Playboy Interview: Allen Klein

Not long ago, John Lennon and Yoko Ono decided that the walls in Allen Klein's new offices needed decorating. The view out the windows was fine, even beautiful, 41 stories down to the Hudson River, and the floor plan of Abkco's offices was interesting enough: labyrinthine hallways, through which a visitor literally needs a guide. But the shiny-yellow papered walls were boring. So John and Yoko began hanging golden records (over 100 of them, mostly albums) that the groups Klein has managed have picked up over the years. Down the first hallway are "Beggar's Banquet," "Let It Bleed" and "Out of Our Heads"--all 1,000,000 sellers by the Rolling Stones--and on a post at the end is "All Things Must Pass," by George Harrison. "Let It Be" is just to the right, along with "Plastic Ono Band" and "McCartney" and "Ram," and farther on are walls filled with shiny platters by The Animals, The Kinks, Herman's Hermits, The Dave Clark Five, Donovan and Bobby Vinton. On and on, until it's possible for a visitor without sunglasses to go nearly blind from the glare by the time he's led through a door into the corner suite that Allen Klein, rock 'n' roll's only supermanager, occupies with a curious sort of magnificence.

Like so many of the rock stars he now represents, Klein has come a painfully long way. His childhood was pretty awful: He spent six years of it in a New Jersey orphanage and the rest with grandparents who had only the barest kind of income. After high school came the Army, and then, with the GI Bill and odd jobs, he worked himself quickly through Upsala College in New Jersey, graduating with an accounting degree. After toiling at one or two short-lived and tiresome accounting jobs, an old school friend began introducing him to performers like Bobby Darin, Connie Francis and Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gormé, and soon he began to offer to do audits for them to find out if their record companies were paying them the royalties their contracts called for. When he found a company shorting the artist--and he always did--he took a percentage of the difference as his fee.

As his involvements and ambitions grew, he went to Hollywood to help produce a movie so bad that it was never released and, deep in debt, he returned to New York--and to audits. In 1963, he met the performer with whom he was to have his first fully managerial relationship: Sam Cooke. The association, which lasted until Cooke was shot to death in a Los Angeles motel in 1964, began to build Klein's reputation as the rough-and-tumble enemy of record companies; one of the most hated and feared--and successful--men in the music business.

Klein then met Mickie Most, who produced and managed a string of groups including The Animals and Herman's Hermits, and he moved easily into the then-new English rock-'n'-roll scene. He began negotiating record contracts for the young stars and acted as financial manager to Most; then, in 1965, came a long-awaited break: a chance to manage financial affairs for Andrew Oldham, who was then personal manager to the Rolling Stones. Two years later, Oldham was fired--and Klein took over his job. The word got around; in January of 1969, while he was still managing the Stones, John Lennon hired Klein to be his financial manager and shortly after that, George Harrison and Ringo Starr signed up, too. Paul McCartney was conspicuous by his absence, and an explosive situation soon developed in which Klein and Paul's father-in-law, Lee Eastman, and his brother-in-law John, fought for control of the Beatles and their company, Apple. The fight climaxed in England's High Court of Justice, where Paul McCartney initiated proceedings to dissolve the most brilliant musical partnership rock 'n' roll had ever seen. Even today, maneuverings and power plays continue between the two factions, and the case has not yet come to trial. When it does, if it does, Klein will be prepared. He is the veteran of almost as many lawsuits as he has gold records.

Staff Writer Craig Vetter, who conducted this interview, spent nearly a month on and off with Klein going through the Abkco files in New York, trying to untangle the business and legal spider webs of his professional relationships with the Beatles and the Stones. Research done, Better then flew to Almeria, Spain, where Klein was on location producing a spaghetti Western called "Blindman," co-starring Ringo Starr. Vetter reports:

"Nothing about or around Allen Klein ever stops moving. I met him first in his New York offices and sat across a semicircle desk from him while he swiveled, tipped and rocked in a black Naugahyde chair with a tall straight back. He is short, 5'6" or so, and has a round face that has almost no lines in it, which makes him look ten years younger and more innocent than his 39 years. He has a debater's mind and style that picks at every sentence and every thought of whoever he's talking with and is so fast that he steps on the last three words out of your mouth, no matter what the conversation. And with his disturbing speed comes the drama of surprise that he likes so much and uses like a jousting pole on everyone he deals with.

"At our first meeting, in which he and I were to meet alone and talk casually about the possibility of an interview, he shuffled some papers and said, 'We may as well go ahead with lunch. John and Yoko won't be here for about an hour.' When they did arrive, John looking thin but happy with his hair cut short and Yoko looking strong but nervous and skeptical, the four of us sat for the afternoon and talked about the trouble the Beatles were having and about Klein's role in it. He showed John a tax opinion that McCartney's lawyers had prepared and, without looking at it, Lennon asked, 'What does it say, Allen?'

"'The same damn thing we said a year ago,' Klein told him.

"'Wonderful,' said John, in the accent that's always going home to Liverpool. 'Then I don't have to read it.'

"Later John told me, 'Allen's really beautiful. He handles everything, and I can trust him. Before he came, I was going mad with this stuff.' Across the room, Yoko agreed. She was on and off the phone, looking for an apartment in New York, and when she told John she'd found one on the Bowery, he said, 'Oh, no, luv, not there. I don't want to walk out me door and see people dying in the gutter; really I don't.'

