Byline: By richard siklos section: Section C; Column ; Business/Financial Desk; Pg. Length
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URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT: MOVIE & VIDEO INDUSTRIES (90%); HOLDING COMPANIES (78%); MOVIE INDUSTRY (77%); CELEBRITIES (77%); LAWYERS (75%); MOVIE & VIDEO PRODUCTION (75%); WAGES & SALARIES (71%); PRIVATE EQUITY (64%); FILM (90%); ACTORS & ACTRESSES (75%) Motion Pictures; Company and Organization Profiles; Motion Pictures COMPANY: METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER INC (96%); METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER CINEMAS LTD (91%); METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER PICTURES INC (91%); METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER DISTRIBUTION CO (91%) ORGANIZATION: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc; United Artists INDUSTRY: NAICS512110 MOTION PICTURE AND VIDEO PRODUCTION (93%); SIC7812 MOTION PICTURE & VIDEO TAPE PRODUCTION (96%); NAICS512110 MOTION PICTURE & VIDEO PRODUCTION (96%) PERSON: TOM CRUISE (99%); STEVEN SPIELBERG (50%) Tom Cruise; Paula Wagner; Richard Siklos GEOGRAPHIC: LOS ANGELES, CA, USA (79%) CALIFORNIA, USA (79%) UNITED STATES (79%) LOAD-DATE: March 4, 2007 LANGUAGE: ENGLISH CORRECTION-DATE: March 11, 2007 CORRECTION: An article last Sunday about United Artists misidentified one of the investors in its parent company, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. It is the Texas Pacific Group, not Thomas H. Lee Partners. The article also referred incorrectly to the title of UA's first film under its new managers in two references. It will be ''Lions for Lambs,'' not ''Lambs for Lions.'' GRAPHIC: Photos: Tom Cruise and his business partner, Paula Wagner, now run United Artists. (Photo by Lester Cohen/WireImage.com)(pg. 1) From left, the Hollywood legends D.W. Griffith, Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin (seated) and Douglas Fairbanks Sr. signing the original contract, below, that created the United Artists studio in 1919. (Photo by United Artists) As Sumner Redstone, left, had his public dust-up with Tom Cruise, the chief of MGM, Harry Sloan, right, made new plans for United Artists. (Photo by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer via The Associated Press) (Photo by Danny Moloshok/Associated Press)(pg. 8) Tom Cruise's last two films for Paramount Pictures, ''Mission: Impossible III,'' top, and ''War of the Worlds.'' (Photo by Stephen Vaughan/Paramount Pictures) (Photo by Andrew Cooper/Paramount Pictures)(pg. 9) PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company 1066 of 1258 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final Tragic Mountain BYLINE: By LOUISE JARVIS FLYNN. Louise Jarvis Flynn has written about adventure and sports for Women's Sports & Fitness and other magazines. SECTION: Section 7; Column 1; Book Review Desk; Pg. 23 LENGTH: 811 words THE WHITE CASCADE The Great Northern Railway Disaster and America's Deadliest Avalanche. By Gary Krist. Illustrated. 315 pp. Henry Holt & Company. $26. Natural disasters follow a script in America, a maddening, though some might argue reassuring, drama that taps into our puritanical righteousness, our legacy of entitlement and our compulsion to right wrongs with regulatory legislation. Whether a hurricane is to blame or a blizzard, as in ''The White Cascade: The Great Northern Railway Disaster and America's Deadliest Avalanche,'' by Gary Krist, our outrage in retrospect seems matched only by our lack of foresight at the time. Set in 1910 on elegant Pullmans and drab boxcars held hostage by snow in the Cascade mountains, Krist's account of an avalanche -- which struck early on the morning of March 1 and killed 96 men, women and children -- resonates because the particulars of such national tragedies have not, in fact, changed much. The Great Northern Railway's Cascade line, completed in 1893, was considered a marvel. The switchbacks and tunnels that cut through the snowiest region in the lower 48 were the handiwork of John F. Stevens, who would later become chief engineer of the Panama Canal. For the first time, Seattle, Spokane and Everett were efficiently connected to the rest of the country, allowing mail and other goods to travel from St. Paul to Seattle in just under 48 hours. Watching over this line was James O'Neill, a 37-year-old golden boy whose career on the rails started at age 13. He became a favorite of the Great Northern's