Unscripted, p.14
Unscripted, page 14
Sumner was quoted in The Wall Street Journal the next day saying Dauman “is out in front navigating an unprecedented level of change in the industry and he has articulated a smart, innovative and sustainable path to success.”
No one actually heard Sumner say any of these things. The statement for The Wall Street Journal came via email and was crafted by Folta. But Sumner made a few changes to the text and signed off on it before sending it to the Journal.
Moreover, just what that “path to success” might be remained a mystery, even to top Viacom executives. Dauman kept assuring them he had a strategy but never revealed just what it was. Some of them began to suspect there was none—that Dauman was just running out the clock, waiting for Sumner to die so he could sell the company and cash in.
At one point Robert Bakish, who’d come up through the ranks at MTV and now ran Viacom’s international division, confronted Dooley, the chief operating officer. “Maybe you and Philippe think we’re idiots,” Bakish said, “in which case you should fire us. But if not, put us all in a room and let’s figure things out.”
“Philippe will never do that,” Dooley responded.
The day after the Wall Street Journal article Dauman met with Sumner at his mansion to discuss the recent publicity and other “personal matters,” as Dauman described the encounter. He insisted Sumner was “engaged and attentive.”
But Herzer, who was, as usual, at Sumner’s side throughout the meeting, said it lasted no more than twenty or thirty minutes, and Sumner spent the entire meeting “gazing somewhat vacantly” at a baseball game on television. She said there “was no two-way conversation or discussion” between Dauman and Sumner and characterized the encounter as “a monologue” by Dauman.
As for the press statements supporting Dauman, “Sumner did not say or articulate the flattering words,” Herzer said.
Two CBS directors—Sumner’s friends Arnold Kopelson and Leonard Goldberg—met with Sumner that October and found him anything but “engaged and attentive.” They reported that he was “especially vacant and absent” and “appeared out of touch, remote and non-responsive to the people around him.”
Sumner was no longer even saying “Hello, everyone” on board calls. CBS didn’t pay him a bonus that year but still paid his $1.75 million base salary. Viacom similarly paid his $2 million salary. Both companies again nominated him to their respective boards.
* * *
—
Though Herzer still ruled the mansion with an iron fist, revolt was brewing. Jagiello had hinted to Sumner that there was more to Holbrook’s unavailability than he’d been told, but he didn’t say much out of fear that Sumner would reveal something to Herzer and he’d be fired. With the incident involving the fake letter from Holland, he and his allies now had more ammunition. Still, they hesitated to act.
But something seems to have aroused Sumner’s suspicions. He had “become irate,” as Herzer put it, when he discovered his granddaughter Keryn had been using his credit card (even though Herzer insisted he was the one who approved the arrangement). And perhaps even Sumner, notwithstanding his diminished state, saw through Herzer’s clumsy subterfuge involving the purported letter from Holland.
On October 10 Herzer persuaded a reluctant MacKinney to make another attempt to engage in sexual activity with Sumner. This time proved a fiasco. “He appeared even more disoriented, distant, and non-communicative,” MacKinney asserted. “I cut the visit short and left after spending only about 20 minutes with Sumner.” He was “barely a shadow of the man whom I had once known,” she concluded.
Jagiello observed that Sumner was “especially cold and aloof” toward Herzer throughout the weekend.
That same day (October 10), Sumner complained to Jagiello, with Tuanaki listening nearby, that Herzer “made him” give her $50 million, evidently a reference to the change in his estate plan, which clearly troubled him. Sumner asked Jagiello to contact Gloria Mazzeo so that she could arrange a meeting with Sumner’s lawyers, Bishop and Andelman. Ordinarily Herzer met with Sumner before any meeting with his lawyers to rehearse what he would say, and she almost always stayed with him to make sure he stayed on message. But Sumner was insistent that Jagiello keep this appointment a secret and not say anything to Herzer. Though Jagiello was still apprehensive that Herzer would fire him if she found out, he followed through and called Mazzeo.
