He was, of course, disappointed that Contz Beckenbauer had failed to get Els Engle's signature on the contract. There was still hope, though not much if the young lady actually did take the contract to a lawyer. Beckenbauer should never have let her take it out the door. Thankfully, most didn't seek legal advice. Even if this girl did, though, he still might get her. Many people were desperate to get a record cut and become famous stars in the up-time fashion. He doubted that she'd be able to do that. He had too much control already.
Jost owned—indirectly—a record player manufactory and a record cutting studio. And had a contract with Adolph Schmidt at the pressing plant. He also had several other contracts. Jost paused a moment and chewed. This up-timer catfish was excellent. Completely unlike the inedible down-time sort.
His cutting shop had contracts with several recording studios that delivered tapes to him. He owned one of them already and expected to pick up the other soon. The other one was a studio with some good portable equipment, perfectly suitable for recording live concerts and plays. It was expensive equipment—quite expensive—and he could probably pick it up fairly cheaply in exchange for not prosecuting when Jacob Trommler defaulted on his contract.
Jost grinned and patted his mouth with a napkin. It was a good contract, that one. It obligated Trommler Records to buy at least one cut master a month at a set price. If Herr Trommler didn't buy the master, he didn't just owe the cutting shop for it, he owed a penalty as well. Of course, Jacob had not been quite so naïve as the "want to be" stars whose contracts Jost owned. If Trommler did come up with something to cut a master of, the von Reinhart cutting studio was obligated to do it.
But Jost doubted that Trommler would have anything more than another speech he wanted recorded. The man was too civic-minded for his own good. Jost grinned again. The radical ones often were. Jost was a fairly conservative man. He was willing enough to use the technology the up-timers brought. He was less happy with their radical political notions. Trommler had insisted that he be able to cut and distribute anything he wanted to and hadn't paid much attention to what else was in the contract. Which meant that, soon enough, Jost would own Trommler Records.
* * *
"Because," Judy said, weeks later, "Speeches aren't especially entertaining. She was sitting in a rather dingy office outside Magdeburg where the rents were cheaper. And talking to a committed record producer. Or perhaps one who should be committed. "They're topical, I'll give you that. People need to hear them, but mostly they only need to hear them once. Maybe twice, in an election year. Records are for stuff you want to listen to every day or every few days or maybe just when you're in the mood."
Trommler Records wasn't doing all that well, not these days. Clearly, Jacob Trommler thought it was a wonderful idea to make records of speeches. Mike Stearns' speeches. Wilhelm Wettin's speeches. Speeches from the USE House of Lords and senators. Judy had gone over his sales list and inventory.
"But speeches are important," Jacob said. "Not like the silly music." Jacob broke into song and Judy winced when she heard it. "In the big rock candy mountains, you never change your socks," he warbled. "And the little streams of alcohol come a trickling down the rocks." Thankfully, Jacob quit singing. The wobbling of the guy's Adam's apple had been almost as bad as his singing voice. He started talking again, which wasn't as bad.
"How is this of value? It goes against the sanitation lessons. It goes against what we are told of the evils of too much drinking. Speeches matter, Fraulein. They tell people what is going on in the world." It was clear that Jacob, a skinny guy with muddy brown hair and glasses, was trying to impress her.
Judy sighed a bit. Since moving to Magdeburg after graduation she had been quite busy. It had taken a telegraph message from Trent to remind her of her promise to Els. Feeling guilty she had moved into high gear and found Trommler Records. "Herr Trommler, yes, they do. But they are not entertainment. A person will go hear a speech, yes. Listen to it on the radio, yes. But the election is over. It's done. And people don't want to listen to politicians spout off every day. " Judy could see him getting ready to object and held up her hand. "They aren't going to buy that kind of record. On the other hand, they do listen to music every day."
"I have inventory. The speeches will sell, given time," Jacob said. Inventory he did have, Judy knew. Inventory of a bunch of records of speeches he hadn't had to pay an artist to record. The only thing keeping this guy afloat was the one really good idea he'd had. The record sets of "Learn Up-timer English" sold well. The record sets of "Learn Latin" sold even better. True, he did have two speeches that sold reasonably well. One was of Gustavus Adolphus, the other of Mike Stearns conceding the election to Wilhelm Wettin.
"Herr Trommler, I'm not arguing the moral merits of music versus speeches. What I am saying is that people won't buy the speeches, not in the numbers you need to make a profit. You need an entertainment division to support your other, more high-minded, products. For that you need a name. Someone who is already recognized by the people you're trying to sell to. Someone like the Old Folk's Band. Marla Linder. Or Els Engel."
Jacob's eyes lit up a bit. Els had become fairly well known after singing at the hotel lounge, appearing in plays and doing a few commercials on the radio. Well, and not to mention that she provided the voice of Maid Marie for the "Robin of the Committees of Correspondence" radio serial.
"I would have to pay for cutting the records," Jacob said. "I have very little cash left, as you know. Else you would not be here."
