The Sumner Redstone I knew

Back in 1982, as 17-year-old junior in high school, I secured a job at a local movie theater as an usher.  It was a glamorous job that involved ripping tickets and sweeping up popcorn spills in my ill-fitting, baby blue polyester sport coat and clip-on tie.  My local movie theater, was a Showcase Cinema property owned by an organization called National Amusements.

National Amusements owned many movie theaters, and the corporate headquarters happened to be just across the parking lot from my local theater in a nondescript, single-story brick building.

On my first day of employment, my eager young manager (who was probably the inspiration for the Gabe character on The Office) gave me a very brief orientation and then asked me to stand guard at the break in the ropes that separated the paying customers from the "general public." This was a low risk mission since it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday and there wasn't a person in sight.

My boss gave me simple instructions – "don't let anyone through without a ticket."

I dutifully stood guard – anxiously awaiting my first encounter with a patron. A few minutes into my sentinel duty, a sophisticated older gentleman started walking toward me. As he approached, I gave him the line that I had practiced under my breath several times in preparation for this moment: "ticket please."
The gentleman said to me in a calm, quiet voice, "I'm Sumner Redstone." He didn't say it in a do-you-know-who-I-am? way – he simply was trying to help me understand that the CEO of the company that owned this theater was being denied entry by a high schooler.

Not recognizing the name, I simply said "It's nice to meet you, sir, but I still need a ticket."  I then noticed that Mr. Redstone was looking up and behind me toward the office.  I turned around to see my eager young manager sprinting toward us, waving his arms. Just before my manager could start the rant that he was obviously working himself up to deliver, Mr. Redstone looked at him unemotionally and said "he's a good kid, just doing his job."  And then he confidently walked past me, resting his hand briefly on my shoulder as he walked by.

So as the 93 year old Mr. Redstone decides who should manage the trust that controls his $5B empire that now includes Viacom and CBS, I'd just like him to know that "that good kid" is available and up to the task.