"Mr. Jackson!"
Harry turned as he heard that name. He had just exited Heathrow Airport, feeling the cool London air against his overcoat. A man in a wrinkled but neatly pressed suit, leaning doughily onto his abdomen, slicked-back graying hair, and waving like a pogo stick while small bit player characters rolled on and off stage, waved at him energetically.
Harry smiled as he walked toward him. "Mr. Potter, I presume?" Harry began with his hand extended to shake.
"Indeed," the man said, shaking with some heft. "Pleasure to finally meet you, young man. Your uncle has said you are a fine young man."
"Let's hope I live up to it," Harry said at a polite smile. "Where is the car?"
Potter pointed to a 1998 Cadillac Seville STS parked about 15 yards away. Well-appointed and sleek, it had had its paces but suited Harry without any apparent undercarriage issues. They loaded Harry's luggage and drove out onto the slick, misty streets of London.
Potter, a former colleague of Harry's father at Jackson's Europe division, had been called by Mason to assist as he spent time in the UK. While JCC had a small administrative office in London, Harry's business was not commercial but personal.
At least that was the plan.
On paper, it was a holiday -- a break from the six long months of re-establishing JTV, but underneath the holiday was purpose.
Consider promising creative talent or formats in the UK market.
Set the stage for a second independent income stream.
"I have a few office listings ready to go," Potter said as they drove towards Harry's hotel in Mayfair. "A number of commercial units near King's Cross, a few in Soho ... could be turned into just about anything."
"I'm not after a huge space," Harry replied, looking out into the city through the frost-kissed window. "My requirement will be two or three stories. just enough for a small HQ."
"Right," Potter nodded. "What are you thinking - what business sector? Media expansion?"
Harry hesitated. Honestly, he had only ever been in the entertainment sector. In his prior life, his experience in taking every job he had moved to (stocker, cashier, video store clerk) was only a means to gather experience and money to build his media business.
But now he had cash. He needed something more like diversification. "Retail. Maybe theatres, a chain eventually. Malls, hotels... even a franchise."
The car jerked a little as Potter hit the brakes at a red light and glanced over. "That's ambitious."
Harry kept it light. "That's why you're here. I assume you've still got contacts in the city. Some of them might have a line on who's willing to sell."
Potter raised his eyebrow again. "Supermarkets and hotels are risky. Even your father stuck to media and communications. Why not just grow your father's business?"
Harry smiled. "Because it's not mine. Not totally. I can't lean on my uncle forever—and the board is hardly stable footing. I want something mine. Where I get to control from the foundation up."
He didn't say the rest. And if it turns its back on me one day, I won't be left with nothing.
By the next week, Potter had a few meetings lined up for Harry. Most were duds—bad locations, owners wanting double the easy valuation, and places too far afield from downtown to ever be anything.
Then came the visit to Buckingham Road; just a ten minute walk from Buckingham Palace; a prime footfall area, an established tourist flow; the right kind of local wealthy resident base.
The theatre was old, for sure—but looked sturdy. The interiors were dated, the lighting was horrible and the food counter looked like it hadn't been updated since 1982.
But for Harry? This is an opportunity.
"This is Mr. Wade Woodrow," Potter said, introducing a sharp dressed gentleman in the late forties; he appeared tired, but composed.
"Mr. Jackson," Wade said, extending his hand. "I know of your father. He was well-respected around these parts."
Harry nodded. "And you are the owner of this establishment?"
"For now," Wade replied. "I am moving to Canada next quarter—for family reasons. It's always going to be difficult running a theatre from the other side of the Atlantic."
Harry took a long look at the building. Specifically, from a location perspective, this was a grand slam. There were sources of modernization that could be addressed—upgraded projector systems; new seats; sound-proofing; digital ticketing, all achieved easily if you understood the back-end of entertainment operations.
The true purpose of cinema was never showing the movies; it was the context of revenue per square. Food, consumables, merchandise, licensing contracts, banners and ad space, private viewing parties.
And this place? People wouldn't mind paying a bit more for, even if they could see the same thing down the road for less. Especially tourists.
"Do you have accounts of the last three years – sales, expenses, taxes, and maintenance records?"
Wade looked surprised at the specificity of the question. "Yes, I can have those for you by tonight."
Harry nodded. "Please do."
Three Days Later
Harry was seated across the table from Wade again, at a solicitor's office this time. After reviewing the numbers and confirming there were no large liens on the property and no due bills from regulators, we settled on a final offer:
30-million euro, which included any theatre equipment, naming rights, and Wade's transitional support for a period of no more than three months.
The theatre's legal ownership was being transferred to FunCinemas, the first brand of Harry's newly registered UK entity:
HJGC...Harry Jackson Group of Companies,
Some people might say that was a bit cocky, they never met Harry's ambition.
They signed.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Harry said, offering a firm handshake.
Wade chuckled. "Likewise. I wasn't expecting someone your age to have this kind of poise. I assumed you were just another heir burning through the family trust."
Harry's smile remained. "I get that a lot."