The Thomas Guide is a relic of a bygone era—a spiral-bound, paper-heavy map that painstakingly detailed the labyrinthine streets of Los Angeles. For the modern generation of junior executives, it is an antiquity that holds no meaning. Ask an intern about it, and you are likely to be met with a blank, unblinking stare. To your assistant, it might sound like a obscure ranking of British heartthrobs. Yet, for Ari Emanuel, the TKO chief executive and WME executive chairman, this outdated map serves as the perfect metaphor for the blueprint he used to build his own entertainment empire.
He has traversed every inch of the industry, from the high-stakes boardrooms of Century City to the exclusive estates of the Bird Streets and the modest, unassuming beginnings south of Olympic Boulevard. Now, that metaphorical map serves as the structural foundation for Roll the Calls, a memoir that chronicles the rage-fueled, relentless rise of one of the most powerful figures in show business. As the book hits shelves this week, accompanied by a series of live events including a highly anticipated appearance in Los Angeles, Emanuel sat down with Variety for an 18-minute conversation—one mercifully free of his legendary temper—to dissect the art of the deal, the nuances of the telephone, and the rapidly evolving future of the entertainment business.
A Roadmap for the Relentless
For a man who has spent the vast majority of his career as the voice behind the throne, advocating for others, the decision to write a memoir was a significant pivot. Emanuel admits that the book is intended for two specific audiences. First, he hopes to reach the parents of children dealing with ADHD and dyslexia—the same struggles he faced during his youth. He credits his parents for allowing him to navigate those challenges while providing the necessary tools, a process he says taught him to be a "free thinker."
"Looking back at it, my mom and dad let me go through it and struggle while still making sure I had all the tools," Emanuel says. "It was incredible because it taught me to be a free thinker. That’s helped me in business and helped me with the people in my life."
The second audience for the book is those looking for a survival guide to the industry. Emanuel describes his life story as his own version of the Thomas Guide, a manual for surviving the brutal, high-pressure environment of Hollywood. He emphasizes that success is not a sprint; it is an exercise in emotional endurance. "To succeed, you have to realize how hard it is," he explains. "You have to be relentless, consistent, have emotional endurance. And it doesn’t come quickly. I didn’t have a ‘Plan B.’ It was only ‘Plan A.’"
The Lost Art of the Phone Call
In an age dominated by instant messaging and ephemeral social media interactions, Emanuel remains a staunch defender of the traditional phone call—the cornerstone of his "roll the calls" philosophy. He expresses frustration with a younger generation of agents who have traded the personal touch of a voice-to-voice conversation for the sterility of a text message.
"I’ll tell my assistants—not my current two, because they’ve gotten it—but I ask them to call someone and I’ll follow up and ask if they talked to them," Emanuel says. "The assistants will say, ‘Well, I texted.’ But that’s not what I asked for. I asked you to call. I understand that texts and DMs are how we have the conversation now, but I like the personal nature of a phone call."
He is equally demanding of his staff when it comes to persistence. When told that his assistants have "left word" after an initial attempt, he doesn’t accept that as the end of the process. "Call again!" he insists. When asked about his own habits, the man who built an empire on communication admits to being a "one-word texter," or perhaps two at most. He acknowledges the rise of voice notes, though he remains firmly rooted in the belief that direct, real-time human connection remains the most effective tool in an agent’s arsenal.
The Future of Talent Representation
Looking ahead to the next decade, Emanuel envisions a landscape where the definition of the "content business" continues to expand. From live sports and concerts to podcasts and social media, the breadth of what constitutes entertainment is wider than ever. He is particularly optimistic about the role of artificial intelligence in production, predicting that it will significantly lower costs, which in turn will empower creators to develop smaller, high-profit projects like the thriller Obsession.
He compares the current state of human ingenuity to a famous observation by Steve Jobs, who once noted that humans were among the slowest-moving mammals until the invention of the bicycle. "Whatever Hollywood looks like in the future, we’ll still need legs to pedal those bikes," Emanuel says.
When the conversation turns to the industry-wide trend toward consolidation, Emanuel is less certain about the long-term benefits but acknowledges its inevitability. He cautions against the tendency of industry insiders to declare entire business models "dead," citing the historical cycle of pessimism that preceded massive successes. He points to Charlie Bludhorn’s takeover of Paramount, where the film business was written off only for the studio to go on to produce classics like The Godfather and Chinatown.
"Barry Diller announces five years ago that the movie business is dead, then he tries to buy Paramount," Emanuel observes. "When I started in the business, they said packaging was over. They said half-hours were dead. They said dramas were over. This is a business that has gone on for over 100 years and it’s not going anywhere. People are talented. They’re going to have to be represented."
Revelations and Reflection
The memoir does not shy away from the darker, more cutthroat aspects of Emanuel’s rise. He recounts a pivotal moment in the mid-90s when he orchestrated the architecture for CJ Entertainment to invest in a minority stake in DreamWorks, only to have Jeff Berg, then the head of ICM Partners, claim the entire commission for himself.
Emanuel is surprisingly pragmatic about the incident today. "I give him credit. He owned the company. Jeff Berg took the money. So I said, ‘Yeah, great. See you later. I’ll make my own.’" When asked how much he would have cleared, he admits he isn’t entirely sure, but notes that the commission was likely enough to "pay for a house." At the time, Emanuel was living in a duplex; he did not yet own a home.
Perhaps the most significant transformation discussed is his relationship with his own public persona. For years, Emanuel was inextricably linked to Ari Gold, the volatile, foul-mouthed agent portrayed by Jeremy Piven on the hit HBO series Entourage. While many speculated he would never be able to outrun the caricature, Emanuel credits his personal growth and his marriage for the shift. "Looking back, it was a great ride, but I don’t want to be that guy anymore," he says firmly. When asked if he would ever consider a reboot of the show, his answer is a definitive "no."
As the industry navigates a period of profound uncertainty—marked by the lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, the recent labor strikes, and the constant speculation regarding mergers—Emanuel remains focused on the fundamentals. Regarding the current climate of uncertainty surrounding major media players, he suggests it is time for the industry to move past the noise. "Let’s move on from that and make a deal," he says, reflecting the pragmatic, bottom-line-focused philosophy that has defined his career.