owner, James J. Hill, a tycoon who once said, ''Give me enough Swedes and whiskey and I'll build a railroad to hell.'' O'Neill had been superintendent of the division for three years when, at the end of February 1910, an enormous snowstorm socked in the mountains, and he was forced to shut down the line until the weather improved. Six trains were on the tracks, but O'Neill's main concern quickly became the two already deep in the Cascades, the time-sensitive Fast Mail train and the stately Seattle Express. Weather, Krist notes, was not the only villain here. As the hours and days passed, telegraph lines snapped and coal supplies dwindled. There were honest miscalculations, good intentions gone awry and corporate hubris aplenty, giving the story complexity and relevance. Krist was fortunate with the cast of characters aboard these trains -- stogie-smoking gents, an imperious dowager, a young and fashionable hair-care entrepreneur, an intrepid female journalist, a handful of adorable children -- but he doesn't use them to full effect. He's a novelist and short-story writer, but in this, his first nonfiction book, he restrains his imaginative powers somewhat. He is hesitant to recreate scenes even when the story's lagging pace begs for a bit of embellishment, and even though his source material -- diaries, passengers' letters and transcripts from the coroner's official report -- would seem to support some license. Krist rarely budges from his admirable detachment, and, as a result, portions of the narrative drag. Wisely, though, Krist puts O'Neill at the center of the story: a man of swift and earnest action and company loyalty. Still, this is a case of disaster compounded by bad choices, and one that brought to light hidden agendas among the powerful, as well as the diffuse anxieties and suspicions Americans felt toward the industry titans of their time. Class warfare and bigotry emerged in the avalanche's wake. Newspapers stoked gruesome rumors, one involved starving crew members killing and eating a cat. Years later, events were rehashed in lawsuits. But for all the emotional familiarity of the tragedy and its aftermath, the victims are anachronisms. They are evidence that Americans have devolved in terms of civility, stoicism and patience. Most were too polite, too adaptable to make too much fuss. Though, one group did gather signatures for a petition requesting a meeting with O'Neill, who was too busy dickering with snowplows to oblige. And some passengers managed to hike down off the mountain before the avalanche struck. O'Neill tried to shoulder the burden himself, but his commendable work ethic prevented him from evacuating the trains. Everyone on the mountain that week had a faith in man and machine so complete that they were willing to endure days in claustrophobic quarters among toddlers and the infirm and drinking polluted snow water. Paradoxically, it is precisely our modern propensity for impatience and aggression, our tendency to freak out and then blame others, that could have saved these well-behaved men, women and children. Aren't we too rude and cynical to stand for such shenanigans from Amtrak? Certainly the hundreds who died waiting bravely for assistance in New Orleans could belie that point. Or prove it, perhaps.
Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company 1067 of 1258 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final Super Agents, Super Teams BYLINE: By GERRI HIRSHEY SECTION: Section 14NJ; Column 2; New Jersey Weekly Desk; Pg. 1 LENGTH: 2334 words THE young couple are seated together awaiting another real estate agent's appraisal in what is called the ''English pub room'' of their 1730 antique home in Westport, Conn. Theirs is the kind of property that ads typically limn as ''historic charmer with state-of-the-art amenities.'' This means the imposing stone hearth is hung with a tasteful dark plasma screen instead of a fox-hunting print. The couple took two years to renovate, expand and hone the place to Architectural Digest perfection while they lived elsewhere. The home's craftsmanship and detail are exquisite, from the outdoor fireplace to the fully wired and Wi-Fied his-and-hers offices much desired by Fairfield County's Blackberry-dependent financial services cadres. ''Those offices are absolutely going to sell this house,'' says Michelle Genovesi, a Westport broker with a 100-gigabyte memory for detail, detail, detail, and a sales presentation that corners and shifts as smoothly as