Chapter 2: The Sun

The lights burned bright in the Art Deco administration building of Sunshine Studios Tuesday night. All of the administration assistants had headed home long ago, the sun had set, but still the Board of Directors met in closed session. There was only the one topic: the senior executives' meeting that afternoon with senior officials – VERY senior officials – of the FCC.

"Could they carry through on their threat? Or is it, could they enforce their promise?" board member and pediatrician and paediatric psychologist Dr. Francine Wallace wanted to know. "Have we any skeletons they can uncover?"

The company president, CEO and majority shareholder Charles McInroy, old Uncle Charlie as he was known to generations of children, rolled his eyes at CFO Frank Munzberger.

Frank nodded miserably. "We and the IRS are having a dispute about the deductibility of certain costs, as do almost every other TV and movie production house out there. Since the new President instituted her regime, they've been clamping down on them. The FCC have promised that if we go along with them, they'll happily make them go away." He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "If not, we will face extensive litigation and possible heavy fines in addition to a major tax bill."

Uncle Charlie advised the Board in his gentle Georgia twang, "We've also received tons of phone calls, e-mails and letters from other production houses. They're getting the same treatment, but have been made very aware that we're Hal, the buck with the bummer of a birth mark. If we all go along, we all get to use the same tax treatment. If we don't, the entire industry will feel the IRS' wrath." He grimaced. "The Gopher Men are tryin' to use peer pressure to get us to submit."

The mood around the polished burl wood table stayed gloomy.

"But do they really have the power to make the IRS come to heel on this?" persisted Dr. Wallace.

Frank cleared his throat, staring at the table. "There were two other people in the delegation who weren't introduced. They just sat and watched, but they nodded when the topic of our tax issues came up." He looked up. "I recognized them both. One was the President's Chief of Staff. The other was the Commissioner of Internal Revenue, the woman who heads up the Service. Oh, yes, they're in on this little..." He wanted to say 'conspiracy', but this was a recorded meeting. "They're in concordance with the FCC proposal," he finally temporized.

Uncle Charlie nodded thoughtfully. "I recognized the Chief of Staff – he's kind of distinctive, with that van Dyke of his. So the other is the nation's chief tax collector? That was an even bigger meeting than I thought, and when I saw ol' Smitty in there, I was already prepared to bolt for Blairsville." He sighed. "Maybe I'm gettin' a mite old for this sort of thing."

And on into the night, the deliberations continued. Again and again the names "Tanya Shiell" and "Candy Canyon" came up.

The next day, Uncle Charlie and Francine had a lunch meeting at the posh executive dining room of Sunshine Studios' Administration Building with two FCC representatives, the President of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and the Chairman of the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.

Uncle Charlie tried to cultivate a down-home image, and almost never wore suits and ties. Instead he went for collarless shirts and braces and serge pants, much as farmers from his youth would have. The look was expensive but worth it. He also affected a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose, although without any prescription in the lenses as his vision was perfect. Today, he wore a white collarless shirt with blue and red pin stripes and a pair of scarlet-red suspenders.

After some small talk and salad, while they waited for the chicken-fried steak to arrive, Uncle Charlie began to talk business. "The reason why we're here is because we want you," he pointed to the FCC officials, "to know what our plans are. And we want you two," he pointed to the heads of the two most prestigious and influential industry groups in the land, "to let the other production houses know so that there's not a whiff of collusion."

Uncle Charlie took a big breath in. Easy, my friend, he told himself. "We have agreed to go along with the FCC's, ah, kind suggestions." He glowered at them to let everyone at the table know exactly how "kind" he thought the FCC's "suggestions" were. "We don't know precisely how, just yet, but we're committed to doing so."

"We thought you would agree that our suggestions were sound, and we're pleased to hear that. Our colleagues in the Beltway will accept the terms readily enough."

The other power suit agreed. "By the way, if you have your marketing staff contact this number," he proffered a business card, "you'll find some additional sponsorships for the nude January show."

The two Academy wizards found themselves slightly out of the loop. "What new show in January?" wondered the AMPAC President.

"No," advised the senior FCC suit to Uncle Charlie and Francine, "we haven't been to see them yet."