"The scene in Spain, on the tip of the Costa del Sol in July heat, was madness. Klein had chartered the 150-foot yacht Aventura to accommodate the press he had brought in from England and France to cover the making of the movie. But the Spanish navy was in Almeria harbor, so the yacht had to moor outside the breakwater in heavy seas for almost all of the seven, days we were there. At the opening-day press party Klein held aboard ship, journalists from four countries reeled seasick over the decks of the heaving ship, unable to focus their cameras or write in their notebooks. And Ringo sat on the afterdeck telling stories about his five horrible weeks in the merchant marine and prefacing his advice to the guests, 'Keep your knees apart and loose ... focus on the land ...,' with a lilting phrase, 'Take it from an old sea dog, mate ....' The captain, the first mate and Klein's wife, Betty, were the only ones who made it through the three hours of rocking and rolling without turning the pale-green shade of the Mediterranean in summer. Even Ringo, as he climbed into the shore launch, said, 'Two hours of that's enough for anyone, inn it?'

"We taped most of the interview on the movie set, 30 miles from town in the hot Spanish desert. A small bad-guy part had been written into the script for Klein and all week he grew a light stubble in anticipation of the two days' shooting that would become two minutes in the film. Between rehearsals and takes, Klein and I would scramble for Ringo's air-conditioned trailer, to the tape recorder, my notebooks and some Spanish wine, which I sipped as he talked (Klein doesn't drink). Ringo came along for two of the longest sessions, because he wanted to be out of the sun and because, as he said to Klein before we began, 'I'd like to hear what you have to say, too.' Ringo sat quietly as Klein answered questions about the business hassles, the lawsuits, the personal moments he'd had with the Beatles; but then, as I asked if he thought they would ever play together again and he hesitated before answering, Ringo came into the conversation for the first time.

"'You must say yes, Allen,' he said, 'because there's no reason we shouldn't all play together again if we want to.' Then he leaned toward the microphone on the table. 'But don't no silly d.j.s go putting it out that we're thinkin' of getting together, 'cause we're not. Still, there's nothin' stoppin' us if we ever want to.' Ringo talked about his first face-to-face meeting with Paul in many months, no a plane, on the way to Mick Jagger's wedding, and then said, 'I Iuv Paul, you know, I really do,' and for a moment, all the neatly printed legal statements I'd pored over, so formal, signed by all the Beatles, one against another, and entered in evidence in the English High Court, numbering the reasons the partnership should or should not be dissolved, seemed strange and distant. Even Klein, in Western gear, a prop holster and six-gun on his waist, the toughest, fastest wheeler-dealer in town, any town, sat there stuttering a moment when Ringo was finished. The drummer's eyes were moist.

"Klein and I taped all week and never got much closer to the complicated truth of the affair than at that moment. There were other moments, though, when Klein was tired or in a reverie (always when the recorder was off), when I sensed why John Lennon and he are such close friends and why he and Mick Jagger were so close for many years. He had kept saying that he wanted me to meet Ringo, John and George, so that I could see for myself that they were happier with their careers and their lives than they had ever been. I missed meeting George in New York just before his Madison Square Garden benefit with Dylan in August, but John and Ringo both told me what Klein had said they, would about the good place their heads were in, and they told me they wanted Allen Klein to get a big part of the credit for that. But for all the charm and wit and even tenderness he was capable of displaying when he was with one or another of the Beatles, Klein's reputation in the music business is still that of a rude, ruthless, nasty man who acts as if he were at war with the world. I began, the interview by asking him a question about that."

[Q] Playboy: How did you get the reputation as the biggest prick, in the music business?

[A] Klein: Maybe I am. And if I am, it's because the music business is about 99 percent no-talent losers who can't stand a winner in their midst. I'm a winner, and if they want to sour-grape my success by calling me names, let 'em. I don't give a shit. I represent artists, not record companies. I made a philosophical decision and I went with the artists: they're the ones who need my services most. That might not make you many friends, but it gives you a clearer conscience. You can't deal, I mean really deal, with friends. This business is just too tough for that, and I'll tell you, one on one. I'm as rough as anybody in it.

[Q] Playboy: Do you have to be rough?

[A] Klein: Only if you want to survive. That's the nature of the music business, or any business, really, where there's a lot of money that gets made fast. Look, a kid comes in, all he knows is music. He cuts a record, doesn't know anything about contracts, taxes, the business, and there are a lot of people who can fuck him. But if he's got somebody good dealing for him, somebody who knows how to give these guys some of their own shit back, it can save the kid a lot of grief. Talk about my reputation. what about the record companies? It's not like I was in church kicking over statues. I deal for the little guy, the artist, because that's who I identify with. And I'm damn good at it. That's how I got my reputation.

[Q] Playboy: Why do you identify with artists instead of businessmen?

[A] Klein: Because I think I'm as creative at what I do as Mick Jagger and John Lennon are in their way. Everybody thinks business runs by some kind of formula, right? Well, I got news: There are no formulas. Every time out is different and every artist is different. I've done things in this business that nobody ever thought of doing before me. It's the only way to get anything good done. I ask an artist, "What do you want?" Then he tells me what he wants. And if I agree with what he asks for, then it's Gang Busters. The artist comes first, and I'll do whatever it takes to get what we want. And I mean whatever.

