Making of a Mogul

It's tempting to look around James Murdoch's office at STAR's Hong Kong headquarters and see evidence of a transformation, of a formerly rebellious young man who left childish things behind and joined the corporate world, subjugating his personality to his father's vision for his company and his son. It's sizable—though not the biggest office at STAR—with a bank of televisions on one wall and a window overlooking the harbor. The furniture is early modern, but the giant Frank Gehry cardboard chairs from his funky New York office are absent. The nondescript desk is uncluttered, and the shelves are weighted down with tomes about media and technology. There's a picture of James with former President George H. W. Bush and a picture of his sister Elisabeth's daughter. And the guy sitting behind the desk looks like he's maturing as well, crisply attired in slacks and a dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up, his glasses now encased in stylish wire frames. Gone are the scraggly hair and Buddy Holly glasses—the latter banished by order of his girlfriend, now his wife, Kathryn Hufschmid.

But transformation is too strong a word. Who doesn't change his look in his 20s? The Gehry chairs? They wouldn't have lasted in Hong Kong's humidity. And there are personal touches on display, like vintage comics and a framed 1977 TIME cover of Rupert Murdoch towering over Manhattan, with the headline: AUSSIE PRESS LORD TERRIFIES GOTHAM. James also admits to keeping a Dewback, a Star Wars creature, in his office, "still in the box because I can't decide—they are always more valuable in the box. But I kind of want to take it out."

In important ways, though, James has changed: he's gone from producing rap-metal records outside the family business to this new job, so crucial to its success. It's unlikely anyone else with his track record could have snagged the top post at a $2.5 billion company that beams its signal in eight languages to 53 countries ("I don't think TV gets harder than STAR," says chief programmer Steve Askew). Yet Rupert Murdoch chose his youngest son as his lieutenant in Asia, just as giants such as AOL Time Warner, Sony and Disney came rushing in. This office—sensible, austere, pragmatic—speaks not of transformation, but of evolution: from Harvard dropout to committed corporate man, from (sort of) outsider to CEO.

Over the past few months, James has given TIME a glimpse of himself on the job, in Hong Kong and in India. He comes across as bright, confident, driven and irreverent. By turns guarded (like about that pesky succession question) and candid, curious and sarcastic, humble and profane, he remains a paradoxical character, but no more so than any other twentysomething millionaire. He likes to cast his upbringing and his family as "normal," but to almost everyone else, his life and his station are extraordinary. To date, STAR has thrived under his watch, but many questions remain, among them: How does a 29-year-old conquer multimillion dollar markets in India and China while further securing a place for himself in the Murdoch empire? What has James Murdoch learned? And what will his evolution mean for Asia?

In a London restaurant, just before Christmas in 1999, James got a phone call from his father. They talked for a while, caught up. Then the senior Murdoch said: "Think about China." Days later, when both were in New York, James went to see his father. "Do you like Chinese food?" he was asked. "And that was kind of it," James recalls. "It had been decided."

Murdoch Sr. had bought STAR from Hong Kong's Richard Li in 1995 for $950 million. A perpetual money loser, it initially looked like News Corp.'s overpriced albatross. STAR has no shortage of eyeballs—it beams its satellite signal to 300 million people—yet it has virtually no control over subscribers on the ground. Instead, it is heavily dependent on advertising revenue. But STAR was a first mover in these vast new markets. And it was central to Murdoch's vision of constructing a global satellite network—a dream foiled recently by his failed bid for DirecTV.

James was a counterintuitive choice to head STAR. After leaving college, he had shied away from News Corp., founding Rawkus, a record company that specialized in rap-metal bands a few years before Limp Bizkit made millions with the formula. He also had a brief dalliance with cartooning, producing a strip whose antihero "Albrecht the Hun" preferred literary pursuits to raping and pillaging. But James eventually set aside his own artistic impulses and joined the family fold. He first took over News Corp.'s small but troubled music division in 1996. Next, with investors clamoring for greater involvement with the Internet, he was put in charge of News Corp.'s Web operations. Neither venture produced the kind of results that launch careers. The severely pared-down music division is now on the verge of being sold. News Corp. also recently took a $300 million write-off for dotcom investments James championed.

Besides the short rEsumE, James had no experience in TV or in Asia. But Rupert Murdoch wasn't looking for an expert: he wanted a trusted emissary who would look after his interests with the unswerving dedication of, well, family. In Asia, where family connections carry tremendous weight, someone with the Murdoch pedigree makes an ideal ambassador. Besides, Rupert already had somebody who knew about TV and Asia: himself. "You put someone in charge without any practical experience running a large business and you'd think it would be a prescription for disaster," says a senior News Corp. executive in New York. "But James came in listening very intently to his father."