the BMW she drove up in. ''Commuters are willing to spend more for things like this if it means they can work at home one or two days a week.'' Ms. Genovesi, a former Wilhelmina model, is the founder and top producer of her Westport-area firm, Michelle & Company. Despite the housing market slowdown, her three-agent team did $70 million in sales volume in 2006. Teams are a trend in the region's residential real estate market. Sharing resources, from office workers to Webmasters, has become practical as agents struggle to keep up with local and Internet listings. According to the National Association of Realtors, Web listings are now consulted by 80 percent of Americans looking to buy homes. Successful teams like Ms. Genovesi's are actively courted by big national agencies, which are only too happy to encourage their local, personalized approach. Ms. Genovesi says she has had many corporate suitors but has opted to stay with a parent company, William Raveis Real Estate and Home Services, because its founder and chief executive, William Raveis, ''allows you to unleash your personality in the business.'' ''He's not fearful of you growing and branding yourself,'' she says. Mr. Raveis said: ''Michelle is a mega-agent. We're in negotiations for her to double that sales volume, expand her territory and her team.'' To that end, Ms. Genovesi is shopping for her own office building, where she will add to her current team-- two ''buyer specialist'' agents and a six-person staff that provides administrative, Web, mortgage and marketing support. ''Most people in our industry are reactive to the market,'' Mr. Raveis said. ''She's very proactive. She branded herself and created this team approach before anyone else out here thought of it. Now there are lots of Michelle wannabes.'' Among the more visible branded teams in the region are Mike Luchen's in Westchester County, N.Y., whose ads promise, ''Team Mike Luchen Realtors speak English, Italian, Spanish, Polish and German.'' There are married teams and sister acts, like the Twin Team in Westchester, identical sisters whose Web site trumpets ''A Shared Synergy.'' In Essex County, the Baldwin Dream Team, a ReMax quartet of former freelance writers and administrators, will be one of three teams featured on a new reality series, ''Bought and Sold,'' on HGTV in late April. Roberta Baldwin, lead agent of the team, which did $40 million in sales in 2006, explained why she set up her own shop within the ReMax penumbra: ''I wanted to be more entrepreneurial, and I found people to help me grow my business that I can absolutely trust to have our interests at heart. It's pretty cutthroat in real estate, either on your own or in a big company. Clients also like the idea that they'll be taken care of even when I'm busy elsewhere.'' Mr. Raveis, whose business has 55 offices in Connecticut and Massachusetts with 1,700 agents and claims $5 billion in annual sales, has big producers besides Ms. Genovesi. Most notable is Jean Ruggiero, who, embedded in Greenwich, Conn. -- a hedge-fund capital -- can bring in $110 million in yearly volume by selling executive castles. The rich do shop differently, Mr. Raveis said, and he especially values Ms. Genovesi for her ability to reel in and placate corporate titans and their families -- and their decorators. ''To deal with the high-end seller and high-end demands and be sane well, she's amazing,'' he said. Selling white-glove service requires a statelier pace, and no visible pressure. Ms. Genovesi's presentation to the couple with the Westport property takes more than an hour and includes a customized, meticulously researched portfolio on their home and others in the area, prepared by her staff. She is the third agent the couple have interviewed. As the spring real estate market gets off to a brisk start -- Ms. Genovesi says you can peg it, reliable as the first robin, to the first weekend after the Super Bowl -- they want to be ready. The last agent the couple interviewed left a brochure and dashed off after a few words about installing a lockbox. ''Under no circumstances do we do a lockbox here,'' Ms. Genovesi says. ''You do not walk in and out of an exceptional property at will.'' She will show the home herself, and only to those prequalified with a discreet questionnaire and mortgage preapproval. ''If buyers decide after a tour it's not right, I'll introduce them to my buyer team members, who will share with them whatever else is in the market,'' Ms. Genovesi says. ''That's