[Q] Playboy: Regardless of ethics?

[A] Klein: Don't talk to me about ethics. Every man makes his own. It's like a war. You choose your side early and from then on, you're being shot at. The man you beat in a head-to-head negotiation is likely to call you unethical. So what? You got to live with yourself, that's all. When I started in this business, I was an accountant. I'd go to an artist and say, "Let me go to your record company and do an audit for you." To see if they were really paying him five cents on a a record or whatever the contract said. I'd go over the books and I'd find that the companies were always short. Whenever I caught them at it, I'd take 50 percent of whatever I found for the artist. Which was fine with the artist--but I was making the record companies look like crooks even if it was an honest mistake on their part. They hated my guts. Said I was an unethical bastard. I don't know if what I did was ethical or not; it was just my hustle. A way to get into the business. Now, there are moral people and immoral people in this business, just like every other one. But this is the environment I have to fight in and I use the tools available to me. I think of myself as moral. I wouldn't kill anybody.

[Q] Playboy: That's big of you.

[A] Klein: Do you think so? You can murder a man economically, you know. It's brutal. He's still walking around, but he's dead. That goes on. But I've never done that. And I never will. Vengeance is a waste of energy and time.

[Q] Playboy: Short of destroying a man that way, would you do literally anything to accomplish what you felt you had to for a client?

[A] Klein: Yeah, I think so.

[Q] Playboy: Would you lie?

[A] Klein: Oh, sure.

[Q] Playboy: Would you steal?

[A] Klein: Probably. Look, you have to survive. You do whatever it takes, because if you don't stay alive in this business, you can't help anybody, and then all the discussions about ethics and morals don't mean a thing. Yoko told me that when she and John came to me, they were looking for a real shark--someone to keep the other sharks away. Now she says sometimes I'm too moral.

[Q] Playboy: Do you find your morals in conflict with those of the people you deal with?

[A] Klein: I really don't care what others do. I do what I want and what I believe. It would be nice if everything could be clinical and clean. But you'd have to be pretty naïve to believe you could live your life that way. I don't think I'm dishonest with myself or the people I represent. I get called everything: unethical, immoral, rude. I get things done the only way I know how.

[Q] Playboy: Are you rude?

[A] Klein: I guess I'm abrupt, sure, but that's just me. I don't have the time to be polite. When I'm in a negotiation, I want to get to the point. I don't want to sit around making chitchat and be bored by these people. I'm like that about everything. Most 30-minute conversations could take one minute; well, I can use the other 29. I guess that makes me rude. If it puts people off, too bad.

[Q] Playboy: Does your tough-guy image give you an edge when you sit down with a record company to work out a contract?

[A] Klein: There's only one thing that gives me an edge: I'm the best. I know more about this business than anybody else. I'm always better prepared than the guy across from me. Everything else is bullshit. I go into a negotiation knowing everything I can about the situation, my artist, who he is, what he wants, who the guy I'm dealing with is, who his company is and what they want. Then, if it gets heavy, I hit him with whatever he doesn't expect. If he's up for a big fight, then I just play it cool, let him have a couple of things he doesn't expect. Then, when he's off guard, I get my shots in. It's really like chess, knowing all the moves. It's a game, for Christsakes, and winning is everything. It's a shame it has to get nasty sometimes.

[Q] Playboy: How nasty has the game with the Eastmans become?

[A] Klein: Very damn nasty, I'll tell you. With Lee Eastman ranting around a hotel room in London calling me the lowest form of scum in the world. He did that in front of the Beatles, called me everything he could think of. I just sat there and let him come out of the woodwork. He showed everybody who he was: emotional, pedantic, patronizing. He had the Beatles, and he could see he was losing them and that I was going to get them. That's when the trouble started.

[Q] Playboy: Paul claims you started the trouble.

[A] Klein: I'm sure he does. The Eastmans are his in-laws, for Christsakes. But it's not true. The whole thing had been building for years, really. When I got to Apple, things were a shambles: The Beatles and Apple had nothing; they were broke. That's the situation I walked into. There was friction and misunderstanding and nobody was doing anything about it. I know I get cast as the villain, but if you ask Ringo or George or John, they'll tell you I got them out of trouble, not into it.

[Q] Playboy: Before you took over as their manager, John told friends he was afraid to go to you. Why?

[A] Klein: Oh, he'd heard all the stories and lies about me, like everybody else. And he knew I'd said years before, when Epstein was still managing them, that I was going to have the Beatles one day. That scared him, I think. It was like I was clairvoyant, you know; here he was, thinking of coming and asking me for help after I'd said I knew he would. He told me that made him nervous as hell.

[Q] Playboy: Why did you want the Beatles?

[A] Klein: Because they're the best.

[Q] Playboy: Why did you feel you'd have them?

[A] Klein: Because I'm the best. I can even tell you the moment when I knew for sure I was going to be their manager. I was driving across a bridge out of New York and I heard on the radio that Epstein had died and I said to myself, "I got 'em." Who else was there?

[Q] Playboy: Did you get in touch with John or did he call you?

