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"a fish, a barrel, and a smoking gun" |
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To Market, to Market
He's not a doctor, but he played one on TV. And even if his rerun fees haven't put him on the back nine, the experience still keeps him in the black. These days, former M*A*S*H star Wayne Rogers applies poultices to hemorrhaging bank accounts in his new role - as a financial adviser to the stars. Specializing in the problems endemic to monumental, undeserved wealth, Trapper John, MBA, recently explained his management philosophy to People: "Celebrities are businesses... Burt Reynolds is an asset." Perhaps you hadn't ever thought of The Bandit quite that way. But the truism that celebrities are commodities is no longer just a clever line - it's the bottom one. February saw the enormously successful public offering of interest-bearing The deal went down something like this: The Thin White Duke was craving cash, and he saw that while on paper he was rich, his net worth was all tied up in future record royalties. So as musicians often do when they need money, he decided to tour. What was different was that he decided to tour Wall Street.
There he and his band of financiers trotted out hit number after hit number: balance sheets, cash flow statements, and projected revenue based on the Bowie franchise's past operating performance. The Street thought it recognized a good gamble; they would issue interest-bearing bonds with Bowie's royalties as collateral. He would get paid up front, they would get to be in the music business. And the bonds, each representing a share of Mr. Ziggy Stardust, would trade on the open market, like orange juice, pork bellies, or Intel. At least in theory they would. In reality, only a few select
institutional scalpers Prudential, got a piece of the rock star. Bowie, meanwhile, probably entertained more people with his financial prowess (he made over US$50 million) than with his latest public musical offering, which peaked at an underwhelming 39. The market for this new kind of personal finance - or "personnel finance" - starts with an AAA star like Bowie. But its expansion into B-rated and junk bonds is as close to a sure thing as you'll see on Wall Street. David Bowie today means Dave Matthews and Dave Barry tomorrow.
It's not so unreasonable. You go to a movie, you watch some unknown actor steal a few scenes, you walk out with a hunch he's gonna hit the big time. You can talk about him at the water cooler, or you can put your money where your mouth is, and buy shares of his stock. If you find out he hasn't gone public yet, all the better. It probably means he's still waiting tables and would welcome your venture capital. Five hundred bucks on Matthew McConaughey at Dazed and Confused prices could be worth over 50 Gs today.
The possibilities, as usual, are endless. Take the billions in allowance money that's just hanging out - the teenage-capital market is hugely under-penetrated. What better way to get that cash working than a Billboard Top 40 Mutual Fund? It could pay dividends in Tower Records gift certificates. The kids would love it. Or: The first 100,000 copies of the new U2 disc could come with a few shares of common stock, turning a frivolous entertainment expense into a good, sound investment. All it would take is a few fans on Motley Fool touting UTWO as a fabulous growth stock and the CD would pay for itself in days.
The only thing really separating The Hollywood Stock Exchange and E*Trade is our faith that Merrill Lynch's ability to package a winner is greater than CAA's. Who knows how long that will last. All that's missing is the appropriate news organ to pump out summaries of the trading day's activity - a Wall Street Variety Journal. "Dark-horse Oscar nominee Bill Macy up 1-1/8," reports the front page; "much-hyped Paglia stock off a fraction, and shares of Madeline Albright unchanged on news of her being a Jew." Fame and entertainment have become more about money - another truism. But money has of late itself become so much more entertaining. It probably has as much to do with start-ups throwing options around like Monopoly scrip as any genuinely rising interest in, well, rising interest. But whatever the cause, making money suddenly seems less like work and more like a game. Or at least that's what Dow Jones and ITT, who recently launched New York's WBIS+ would like you to think. The television channel throws
together the order they like it: "Sports, money, and oh yeah, life."
It's bound to succeed. Exhibit A: OJ-2. Was not this model of BIS+'s conflation (not to say confusion) of real life with finance and football a smash hit? The only strange part is that though the second trial seemed to be a product of the entertainment industry, it actually came out of the court system. (But then, these have been swapping fluids lately, too.) It was both a three-ring circus and a product-liability suit. Guilty of murder? No - but responsible for wrongful deaths, by all means. There was a serious flaw in the Simpson product for which the parent company, O.J. Simpson, will be made to pay. Sadly, he doesn't have the cash. Now, he could go bankrupt. Many of the best celebrities do. But is this is a man with no profit potential? Of course not, and that's why we expect the more logical move from the Juice: an IPO. With wrongful-death compatriot Philip
Morris times earnings, it's an easy play to call. Seventeen times, say, $5 million in film and book rights and the not-guiltiest man in showbiz would be sitting on over $80 megs in stock. He could pay off the over-$30-million in lawsuits, cover the tax bill, and still have a not-uncomfortable seven-figure bank account - offshore, of course. Granted he'd have to sell a controlling interest in himself to realize that much profit. But then it's already clear that the one person who shouldn't be running O. J. Simpson Inc. is O. J. Simpson. His talents lie elsewhere. So when you hear that the Juice is having himself genetically replicated, don't think of it as cloning. Think of it as a 2-for-1 split. courtesy of Johnny Cache
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