Mazzeo told him Bishop was out of town that weekend but would be back on Monday, October 12. They agreed Bishop would come to the mansion that morning, when Herzer was typically out of the house shopping and doing errands.
It was time to strike. As Jagiello put it, “Since Mr. Redstone had articulated such a serious concern about Manuela and called a meeting with his lawyers, I thought it would be a good time to let him know about the constant lies, isolating behavior, surveillance, and deception that Manuela had been instructing the nursing staff to engage in.”
It was just as well, because someone else in the household had already warned Herzer that Jagiello was plotting against her. In the couple of months since Holland departed, Herzer had run up over $365,000 in credit card charges paid by Sumner. Just over a week earlier, she’d gotten him to sign for a delivery of $40,000 in cash and agree to a $5 million donation to her personal foundation. That weekend Herzer was spotted in a room at the mansion shredding financial records.
Despite the growing tensions and suspicions, Sunday’s movie (now a matinee) proceeded on schedule, with guests including Sumner’s old friend and CBS board member Arnold Kopelson and his wife. On tap was the new Universal Pictures release Steve Jobs. Before the movie began, Sumner started choking, and Herzer called a nurse to suction his throat. Sumner fell asleep soon after and was wheeled away.
Later, after the guests left, Sumner woke up and started watching a baseball playoff game. But when Herzer checked on him at about 6:30 p.m., he was again asleep. This was “very troubling,” Herzer said, because Sumner had always been “extremely passionate” about baseball.
The next morning, October 12, Herzer told Jagiello to summon Sumner’s doctor. She left to do errands.
With Herzer out of the house, the moment the “seal team” had been planning had arrived: Jagiello, Octaviano, Tuanaki, and two other nurses met with Sumner to confront him with the deceptions they’d been compelled to participate in. As Jagiello put it, “I did not know whether Mr. Redstone would believe us, and I knew that we would be fired if he did not. However, because I could not in good conscience continue to conduct myself as Manuela demanded, I was prepared to accept that outcome.”
The group told Sumner that Herzer had made them lie to him about Holbrook’s availability; that Herzer had concealed Holland’s letter to him and fabricated another one; that she’d installed a hidden camera in his bedroom; and that her brother Carlos was living in the house. They said they’d been afraid to tell him the truth because Herzer would fire them. Jagiello described Sumner as “shocked” by the disclosures.
Bishop and another Loeb & Loeb lawyer, probate litigator Gabrielle Vidal, arrived soon after and met with Sumner. His other lawyer, Andelman, was connected by speakerphone. With Jagiello translating, Sumner told the lawyers “he wanted Manuela out of his will and he wanted all of his money back.”
While this meeting was underway, Herzer returned to the Beverly Park front gate. She was denied entry on Bishop’s orders, acting on Sumner’s behalf. Herzer nonetheless proceeded to an unmanned back entrance, used her pass code to get in, and then “stormed” into the house, in Jagiello’s recollection. Tuanaki intercepted her in the hallway. “Mr. Redstone doesn’t want you here,” he said, but she brushed past him.
Bishop looked startled when Herzer burst into the room. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said. Then, speaking to Andelman on the phone, “Manuela is here but she is not supposed to be here. I don’t know how she came in.” In Herzer’s description, “A frenzy ensued.”
Herzer went up to Sumner and asked him if he was okay. “Are you mad at me? Do you want me to leave?” Sumner responded with what Herzer called a “grunting noise,” but Jagiello interpreted as “Get out of my house.”
“He wants you to leave,” Jagiello told Herzer.
“But where will I live?” she asked.
“You have a house,” Sumner replied, as translated by Jagiello, referring to the house he’d bought for her and she had been renovating for years. Then he began to cry.
Herzer turned to Bishop, her longtime ally. “What do I do?”
But Bishop had turned cold. She said she needed to consult with Sumner without Herzer there, though that had never seemed necessary before. She said Herzer could return later to collect her belongings. As Herzer left the room, she turned to look back. Sumner was still sobbing.
When Herzer left, the nurses and staff exchanged high fives.