[A] Klein: I called John. Sometime in early 1969, I read that he had made a statement to one of the papers saying that if the Beatles didn't do something soon, Apple would be broke in six months. That was my opening. You can deal with people who are aware of impending disaster. The Apple accountant had written all four boys a letter saying they were on the verge of bankruptcy. So I started having people I knew tell John I'd like to talk.

[Q] Playboy: When you met him, what did you propose?

[A] Klein: Nothing. I didn't propose anything. I don't work that way. When I meet with an artist, it's never to say, "Look, you got a dollar, let me get you two." I just asked him, "How can I help you?" That's all; and after we broke the ice, it was a very personal sort of meeting. Yoko was there and we talked about John's music and his life and mine; we even talked about Biafra. We were trying to get to know each other.

[Q] Playboy: Didn't you discuss his money problems at all?

[A] Klein: Of course. He was scared to death about the money situation. He said, "Allen, I don't want to end up like Mickey Rooney." How would you feel, sitting there damn near broke after having made millions and millions of pounds and about to end up with nothing--except memories?

[Q] Playboy: How is it possible to blow that much money?

[A] Klein: You mean how does it get blown for you. He made more money for the parasites around him than he made for himself. Between bad advisors and a situation at Apple that just let the money flow, and taxes, it's easy to wind up with nothing. And John's very generous with his money. Too generous.

[Q] Playboy: Was he giving it away?

[A] Klein: Sometimes, yeah. And there were houses that he bought--and never say--with his friends living in them. I think there's still one of those. He bought it and a friend moved in 'cause he needed a place to live and just never moved out. And John doesn't know how to ask him to leave. And there were cars he bought that disappeared and times when he's given away like £25,000 out of his own pocket. Because of taxes, he's got to make £250,000 to give away £25,000, you know. And that's just too damn generous. But John does this kind of stuff from the heart. He gives things to people he cares for. You can't fault somebody for wanting to believe everybody and love everybody. That's just John Lennon. That night in the Dorchester Hotel, he wanted somebody to take the financial burden off his back.

[Q] Playboy: Did Paul and George and Ringo feel the same way?

[A] Klein: I don't know. They knew John was coming to see me, but he made it clear that he was there for himself and Yoko, period. He told me then that the Eastmans were handling the Beatles' financial affairs and that he was interested only in someone to look into his own problems. And I said I would.

[Q] Playboy: Did you get something in writing?

[A] Klein: No. They asked me if I wanted them to sign something, and of course I did. But I didn't want to appear too anxious, so I just asked them to write informal letters to the people I'd have to see to get information about his money. So Yoko sat on the floor at three in the morning and typed the letters. And the next clay, John called all the people who were getting them, so that it wouldn't appear too sudden. So no one would get nervous. We wanted it to be gentle.

[Q] Playboy: How did John go about breaking it gently to Paul, George and Ringo that you were going to be involved?

[A] Klein: It happened the next day at lunch. All four of them, plus Yoko and Linda Eastman, were there, and one of the Apple employees came up and said that he had just heard from their record company, EMI, that I was representing John. And without missing a sip from his soup John told them, "He does."

[Q] Playboy: Did everybody know that this was your foot in the door to managing the Beatles?

[A] Klein: Come on. Sure they knew. But it didn't have to mean anything more than my looking into John's finances. We hadn't signed anything then; there was no contract. I guess Paul and Linda were upset, sure, because the Eastmans represented the Beatles then. Somebody told me that when Linda heard about it at that lunch, she said, "Oh, shit." But Paul was pretty cool. I don't think he'd really made up his mind about me.

[Q] Playboy: How did George and Ringo feel about it?

[A] Klein: Well, we all had a meeting the next night. I wanted to show them what I could do. The Eastmans had proposed a deal and I wanted to discuss it with them. I suggested to Paul that it would be better if the Eastmans were there when we discussed money, and he agreed and said he'd set up a meeting and then he left. Then George and Ringo and I just talked. They asked what I was going to do for John and when I told them, they asked me if I would do the same thing for them. I said sure. Ringo said later, "We had too many people in nice suits with nice manners looking after us. Klein was a hustler, emotionally involved with the band, and I figured it was about time I had someone hustling for me."

[Q] Playboy: What happened when you had the meeting with the Beatles and the Eastmans?

[A] Klein: That was when the shit started to fly. At that meeting, everybody, including Paul, agreed that I should look into their financial positions and Apple's. I could see that John Eastman was sulking, so, as a political move, I asked him if he'd act as their lawyer. Well, he refused--said he did more than a lawyer--but the guys put pressure on him and finally he said he'd think it over. Paul called him up the next day and talked him into it. Paul needed help, too, you know, and he wanted to see what I could do as much as the other guys did.

[Q] Playboy: Did Paul know at that point that you were trying to force the Eastmans out?

[A] Klein: I wasn't trying to force them out. They could have stayed on as lawyers if the boys had wanted them to. But they wanted to continue to manage the Beatles, which they had been doing for a month, so it became a question of who was to do what. And all four boys agreed that I was going to look into the finances and that Johnny Eastman should act as a lawyer. But that became impossible after a while. There was too much friction. I couldn't get anything done, and that was what the Eastmans wanted.

[Q] Playboy: How much did you contribute to that friction?

