Hunky Dory (Who Knew)

by Laurence Myers

  I went with Freddy on three occasions to see Elvis’s opening night in Vegas. Elvis was inclined to coast a little on his Vegas dates, but not on the opening night, which was always an occasion with a celebrity-packed audience. On one trip, Marsha came with us. She was not an Elvis fan so I should never have married her, but when he took his bows after what was an unforgettable performance, she was on her feet screaming his name with the rest of us.

  Freddy had a very clever way of dealing with the dissolution of publishing partnerships. He asked the partner he was splitting from to divide the copyrights into two lists, and Freddy decided which of the lists he wanted to retain. It is a brilliantly fair way of dividing assets, which I have since used myself. The other effective way is for Partner A to name a price and Partner B to decide whether he wants to buy or sell at that price. When I decided that we should administer our own copyrights, it was necessary to ‘divorce’ from Freddy’s Carlin Music. At the time, Keith Potger, one of the original Seekers – a hugely successful group from Australia – was running our publishing company. Keith made up the two lists and Freddie chose the one that included ‘The Pushbike Song’, the only song that was of any real value. Some people are gifted with musical talent; some people are gifted with brains. Keith could play the guitar and sing. I should never have put him in the ring with Freddie. It was like putting Julian Clary in the ring to fight Mike Tyson.

  17. THE ROLLING STONES

  I am not trying to compete with the many excellent books written about the Rolling Stones, some of which I have researched (if a writer gets facts from one book it’s called ‘plagiarism’; if he gets facts from lots of books, it’s called ‘research’). I will restrict my history of the Stones to stories in which I was personally involved.

  In my brief career as a partner in a firm of chartered accountants, nothing was more exciting than Goodman Myers being appointed as accountants to the Rolling Stones. My only previous encounter with the Stones was when they and The Animals were both appearing on a TV show called Ready Steady Go! The show was shot in a TV studio in London, and I was in with The Animals, who were sharing a dressing room with the Stones. Eric Burdon grabbed Bill Wyman’s camera while the Stones were performing, dropped his trousers and had Chas Chandler take a photograph of his own not inconsiderable appendage. Eric then put the camera back exactly where he had found it. In those days one sent one’s films off to be developed, and God knows what problems Eric’s prank caused Bill Wyman.

  Needless to say, I didn’t mention the subject of Eric Burdon’s cock when, in 1971, Bill came to see me about an album he had produced with The Walker Brothers’ John Walker (whose real last name was Maus). John, Scott (Engel) and Gary (Leeds) split in 1968 – although they would reunite in 1974, when the brilliant talent-spotter Dick Leahy signed them to GTO Records, the record company that we owned together. We had a huge hit with the single ‘No Regrets’ and the album of the same name. More about GTO Records later. Scott was the real singing talent of the Brothers and after their break-up nobody wanted to release a solo album by John. When Bill came to see me it was to ask if I could place the record for him in Japan where The Walker Brothers had huge success. He hoped I could get him an advance of ten thousand pounds.

  The Japanese generally never attended the Midem music festival, but I agreed to take the album to see what I could do. There were rumours of a Japanese guy being seen in Cannes and I eventually tracked him down. He was leaving early the next morning but when I mentioned John of The Walker Brothers he agreed to meet with me at 7 a.m. Now, you should know that a lot of Midem business is conducted in the late-night bars and that night I was at The Martinez hotel bar until the early hours of the morning. I dragged myself out of bed and met my Japanese contact for breakfast at the five-star Carlton hotel, a place he had suggested. There was a lot of exchanging business cards and bowing which went on too long because I did not know the etiquette of who should bow last. Eventually we sat down.

  ‘Are you staying here?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’ He mentioned a hotel on the outskirts of Cannes that I had never heard of. This should have been a clue. He ordered a huge breakfast. ‘I will not eat on the plane.’

  I ordered a large breakfast too. I was very bleary-eyed, but as the discussions progressed I perked up considerably. The guy said yes to everything.

