And if you can’t do that, Lou, then we don’t have a movie. Paul Newman stood up from the conference table. The three Universal executives didn’t move. Lou Wasserman, the man who’ built Universal into a powerhouse, looked at Newman like he just spoken a foreign language. Paul, sit down.

 Let’s talk about this rationally. There’s nothing to talk about. Newman said, “You’re paying me $1.2 million. You’re paying Bob $500,000. Same size ro, same billing, same work. That’s not rational, Lou. That’s insulting. Bob signed his contract. I don’t care what Bob signed. I care what’s right. And what’s right is you pay him what you’re paying me or you make this movie without me.

 The room went dead quiet because Paul Newman never made empty threats and everyone in that room knew it. The question was, would Universal call his bluff, or would they pay the extra $700,000 to keep their star? To understand how Hollywood’s biggest star ended up threatening to destroy a $5 million movie over someone else’s paycheck, you need to go back 3 weeks.

February 1973, Universal Pictures had a problem. They just spent two years developing The Sting, a period heist movie set in 1930s Chicago. They had the perfect director, George Roy Hill. They had a brilliant script by David S. Ward, but they needed stars, big stars. Paul Newman was their first call.

 Newman had just come off The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean. And before that, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. He was bankable, reliable, and he had something Universal desperately wanted, the golden touch with audiences. The deal was straightforward. $1.2 million. like top billing 15% of the gross.

 Newman’s agent negotiated hard and Universal paid it because in 1973 Paul Newman was worth every penny, but Newman had one condition. I want Bob Redford for the second lead. Lou Wasserman raised an eyebrow. Redford? He’s expensive. He’s worth it. Newman said, “We work well together. The audience loved us in Butch Cassidy.

 Lightning in a bottle, Lou. You don’t question it. Wasserman agreed. But here’s what Paul Newman didn’t know at the time. Universal had no intention of paying Robert Redford anywhere close to $1.2 million. Robert Redford’s agent, Stan Cayman, open negotiations at $1 million. It was a reasonable ask. Redford was hot. The candidate had just proven he could carry a film alone.

 The way we were with Barbara Stryand was about to make him a romantic lead, and he was ascending fast. But Universal’s head of business affairs, a calculating man named Sydney Shinberg, had a different strategy. “Redford needs this movie more than we need him,” Shinberg told Wasserman. “Neman’s the draw. Redford’s the support. We offer $500,000.

 Take it or leave it,” Stan Cayman pushed back hard. “Equal billing means equal pay.” “Not in this business,” Shinberg said flatly. The negotiation dragged on for two weeks. Redford almost walked away, but he wanted to work with Newman again. He wanted to make the movie. And deep down, he knew Shinberg was right about one thing. Newman was the bigger star.

 So on February 10th, 1973, Robert Redford signed his contract for The Sting. $500,000, half of what his co-star was making for the same amount of work. He told himself it was fine, fair even. That’s how Hollywood worked. The bigger name got the bigger check. He’d been on both sides of that equation before, but Paul Newman had no idea any of this had happened.

 3 days after Redford signed, Newman was having lunch with him at Muso and Frank Grill on Hollywood Boulevard. They were celebrating, both of them locked in for the sting, reuniting the magic of Butch and Sundance. Newman raised his glass to not getting shot off a cliff this time. Redford laughed. to keeping our clothes on. In the final scene, they ordered stakes.

They talked about the script, about George Roy Hill’s vision, about shooting in Chicago instead of on a backlot. And then, almost casually, Redford mentioned at the negotiation. Stan really went to bat for me, Redford said. They they were pretty firm on the number. Newman was cutting into his stake.

 What number did you end up with? 500. Newman’s knife stopped moving. He looked up. 500? What thousand? Redford said. I know it’s not what you’re getting, but it’s a solid deal, and honestly, I just wanted to work with you again. Paul Newman put down his knife and fork. Very carefully, very slowly. Bob, he said quietly. What am I getting? Redford blinked. I assumed you knew.

Stan said you were at 1.2. The restaurant noise seemed to fade. Newman’s face didn’t change expression, but Redford knew him well enough to see the anger building behind those blue eyes. Not anger at Redford, anger at Universal. 1.2, Newman repeated. Yeah, but Paul, you’re the bigger star. That’s how it don’t, Newman said sharply.

 Don’t tell me that’s how it works. We have equal billing, Bob. It’s your second lead, not supporting. You’re in as many scenes as I am. Technically, you’re there’s no technically. Either we’re partners or we’re not. And if we’re partners, we get paid the same. Redford tried to lighten it. Paul, I signed the contract.

 It’s done. I’m fine with it. Well, I’m not. Newman stood up. He threw two $20 bills on the table, more than enough to cover both meals. I need to make a call. Paul, don’t. But Newman was already walking toward the pay phone near the restrooms. Redford sat alone at the table, his steak getting cold, wondering what he’d just unleashed.

