, they were invited to visit L.A., and RKO would host them well.
That was good enough — as long as the people and the money arrived safely.
Nyle now planned to take Frederick to check out Columbia University. By October at the latest, Nyle needed to choose a school and begin his studies, or he'd be delayed another full year. Youth doesn't last forever.
American universities generally only required you to complete your courses to graduate — they weren't too rigid about timeframes. But transferring in mid-term made it hard to fit in with the incoming students. Within just a few days of classes starting, most students would have already settled into social circles.
Joining late was always a hassle. Truthfully, Nyle wasn't there to gain cultural knowledge — he just wanted a college degree as a stepping stone for his future.
If he didn't seize the opportunity to make connections when everyone was new and unfamiliar, was he really going to focus on learning and academic research? Please.
When Wilkie heard that Nyle wanted to tour Columbia, he got very interested. He called in his assistant and offered to personally take them. If things went well, he could help Nyle finalize the arrangements right away — even dormitory placement. As for the few hundred dollars in annual tuition? That was barely worth mentioning to someone like Wilkie.
"The location of the school seems excellent," Nyle said, holding a tourist map. The campus was ideally situated — in Morningside Heights, Manhattan, near the Hudson River and north of Central Park. It was convenient and in a very safe area.
"Of course," Wilkie responded from the front passenger seat. Nyle saw him flipping through some papers and letters — a big-shot lawyer like him was always busy. Even in the car, he used spare moments to deal with minor tasks, like checking letters addressed to him or his firm.
His assistant — who also served as driver — pointed out that one letter from the Republican National Committee might be worth reading. Wilkie nodded and flipped to that one.
It wasn't Christmas or Thanksgiving, so it probably wasn't a holiday card. Political party leaders usually sent cards to key donors or high-profile supporters during holidays. Some presidents even hosted receptions in the White House's circular dining room.
As one of the Republican Party's major backers, Wilkie certainly received presidential cards.
But this letter was probably something else — maybe about upcoming events or announcements.
"Hm…" Wilkie said ambiguously after opening the envelope.
"Something going on in the party?" Nyle asked casually, folding up the tourist map.
If it were really important, they'd have called privately — it's not like phones didn't exist. And if that failed, they could just meet in D.C. — it wasn't far. No one would use snail mail for a critical matter. So it definitely wasn't urgent.
"Next year's the presidential election," Wilkie said. "The party plans to nominate President Hoover again, but fundraising has been... difficult, so…"