[A] Klein: It was just two sides wanting the same thing, you know. Lee Eastman got upset and said I was sending his son to do menial errands for me. I was just giving him jobs that I thought he should do as lawyer for the Beatles and for Apple. Then John Eastman did a very silly thing designed to simply obstruct anything I was doing. I had to put out a press release saying that my company, Abkco, was involved with the Beatles. It's a public company and you have to tell the stockholders what's going on. It was a very bland statement; I didn't play it up and say that Abkco had the Beatles or anything. I just said we were looking into things for them. Well, Eastman got very upset that he wasn't mentioned in it and ran off to Billboard magazine and gave them a completely bullshit story. The goddamn story was something like, "John Eastman takes over Beatles, all Operational Business will flow through him." As soon as I saw that, I knew things were going downhill. It was obvious that he knew he'd blown it and would try anything to hang on, no matter how outrageous. His ego was hurt, that's all. And he was striking back the only way he knew how: emotionally.

[Q] Playboy: Did you ever sit down with him and ask why he was acting that way?

[A] Klein: We had meetings with both the Eastmans. But you can't talk to them. They just start calling names. There was one meeting with everybody there and Lee Eastman really let go. And I mean you don't want to fight with Paul's in-laws if you can help it. It was embarrassing as hell. I didn't mind it for myself--sticks and stones, you know--but for the boys, it was sad. I think everybody saw exactly what was happening and who the Eastmans really were.

[Q] Playboy: Did you push them to it?

[A] Klein: All right, look, I'm not innocent. I engineered a situation in which I hoped the boys would see that the Eastmans were really doing nothing more than interfering. And I think they did see that. All I wanted was what was good for the group--all the boys, not just Paul. And sometimes what's good for Paul isn't always good for the other three. It was as simple as that. I represented John, George and Ringo and they had asked me to take over Apple. The three of them had signed a contract with me. Paul hadn't. I was negotiating for him because he was one of the Beatles; but when there was a conflict, it was up to me to protect the interests of the three I personally represented. And that's what I was doing, the best way I knew how.

[Q] Playboy: Why didn't you fire the East mans?

[A] Klein: We did, or rather John, George and Ringo did. They sent him an official letter of termination on behalf of the three of them and Apple Corps Ltd.

[Q] Playboy: Did Paul have anything to say about it?

[A] Klein: Nothing. Lennon, Harrison and Starkey represent a majority, and they wanted the Eastmans out. That was it. But the Eastmans still represented Paul, of course, so firing them didn't really solve everything. Because of their family relationship with Paul, they were still in a position to disrupt the negotiations I was arranging for all four boys.

[Q] Playboy: How did Paul feel about you at that point?

[A] Klein: He was in a tough position. I was putting together deals, good deals, and he liked them. But his father-in-law and brother-in-law were doing things I considered bad business judgment. For instance, we were trying to get control of Northern Songs. That was the company that owned all the past songs of Lennon, McCartney and Harrison and all the copyrights of Lennon-McCartney songs through February of 1973. The problem was that the Beatles never controlled Northern. All John and Paul had was 15 percent each. A man named Dick James, who'd been involved with Epstein, owned 35 percent and most of the rest was held by the public.

[Q] Playboy: Why didn't Lennon and McCartney own the rights to their own songs?

[A] Klein: I don't know. Ask Brian Epstein. He made the deal. Not me. That's typical of the mess they were in when I arrived.

[Q] Playboy: Was Epstein a poor businessman?

[A] Klein: Yes. He was a great promoter; that was his contribution. As a businessman, well, it was a new business when he came in and nobody knew anything about it. He listened to some bad advice, I think; he had bad business advisors around him, and the result was disaster. I mean, the Beatles were almost broke and didn't even have control over their own songs, or even their records. So I was trying to free them; get the past back for them and free the future. I wanted to get John and Paul their songs back or else to just get rid of their involvement in Northern altogether. The problem was compounded because, without even offering his shares to the Beatles, Dick James sold his interest in Northern to a big English conglomerate called ATV. So I started to work out a deal with the head of ATV, Sir Lew Grade. He's a winner, by the way. Dealing with him was straight and tough and we worked out a good deal. Good for everybody. But the Eastmans didn't like it. They didn't have any logical reason for opposing the deal except one: They wanted Northern for themselves. That would have been great for Lee Eastman, who already holds a very impressive catalog of music copyrights. And it would have been good for Paul, maybe. But everybody else would have gotten screwed. We had meetings with some bankers who were involved in the deal, and the Eastmans blew up and called them crooks. It was incredible. The bankers refused to meet with them after that and I had to go back and offer our shares in Northern to Sir Grade.

[Q] Playboy: Why were you interested in selling out of Northern?

[A] Klein: We couldn't afford to be minority shareholders, and neither could ATV. So I worked a deal where we were to sell to Grade and make a lot of money for the boys and retain some of the rights and ATV was going to get Northern and some rights to songs. It was the best deal I think we could have made then. Paul knew about it and was happy with it. He'd been talking directly to Grade and be liked the deal. Everybody was happy. The board of ATV was going to meet to approve it and Grade was going to call a press conference; everything was set. Then, on the morning of the ATV board meeting, Grade got a letter from John Eastman saying, "Klein has no right to deal for Paul McCartney." And it was bullshit. Paul didn't know anything about the goddamn letter. Eastman had written it without telling Paul a thing. I called McCartney and we had a meeting. Then we called John Eastman, who blew up again and said we were all crazy. Paul told him, "I don't care, I'm going to do what Allen says." And then he told Johnny Eastman never to send another letter like that unless he showed it to him first. We called Grade, but it was too late. The board had already decided they couldn't take a chance that the deal might break down.

