The next morning, Chen Qing and Lin Su departed for China, while Simon remained in New York. The holiday period had left a backlog of tasks, which he expected to finish by the following week.
First on the agenda was the roadshow for Tin Cobel's IPO.
With final details settled, the roadshow officially launched on Wednesday, January 24, at the Rockefeller Center in Midtown, New York. Since it was conveniently located, Simon made time to attend and show his support.
Founded in 1991, Tin Cobel released its first digital camera, the iCam-10, the same year. Like other companies within the Westeros system, it had grown at a miraculous pace. In just five years, Tin Cobel had become an undisputed giant in the electronics industry.
Even though many industry insiders understood that Tin Cobel's success was closely tied to Westeros' strategic positioning in new technology, particularly as a supplement to its core internet business, the company's achievements in consumer electronics were undeniable.
Take 1995, for example.
While its latest digital camera, the iCam-50, continued to be wildly popular, the real star of the year was the iPlayer-10 digital music player.
In 1995, the iCam series shipped 21.37 million units. Thanks to the mechanical hard drive version's success, Tin Cobel's market share for digital cameras increased from 53% in 1994 to 61% in 1995, despite intense competition from established electronics brands.
The iCam's success was expected, but the iPlayer-10 took the world by storm.
Released during Easter 1995, and despite initial production constraints, the iPlayer-10 still managed to sell 20.03 million units by the end of the year, just eight and a half months after launch.
To put it in perspective, it took the iCam series five years to surpass 20 million in sales. The iPlayer-10 did it in just one year.
It was nothing short of astonishing.
The reason behind the iPlayer's success was simple: it arrived at the right time.
First, the hardware, software, and internet infrastructure in North America were already well-established. One of the key drivers of the iPlayer's popularity was, surprisingly, piracy.
Before the iPlayer's launch, music piracy websites were already emerging thanks to the rapid spread of the internet in North America. When the iPlayer hit the market, people quickly realized that not only could the portable music player hold hundreds of songs, but with a simple hack, users could download almost any song they wanted from the internet for free—whether it was a mainstream hit or an underground track.
It became a game-changer.
As a result, the iPlayer-10 became the standout electronic product of 1995.
Of course, it was not without controversy.
Within a year, tens of thousands of pirate music-sharing websites popped up on the internet. Due to the rampant piracy, global record sales plummeted by 23% in 1995 alone. Even people who didn't own an iPlayer started downloading free music from the internet instead of buying albums.
This growing demand for free music also boosted Google, the search engine under the Egret umbrella, almost as much as the rising popularity of adult websites.
Major record companies, sensing a crisis, began fighting to suppress piracy and even tried to kill off the iPlayer. But their efforts were destined to fail.
One of the biggest victims of music piracy, Sony, which owned Columbia Records, had itself created the legal precedent that made it nearly impossible to win such cases in North America.
Years earlier, when Sony introduced its VCR, it was sued by Disney and other Hollywood giants over concerns about illegal recordings and piracy. The case dragged on for years, but the U.S. Supreme Court ultimately ruled that protecting copyright could not stifle technological progress, handing a victory to Sony. This allowed VCRs to proliferate.
The iPlayer was no different from the VCR.
Today, the home video industry generates revenue comparable to theatrical releases for the major film studios. Over the past year, Tin Cobel repeatedly used the VCR example to fend off pressure from record companies, accusing them of being stuck in the past and unwilling to embrace technological progress. Tin Cobel urged the record labels to open their catalogs to the Broadcast platform, promoting a win-win solution.
Amid these disputes, the iPlayer also contributed to the rapid development of the U.S. internet café industry, a trend that Simon had personally pushed for.
Although internet access in the U.S. was far more widespread than in other countries, many people still didn't have it. Those who wanted to download music for their iPlayer but lacked a personal computer could visit an internet café to select and download their favorite songs.
Additionally, the iPlayer-10 became a prime target for robbers in 1995.
Not only was the device valuable for personal use, but due to initial supply shortages, stolen iPlayers could be sold on the black market for even more than the retail price. As a result, not only were people wearing iPlayers targeted by thieves, but even stores selling the devices were robbed. In one case, San Francisco police foiled a plot to rob an iPlayer warehouse in Palo Alto, where over 1.2 million units, worth nearly $600 million, were stored. The gang had even prepared a cargo ship to transport the stolen goods to Mexico.
Though the plot was foiled, the incident caused a sensation, as it felt like a Hollywood blockbuster that had yet to be filmed. Indeed, some people began planning a movie based on the heist.
People are funny that way—what they can't easily obtain becomes all the more desirable.
The year-long shortage of iPlayers was no accident; it was a deliberate strategy by Tin Cobel. In reality, production capacity had been sufficient to meet demand just two months after the product's release.
However, the media frenzy surrounding the device, much like the infamous case in the original timeline of someone selling their kidney for an iPhone, led many Americans—especially teenagers—to go to great lengths to obtain the coveted and ultra-cool iPlayer-10.
In the end, iPlayer-10 achieved the miraculous feat of selling over 20 million units in its first year.
In 1994, Tin Cobel, which had only one flagship product at the time, sold 7.16 million units of the iCam series and generated $2.19 billion in revenue, with a net profit of $270 million.
By 1995, with two similarly priced flagship products—the iCam and the iPlayer—Tin Cobel's total sales reached 41.4 million units. Sales had increased nearly sixfold compared to 1994, and with additional revenue from products like iDisk and the Broadcast platform, Tin Cobel's revenue surged to $12.63 billion, with a net profit of $1.16 billion.
The continued success of the iCam series and the explosive growth of the iPlayer, combined with skyrocketing revenues, pushed Tin Cobel's valuation to new heights.
