I signed a book contract in the late summer of 1987 to write about the emerging disease chronic Epstein-Barr syndrome, as it was then known. My advance was a very good one--or would have been had I completed the book in the 18 month term upon which my publisher and I agreed. Remarkably, it seemed at the time, the CEO of this very large publishing company, which was about to be the target of a hostile takeover (anyone remember hostile takeovers?), had the disease himself. No doubt that is why he offered a more generous advance than several other publishers.
Later, after I was well into my research and the company was taken from him, the CEO resigned and decamped from Park Avenue to his horse farm in Virginia. We had shared a few lunches at the kind of mid-town French restaurants I would never have set foot in on my own speed. After the sale of his corporation, I never heard from him again, however. In addition, my editor suddenly stopped returning my phone calls. I assumed he was a busy person.
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