Duke sat in a corner booth inside the Mos Eisley Cantina with animatronics aliens surrounding him.
The restaurant was a part of Paramount Park Orlando and on the table, a plate of 'Chewbaca Stew' steamed next to a basket of mini 'Banthas Burgers.' and Darth Vader helmet shaped Waffles.
Michael Eisner sat across from him, holding a fork.
They were tasting the menu with a small crew of food testers and technicians.
Theme park food in the 1970s was usually cheap hot dogs and stale cotton candy. Duke wanted better, things that would use the IP.
A small stage sat in the center of the room where a band of animatronic Alien musicians stood motionless.
The engineering team had paused their programming, but once operational, they would perform a jazz loop every hour.
"The stew is good," Duke said, chewing.
He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin that had the Paramount logo on it.
He found the whole thing a bit funny, even remembering the Star Wars parody movie, SpaceBalls that had a gag about this.
'Wonder where Mel Brook is now? I should call him.' Duke though as he looked at the napkin.
"But too spicy for me."
Eisner nodded and made a note as he signaled to the chef nearby.
The plate was whisked away for adjustments.
Running a theme park meant endless small decisions like this that were normally handled by subordinates but Duke wanted to involve himself as much as possible.
Theme Parks were the future of entertaiment companies. Even in the future, the top 3 movie Studios, Disney, Universal and Warner Bros would all be involved in Theme Parks.
Of course Universal and Warner Bros would just be playing catch up with Disney. Duke wanted to make sure, Paramount had his foot on the door and be able to dominate in this timeline.
"Let's talk about the opening timeline," Eisner said, tapping his pen. "We're locked for June 2, 1977. That's just a week after Star Wars premieres."
In 1977, coordinating a film release with a theme park opening was unheard of.
After all, Studios treated films as standalone products. Maybe they'd license a lunchbox or a t-shirt.
But nothing close to Paramount that was treating this film as the foundation of an entire new industry.
"We're dedicating 10 million dollars to the Star Wars advertisement," Eisner said, a 10 million-dollar budget was virtually unheard of.
Most movies received a fraction of that for TV spots and print ads. But only Duke knew the success, Star Wars 1977 would have.
"Every TV commercial on CBS or NBC will mention the park at the end," Eisner detailed.
"Every print ad in magazines will feature a photo of Star Wars street and every Mattel toy package will include a discount coupon for park admission printed on the cardboard."
Duke smiled as he nodded.
Eisner grined. "We're filling the market from every angle. By the time Star Wars hits theaters, every American with a TV set will know Paramount Park exists."
___
An hour later, they stepped out of the Cantina onto a pathway that connected the dining area to the main Star Wars ride sector.
The path was lined with themed trash cans and futuristic metal benches with cool designs.
Themed trash cans were borrowed from Disney's playbook.
Keeping a garbage receptacle within 30 steps kept the field clean and Duke was happy to adopt his competitor's best practices while trying to steal their audience.
"We've been monitoring the summer release calendar," Eisner said as they passed a crew of painters.
"Every other studio has cleared out in the face of Star Wars. Everyone except Warner Bros."
Duke stopped walking.
"Sorcerer is still scheduled for the same summer window," he said. It wasn't a question.
He thought about William Friedkin, the director who was arguably the most bankable of the era.
He'd delivered two monumental hits for Paramount, The French Connection and The Exorcist.
The French Connection had given Friedkin Oscars for Best Director and Best Picture.
And The Exorcist had broken every box office record.
Yet when it came time for his passion project, he'd taken Sorcerer across to Warner Bros.
Duke couldnt help but felt a slight of frustration.
He'd never won a Best Director statue himself, despite Jaws and well each one of his films success.
The loss of Sorcerer felt personal since Friedkin had chosen a rival studio over Paramount despite Duke giving him his break into the industry.
"Sorcerer is Friedkin's passion project," Eisner said, breaking into Duke's thoughts. "He's been working on it for years. It cost a fortune but he's insisting on opening it against us in June."
Duke resumed walking. His shoes clicked against the pavement.
"He's going to get crushed," he said calmly, it wasn't even a boast, Star Wars was a behemot, that every othe film was better off avoiding.
"Maybe," Eisner replied cautiously. "but Friedkin is a genius so he might surprise us. We shouldn't underestimate a director who's already delivered two huge films."