where I pass the baton. My focus is on selling my properties.'' She says she will sell the home three times: to other agents, to a buyer and to the bank appraiser. She will invite other agents in for a look and a catered lunch, but there will be no open house. ''Too many people just want to check out the granite counters and get some ideas,'' she says. Calling Ms. Genovesi, the wife says, was ''almost automatic,'' given her reputation and visibility. According to a competing agent, ''No one would think of listing a high-end property without having Michelle at least do an appraisal.'' For her part, Ms. Genovesi does not want to know the competition. ''I have 23 years' experience here,'' she says, ''and I can say that I own the high-end market.'' As conversation deepens, Ms. Genovesi's pronouns subtly slide from ''your'' to ''our,'' as in ''Our appliances and renovations are mint.'' Finally, the sensitive part -- the number -- comes up. Ms. Genovesi routinely turns down listings if the asking prices are unrealistically high. Sometimes sellers come back to her -- and her number -- after other agents fail to move the house. ''The number is just a suggestion based on my experience and market education,'' she says. It can be fine-tuned. She tells the couple her number and commission. They nod. One more big question hangs: Are things moving? ''There's lots of inventory now,'' Ms. Genovesi says, ''but in some segments, only 50 percent sold last year, in others only 25 percent. Statistically, the high end hasn't taken as big a hit as the rest of the market -- especially with this year's Wall Street bonuses. We're definitely feeling those bonuses now. We find that when the market turns, it's the lower and higher ends that still do well. It's the middle market that suffers the most.'' AS part of her presentation, she explains her career path: ''In the late '80s, no one was really taking any part of the business and owning it. So Idecided to focus on listing and marketing exceptional properties. To do that I needed to brand myself. I started to spend money to make money. I put my photograph in my ads. Back then, everyone said, 'What's with the picture?' But people remembered. I started getting calls.'' Ms. Genovesi does business in expensive but understated clothes and in two BMWs: a 5 Series S.U.V. for ferrying clients, and a sportier 3 Series convertible she just bought as a 50th birthday present to herself. She had considered indulging in a Maserati but rejected it as ''too pretentious.'' Nothing, not even a well-earned midlife toy, should interfere with the image she has honed carefully, some might say obsessively, since she arrived in Connecticut as a fiancee looking for a house and got her real estate license ''on a whim.'' After two long engagements, she is ''single and fine with it.'' As the eldest of five children born into an Air Force family, ''I'm a habitual caregiver,'' she says. A mobile childhood, much of it in Europe -- five moves during the last two years of high school -- made her an extrovert of necessity. Her brief modeling career was fun, chiefly for the travel, but she found fashion confining. By taking the long view in her next endeavor, she says, she has carved herself a posh, Scalamandre-upholstered niche here on Connecticut's Gold Coast. ''Exceptional properties'' translates to $2 million to $15 million. Most of Ms. Genovesi's listings have names, like Pier Way, Lord's Manor and the Hermitage. They will appear on premiere Web sites with detailed virtual tours. Qualified buyers will get custom portfolios including a CD-ROM virtual tour of the property, its photo imprinted on the disc. Some homes, like Judith Paixao's riverside compound, a property once owned by the prima ballerina Tanaquil Le Clercq, have exceptional provenance. Ms. Le Clercq and her husband, the choreographer George Balanchine, also owned a summer residence across the road. ''It's a singular property that needs the right buyer,'' Ms. Paixao said. ''I needed someone who could think way outside the box, and that was Michelle. She gets it. She arranged to have two Chico's holiday catalogs photographed there -- and showed the place right in the middle of the shoot.'' MS. GENOVESI has other ideas for the 1730 antique property. ''Weather permitting, I can have an aerial photographer here by the weekend,'' she tells the couple. From the air, the manicured grounds will show to estate-like advantage. ''People are starting to look now,'' she tells the owners. ''Our