Judy grinned. "True. But it just happens that I know someone who has a very great interest in music recording. Cash flow can be arranged, assuming you're willing to have a couple of partners."
"I already have investors." Jacob sighed. "And debts and contracts. I will not lie to you, Fraulein. The debts and contracts I already have threaten to run me out of business."
The contracts were the key to the whole deal. Friends had looked them up in the records offices in both Grantville and Magdeburg. Those friends would end up owning a small part of Trommler Records if this worked out. Judy took care of her friends.
* * *
"So when do I make a record?" Els asked.
"When I get finished with all this, this . . . stuff." Judy's voice was strained. Els looked at her. Judy looked angry. Quite angry.
"What is wrong?"
Judy sighed. " Susan and Professor Gruder ambushed me. Professor Gruder even took the train to Magdeburg to do it. That contract got him interested and he started looking into things. When he got to Magdeburg, he and Susan put together a report and are making me read it. It turns out that this Ritter Jost von Reinhart is up to something nasty."
Els rolled her eyes a bit. "Umm. Right. What is so bad? And why can't I make a record, yet?"
"If you want to sign something that amounts to an unconscionable contract, you can go right ahead. But I'd advise against it."
"What?" Els looked startled.
"An unconscionable contract is basically one that is so one-sided it makes the judge puke. The problem is that the dear ritter left just enough on the other side that the judge just might not lose his lunch. But if you're in so much of a hurry that you want to wind up practically indentured to this jerk, go right ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you."
"The contract was with Contz Beckenbauer, not von Reinhart."
Judy snarled. "Yes, it was. And Beckenbauer works for von Reinhart. He's just a front man for the creep. He'd have turned the contract over to him and you'd have been stuck but good. Just give me a little more time. I think Susan and the professor have pounded this stuff into my head. Susan says we've got to get all the girls together on this."
"As long as I get to make a record someday." Els sighed.
Judy pretended she was staring into a crystal ball, even though it was actually a coffee cup. "I see," she intoned in a mystical voice, "stardom in your future." She reverted to her usual voice. "Just keep your shirt on, will you?"
* * *
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"Take a look at these," Susan said. She passed copies of various contracts around the table. The Barbie Consortium was meeting in a private dining room in the recently-built Capitol Restaurant. Judy had just returned from Grantville and her meeting with Els. Judy and several of the girls were giving the G&M rail line quite a bit of business since they'd graduated.
Susan looked at Judy and quirked an eyebrow. Always one of the more serious of the girls, Susan believed in preparation. Judy nodded, indicating that she had in fact read them and Susan grinned. Susan had been much happier since leaving Grantville. They waited for the rest of the girls and Helene Gundelfinger to finish reading.
"So," Heather Mason said, "This Ritter whoosis . . . ah . . . Reinhart, that is, has controlling interests in most of the local entertainment companies. And contracts that are going to let him wind up with a monopoly, considering how many of these people don't know squat about business. Is that a pretty fair summation?"
Susan grinned. "Ten points to Heather. And would anybody care to guess just how appreciative the USE government is going to be about the possibility of a media trust?"
"The current government or the previous one?" Vicky Emerson muttered.
"Now, now," Judy cautioned. "Prime Minister Wettin has sworn to uphold the laws of the USE."
Gabrielle, just back from a visit to the University of Jena, said, "Whatever. The thing is, this guy is trying to take over the whole media industry before it gets off the ground good. And your Herr Trommler signed the contract. So he has to buy a cut master, every single month. At a set price, in case you didn't notice."
"If we catch Judge Riddle in the right mood . . ." Susan began.
Judy grinned. Like a shark, some might say. David Bartley, now on the board of OPM, didn't call her "Judy the Barracudy" for nothing. "Yeah, maybe. But do we really want to try and break it? You'll notice that the price is set. Von Reinhart can't change it. So all we really have to do is make some records that will sell." Judy's face grew serious for a moment. "What I'd really like to do is break Ritter Jost von Reinhart. He's a self-proclaimed patron of the arts, but what he really is, is a rat.
"That will have to wait, though. Jacob Trommler has already missed two months. When you add up the fee for the cutting, the penalty and the interest, he'll owe von Reinhart a fortune if he doesn't catch up. But the contract doesn't specify that the master has to be a speech, either. It can be anything."
Helene Gundelfinger, who'd made a day trip to Magdeburg for this meeting, grinned. Like a shark, some might say. Some did, in fact. "I like it."
Judy smiled a little grimly. "It's a start. You saw the contract that Contz Beckenbauer wanted Els Engle to sign. She'd have wound up working for von Reinhart. I don't like this guy. I don't like what he's trying to do and he's way too close to succeeding. So, ladies of the Barbie Consortium, do we or do we not take this turkey down?"
A number of sharkish grins went around the table.
"Aye." "Aye." "Aye."
No one was opposed.
* * *
Jacob Trommler's investors weren't happy campers.
"How did this Jost character get so much of the business so fast?"