William Friedkin was extremely bankable in 1977.
Because his previous films made staggering amounts of money and won Academy Awards, he was granted total control with Warner basically letting him write his own check.
___
Late in the afternoon, as the Florida sun cooled, Duke and Eisner toured the completed park areas with a small team of executives trailed behind them.
They held clipboards and walkie-talkies, ready to record any directives.
They passed through intricate, wide plazas with shaded seating and curated photo places opportunities.
In the late 1970s, amateur family photography was exploding in popularity thanks to cheaper consumer cameras.
And Theme parks were prime real estate for creating lasting memories.
Duke wanted to capitalize on this consumer trend by embedding picturesque backdrops directly into the streets.
"Look at the sightlines here," Eisner said, pointing toward a sculpted replica of the Millennium Falcon resting on a stylized landing pad.
"We built the walkways so families naturally stop right in front of the ship. The forced perspective makes the vessel look larger in a standard camera viewfinder."
To further monetize these memories, Paramount was rolling out professional photography service with customes for a modest fee.
With uniformed park employees that would be stationed at these locations and take control of the situation.
The guests would then receive a voucher.
They could pick up their professionally developed prints at a kiosk near the front gate just before driving home.
Eisner believed it was a lucrative secondary revenue stream that required very little daily overhead once the initial photo sets were constructed.
Satisfied with the layout, Duke paused to inspect an outdoor Auditorium that was currently being rigged with wirework and hidden pyrotechnic.
This arena was destined to host a daily, live-action Star Wars stunt show for large crowds.
Eisner then pointed toward a green barrier of native Florida Pond Pine trees bordering the construction zone.
"The expansion plans are already drawn up," Eisner explained, sweeping his arm across the wide area. "The park is built to grow and we have hundreds of acres of undeveloped land ready."
Building a theme park was a challenge in long-term urban planning.
A successful park must never feel finished.
It had to constantly evolve and offer fresh experiences to encourage reliable repeat family visits over the years.
Duke intended to continually update the physical attractions, treating the real estate as a breathing extension of the movie studio.
Karate matches during Karate Kid, a 1950s Recreation area after Back to the Future is published, Terminator walking around, etc. The poissibilities were endless.
By tying new rides to Paramount's theatrical slate, the park would maintain relevance and serve as a billboard for their future blockbusters.
"Speaking of Theme Parks," Duke murmured, keeping his tone casual. "What's the latest on Disney's lobbying efforts against our zoning permits?"
"They've been lobbying," Eisner confirmed with a smirk.
"But we played the local game just as hard. And have made donations to the Orlando mayor's re-election campaign. We also funded key members of the Florida House of Representatives."
Duke arched an eyebrow. "So their legislative efforts are stalled?"
"They're stalled indefinitely," Eisner said, satisfaction in his voice. "In fact, their EPCOT expansion is being held up in a municipal committee. And their stock took a hit last week. Dropped from a 1$ a share to 80 cents."
"Disney cleared 550 millions in revenue in 1976," Eisner added, "Their theme parks print cash. We're doing well, but we're still catching up to them."
And that was with Disney having 0 movies on the top 10 box office of 1976.
For comparison, Paramount and Warner had barely cleared around 350 millions in revenue in 1976.
That makes Disney the most profitable Studio of 1976. And this was with Duke going above and beyond in trying to grow Paramount as much as possible.
By 1976, Disneyland and the recently opened Walt Disney World accounted for 65% of Disney's total revenue and 45% of its pre-tax profits.
While merchandise licensing made up the remaining share of the company's portfolio.
Yeah, even when Disney is going through Creative issues or a rough patch they can still rely on their parks and IP's to fill their financial holes.
"We're a private enterprise," Duke reminded him, specially since he intended to keep Paramount that way.
"We don't have a board of shareholders to answer to every quarter so we can take risks they can't afford."
Eisner nodded not understanding Duke's point. "What kind of risks?"
Duke slyly smiled and shrugged, "Videogames, Movies, and opening a park in Japan is also in the agenda."
While Disney was still trying to rely on re-releases, they would forge a new path ahead.
Duke turned to look at Eisner, who was the man who historically led Disney to become the biggest studio in Hollywood.
He wondered if Disney would ever be able to turn things around with someone like Duke, Katzenberg and Eisner on Paramount.