Getting another bank loan wasn't a choice; he had to do it.
With less than $100,000 in his account, Zane was low on cash. That amount wouldn't even pay for the work on the seven stores he just got. It also wasn't enough money to let him walk into Pixar Animation and make a strong deal.
He returned to the sa Los Angeles branch of Wells Fargo. This ti, they didn't treat him like a strange case. They treated him like a valued client.
"Mr. Blackwood, welco back!" Smith, the head manager of the loan departnt, greeted him personally. He led him into his office. The coffee and snacks were a clear sign that, in the banking world of 1995, an account with millions of dollars made you a very important custor.
"Thank you, Smith. I'll get straight to the point," Zane said, taking a seat. "I need to borrow at least three million dollars."
Smith's professional smile slipped for a quick second. For a huge bank like Citibank, three million was nothing. But for a branch manager at Wells Fargo—a bank worth less than $500 million back then—it was a huge amount of money.
"Yes, three million," Zane confird, pushing his advantage. "If that's not possible, I understand, but I'll have to look sowhere else."
"This... Mr. Blackwood, please let make a call," Smith said, getting his calm look back. "Money this big needs approval from my bosses. I hope you understand."
"Of course," Zane said, leaning back in the chair. "I'll wait for your good news."
As Smith left the room, Zane sipped his coffee. His mind was already thinking of another plan. It's too bad all my money is tied up. Investing in Wells Fargo itself right now would be an amazing move. He knew that this small, $480 million bank would one day grow into a $200 billion giant. That was a 400-tis increase. An investnt of one million today would be worth almost half a billion in his ti.
"So many chances," he thought, a familiar excitent running through him. "It's everywhere."
Five days later, Zane was back in Smith's office. He signed the loan papers with his lawyer next to him. He didn't get the full three million, but he got what he needed. He used the three stores he owned, his house, and another personal loan to get the money. He walked away with $2.4 million. The loan was for three years, and the interest rate was 9%.
High, but okay, Zane thought, looking at the numbers. It was the price of getting money, a cost he had to pay for the empire he was about to build.
His first act was to hire a good, but cheap, building company. He gave them $200,000 to fix up all seven stores. The designs were clean, modern, and simple—nothing too fancy. Every dollar had to be stretched as far as it could go.
With the work started, he turned his focus to the real prize.
On the morning of August 28, 1995, Zane drove to Alada County. He arrived on ti for his eting at Pixar Animation Studios.
He was greeted at the door by a man with a warm, friendly smile who liked wearing colorful Hawaiian shirts.
"Good morning, Mr. Blackwood," the man said, holding out his hand. "I'm John Lasseter. On behalf of everyone at Pixar, welco!"
Zane felt a real spark of excitent. He wasn't just eting a manager; he was eting John Lasseter. He was the main creative person behind Toy Story and a future giant in the animation world. This was the man whose amazing ideas would lead to hit movie after hit movie. He would win countless awards, including many Oscars. The famous hopping lamp in the Pixar logo was Lasseter's idea.
Zane's mind, always thinking like an analyst, flashed through a list of future hits: Toy Story, Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Cars. These movies wouldn't just rule the box office. Their toys and products would make profits many, many tis more than the movie tickets. The Cars movies alone would one day bring in over a billion dollars in rchandise profits every year.
The size of the opportunity standing in front of him in a Hawaiian shirt was amazing.
"Mr. Blackwood? Are you alright?" John Lasseter asked, looking at him with a little worry.
Zane blinked. He realized he'd been staring. "Ah, yes, sorry. Just excited to be here," he said, covering up his mistake. "Please, after you."
Get it together, he told himself. You've seen bigger eting rooms than this. But he hadn't. Not when so much was on the line.
As Lasseter led him inside, Zane was expecting a lot. He'd read about the future Pixar building—a creative wonderland made to help people invent and be happy.
What he saw, however, was sothing totally different.
The studio was a small, tight, and ssy office. Desks were covered with drawings and computer parts. The air slled strongly of old coffee. The animators had ssy hair and tired eyes. They looked less like world-changing artists and more like a tired group of sleepy computer programrs.
Lasseter laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. "Sorry for the ss. Our office is a little... basic right now. But I believe that when Toy Story is released, Pixar is going to be known all over the world!"
As he spoke, his passion and strong belief in the movie filled the room. It changed the ssy office into a place full of potential.
"I have no doubt," Zane said with a big smile. But his inner thoughts were much more calculating.
This is perfect, he thought. Absolutely perfect. They're hungry, they don't have enough money, and they are desperate for a win. This gives all the power I need.
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