[Q] Playboy: Was Paul unhappy that the deal didn't go through?

[A] Klein: Yeah, he lost, too. It was all so damned stupid. Eastman shot that one out from under all of us, and I really felt down. You know, you can fight something you can understand, but his letter was just so damned irrational. Paul knew that. I went back to New York and he called me there and said, "Look, Allen, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." He told me he wanted to sit down and really get Apple going. Those were the best moments I had with Paul.

[Q] Playboy: Did you think then that the two of you might have a close relationship?

[A] Klein: I don't know if we ever could have been good friends. I'm not sure that's possible with McCartney. But around that time, regardless of the shit that had gone down between me and the Eastmans, he and I were reasonably close. As a matter of fact, he told a friend later, "Klein almost had me. He could have had me."

[Q] Playboy: What finally happened in the Northern Songs negotiations?

[A] Klein: We finally just sold our shares to ATV. We made a lot of money, but it wasn't the best we could have done.

[Q] Playboy: Did Paul sign the deal?

[A] Klein: Hell, yes, he signed them all. All the deals I worked out. The Eastmans were running around saying I didn't represent him, but he was signing all the deals. It was just the worst kind of obstructionism by John and Lee

Eastman. And these were not easy deals to put together; the financial tangles the Beatles were in were incredible. I was in there working my ass off to get them what they deserved; but it didn't matter how good a deal I'd put together; it was just pure ego from the Eastmans.

[Q] Playboy: Didn't you negotiate a new recording contract for the Beatles at that time?

[A] Klein: Yup, and Eastman tried to fuck that up, too. It was a beautiful deal. EMI, the record company the Beatles are contracted to, owns Capitol in America. The Beatles' contract ran to 1976; but after we got the Northern thing and some others straight, I wanted to go after the big one: A new contract was what we needed to guarantee income for Apple and the Beatles.

[Q] Playboy: What justification did you have for a renegotiation, if the contract ran to 1976?

[A] Klein: What do you mean, justification? We wanted the best act in the world to have the best record contract in the world, that's all. A contract is just a piece of paper. Two parties sign it in good faith, hoping it indicates what they both want out of a relationship. But situations change, so contracts get changed. We went to EMI and said that the boys had misunderstood the contract when they signed it. You can read a contract and think you know what it says, but without really good advice, you can make a mistake. The contract said that the Beatles owed EMI nine years and 70 sides. The boys thought it said nine years or 70 sides, whichever came first. They'd already done 70 sides, so they thought they were out of that contract. But they weren't. So we approached Sir Joseph Lockwood, the head of EMI, and said, "As a moral point, the boys thought the contract said something else, so let's redo it to everyone's satisfaction."

[Q] Playboy: What was Lockwood's response?

[A] Klein: It was cool, firm and unfriendly. But we had EMI over a barrel. The boys had already done the 70 sides. They could have just sat on their asses and not done another song for the period of the contract. And they had us over a barrel, too, really. If we didn't work for them, we couldn't work for anybody. Everybody would have lost. But EMI had no choice. We had 'em. So we worked out a new contract. We got the boys increased royalties, but more important than that, we got them total control and ownership of their product in America. The final documents were drawn up--and then Eastman sent another letter. This one to Capitol, with whom we were dealing in America, reiterating that I didn't have the authority to deal for Paul. So I called a meeting--all four boys, Eastman and some others, and had the contract read out loud to all of them. And you know, finally, even Johnny Eastman said, "Allen, I don't know how you did it, but this is the best record deal I've ever seen." And then they all signed it--including Paul, under the Eastmans' advice. That's about the last time the four boys really got together on anything.

[Q] Playboy: Were they growing apart?

[A] Klein: They were hardly even talking to one another. John had given up on the group, almost; he was trying to straighten out his personal life, and Paul had by then taken over musically and was trying to run George and Ringo like they were his sidemen or something. It was pretty terrible, and both George and Ringo were very disgusted. And none of them would sit down and tell the others how they really felt.

[Q] Playboy: Wasn't your feud with the Eastmans responsible for all that?

[A] Klein: Categorically, no. It wasn't me who caused their personal problems. It had started years before. Paul's just a selfish person and if he doesn't get his way in everything, he bitches. That had always been true. It was the same with Brian Epstein. John told me Paul fought with Brian all the time. Paul McCartney may have a choirboy image in the press and with the fans, but I'm here to tell you it's bullshit. If anybody broke up the Beatles, it was him.

[Q] Playboy: You make it sound as if they were never really close.

[A] Klein: I can only tell you what John said when I asked him who he would call among the Beatles if he was in trouble--you know, if he had a real problem. He said he'd call George. That surprised me. Then I asked him if he'd ever been really close with Paul and he said no. Not that he didn't love him; he did. He just said every time he let his guard down, McCartney hurt him.

[Q] Playboy: Did he say how?

