Hollywood: titanic director

Even though Dunn invested in an animation studio called Sillywood, he never thought an outsider like him could really nail animated movies. So when it came to chasing the animation industry, his focus was always on Pixar.

Steve Jobs poured his heart and soul—not to mention a ton of cash—into Pixar Animation. Back when he bought the animation division of Industrial Light & Magic from George Lucas and renamed it Pixar, he sank a fortune into the little computer studio. At the time, Jobs' total net worth was about $200 million. But between acquiring Pixar and its first movie hitting theaters, he pumped in over $70 million more—betting a third of his wealth on it.

Lucky for him, Pixar delivered. In 1995, the world got its first fully computer-animated feature film: *Toy Story*. Made for $65 million, it raked in $373 million worldwide and topped the global box office that year. When Pixar went public the same year, Jobs—holding 70% of the company—saw his net worth soar past $1 billion, landing him squarely in the billionaire club.

That Pixar success gave Jobs the financial cushion he needed to go all-in and fight his way back to Apple. To win over Apple's shareholders, he didn't ask for stock, a salary, or even options. His one demand? Put him back in charge. He even let Apple buy his $500 million company, NeXT, for $1.5 billion in cash and stock, just to get his foot back in the door. After giving up concession after concession, he finally convinced the board and took the reins again.

All of this was possible because Pixar's stock gave him the freedom to trade away other perks. 

Now, Dunn had his sights set on Pixar—and Jobs was on high alert. Seeing the wariness in Jobs' eyes, Dunn smiled. "Steve, you know me. At the end of the day, I'm a movie guy. Hollywood's where my heart is."

Jobs frowned, clearly not thrilled. He could smell a threat brewing. It felt like Dunn was using Apple to muscle in on Pixar.

"What do you want?" Jobs asked, his temper flaring a bit. But he was in a weaker spot here, so he held it in as best he could.

Dunn grinned. "If you've been keeping up with Hollywood news, you'd know I tried to buy DreamWorks' animation division—and got turned down. But animation? Those old-school Hollywood dinosaurs might not see its future, but I do."

Jobs' face darkened as he locked eyes with Dunn. "So you've got your eye on Pixar?"

"Pixar's got the best animation team in the world, and the movies they've made are fantastic. If Pixar joined Dunn Pictures, it'd be a huge boost for my company's growth." Dunn's gaze was steady, his tone confident, not hiding his interest one bit.

"You want to buy Pixar?" Jobs squinted at him.

Dunn nodded. "If I could, I'd start a privatization buyout right now."

Jobs' voice dropped. "And if I say no?"

To him, Pixar and Apple were night and day. At Apple, the real power sat with the shareholders—he was just their chosen frontman. But with Pixar, Jobs had learned from being ousted at Apple. Sure, he'd sold off some shares over the years, but he still held a firm 70%. He was Pixar's king—his word was law. No matter what financial tricks Dunn pulled in the market, if Jobs didn't want to sell, Dunn wasn't getting it.

Dunn laughed heartily and gave Jobs' shoulder a friendly pat, like an older brother. "Steve, relax! I'm here to talk about a partnership, not to strong-arm you."

Jobs' lips twitched, unimpressed.

Dunn pointed at the waves crashing under the bridge. "You know surfing? Even the best surfers can't charge straight into a wave. As it rolls in, they turn their board and paddle with it. It's a fight with the ocean, sure, but they ride the wave's momentum and still get that thrill of cutting through the water."

Jobs shook his head, brushing off Dunn's high-school-level metaphor. "We're in a stock market crash right now. Pixar's share price has taken a hit—its market cap's down $400 million in just a few months. But Pixar's potential is way bigger than this. We've moved into a new office, and we've got a movie coming out for the Christmas season…"

Dunn waved him off, cutting in with a surprised look. "Steve, I'm trying to *help* you here!"

"Help me?" Jobs let out a cold smirk.

Dunn acted like it was obvious. "Yeah! I could buy it all with cash. Then you'd have plenty of money to scoop up Apple stock. With my help, the price wouldn't even spike too high!"

Dunn's influence was massive now, especially as Apple's biggest shareholder. If he hinted at dumping his shares, it'd tank the stock—small investors would panic and sell like crazy. A few slick moves, and Dunn and Jobs could team up to privatize Apple.