Herzer went to her daughter’s house to calm down. She was summoned by Tuanaki a few hours later. A guard followed her to her room. “Get away from me,” she demanded. She asked to see Sumner, but the guard told her if she didn’t leave, he’d call the police.
Herzer tried frantically to get some explanation for her abrupt exile. She called Bishop repeatedly, but all Bishop would say was that Herzer had “lied” to Sumner, without being more specific.
In a measure of their close relationship, Herzer next called Dauman, who elaborated that the lies involved Keryn’s use of Sumner’s credit card and the hidden cameras she’d had installed without telling him (both of which Herzer maintained Sumner had known about but evidently forgotten). Dauman apparently made no mention of the far more significant lies involving Holbrook’s availability, the fake letter from Holland, or attempts by Sumner’s immediate family members to speak to him and visit.
“Manuela, now you have so much money. You have a beautiful family. You’re a nice person. You have everything. If you ever need anything, you can always call me,” Dauman told her, according to Herzer. “You know there’s nothing more you can do for him. These are his words. He loves you. He loves your family. Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”
(Dauman disputed nearly every aspect of Herzer’s version of their conversations. While he acknowledged speaking to her, he said he was only being polite and maintained he’d never said anything about the reasons for her exile or having her “back.”)
Tyler was in Napa Valley that weekend to attend a wedding when Jagiello told him the news that Herzer was out.
“Manuela evicted . . . her family no longer welcome either,” Tyler excitedly texted Brandon.
“I wonder what the info he got was,” Brandon responded.
“Long story . . . this is what we’ve been working towards,” Tyler replied.
Tyler flew to Los Angeles and went to Beverly Park to make sure his grandfather was okay. Sumner didn’t say much, but he seemed relieved that the crisis had passed and Herzer was gone. He was adamant that he wanted his money back. And he wanted to see other people again, especially members of his family, Keryn excepted.
Shari got there as soon as she could. She rushed in to see her father and threw her arms around him. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she said.
Four days after the nurses’ intervention and Herzer’s exile, on October 16, Sumner met again with Bishop. He excised Herzer as his health care proxy and replaced her with Dauman. He removed Herzer and her children from his will, leaving them nothing. The $50 million and the proceeds of the mansion Herzer was to receive were now directed to charity.
Dr. Spar was again on hand to assess Sumner’s mental acuity and understanding of his actions. With Bishop out of the room, he asked Sumner what had prompted the changes to his estate plan and health care directive.
“I threw Sydney out,” Sumner answered. “Then I threw Manuela out. Manuela lied to me. Everybody knows that.”
What did she lie about? Spar asked.
“She lied about Terry,” Sumner said, referring to Holbrook.
And Sumner mentioned the purported letter from Holland: “The letter was all bullshit.”
EPISODE 4
“I’m Not Going to Fire Him”
Shari quickly filled the void in Sumner’s Beverly Park mansion. She all but moved to Los Angeles, spending nearly half the next year there. When father and daughter weren’t together, they communicated regularly via FaceTime. Still, Sumner counted the days between her visits. His nurses installed a large clock so he could track the hours and minutes until Shari’s arrival.
Shari became adept at interpreting Sumner’s speech. She hired professionals to oversee his medical care. She and her father watched sports and movies together. But most of all they talked business, once again Sumner’s favorite subject. She kept him informed about everything she knew as a board member and vice chair of both Viacom and CBS.
In trying to sort through her father’s affairs, Bishop proved to be little help. Although she had collaborated closely with Holland and Herzer, and then with just Herzer once Holland was expelled, it infuriated Shari that Bishop now refused to meet alone with her unless Bishop had her lawyer present.
And Dauman had by no means retreated. He was often at Sumner’s mansion, too, watching sports on TV with him and discussing the movie business. Dauman seemed to feel his position was secure. His second-in-command, Tom Dooley, warned him that Herzer’s eviction and Shari’s ascendance put their status in jeopardy, but Dauman just shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said.
Dauman had always filtered everything he told Sumner about Viacom through his point of view, which had typically omitted Shari’s. She now had the opportunity to point out their many areas of tension and disagreement and explain that she was only trying to do what she thought Sumner would have wanted.
