IN THE LATE 1980s, when I learned that an employee of a bank in downtown Toronto had been arrested for a major fraud, my antennae twitched. The branch was across the street from the offices of Saturday Night, where I worked. I proposed to look into the matter and see if it might make a good piece for the magazine.
I was able to contact the (now former) banker, Brian, through his lawyer. It turned out Brian was a compulsive gambler, which explained his motivation. With his cooperation I developed a nonfiction book outline and took it to a Toronto literary agent.
Peter was the hot new agent in town, son of a former president of Capitol Records, and he’d negotiated great deals for a couple of writers of my acquaintance. I met him at his office and gave him the book proposal I’d put together—the story, and why it was great; the audience, and why it was huge; the competition; some marketing ideas. We sat there in silence for a few minutes while he read it.
“I don’t think there’s a book here,” he said finally, handing it back to me. “It’s a magazine piece.”
“That’s what I thought at first. I actually proposed it at Saturday Night. But the more I learn about the characters, and what happened, and how, the more I see the makings of a good book and a movie.”
“Well, anyway,” he said, “good to meet you. I’ve got a lunch. Good luck with it.”
Motivation takes many forms. “Thanks for your time,” said my outer voice. Screw you, said my inner voice.
A well-connected entertainment lawyer, Michael Levine, helped me land a publisher, and Stung ended up on Canadian bestseller lists, in hardcover and paperback, for two years. It won a couple of awards, was published in several territories and translations, and turned up on a few “Best of Year” lists. In the U.S., it was re-titled No Limit (“Stung is such a downer,” said the New York publisher, according to the agent who was selling foreign rights). It failed to earn out its American hardcover advance.
Why so little interest in the States, I asked the agent (a worldly Englishwoman), when so much of the story takes place in Las Vegas and Atlantic City? “Canada barely exists in the minds of most Americans,” she said. “One publisher asked me, ‘Ten million dollars Canadian—how much is that?’ It was like he was asking me to convert Thai baht into U.S. dollars.
“Anyway, sorry I couldn’t do more for you, Gary. If only the bank had been in Chicago or New York. Once a movie comes together, we’ll have another go with a mass-market paperback.”
The movie rights were optioned many times over the years before Philip Seymour Hoffman agreed to play the lead. A film adaptation, Owning Mahowny, went into production soon thereafter.
The agent hoped that a U.S paperback tie-in, with Philip-as-banker on the cover, timed to the film’s release, would bring us a nice payday. She soon found a paperback publisher, and the big U.S. bookstore chains placed decent-sized orders. The book would be available in stores across the States timed to the film’s release. Things were shaping up nicely; but then, just before going to press, the publisher got cold feet.
“Why?” I asked the agent.
“All I could get from them was that it has something to do with liability.”
ONE OF BRIAN’S bank customers in Toronto was a member of the ultra-wealthy Thomson family. Sherry Brydson had given me her blessing to write about her dealings with Brian back when I was doing the book. She’d not merely cooperated, but even helped me by putting me in touch with other people to interview. I drew her as the warm, funny, somewhat offbeat heiress I found her to be. She was a wonderful interview: candid and helpful, quite unlike her rather stodgy uncle, Ken Thomson; her grandfather, Lord Thomson of Fleet; and her cousin, David Thomson. (Today David runs the multi-billion Thomson Reuters empire and Sherry is the richest woman in Canada.)
The fabulous (and formidable) Thomson family heiress Sherry Brydson.
As the film’s release date firmed up, the publisher’s libel lawyers, aware of the Thomson connection, worried that Sherry (renamed Dana Selkirk in the film, and played by Sonja Smits) would either try to block the movie or sue the producers over her onscreen depiction. The publisher’s libel insurer suddenly wanted an extra $75,000 to cover the possibility that Sherry would seek an injunction.
Actress Sonja Smits, who played the Sherry Brydson character in the film.
I pointed out that Sherry’s name had been changed in the film. Yes, they said, but it would be obvious from the book who the character actually was. I pointed out that the movie, unlike the book, was a fictionalization; that the character’s role in the movie was minor; that she was depicted as more “conventional” than the real Sherry; and that Sherry was happy that a portion of all proceeds from the story went to repaying the insurance company that had indemnified the bank.
Look, I assured the publisher, Sherry was cool. She hadn’t sued the Canadian, U.S., or British hardcover publisher. She hadn’t sued the French or Spanish publisher. I was absolutely certain she would not be offended by the movie, and I offered to put them in touch with Sherry herself if they wanted confirmation. We could even, I suggested, show her the scenes in which the Dana Selkirk character appears.
Out of the question, of course. It would put Sherry on notice, perhaps prompting her peremptorily to try to block the film’s release. If that’s the fear, I suggested, why not dispel it or confirm it ahead of time? I’m certain we could put that fear to rest. (P.S. She’s not going to sue.)
I had dealt with libel concerns at Saturday Night, where the wise and pragmatic Julian Porter many times helped us chart a course between contentious and actionable. In the original Canadian hardcover of Stung, I’d had to make only one small change for legal reasons. Yes, said the publisher, but libel and defamation laws are different in the U.S. We need the extra indemnification, but we don’t have the budget for it.
The U.S. publisher asked if I’d cover the $75,000. After all, Sherry might sue me as well. Uh, no, I would not. (P. S. She’s not going to sue, me or anyone else.) Would I split the additional premium? Uh, no thanks. (P.S. She’s not going to sue.) I simply could not see pissing away money to protect against a phantom lawsuit a libel lawyer had hallucinated to show his diligence in covering the publisher’s ass.
In the end, the publisher backed out, and so there were no paperbacks on shelves in U.S. bookstores when the film came out. Meanwhile, distribution of the movie was cut back because the anticipated paperback support never materialized. Despite generally good reviews, Owning Mahowny, in SONY Pictures Classics’ limited distribution, came nowhere close to recouping the $10 million it cost to make.
ABOUT THIS TIME, I helped found a publishing house, Macfarlane Walter & Ross, and became privy to libel discussions involving several controversial books we turned out (I think especially of On the Take, Stevie Cameron’s account of corruption during the Mulroney years, and Game Misconduct, Russ Conway’s book about Alan Eagleson’s collusion with NHL owners). Everything I learned about libel from MW&R’s excellent lawyer, Peter Jacobsen, only made me more certain that Sherry would never have dreamed of trying to halt the movie.
Oh, well. In the end, I was lucky the book did nicely in Canada, unlucky it didn’t catch on in the U.S. I was lucky the film got made and released, unlucky there was no paperback tie-in. Win some, lose some.
P.S. Sherry didn’t sue.
As several people later pointed out, a legal threat was, ironically, just what the movie and the paperback needed. A lawsuit involving a Thomson family member would likely have been big news and created widespread awareness of the story.
P. P.S. Attention U.S. publishers: Anybody want to revisit an old story? Today (the late) Philip Seymour Hoffman’s image on the cover would be a much bigger draw. Sherry Brydson lives in Victoria, not far from Galiano Island, where I live. Maybe I could take her to lunch, tell her that the book is being reissued in the States—and urge her to seek an injunction.
Emotional rollercoaster: Hurray! Aargh! Hurray! Aargh! Hurray! Aargh!
Well told. . . You're taking awfully well. Grrrrrr.