biggest binding month, when offers are written, is March.'' The couple have one more agent to see; they promise a prompt decision and see her out warmly. ''I'm sure I've got it,'' Ms. Genovesi says as she heads to her car. Even perfect properties require an alternative mind-set. On another day, Ms. Genovesi demonstrates her house-showing technique at a modernist masterwork in Saugatuck Shores -- waterfront, private dock, $8.8 million. This is not a home to perfume with the smell of baking cookies. But the automatic shades will be raised to the view when buyers stroll in. Cool jazz -- appropriate to the modern art, the custom leather floors in the library -- will provide a chic soundtrack. ''We're not selling a house,'' Ms. Genovesi instructs. ''We're selling a lifestyle.'' This is how she was able to price the home next door to this one at an audacious $9 million -- almost $2 million over what she said the Westport market was bearing at the time. ''In exceptional properties you have to market outside the town you're in,'' Ms. Genovesi says. She researched waterfront prices all the way to Greenwich and sent e-mail messages to more than 500 potential customers. A Darien agent saw it and brought her clients, who had been looking at waterfront in Greenwich, where the prices are higher. They bought it for the asking price. Thus, in so many ways, Ms. Genovesi is not what Mr. Raveis calls a ''maintenance'' Realtor -- that diligent professional who tucks so many suburban families into center-hall colonials. Nor does she fit the voracious, blonde-in-a-gold-Lexus cliche of the go-go '90s. At the weekly team meeting at Michelle & Company, six women come and go, talking of corporate ''relo.'' Mobility is the agent's bread and butter: corporate relocations, divorce, remarriages with blended families, empty nesters. Audrey Demetres, one of the two agents who concentrate on buyers, says this is an especially fluid market. ''I came from a house where my teenage wallpaper is still on the wall,'' Ms. Demetres says. ''But I don't think I've ever sold anyone a house that was thinking in terms of a lifetime home. They'll either upsize, downsize. They never think of staying in that 30-year-mortgage house. I have one family that couldn't move up fast enough -- a two-bedroom cottage, then a colonial, then new construction, all before they were 34.'' Ms. Demetres's counterpart, Suzanne Dodge, left a high-profile career in real estate marketing in Manhattan after she had her third child, but she wanted ''a serious career'' in the suburbs. The high-tech embrace of Ms. Genovesi's team was perfect. ''Internet was just cranking up,'' Ms. Dodge says. ''That was a huge expense to take on as a sole agent. I was advertising, trying to get listings, staying up all night answering e-mails, writing ads.'' Signing on with Ms. Genovesi after a stint at another agency, ''I was just dazzled,'' Ms. Dodge says. ''Everything is smooth. I never do paperwork after I sell a house. They handle everything. And I can go out and sell another house.'' A few days after Ms. Genovesi's presentation to the couple with the 1730 home, she is sitting in a Westport Starbucks. Above the cellphone cacophony of other recaffeinating brokers, she confides, ''I got the listing.'' The aerial shots are done, the number is firmed up, the virtual tour is being shot. She is talking about the office buildings along the Post Road that she has been looking at for her expansion when a lawyer, Joseph C. Maya, strides over and says hello. She is friendly, but quizzical until he explains that she found him a house in 2001 when he wanted to move his family to a quieter, safer street. Ms. Genovesi had forgotten Mr. Maya's first name, but she could summon the precise transaction details. He is pumping her hand. ''Since then I've sent over 20 people to you,'' he says. ''I'll probably send 20 more.'' She thanks him with a big grin. ''Bring 'em on,'' she says.
(Photo by Douglas Healey for The New York Times)(pg. 10) RURAL CHARM -- Michelle Genovesi, one of Connecticut's top real estate sales agents, at the entrance to Balanchine, a barn home and estate in Wilton that is on the market for $3,650,000. The property once belonged to the prima ballerina Tanaquil Le Clercq, who had a home nearby with her husband, the choreographer George Balanchine. (Photo by Suzanne DeChillo/The New York Times)(pg. 1) Yüklə 4,36 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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