  ‘The royalty will have to be 16 per cent.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You will pay an advance of twenty thousand dollars.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In addition to the royalty you will pay me a commission of 2 per cent.’

  ‘Yes.’

  This was too easy for words. Bill was going to be delighted with me. I had got him double his hoped-for advance and even got the Japanese to pay my commission. I stood up and leaned forward to shake hands.

  ‘So we have a deal?’

  ‘No. I must report back to my superior in Tokyo.’

  I sat down again and he left, leaving me to pay the outrageous price of breakfast for two at one of the most expensive hotels in Cannes.

  Needless to say, I never heard a word from the gentleman again. I later learned that in Japanese culture ‘Yes’ means ‘I understand’ not ‘I agree’. Make a note of this if you ever meet a Japanese person for an early-morning breakfast meeting.

  Andrew Loog Oldham left school at sixteen for a menial job with Mary Quant (who almost single-handedly invented the fashion of London’s swinging sixties). He then got a job in a PR company, a world that he loved. In 1961 he became a freelance PR, at one point doing PR for the fast-emerging Beatles. He and Tony Calder, another freelance PR guy, started Image, a PR company specialising in pop music.

  Andrew often visited The Crawdaddy Club, a popular venue where the Rolling Stones often played. The audience reception was extremely enthusiastic, almost at Beatle level, and Andrew was impressed. Image PR was not making him any money and he decided that he wanted to manage the Stones. Concerned that his lack of knowledge might put them off signing with him, he did not approach them that evening. He went to see Eric Easton, a well-respected theatrical agent, and persuaded him to come and see the band perform. Easton was also impressed. Together they approached Brian Jones, the founder and leader of the Stones, who agreed that that Easton and Oldham would manage the Stones. They charged 25 per cent of the band’s earnings. Mick and Keith were underage so Brian signed on behalf of the band. It was 1963 and Andrew was barely twenty years old.

  Andrew and Eric made the Stones huge in the UK. They had half a dozen hit singles, a number-one album and their tours sold out but they were nowhere near as successful in America, where The Beatles were a phenomenon and The Dave Clark Five, Herman’s Hermits and Freddie and The Dreamers were all huge. the Stones’ comparative lack of success was a problem and Andrew struggled to find an answer. In the spring of 1965, he was in New York on Stones’ business. He had fallen out with Eric Easton and, in partnership with his old PR partner Tony Calder, was planning to start Immediate Records in the UK, a venture that he found more exciting than his management endeavours. He was due to have a breakfast meeting with J. W. Alexander, a partner in Kags Music, Sam Cooke’s music publishing business. He was hoping to get a rebate for the Stones on the royalties paid to Kags for the use of ‘It’s All Over Now’, which was Kags’ copyright. There was no reason why Mr Alexander should agree to this after the event, but Andrew thought that he would try.

  Sam Cooke’s manager, Allen Klein, was also sitting next to J. W. and Allen later told me that he had had his eye on the Stones for some time and was shocked at how young their manager was. Andrew’s request for a rebate on ‘It’s All Over Now’ was dismissed out of hand, but they carried on chatting and Andrew told him of his plans to start Immediate Records. He also intimated that he was not getting on with Eric Easton. Allen’s main objective was to get to the Rolling Stones, but smart man that he was, he never brought them into the conversation. He offered to help Andrew get distribution deals for Immed
iate Records. His parting shot to Andrew was, of course, ‘I can get you a million dollars.’

  Allen called me to ask me if I knew Eric Easton, which I did not. He told me what had happened with Andrew, and his belief that he would soon be managing the Stones with him. I knew that Mickie Most knew Andrew, but Allen did not want to ask him to help snare Andrew. It was important to Allen that Mickie believed that he was getting most of his attention. I understood this, as I was in a similar position myself. Allen asked me to ‘be aware’ and keep him advised of any information that came my way that would be helpful to his cause. I was a little amused at Allen’s Machiavellian style of operating and admiring of his dedication to getting what he wanted. Inevitably, Allen usurped Easton as Andrew’s partner. Easton sued Allen and got a court order freezing the band’s back-royalties. After long litigation, Allen paid him off with two hundred thousand pounds in September 1971.