Just before the IPO roadshow, the company submitted its final prospectus to the SEC, valuing the consumer electronics giant at $35 billion. This was more than double the combined valuation of $17 billion for Tin Cobel and Broadcast during last June's acquisition. Still, based on pre-IPO market research, the company's planned offering of 130 million shares was expected to be oversubscribed.
Of the 130 million shares, 51 million were held by existing shareholders, while 79 million were new shares for fundraising. This batch of shares represented 16% of the total post-IPO shares, which amounted to 810 million.
Among the 51 million shares sold by existing shareholders, Westeros Corporation owned 30 million shares. At the IPO price of $43 per share, Westeros would cash out $1.29 billion, marking the first time Simon directly cashed out shares from an IPO in several years. Since Westeros had held its Tin Cobel shares for over a year, it would only need to pay the minimum 15% capital gains tax on this sale.
The new stock offering would raise $3.39 billion for Tin Cobel's future development.
In fact, Tin Cobel didn't really need the money. The IPO was part of Westeros' ongoing consolidation strategy and would also facilitate Tin Cobel's upcoming acquisition plans.
Even with the market eagerly anticipating Tin Cobel's IPO, the company still had one more trump card up its sleeve, set to be revealed during the Easter product launch this year.
That trump card was the long-awaited iRec digital camcorder series.
Tin Cobel had been quietly developing its digital camcorder for two years. The prototype was completed at the end of 1994, but the product was delayed due to insufficient ecosystem support. Originally scheduled for release in the fall of 1995, the launch was pushed back to align with the usual product release cycle, and the iRec-10 would be introduced alongside the new iCam and iPlayer models during Easter 1996.
Over the two years, the iRec-10 had matured technologically, and more importantly, the hardware and software ecosystem around it had also improved.
For example, mini hard drive capacities had increased significantly.
Egret had also launched the YouTube video platform.
USB ports had become increasingly common.
And just as Tin Cobel had offered free image viewing and editing software with the iCam, they would also launch free video editing software developed over the past two years for the iRec.
Additionally, the Broadcast platform would offer both free and paid audio copyright services, providing video creators with a wide range of licensed background music options to enhance their work.
All of this combined created a cohesive application ecosystem.
If it were just a digital camcorder, no matter how well the hardware was designed, without supporting software and sufficient usability, the product wouldn't have much of a
market.
Now, with the ecosystem in place, iRec users would be able to upload their videos to the internet, just as iCam users could share photos online.
They could even gain fame and make money.
When the iRec-10 launched, YouTube would introduce personal video uploads. Although upload capacity would be limited initially, the platform would offer an ad-sharing model. YouTube creators could earn revenue based on views.
Tin Cobel and Egret would also actively promote a few high-profile YouTube creators, which would undoubtedly spark a new trend.
As the Tin Cobel IPO roadshow continued in full swing, Simon only attended the New York event. Afterward, he focused on handling the many tasks that had accumulated in New York.
A significant portion of his workload involved Danneelis Entertainment's television business.
Following the acquisition of Metropolis ABC, the two companies had been undergoing integration. A major move during this period was relocating ESPN's headquarters from Bristol, Connecticut, to New York.
While Connecticut bordered New York to the north, and the affluent city of Greenwich was part of the state, relocating ESPN from Bristol to New York had significant symbolic importance.
Previously, due to the conservative nature of old-school shareholders and executives like Warren Buffett and Tom Murphy, ESPN, despite its rapid growth, was never considered a core business of Metropolis ABC. However, fully aware of ESPN's immense potential, Simon personally decided to move the entire ESPN team from Connecticut to New York.
At the same time, negotiations to secure exclusive broadcast rights for NFL games were officially underway.
The famous eight-year, $9 billion NFL contract in Simon's memory was comparable to a major acquisition, presenting both risks and opportunities. If successful, ESPN could monopolize NFL broadcast rights and collect far higher cable operator fees than other basic cable networks—a so-called "ESPN tax."
Additionally, although television networks typically finalize their upcoming programming schedules during the May upfronts, production companies and networks begin scouting for shows and producing pilots at the start of the year.
This required Simon's direct attention as well.
Before the Danneelis-Metropolis ABC merger, Simon had already anticipated that the combined Danneelis Entertainment Group would face a "Catch-22" dilemma in television production.
The main issue was that external networks would significantly reduce their procurement of shows from Danneelis Entertainment's television division. These networks would naturally assume that Danneelis would reserve its best shows for its own channels. And the Danneelis TV division couldn't prove otherwise.
So, if competitors like NBC and CBS believed Danneelis was keeping the best shows for ABC, how could they be expected to purchase the leftovers?
Simon initially considered solutions to break this dilemma. Renewing long-term contracts with networks like NBC for shows such as Friends was one such measure. Simon had no desire to see Danneelis Entertainment's TV division fully transition to a "self-sufficient" model. While producing and airing in-house could save costs, it could also lead to complacency and a lack of innovation within the team.
It's a well-known fact in the TV industry: production combined with broadcasting rarely produces great content. That's why the separation of production and broadcasting has become the norm for commercial networks.
However, Simon ultimately abandoned certain ideas.
The "Catch-22" dilemma was impossible to break. Instead of fighting a losing battle, Simon decided to focus on preventing internal stagnation that might arise from producing and airing everything in-house.
This wasn't too difficult.
The solution was to introduce external competition.
But Simon had to carefully balance the proportion of in-house production versus external procurement. Danneelis Entertainment's TV division was still a powerhouse, and Simon's task was to introduce just the right amount of "competition" to keep the internal team on their toes, while avoiding too much outside influence that might hurt the company's own projects.
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