`Jeff Bewkes had been the chairman and CEO of HBO since 1995. In his years at the helm, he'd shifted the network away from relying on leased content, steering it toward original programming. That move doubled HBO's subscriber base, and his stellar track record caught the eye of Time Warner's top brass—especially Ted Turner, the biggest individual shareholder and vice chairman, who was a big fan of Bewkes' skills.
Word on the street was that, thanks to his standout performance, Bewkes was likely up for a promotion next year—possibly stepping into the role of chairman and CEO of the Entertainment and Networks division. And that was just the beginning. His rise was unstoppable:
- July 2002: Chairman and CEO of Entertainment and Networks
- January 2006: President and COO of Time Warner
- January 2008: Executive Director and CEO of Time Warner
- July 2009: Chairman and CEO of Time Warner's board
But under his watch, Time Warner's stock tanked. Assets got carved up and sold off—Warner Records, Warner Publishing, and eventually the whole Time Warner empire, packaged and shipped out. What was once the world's biggest media and entertainment conglomerate didn't just fail to recover from the AOL merger flop—it slid straight into the abyss. Bewkes' stubborn streak didn't help, driving out a slew of top talent, including big names like Warner Brothers' Alan Horn and HBO's Chris Albrecht.
Back in the day, Bewkes was just a loan officer at Citibank. It wasn't until he jumped to HBO that his life took off, climbing the ladder step by calculated step.
Right now, though, Jeff Bewkes was in a foul mood. He'd just gotten word from DreamWorks: Dunn Films had swooped in with an $80 million bid, snagging the North American TV rights to Band of Brothers through priority purchase rights. The deal was signed, sealed, and delivered.
For Bewkes, this was a nagging worry. Since May, when TA Network started airing Spider-Man and Saw, the previously obscure channel had exploded onto the blockbuster scene. Then in June, their original series Six Feet Under dropped to rave reviews—eerily reminiscent of HBO's breakout with The Sopranos. HBO's 7.5 million subscribers owed at least 2 million of those to The Sopranos. And Six Feet Under? It was just as good—edgier, darker, perfect for hooking curious viewers.
Didn't that mean TA Network could see a Sopranos-level boost from it? Maybe 2 million new subscribers? That'd push TA past 5 million paying users. Sure, it wouldn't top HBO yet, but throw in Band of Brothers—with heavyweights like Steven Spielberg, Dunn Walker, and Tom Hanks behind it—and who knew how big it could get?
Regret gnawed at Bewkes. If he'd known it'd come to this, he should've swallowed his pride back then, cut a deal with Spielberg, and edged Dunn out of Band of Brothers. Even if it meant splitting the investment and profits with the BBC, at least HBO would've locked down the North American rights. Now? He'd thrown out an $80 million bid—an unheard-of sum back in the day—and still walked away empty-handed.
"This Dunn guy's a damn catfish, stirring up Hollywood and now screwing with the TV market!" Bewkes gritted his teeth, anger flashing across his face. It wasn't that he feared Dunn—he was worried TA's sudden rise could threaten HBO's top-dog status and, worse, derail his smooth climb up the corporate ladder.
---
Chris Albrecht used to be a stand-up comedian, and his laugh still had a warm, infectious charm. He was all in on Dunn's offer—salary, buyout plan, the works. He'd been itching to break free from Jeff Bewkes' shadow and team up with someone who shared his vision, someone he could really flex his talents with.
But Dunn's next words nearly left him speechless.
"Chris, Dunn Films is definitely going public someday. Here's my promise: if TA Network takes off under your watch, I'll hook you up with the same original stock options as the president of Marvel Studios."
Marvel Studios—a name that echoed like thunder. Hands down the biggest cash cow in Dunn Films' stable. By putting TA Network on the same level, Dunn was handing Chris a massive vote of confidence—and a hefty dose of pressure.