  At the time that the Rolling Stones business took up residence in my office, Brian Jones had still been the leader of the band, but in title only – it was clear to everyone, including Brian, that this was changing and that Mick was now The Man. Andrew arranged for Allen to meet with Mick and he did his thing, successfully gaining the singer’s confidence. Allen then met with all of the Rolling Stones at the Hilton hotel on Park Lane and they enthusiastically agreed that he should become co-manager of the band with Andrew.

  the Stones’ business had been run out of Easton’s offices, and as this was clearly no longer viable, in January 1967 we gave them some space in Goodman Myers & Co.’s offices in Regent Street. Stephanie Bluestone, the Stones’ general assistant, moved in with us to run their office. We hosted them for a few months until they set up their own office in Maddox Street, but those few months were an exciting time in the history of the Stones, and I was privileged to be at the heart of it: this was the period in which Allen renegotiated their Decca deal, Mick and Keith famously got arrested for drugs, and the band firmly established themselves as the ‘bad boys’ of rock. Brian Jones was confirmed to no longer be the band’s leader and some months later died in the swimming pool of Cotchford Farm, his house in Essex. The inquest recorded death by misadventure, arising from Brian’s abuse of drugs and alcohol, but there are many other theories still around which dispute this, including murder. If this is of interest to you, the internet is full of conflicting ‘maybes’.

  The Stones were signed to Decca Records, via Impact Sound, a company owned by Andrew Oldham and Eric Easton. Decca paid Impact a royalty of 8 per cent and Impact paid the Stones 6 per cent. Andrew and Easton also took 25 per cent of the Stones’ 6 per cent in their capacity as managers, leaving the band with 4.5 per cent. Clearly the Stones did not have a great deal and the whole mess had to be sorted out.

  A meeting was arranged with Sir Edward Lewis, owner of Decca Records. The main Klein party consisted of Allen and myself with Andrew Oldham and all five Rolling Stones. We went to the meeting at Decca House in two Rolls-Royces that Allen had hired for the occasion. He believed in arriving in style.

  Sir Edward, Bill Townsley (Decca’s MD) and people from his legal affairs department greeted us. Allen, Andrew Oldham and I (the good guys) sat at the boardroom table and the Stones stood around behind us, looking sullen and angry, as had been rehearsed. Without preamble, Allen turned to each of the Stones and asked if he was authorised to speak on their behalf. As rehearsed, each said ‘Yes,’ and then, as also rehearsed, they trouped out. Sir Edward was clearly dismayed by the pantomime he had just witnessed. His previous negotiations had been with Eric Easton, a businesslike gentleman. He looked at Andrew.

  ‘Is Eric not coming?’ Andrew, who had also been rehearsed, did not speak. But Allen did.

  ‘Eric doesn’t play in the band. You can speak to me.’

  Allen was purposefully aggressive. He wanted Sir Edward to know that he was difficult to deal with and had no wish to be liked. I could see Sir Edward struggling to maintain his composure. ‘Very well, what is it that you want, Mr. Klein?’

  Allen demanded copies of all of the Stones’ royalty statements and contracts, including the draft contract that Eric Easton had negotiated for future renewal. Sir Edward went red enough to double as a traffic light. I do not know what he said because I do not speak splutter but I suspect that he did not wish us a ‘good day’.

  I later reviewed Decca’s proposed contract, negotiated by Easton and it was clear that it contained all of the unnecessary royalty deductions that were standard record-company practice, and committed the Stones to Decca for up to five years. The contract provided that the Stones would get an advance of the equivalent of $300,000 recoupable against all royalties including pipeline royalties. These are royalties on past recordings recently sold around the world, but not yet included in quarterly accountings. I could see that Decca were offering to pay the Stones an advance out of their own money.