Paul Newman didn’t call his agent. He called Lou Wasserman directly. At home on a Saturday afternoon, Wasserman’s secretary tried to deflect, “Mr. Wasserman is unavailable. Tell him Paul Newman is on the line about the sting. Just tell him if he doesn’t pick up, there is no sting.” 30 seconds later, Wasserman’s voice came through. Paul.

 Uh, I’m in the middle of why is Bob Redford getting $500,000? Silence on the other end. Lou, I asked you a question. It’s what we negotiated. Wasserman said carefully. Negotiated or dictated. Paul, you’re emotional. Let’s talk Monday. We’re talking now. Monday, I’m calling my attorney and pulling out of this movie.

 Today, you still have a chance to fix this. Wasserman’s tone shifted harder now. Fix what exactly? We have Redford under contract. We have you under contract, both signed, both binding. Then sue me, Newman said, because I’m not making a movie where my co-star gets paid half of what I’m getting for the same work. He’s not doing the same.

 Don’t insult my intelligence, Lou. Why? I read the script. We’re 50/50 on screen time, equal billing, equal weight. The only difference between us is you decided I’m worth more. The market decided that, Paul, you’re Paul Newman. He’s Robert Redford. Different drawing power. Newman’s voice went very quiet, very cold.

 Then make the movie without Paul Newman. See how that goes. He hung up. That phone call set off a panic at Universal that lasted 72 hours. Wasserman called Sydney Shinberg. Shinberg called the legal department. Legal called Newman’s agent who told them, “I have no idea what’s happening. Paul didn’t consult me on this.” Because this wasn’t a negotiation tactic.

 This wasn’t Paul Newman’s agent leveraging for a better deal. This was Paul Newman, the man, operating on principle, and that made him far more dangerous. On Monday morning, uh, February 19th, Wasserman called an emergency meeting. Just him, Shinberg, and the head of production. The question on the table, was Newman serious? He’s bluffing, Shinberg said. He’s already signed.

 We have him. You don’t know Newman. Wasserman said he walked away from a three-picture deal with Warner Brothers in 1968 over creative control. Cost him millions. He didn’t blink. So what do you suggest? Wasserman leaned back in his chair. We call him in face to face. We explain the economics. We make him see that this is just business.

 That meeting happened on February 21st, 1973. That’s where our story began with Newman standing up from the conference table and Wasserman trying to talk him down. But what we didn’t see in that opening moment was what happened next. When after Newman said, make this movie without me. He walked toward the door. Lou Wasserman stood up. Paul, wait.

Newman stopped, hand on the door knob. He didn’t turn around. If we do this, Wasserman said slowly. If we pay Redford the same as you, we’re setting a precedent we can’t undo. Every co-star pairing in Hollywood will demand parody. Do you understand what you’re asking? Newman turned around. I understand exactly what I’m asking.

 I’m asking you to pay two actors the same money for the same work. That’s not a precedent, Lou. That’s fairness. Shinberg jumped in. Fairness doesn’t pay the bills, Paul. We have a budget. We have investors. An extra $700,000 comes from somewhere. That’s stunts we can’t afford. sets. We have to scale back music.

 We then take it from my end, Newman said. The room went silent. What? Wasserman said, “You heard me. Pay Bob $1.2 million. Pay me $500,000. I don’t care as long as we’re equal.” This was the moment that changed everything because now Universal realized Paul Newman wasn’t negotiating. He wasn’t posturing.

 He was willing to cut his own salary in half to prove a point. Shinberg looked at Wasserman. Wasserman looked at the production head. Nobody spoke for a long moment. Finally, Wasserman said, “Give us 24 hours.” “You have 12,” Newman said, and he walked out. Here’s what Robert Redford knew during all of this. Absolutely nothing.

Paul Newman didn’t tell him about the lunch call to Wasserman. Didn’t tell him about the meeting. Didn’t tell him about the 12-hour ultimatum. Because Newman knew if Redford found out, Redford would tell him to stop. But Redford found out anyway. Astan came and his agent called him on February 21st at 8:00 p.m.

Bob, I just got a very strange call from Universal’s legal department. They asked me if you’d be willing to renegotiate your Sting contract. Renegotiate? We already signed. I know. That’s what I told them. They said the situation had changed. They’re offering $1.2 million. Redford sat down. Stan, what’s happening? I don’t know, but I have a theory.

 Did you tell Paul Newman what you were making? I Yeah, at lunch three days ago, Stan laughed, a tired, knowing laugh. That explains it. Explains what? Paul’s trying to get you equal pay. And from what I’m hearing, he’s willing to blow up the entire movie to do it. Redford called Newman immediately. Newman didn’t pick up. He called again.