Smooth growth wasn't enough. TA had to crush the competition, dominate like an oligarch. Just like Marvel Studios had done—Dunn's arrival had left DC Comics, a half-century American icon, eating dust.
Chris took a deep breath. "Mr. Walker…"
"Call me Dunn."
"Alright, Dunn. If that's the case, I'll need an assistant."
Dunn grinned. "Of course. I'm handing TA Network over to you because I want it built your way. Tell me who you need."
Chris didn't hesitate. "I've got a friend, Roy Price. He used to be VP of Disney's kids' channel, left last year, and now he's a business consultant at McCarthy Consulting. More importantly, his dad, Mr. Price, is a Hollywood vet—runs Price Entertainment and has deep industry connections."
Dunn mulled it over, then nodded. "TV experience, business savvy, Hollywood roots, and a network of contacts. Chris, you've been planning this, haven't you?"
Chris chuckled. "I just don't want to let you down."
"Done. I'm in!" Dunn waved a hand decisively. "He can be TA Network's president, backing you up day-to-day."
"Thanks!" Chris's face lit up, but he paused, hesitating. "Dunn, one more thing."
"Shoot."
"I want TA Network to have its own production department."
Dunn laughed. "You wanna go full farm-to-table?"
Chris nodded. "I know Dunn Films has a TV production arm, but insiders know TA's audience best. Of course, we'd still let Dunn Films handle the ancillary distribution for our originals."
Dunn didn't blink. "No problem! I'd greenlit $100 million a year for TV production. How about this: Dunn Films and TA Network split it 50-50?"
"That's perfect!" Chris's excitement was palpable.
Seeing him so fired up, Dunn smirked, feeling pretty damn good himself. This guy was a drama genius—HBO's golden boy behind The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, Deadwood, and later, at Starz, Spartacus, Boss, and Power. No way Dunn was letting him slip through his fingers.
"Oh, and at HBO—you had some solid people under you, right?" Dunn asked, a sly smile creeping onto his face.
"Yeah…" Chris drew out the word, lowering his voice. "Boss, you want me to bring them over?"
"Sharp as hell!"
Dunn snapped his fingers.
Chris wavered for a second. "These past few years, I've been pushing originals at HBO. Set up a content team—producers, marketers, writers. The hits HBO's had lately? That team's the backbone."
"You ran it?"
"Yup."
"Perfect!" Dunn laughed loud. "Screw it—if they're not gonna play nice, neither will I! Poach 'em. Anyone willing to jump ship, bring 'em over!"
"What?" Chris's eyes widened, stunned. "HBO won't let them go easy."
"Chris, you've got a way, don't you?" Dunn gave him a knowing look. "You're TA's head now. Your loyalty's here, not HBO."
Chris took a deep breath. "Give me $5 million. I'll handle it."
"Haha!" Dunn roared, standing to clap him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, Chris! HBO's our rival—bleeding them dry is how we grow!"
---
That night, Dunn was tangled up with Angela Lindvall and Karolina Kurkova—two leggy, blonde, blue-eyed models—lost in a haze of bliss.
Meanwhile, Jeff Bewkes jolted awake from a nightmare, yanked back to reality by a phone call. Chris Albrecht, HBO's chief, had just ditched a $5 million-plus loyalty bonus and quit on the spot!
With Six Feet Under killing it on TA, Bewkes was starting to see just how vital premium series were to cable networks. He'd been planning to sweet-talk Chris, win him back, and double down on HBO's content game—especially after losing Band of Brothers. He couldn't afford to slip up.
But Chris pulling this? It blindsided him.
"What the hell's going on?"
"Word is… Dunn met with him this afternoon."
"Dunn?"
Bewkes' eyes bulged, nearly choking on his own spit. He'd tried—and failed—to snatch Band of Brothers, and now Dunn had poached his right-hand man? This was a gut punch!
"That bastard!"
Fury boiling over, Bewkes hurled his phone across the room.