"Blackmail," Judy explained. "Well, greenmail, maybe, since it was all about money. I've spent the last couple weeks researching the mess. The thing about the recording industry is that if you have control of one piece you can screw everyone. Of course, you screw yourself, too. But if you have more money than the other people in the game, you can run them out of business or force them to do what you want. It's more complicated than that, really. But that's what it comes down to. And that's what von Reinhart is trying to do."
"So how do we avoid that?" Frantz Erwin was Jacob's largest, and most vocal, investor. And the unhappiest, for that matter.
"It's mostly cash on hand." At Herr Erwin's puzzled look, Judy clarified. "When von Reinhart got involved, most of the rest of you had already spent most of your money. It was tied up in things like the record press or the master cutting house. He bought out the guy who was making record players and stopped selling them. No new record players. No new record customers."
"He did," Jacob confirmed. "And none of us could raise more money to start building more."
"Someone will, sooner or later," Herr Erwin said.
Judy nodded. "Sure. If someone had had the guts, the money and the interest to go against him when he already had a factory up and running. He didn't stop making them, just selling them. The other guys in the business couldn't afford to wait or to start their own record player company. They caved and he got the cutting house for next to nothing and has a contract with the pressing house."
"Again, why won't that happen to us?" Herr Erwin's face was flushed.
"Because for a piece of the business, we're going to rescue your silly asses," Vicky muttered.
"Trommler's record contracts," Judy said quickly, giving Vicky a harsh look, "have considerable value. Also, after von Reinhart got what he wanted, he started selling record players again. Everyone who can afford one is buying them. That's a one time trick and we've got cash, which you guys didn't. So we propose to invest in this company. If you will give Jacob a bit more time. If you prefer to cash out, I'll buy your shares."
Frantz Erwin and a couple of other investors elected to cash out. They didn't want to be invested in a company run by such young people, and the offer was fair considering the circumstances. They didn't lose that much. Judy and the Barbie Consortium now had a controlling interest in Trommler Records.
* * *
"Heather, we'll need your CD collection, I expect. We'll need to have Els go through a bunch of songs to pick out what people will like. Not to mention, she learns lyrics and lines by listening to them. And I'd like, if we could, to have her cut the first hit record of 1635."
"Works for me," Heather said. "I don't see why a pretty good number of my oldies won't work, if they get translated properly. Change a word here, change a word there. It ought to work."
"But, Judy," Millicent Anne Barnes piped up, "what are you going to be doing?" Millicent still looked like a moppet, with her curly dark hair and tiny size.
Judy grinned. "I'm going to be investigating what will sell. I was struck by something Herr Trommler did while I was in his office, back weeks ago. I know a lot of us," she waved her hand at the table, "like some of the more modern music. Well, except for Heather, that is."
The girls laughed. Heather's passion for oldies had been a joke with them for several years. Judy shook her head. "The thing is, if you'll pay attention sometime, people around here don't go around doing rap under their breath, do they? Even with as much of it as some people play." Judy cast a look at Hayley Fortney, who stuck her tongue out at her.
"No taste," Hayley remarked. "No taste at all, Judy."
"Anyway," Judy said, "the song Herr Trommler sang to me—and I should probably mention that he's got no more voice than a frog . . ." The girls laughed. Neither did Judy, as she well knew.
"Anyway," Judy said, after the laughter had died down, "the song he sang wasn't rap. Or one of Heather's oldies. Or that opera that Marla Linder does, either. Although I have heard some of her Irish folk tunes being hummed around town."
"Oh, God." Hayley groaned. "Don't tell me what I think you're about to tell me." She buried her head in her hands. "I bet I don't want to hear this."
Judy grinned. "'Fraid so, Hayley. It was one of the numbers the Old Folk's Band does. Something about a big rock."
Sharkish grins disappeared. Most of the girls at the table groaned. But Helene Gundelfinger grinned and winked at Judy.
* * *
"That's just plain rotten." Mr. Buckner and the rest of the OF Band were in their backyard again. "Pickin and grinnin," they called it. "Not that I know a heck of a lot about business, you understand."
Judy nodded. She was just off the train from Magdeburg again. There were some things you needed to do in person and persuading people to sign with a record labe
l was one of them.
"But we haven't signed any contracts." Huey Jones rattled his tambourine. "We're doing well enough already. The girls have the boarders and all. So we didn't figure we needed to make a record, back when that Beckenbauer guy tried to get us to sign up with him. We just pass the hat at the Gardens and have a meal. Suits us, that way."
"I'm glad to hear that." Judy smiled. "That you didn't sign the contracts, I mean. But not about the record. I think you ought to get all your music recorded, myself. So it doesn't get lost in time, or get all jumbled up with other stuff. It would be a part of the historical record, in a way." Judy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. The breeze was a little too strong for a good hair day.
It took a fair bit of talking them into it, but Judy left with a proper contract with the OF Band.
* * *
Jost von Reinhart took a sip of beer. "It will not matter. Up-timers do not know what people like to hear. I do. So even though they have a controlling interest in Trommler Records, it will not matter."