  Allen negotiated a new deal for Impact Sounds with Decca that guaranteed the Stones $1.25 million for a one-year contract, with more advances for any extensions. $600,000 was to be paid on signing. Andrew agreed that the Stones’ royalty from Impact Sounds was increased to 7 per cent and they would pay no management commission on record royalties. Allen’s cut came out of what would have been Eric Easton’s share and, as he said to Mick, ‘I have made you rich and it hasn’t cost you a cent.’

  As mentioned before, UK tax was at a punitive level and, as with the Mickie Most/EMI deal, it made sense for the Stones to get their money paid over a number of years. Allen, somewhat craftily, structured the spread in such a way that he ended up being the owner of the Stones’ recordings for the US and Canada, paying them 80 per cent of the royalty income arising. He also made a deal to be the publisher of Jagger and Richard’s songs, giving them 70 per cent of earnings as opposed to the standard 50 per cent. He gave them a writer’s advance of a million dollars, an astonishingly large amount even if it was payable over twenty years, to shelter the advances from UK taxes. With success, the spreadable advances went up to three million dollars. Any sums they earned above the advances were to be paid at the end of the twenty-year period.

  The net result of these two deals was that Allen had legal control of the vast monies that were generated by the Stones’ record sales in America, subject to paying them the contractual advances. In later years – after he had ceased to manage the Stones – they launched several legal attacks on Allen and his company ABKCO, trying to wrest ownership of the master recordings and music copyrights away from him. All the attempts failed and ABKCO still owns the American rights to all of the Stones’ hits recorded in the sixties and the copyright in the songs.

  Allen was even smarter. Record contracts traditionally provided that the company would own recordings made by the artist ‘manufactured out of vinyl’ – the current practice – ‘or by any means now invented or to be invented in the future’. Allen pointed out that as nobody knew what the economics of unknown future production would be, Decca could only have the rights for vinyl, which was the existing medium. Decca, too weary to fight for a future contingency that might never happen, agreed. This meant that when cassettes and later CDs replaced vinyl, the record company had no rights to the product and his company ABKCO, as the owner, was free to control manufacturing and distribution of the recordings. He arranged for the Stones’ records to be distributed in the US by Decca subsidiary London Records, but ABKCO Records became the Stones’ de facto American record company.

  The relationship between Andrew Oldham and the Stones had been deteriorating for years. There was no question that his faith and flair had launched them but his perceived desire to be famous in his own right had caused the Stones to believe that he was more interested in his own celebrity than theirs. In 1968, he sold his interest in the Rolling Stones to Allen for $750,000. Now there was not even the pretence that Andrew was involved with the career of the band that he had made famous, and Allen had total control of the second-biggest band in the world. The biggest band was, of course, The
Beatles and it was still Allen’s firm ambition to manage them.

  One of my first jobs as the Stones’ accountant was to prepare the figures for their past tours for submission to the UK Inland Revenue. These were not the hundred-million-dollar world tours that they undertook in later years. In early January and March of 1964, they did two tours of one-nighters that I had to report on. The January tour was fourteen dates in twenty days and the March tour was thirty dates in thirty days. The accounts I prepared showed that the Stones made very little money from the tour. Brian claimed expenses for the use of his own car and the rest of the boys travelled in a beat-up old van, squeezing between Charlie Watts’ drum kit and the instruments. They were one of eight acts that each did about twenty minutes. They played two shows a night and a comedian told a few jokes as the acts changed over. For one 1965 tour, the comedian was Ray Cameron, father of Michael McIntyre, now one of the most popular comedians in the UK. Ray went on to write for The Kenny Everett Video Show and in the seventies I produced Bloodbath at the House of Death, a spoof horror film starring Kenny that Ray directed.

  Mickie Most had toured with the Stones as a performer on a 1963 tour when the crowd-pullers were American acts The Everly Brothers, Bo Diddley and Little Richard. Like most UK pop stars, Mickie’s act was a pale imitation of American rock acts in general, and the Stones used to play Bo Diddly songs at their gigs. Mickie and the Stones were both low down in the pecking order. The second tour was largely with UK acts: Marty Wilde, Dave Berry, and The Swinging Blue Jeans. the Stones were not popular enough to close the show.