To paraphrase the great Travis Bickle, my copy was like a real rain that had come to wash the filth off the streets.
And since when was being a “magazine writer” a federal crime?
But Berg, who’s now the editor of the paper, was just speaking the truth. His paying customers wanted the hard news about lawsuits, and too much Tom Wolfe made them uncomfortable. Hack lawyers hate good writing, because a hack lawyer always has an unsold hack novel in his drawer, which lack-of-sale keeps him plying his trade as a hack lawyer.
Berg did have a point: The story of Samaha, Baeres and Stevens was so over-the-top that any tale about their then-pending litigation that went all gonzo/Wolfe/Talese on their asses would have been like the gasoline fight in “Zoolander.”
Lots of fun while it lasted, but then....BBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!
Now, great reader of this web site, the stories I wrote on Samaha back in 2001 have been released from the musty corners of the Daily Journal pay archive. Thank you, D.J.
By that time, three years after the case was first filed, nobody cared about Samaha and Baeres except Janet Sphintz, the law reporter for the well-funded Daily Variety, plus, an editor for Screen International, who had less funding.
After being run out of the Writers Guild for being the first idiot over there to question the ethics of a union election, I was available for Samaha duty!
The trial was worse than an anal probe. Imagine being in a courtroom for five friggin’ weeks listening to accountants describing the rules of bonded film budgets, bank notices of assignment, and German stock market reporting (or lack thereof). Then there was Elie Samaha telling jurors they had a lifetime pass to the V.I.P. room at White Lotus if they would just follow their hearts.
The jury laughed at Samaha’s jokes for five weeks, deliberated for a day and a half, and hit Samaha and what was left of his Franchise Films for $106 million in compensatory and punitive damages for pumping the film budgets that Baeres was obligated to pay 47 per cent of.
I was stunned. I knew Baeres, a German film rights trader whose company was worth $2 million back in February 1999. But within five months of going public on Frankfurt’s Neuer Markt, Baeres’ Intertainment Licensing GmbH hit a market cap of $1.3 billion by promising investors that Intertainment would have the European rights to a sixty-film library to be produced by the highly talented and well-respected Hollywood producer, Elie Samaha.
Back in Hollywood, we knew Samaha as the former doorman who had made his bones running the V.I.P. rooms at the Roxbury and the Sunset Room and supplying party favors for Sly Stallone, John Travolta, Kevin Costner, Wesley Snipes and Bruce Willis. Now, according to Baeres and his press releases that still sit on the website www.intertainment.de, Samaha was going to make highly-commerical films with his late-night buddies. (Note: All the English translations of the 1999 Intertainment press releases praising Samaha have disappeared. Duh.)
First up on the slate was Travolta’s “Battlefield Earth.”
Before his stock investors woke up and smelled the kraut, Baeres put $185 million of their money into the worst slate of films to hit Hollywood since Ed Wood. In September of 2000, Baeres owed a total of $170 million on cash guarantees and letters of credit that would be soon payable to Imperial Bank in Los Angeles and Hypoverins Bank in Munich, this as Samaha’s awful films were being delivered one after another for European release. And the Neuer Markt, which had thrown all that funny money Baeres’ way, was crashing.
That’s when Baeres said that Samaha was not the next Louis B. Mayer, rather, he was a thief who had slipped him phony, inflated budgets and cheated Intertainment out of $75 million. He said that Imperial Bank (now Comerica Bank) was in on the fraud, He told his investors that Samaha and Imperial were able to do this because Baeres was a naïve, but honest, German who had given Samaha that $185 million with no oversight. “I was never allowed to see any bank budgets or production cost reports,” Baeres wailed later in court.
“Yeah, I pumped the budgets,” Samaha replied in the witness box. “How else was I going to get my slate financed?” Samaha almost said “piece of shit slate financed,” but didn’t leave out this part:
“There was no fraud. Baeres knew I was pumping the budgets, but didn’t care. He’s a stock promoter. His job is to sell air to greedy investors who will buy anything that’s rising. At least I made the movies.”
Samaha may have been no more or no less than an honest thief.. If you don’t believe me, check on how the arbitration is going between Intertainment and Imperial/Comerica Bank, in which Intertainment is trying to convince a professional arbitrator that the theory he gave the civilian jury was honest and true.
It’s going nowhere, because Intertainment is taking on the bank lawyers for Comerica, who’ve had five years to figure out where the bodies are buried in Germany.
But don’t ask Baeres. He resigned from his chairmanship of Intertainment in 2004 almost as soon as the jury verdict came in. He’s now on Intertainment’s “supervisory board” and has moved to Los Angeles. His last public statement heralded the jury verdict in the 2004 trial, and briefly noted that the debt from Franchise might be hard to collect because Franchise is bankrupt.
But check that website out at Intertainment, because there’s hot news that Barry is confident that the same $106 million that’s due from the Franchise lawsuit will be matched by the money that will come in from the Comerica Bank arbitration.
Any day now.
I laughed in 2004 when I heard Intertainment’s opening statement to the Santa Ana jury. I knew that Scott Edelman of Gibson, Dunnn & Crutcher was a great lawyer who was being paid $15 million by Baeres to sell the jury on the “phony budget fraud” story. I also knew that Samaha’s former lawyer, Larry Stein, had done little discovery while trying to work out a deal between Samaha and Baeres.
The next day, after the opening statement by Samaha’s lawyers, the Variety reporter, Sphintz, turned to me and said, “Elie’s going down.”
“You’re crazy,” I replied. “Nobody could be as dumb as Baeres claims he is. He says he gave Elie-freakin’-Samaha $185 million in public money and had no idea how Elie would spend it?”
“Samaha never got any evidence in discovery,” Sphintz shot back. “It’s over.”
Sphintz was right. Meanwhile, I gave regular updates to Andrew Stevens, Samaha’s wingman at Franchise. Steven’s had decided to skip the trial by giving Baeres $1 million.
It sounded like an awfully low sum for someone accused of helping Elie steal $75 million, but gratuities, as I once wrote years ago, must be paid to the expediters. And Stevens did say that he had once been offered a professional hit man to wipe out Baeres, and was told that the same hit man had been offered to Baeres.
Of course, when it comes to Samaha, Baeres, and Stevens, the question must be asked:
Whose gratuity is it, anyway?
Part one of May 2000 Daily Journal story: The Players Bang Heads
Part Two: A Long Night in Munich