[A] Klein: Not specifically. But you know, it's the kind of hurt where you open up to someone, really reach out, and then they're just not there. A couple of times I thought Paul and I really had something going and then the next day, it was like it all just slipped away.

[Q] Playboy: John has said that around that time, you had him sit down and figure out exactly which lyrics he'd written and which ones Paul had written. Why?

[A] Klein: I thought John was losing confidence in himself, and I really didn't know who had written exactly what, so I couldn't give John the encouragement he needed. If Paul was really the main factor in the making of records--I mean, if things were really going to fall apart without him--I needed to know that and be able to deal with it. It turned out, of course, that John had written most of the stuff. He'd forgotten a lot of what he'd contributed and had assumed, say, on Michelle, that because Paul sang lead, Paul had written it. Well, John wrote the entire middle eight for Michelle and 60 or 70 percent of the lyric on Eleanor Rigby. He just didn't remember till I sat him down and had him sort through it all. And he pointed out a lot of things that George had contributed that no one knew about. Everybody thought McCartney was this genius songwriter who did it all by himself, and it just wasn't true. Not that Paul isn't a good writer; he's a great writer. But he wasn't the Beatles. They all did it--John, George, Paul and Ringo. And I just thought we ought to get that straight. I wanted to cut through the bullshit and get to the substance, so that when it got nasty, there would be no surprises.

[Q] Playboy: When did it get nasty?

[A] Klein: In the early part of 1970, the Eastmans told Paul that we were going to try to hold up the release of his solo album McCartney. We wanted the Let It Be album to come out at the same time as the movie, in May, and it didn't make sense for Paul to release his album at the same time. A McCartney album is a Beatle album in the public's eyes. And when you confuse them by bringing two out at the same time, all you do is hurt sales. The Eastmans told him that the film wasn't really coming out, that we were using it as a ploy to delay his solo thing. Paul believed what they told him.

[Q] Playboy: Why did the Eastmans think the film wasn't coming out?

[A] Klein: I don't know. We'd been dealing with United Artists about a third film they said they were entitled to under the contract that Brian Epstein had negotiated with them. At that point, it was becoming troublesome, because U.A. was giving Ringo hassles about being in The Magic Christian and it was clear that they were going to withhold permission for any of the boys to be in other films until their agreement was met.

[Q] Playboy: And you wanted Let It Be to be their third film?

[A] Klein: Sure. Originally, the boys--mostly Paul, really, because it was his film--had intended it to be a TV film. But I had some of my people look at a rough cut and we decided it would work as a general-release motion picture. Then I showed the print to the boys and John, George and Ringo agreed. Paul didn't like the idea, but he said, "You have a majority, so go ahead." Then the Eastmans sent another of their famous letters, this one to United Artists, saying I didn't have the authority to deal for Paul. They thought that would kill the deal, but U.A. loved the film and we finally signed it with a provision in the contract to cover the possibility of the Eastmans' suing. Then Ringo went to ask Paul to hold the release of his solo album until after the Let It Be album came out, so there wouldn't be confusion. Paul told Ringo that since there was no definite release date for the film, he was going ahead. Ringo told him that the release date was set and then Paul really let him have it. He said he was going to ruin Ringo, that he was going to talk to Rolling Stone and really get him. Incredible shit. Ringo was really down about it and he phoned me that night and said, "Look, Allen, it's been ten years. Let's just give him what he wants." I said fine. So Paul's album came out and then it really got petty. He put that tasteless self-interview into the British copies, saying that I didn't manage him and, "My plan is to grow up," and on and on.

[Q] Playboy: Paul said later that although you and the other three had nothing whatever to do with his solo album for Apple, you put your company's label on the cover.

[A] Klein: Look, Abkco is a public company. I didn't want the stockholders to think that we weren't managing Apple anymore. I had to put that on there. He was making all kinds of confusing statements. You gotta protect yourself.

[Q] Playboy: What was your reaction--and that of the other Beatles--when Paul filed suit to break up the partnership?

[A] Klein: I wasn't surprised. John and George were very surprised, because they were all supposed to meet in England in January, and he didn't even call. Paul didn't call any of them. He just went ahead and did it.

[Q] Playboy: Were they angry?

[A] Klein: No. I think just very sad and disillusioned.

[Q] Playboy: What did the suit demand?

[A] Klein: It was an interim action to put the partnership of the four into receivership until a trial could be held to determine if the partnership should be dissolved. And a receiver has been appointed.

[Q] Playboy: What effect does that have?

[A] Klein: It's a legal nuisance, that's all.

[Q] Playboy: It's not disrupting any transactions, negotiations, the flow of cash, productions or your managership?

[A] Klein: It may affect the flow of cash, but so what--Apple has plenty of cash. It doesn't affect the rest of it. Whatever artists Apple has, other than the partnership, aren't affected by the receivership. And I manage Apple, not the partnership.

[Q] Playboy: So what does the receivership gain for Paul?

[A] Klein: Nothing, not a damn thing. He's in exactly the same nowhere position as the other three. It gets him the same frustration and annoyance it gets them. Which goes to prove that sometimes even when you win you lose. In my judgment, the entire action was brought for the sole purpose of trying to embarrass me. It's an attempt to force me out and to gain what the Eastmans wanted: control of Apple and the Beatles.

