News that Nikki Finke had left behind a memoir — and that her estate was seeking a publisher — had half of Hollywood hyperventilating into their Erewhon shopping bags last week. It proved that even from beyond the grave, the late Deadline founder, who spent years terrorizing studio executives with her incendiary scoops, could still send shivers down the industry’s spine, especially with the prospect of a posthumous tell-all that, as one tabloid put it, “promised to spill the tea on the town’s titans.” Except it turns out there is no terrifying tell-all, no score-settling, tea-spilling memoir at all. Finke had indeed spent decades working…