But Dauman’s loyalty was still paramount. “I’m not going to fire him,” Sumner insisted.
* * *
—
On November 24, just six weeks after she was ejected from Sumner’s mansion, Herzer filed a lawsuit to reclaim her position as Sumner’s health care proxy. Describing Sumner as “a tragic figure in the waning days of an accomplished life,” she claimed that Sumner now lacked the mental capacity to revoke his earlier health care proxy, signed when Sumner “was lucid and in full possession of his faculties.” And she took a slap at Shari: “His choice was based on a close bond formed over many years that he repeatedly described as a loving familial relationship. Though Mr. Redstone has two adult children and five adult grandchildren,” he had nonetheless chosen Herzer “to care for him in his last years, knowing that he could always trust her to honor his wishes and look out for his best interests.”
Herzer was the first to say publicly what many suspected: ninety-two-year-old Sumner Redstone, still the highly compensated executive chairman of two publicly traded companies, was in fact incapacitated—“a living ghost,” the suit maintained. “Those who know him now describe him as vacant, unable to reliably communicate, unaware of his surroundings, and without interest in things that used to excite and engage him.”
It fell to Shari to break the news of the lawsuit to Sumner. His immediate fear was that Herzer might be reinstated as his health care proxy. He hated Herzer, he reiterated, and became agitated at the prospect she might be coming back into his life. Shari reassured him that would never happen.
Litigation was nothing new for Herzer. In keeping with her pit-bull reputation, she may well have concluded that the best defense was to launch a preemptive strike before Shari could sue her for the return of the lavish gifts. Thanks to Sumner’s generosity, she had the war chest to assemble a formidable legal team and launch a scorched-earth litigation campaign.
After her visit to David Boies with Holland had gone nowhere, Herzer had hired Pierce O’Donnell, one of Los Angeles’s highest-profile lawyers. O’Donnell had gained a national reputation by successfully representing columnist Art Buchwald in a suit claiming that Paramount had stolen his idea for the Eddie Murphy comedy Coming to America. O’Donnell had also handled some high-profile divorce cases, including a recent successful effort to recoup lavish gifts to a mistress.
Sumner had paid O’Donnell’s $250,000 retainer. After Holland was ejected and she and Herzer were at odds, O’Donnell represented only Herzer. Since Sumner was no longer paying her expenses, O’Donnell agreed to represent her on a contingency fee basis, in which he and his firm would take a percentage of any settlement or verdict.
In focusing solely on Herzer’s status as Sumner’s health care proxy rather than on her aborted inheritance, the lawsuit suggested Herzer was on a purely humanitarian mission. Herzer maintained her motive was “to accomplish one single objective: to see that she is able to honor her sacred promise to Mr. Redstone to care for him for the rest of his life.”
But the wording of the lawsuit suggested something less benign than a single-minded devotion to Sumner’s well-being. The petition was merciless in its detail and unsparing of Sumner’s privacy or decorum. It described Sumner as “obsessed with eating steak” despite the feeding tube and said he “does not seem to recall or understand why he cannot do so. Similarly, Mr. Redstone demands, to the extent he can be understood, to engage in sexual activity every day.”
The petition was all but guaranteed to generate sensational media coverage, and it did: “sex-obsessed” sumner redstone kept beautiful women on retainer, trumpeted the New York Post. The New York Times described the lurid personal details included in the petition as “excruciating.”
Herzer’s former ally Holland wanted no part of it. Holland “is absolutely disgusted with what’s going on in court with Manuela,” her lawyer Brad Rose told Fortune magazine.
To succeed, Herzer’s lawsuit also had to thread a factual needle: that Sumner had been fully alert and mentally competent just months earlier, when he made Herzer his sole health care proxy (not to mention the many times he gave her vast sums of money and made her the beneficiary of his trust), but not when he removed her. So Herzer alleged that after Holland was ejected for having the affair with Pilgrim, “it was like a switch had been flipped, and his mental presence and acuity were faint shadows of what they had once been for the once vital, towering figure.”
