Chapter 135: Wealthy but Not Foolish

The acquisition of NBC was truly a case of an ant trying to swallow an elephant. While the air was filled with voices of skepticism, they were met with absolute silence. Some saw this as arrogance, others as disdain, but regardless, William White had once again driven the news cycle. Everyone wondered if he would attempt a hostile takeover; after all, the man was known for his ruthless nature.

Unfortunately for those looking to profit, their plans fell through. William White began consolidating smaller regional stations with a very clear objective: he intended to build his own television network. Matching the reach of NBC would surely take a long time, much to the disappointment of those waiting to play the vulture. RCA's stock price plummeted in response. William White might be rich and impulsive, but trying to fleece him? They had miscalculated. It was only 1980, and the Americans were in for several more years of hardship; any current posturing would become a laughingstock once companies started going under.

Finally, the distribution of comics in minor European languages was settled, and the "Viking Raider" weekly comic officially broke through the eight-million circulation mark. Marvel was deeply frustrated, and DC was in total despair. At this rate, it was becoming yet another comic book giant. Wall Street was astonished to find that it was already profitable. Was it really that easy? Perhaps, but try doing it yourself, and you would surely crash and burn. Comic books are typically low-margin businesses that require meticulous accounting and are rarely favored by advertisers, unlike magazines, where profit can be recouped from ad revenue once the circulation breaks even.

This weekly comic seemed to change many people's perceptions. If you claim advertising is ineffective, why is this damn grape juice selling so well? In truth, the grape juice wasn't selling exceptionally well; the production was simply so limited that it created an illusion of constant shortage. This year, grape growers no longer had to worry. Although White Farm had expanded its planting area, the yield wouldn't increase that quickly, necessitating large purchases from other farms. While the "bestseller" status was an illusion, the advertising efficacy was an undeniable fact. Most frustratingly, the company refused to sell ad space this year, instead exclusively running ads for their own mineral water and grape juice. These advertising costs were merely symbolic—it was just moving money from one pocket to another. Charging higher rates would have triggered issues regarding profit shifting, especially since the comic company was not registered in the United States.

This was the most irritating aspect for Americans. If one wanted to avoid taxes, there were plenty of tax-free states in the U.S.; there was no need to go abroad. Ah, the IRS was once again being whipped for this; if it weren't for those bastards, the situation would certainly not be what it was today. William White’s style of operation was elusive—sometimes shrewd, sometimes foolish. The weekly comic was a prime example; he wouldn't even take money when it was offered. That subtle air of superiority was enough to drive people to madness. "The boss says it’s not enough money, and it’s too much of a hassle, so let’s talk about it next year." Whenever advertisers recalled this response, they felt as if they had been struck by lightning. What did he mean by "not much money"? That was a fortune! If you thought he was just a gullible rich man, you were wrong—he didn't even bother to haggle with the TV stations that quoted absurd prices.

In reality, everyone knew NBC wasn't strictly off-limits; the old guard just wanted to slaughter a fatted calf. Now that the reliable buyer was gone, they were on their own. Once his network was fully built, they might offer it to him for free, and he might not even want it. This year, Wall Street saw no decent mergers, and the big sharks were growing impatient. They had finally spotted a good deal, only to have it spoiled by someone else—it was no wonder they were in a foul mood. Slaughtering a fat pig? If only it were that easy. He was a man of immense patience; Morgan Stanley knew very well that William White’s acquisition plan was a three-year project, and he had no intention of pulling chestnuts out of the fire.

"Coca-Cola? You say he’s buying it in bulk?"
"Yes, boss. Besides Coca-Cola, he has invested in a large number of companies. I believe by next year, he will be on the shareholder lists of many firms."
"Tsk tsk, keep an eye on him and see if there are any follow-up moves." The funds under William White’s name could not escape the scrutiny of those interested. In the current NASDAQ, most companies were small; never mind hundreds of millions, even tens of millions was a staggering amount. "By the way, what about his overseas accounts?"
"They have mostly gone to Japan, with investments in both stocks and real estate. We can't track the movement of the Swiss funds; they are being extremely cautious."

The giants of Wall Street no longer dared to underestimate this man. Gold had plummeted, and no one was mocking the man who had desperately dumped his holdings anymore—he had cashed out and secured his profits. Securities were not like futures; you couldn't run wild here. If you tried to play stocks like futures, you wouldn't be making money—you'd be lucky to avoid being arrested and dragged through the mud. It now appeared that he was just as well-versed in the rules of securities, playing a long-term investment game and remaining completely indifferent to short-term price fluctuations.

Steve Ross finally went silent. The old man was good at capital operations, but ordering his subordinates to snipe at White Pictures was pure suicide—the classic result of an amateur directing an expert. Horror films versus comedies—who knows if the old man was even awake. There was no point in discussing how unreliable this terrible idea was; it had already flopped miserably. The film itself wasn't bad, but his timing was off. It would have been perfect for Halloween; if he could have successfully scared two people, the box office would have exploded. People who take dates to horror movies are looking to get close; they prefer sudden scares that provide an excuse for physical contact. *The Shining* didn't fit that mold, so trying to take the summer slot was meaningless.

Never underestimate film critics; even William White didn't want to offend them. Americans love to follow trends; unless your box office is truly explosive, never cross these people. One ill-timed review can drive away a massive crowd, and vice versa. The U.S. stock market continued to grumble, and the Democrats were essentially losing their minds. If they kept up this trend, they would set a record. Since the invention of elections in the U.S., there had never been such a one-sided affair; now, the popularity accumulated since the Roosevelt era had been squandered in one go. The economic situation continued to deteriorate, affecting the lives of ordinary people. While inflationary pressure had eased, bank interest rates remained sky-high.

Twenty percent interest. These people had gone mad. It was impossible to understand what kind of business could support such rates—it was a recipe for driving all companies to their deaths. Some said, "Just don't take out loans; it shouldn't affect you that much, right?" Ha! Americans would take out a loan just to buy a bottle of water; you think it doesn't have an effect?

"Boss, why are you getting into TV stations again? Is there any money in that?"
"Of course, though the price is too high right now. I’m not in a hurry, so I’ll just let them be."
"Boss, this project is too big; us brothers can't afford to play along."
"Haha, this isn't for you guys. It’s not going to be profitable in the short term, anyway."