But Dunn's plan? It was a little too self-centered.

"Dunn, you're terrible at negotiating," Jobs said, shaking his head with a laugh that was half-annoyed, half-amused. "Pixar's got an amazing future—you know that. One or two more movies, and its stock could double, no problem. But Apple? You think I'm an idiot?"

Dunn froze, looking a bit dumbfounded.

He'd thought he was bringing his A-game—showing real sincerity, even offering to take a hit to his reputation so they could pull some financial strings and lock down Apple together. But Jobs… he clearly didn't have much faith in Apple! He thought Pixar's future outshone it by a mile!

Dunn took a deep breath, half-laughing, half at a loss for words. Sure, Pixar's outlook was solid. In five or six years, its value could quadruple to over $6 billion. But compared to Apple? Come on. Apple's market cap was $5 billion now. Ten years later? $300 billion. Fifteen years? $700 billion. It wasn't even a contest!

He never imagined that Jobs—who'd fought tooth and nail to reclaim Apple—didn't have enough confidence in it to swap Pixar stock for more Apple shares. Dunn rubbed his nose, awkwardness creeping in. "Uh… I figured you were pretty bullish on Apple."

"Of course I am, but…" Jobs shook his head. "It's like investing in movies. Even the best directors don't put their own money into their films. Same deal. They're confident in their work, but the future's a blank slate—nobody can predict it."

Dunn chuckled. "I fund all my movies with my own cash."

Jobs faltered, then snapped, "You're an exception!"

Dunn got it now. Convincing Jobs to ditch Pixar and pour money into Apple? Dead end.

"Steve, don't get me wrong. I only bought all that Apple stock to set up a partnership with you. Your focus is Silicon Valley; mine's Hollywood." Dunn sighed, then straightened up. "But don't worry—I'm not here to threaten you. I'm all for you running Apple."

Jobs gave him a long look, his expression softening a bit. After a pause, he said, "I'm an outsider when it comes to movies. So Pixar… when the right moment comes, I'll sell."

What's the "right moment"? When Pixar's value hits a number Jobs likes. He's not hurting for cash, so there's no rush to cash out.

Dunn caught his drift and smiled knowingly. "Cool. Whenever you're ready to sell, I'm ready to buy!"

Partnerships go both ways—Dunn showed goodwill, and Jobs would return the favor. After all, Dunn was Apple's biggest shareholder now, with a loud voice. That mattered to Jobs.

"Oh, one more thing," Jobs added. "Pixar's got a five-movie deal with Disney. Counting *Toy Story*, *A Bug's Life*, and *Toy Story 2*, the next two films we make have to go through Disney for distribution."

The mention of Disney soured Jobs' mood. He couldn't stand Disney's big boss, Michael Eisner. He'd already decided that once this contract was up, he'd demand a steep price—and if Disney didn't play ball, he'd take Pixar's movies somewhere else.

Now Dunn was in the picture—Disney's rival—and Jobs was happy to see them duke it out. Pixar, caught in the middle, could cash in either way.

Dunn frowned. "That's tricky."

Usually, the production company only gets a cut of the profits, while the distributor holds the usage rights. So even though Pixar makes the films, Disney controls the copyrights—meaning those characters end up in Disney parks, raking in more cash for them.

That wasn't something Dunn wanted to see. Pixar was his prize, but having its characters boost Disney's tourism? That'd be a joke.

"No way. We can't let Disney keep the distribution rights!" Dunn gritted his teeth, his tone firm and unwavering.

Jobs looked at him, surprised. "But the contract's already signed."

"Then buy it out! I'll cover the cost if I have to!"

If Disney hadn't pulled their stunts before, Dunn might've cut them some slack. Now? They weren't getting a dime from him.

Jobs stared at him, genuinely shocked. This kid's thinking was something else—bold, gutsy! Apple and Microsoft were rivals, even fighting copyright lawsuits, but Jobs and Bill Gates got along fine. Their companies collaborated plenty, and Microsoft was an Apple shareholder. 

But Dunn? Once he picked a fight, it was all-out war—no looking back. Tougher and more ruthless than even Michael Eisner!

---