“We have been approached by an individual who claims to be a representative of the Theatrical Owners Cooperative Association — an organization entirely unknown to us.
“He has suggested that we join the association — but at a tremendous cost — in order to protect ourselves against dangers which apparently have never existed before: namely, disturbances in theaters, law suits from patrons, and damage to our property!”
“It’s an idle threat!” interrupted Ballantyne. “Pure buncombe! You have no right to mention it!”
“I shall proceed in full,” declared Griscom quietly. “You probably know, Mr. Wilberton, that admission charges have been reduced ten per cent in some of our theaters, and that we have planned a further reduction of ten per cent.
“We have figured that increased patronage would more than offset this — and produce a large profit. This representative of the Cooperative Association has suggested that we maintain the old price level throughout, and turn over ten per cent of our receipts to his organization!
“He claims that we can gain increased attendance without the lowering of admission prices. He knows that the lower admissions are partly a move to meet the competition of smaller, independent theaters.
“He states that those houses will be taken into the association also, and that they will not be allowed to cut prices.”
“How much would this association fee cost?” questioned Wilberton.
“When the merger is completed,” declared Griscom, “it would affect subsidiary houses of the Cooper-Lowden interests. Our payments to the unknown Theatrical Owners Cooperative Association would amount to an average of thirty thousand dollars a week.”
A murmur of astonishment passed around the table. Only two men did not join it; they were Stanley Wilberton, man of millions, and Lamont Cranston, whose expression never changed.