No answer. He drove to Newman’s house in Beverly Hills and Newman’s wife, Joanne Woodward, answered the door. He doesn’t want to talk about it, she said gently. Joanne, he can’t do this. Yes, he can. And he is. It’s my contract, my decision. Joanne smiled. Bob, do you know what Paul said when he came home from that meeting? He said, “If Hollywood thinks talent has a hierarchy, I’m going to prove them wrong.

 He’s not doing this for you. He’s doing this because it’s right.” Redford stood on the doorstep, speechless. “Go home,” Joanne said. “Let him do this. If anyone can win a fight with Lou Wasserman, it’s Paul.” The 12 hours passed. Newman didn’t hear from Universal. He was sitting in his living room at 9:00 a.m. on February 22nd when the phone rang.

Joanne answered. She handed it to Paul without a word. Paul, it’s Lou. I’m listening. We’ve made a decision. Newman’s grip tightened on the receiver. This was it. Either Universal caved or The Sting was dead, and Paul Newman would be known as the star who torpedoed a major film over someone else’s paycheck.

 “We’re going to pay Redford $1.2 million,” Wasserman said. Newman let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “But,” Wasserman continued. “You need to understand something, Paul. This changes things between us. You just cost this studio $700,000. You backed us into a corner. And I don’t forget things like that. Neither do I, Lou, Newman said quietly.

Neither do I. He hung up. Joanne was watching from the doorway. They agreed, Paul said. I know. I could hear you breathing again. He stood up, kissed her forehead. I need to tell Bob, but before Newman could get in his car, Robert Redford was already pulling into his driveway. Robert Redford got out of his car, walked up to Paul Newman, and punched him in the shoulder hard.

 You idiot, Redford said. Newman rubbed his shoulder. Good to see you, too. You could have destroyed your relationship with Universal. You could have killed the movie. You could have I could have let you get screwed, Newman interrupted. But I didn’t, so you’re welcome. Redford stood there angry and grateful and confused all at once.

 Why, Paul? Why risk all that? Because we’re a team, Newman said simply. Teams split 50/50. That’s how it works. Or at least that’s how it should work. But you didn’t have to. Yes, I did. Because if I didn’t, then what does equal billing even mean? Uh, it’s just a word on a poster. I wanted it to mean something real. Redford’s anger melted.

They’re paying me $1.2 million because of you. They’re paying you $1.2 $2 million because you’re worth it. I just reminded them of that fact. There was a long silence. Then Redford said, “Thank you. Don’t thank me. Just promise me something.” What? When you’re in my position someday, when you’re the bigger name and your co-star getting paid less, you do the same thing I just did.

 You fight for them. Redford nodded. Deal. The Sting went into production in Chicago in March 1973. Paul Newman and Robert Redford both paid $1.2 million, both equal partners. On set, they were inseparable. The chemistry the audience had loved in Butch Cassidy was even stronger now because they weren’t just actors playing a team. They were a team.

It George Roy Hill noticed it. Whatever happened between you two before we started shooting, it worked. You’re playing characters who trust each other with their lives. and I believe every second of it. Newman and Redford just smiled. The Sting was released in December 1973. It made60 million worldwide. It won seven Academy Awards, including best picture.

 It made Paul Newman and Robert Redford two of the biggest stars in the world. But more importantly, it changed how Hollywood thought about co-star pay. Not overnight, not universally, but enough. When Redford made all the president’s men three years later, he made sure Dustin Hoffman got equal pay. When Newman made the verdict in 1982, he fought for supporting actors to get better deals.

 The president Lou Wasserman feared became the principle Paul Newman proved. Talent deserves equal compensation for equal work. In 2008, shortly before Paul Newman died, a reporter asked Robert Redford what was the most important thing Newman had taught him. Redford thought for a long moment. Loyalty, he finally said, “Not loyalty to a studio or a contract or a bottom line.

 Loyalty to your principles.” Paul taught me that standing up for someone else is the most powerful thing you can do. Because when you fight for someone who can’t fight for themselves, you’re not just changing their life, you’re changing the system.” The reporter asked, “Did you ever tell him what that meeting with Universal meant to you?” “Every time I saw him,” Redford said.

 And every time he’d wave it off like it was nothing, but it wasn’t nothing. It was everything. Paul Newman’s stand in that universal conference room wasn’t just about $700,000. It was about power, about friendship, about refusing to participate in a system that valued one person’s work over another’s when the work was the same.

 Some people spend their careers climbing the ladder. Paul Newman spent his using his position at the top to lift others up. That’s not just a better way to work, that’s a better way to live. If this story reminded you that loyalty means standing up, not just showing up, share it with someone who needs to remember that power is worthless unless you use it for something that matters.

 And if you want more untold stories about the moments that changed Hollywood, subscribe so you never miss them. What would you sacrifice to make things fair for someone else? Let us know in the comments.