[Q] Playboy: You don't think they really want the partnership dissolved?

[A] Klein: No, I don't. In fact, they said in court they didn't want the partnership business to be ended--which is usually the point of receivership. Our main reason for opposing the dissolution was that the tax consequences would be horrendous for all four. They knew that, too. That's why they asked that business continue.

[Q] Playboy: What do you think the outcome of all this will be?

[A] Klein: There's no telling. It probably won't come to trial for another two years--if it ever does.

[Q] Playboy: Paul said in his affidavit that one of the reasons for the suit was that he was tired of having to get permission to do an album, that he felt his creative freedom was heavily impaired.

[A] Klein: That's bullshit. I don't think he really meant that--if he said it. I think that was in an affidavit written by a lawyer to sway the judge. He didn't have to get, and never really did get, any approvals on anything. What was made out to him as a big problem was whether or not the Let It Be album should come out in front of his own individual album. If he had asked them for it, if he had asked any of them, he would have had it. They love him, you know, they really do--no matter what. But Paul McCartney can and does do whatever he damn well pleases, from an artistic and creative point of view and from a business point of view. He just thinks differently about the democratic philosophy of partnership--this partnership in particular--than I do.

[Q] Playboy: If you were on Paul's side, what would you tell him to do?

[A] Klein: I'd tell him that if he wants to win, he'll have to make the others believe that what he wants is reasonable. All he needs is for one of them to agree with him and it would be a 50-50 deadlock. I'd also tell him to go back to thinking for himself.

[Q] Playboy: Is there anything to prevent Paul from dealing directly with the other three Beatles?

[A] Klein: Nothing. Not a damn thing except advice from the Eastmans. They think it might be bad tactically, that it might harm their position. I've certainly never stopped the boys from talking to him. In fact, right before the court action started, I had John and George and Ringo call him. It would have been so much simpler if they worked it out instead of the courts. But Paul's attitude was, "If it takes two years, I can wait it out." I still think it would be better if the four of them would just talk to each other about it. I've wanted that from the beginning. But getting together personally is their problem, not mine. If they were all to sit down around a table, and the truth were known to all of them, I think they could solve it in a minute. The sad thing, really, is that the Eastmans are using them as the ball and bat to fight me. A lot has gone down. I'm sorry they didn't sit around a table and get it done in front. I think the airing of all this in public was an unnecessary waste of energy. It's like a war where no one wins.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think the Beatles will ever play together again on records or on tour?

[A] Klein: I really don't know. It's up to them. Completely. There's nothing stopping them.

[Q] Playboy: You take 20 percent as a commission for doing most of what you do for them. Isn't that a lot? Wouldn't most managers do it for ten percent?

[A] Klein: Some people would do it for five percent and some would do it for nothing. But not me. You get what you pay for, and vice versa. Remember, no one has to sign with me if they don't want to. I'm not a doctor with all the penicillin when there's an epidemic.

[Q] Playboy: What do you do for your 20 percent?

[A] Klein: I'm their business manager. I invented that term. Nowadays, everybody calls themselves that, but it's my invention. It really started when I managed Sam Cooke. Sam Cooke was my age. You know, these performers aren't children; they're not delinquents who don't know what they're doing. They're grownups; they don't need personal managers, like a parent or a warden. But they're not businessmen. Being an artist and being a businessman are opposites. They just don't want the constant involvement of handling the business as well as the music. It's not that they don't have an awareness of it; they certainly are aware; don't ever think they're not. George Harrison, to use him as an example, really reads every damn document. And he understands them. And if you think that Ringo and John don't know what they're doing, you're crazy. Ringo knows exactly what he has in the bank. But he doesn't want the day-to-day intricacies. None of them do. They just want to work. That's what they all want to do. The business thing is a bore for them. It always has been. That's why there's a need for a business manager. I'm the best, and that's why I can charge the Beatles 20 percent.

[Q] Playboy: What do you feel you've really accomplished for them?

[A] Klein: I'll tell you. Under Epstein--by the way, he took 25 percent--when they were touring, selling millions of records, making movies, they made £6,500,000 in six years. With me, they've earned £9,000,000 in 19 months. How's that?

[Q] Playboy: Is money your only object?

[A] Klein: Absolutely not. In the last 19 months, they've also put out more albums than they did in those previous six years. That's productivity, and it comes from freedom. Artistic freedom. Getting the money straight allows them to do whatever the hell they want. No decision ever made during my managership of the Beatles has been done with money as the prime concern. I'm after freedom for my artists. That's what I got them--and that's why I can charge 20 percent.

[Q] Playboy: When you managed the Rolling Stones, did you also take 20 percent?

[A] Klein: For five years.

[Q] Playboy: Did you have fewer headaches with the Stones than you've had with the Beatles?

[A] Klein: Just a different kind of headache. At first, though, it was a snap. I started out as financial manager to Andrew Oldham, who was their manager on a personal day-to-day basis. He was a fantastic savings for me. I didn't have to spend any time with them. But then he got fired. By the way, they wanted him out, not me.

[Q] Playboy: Is that when the headaches began?

[A] Klein: And how. Mostly because Mick Jagger and Keith Richard got busted for having "dangerous" drugs, and for a whole year they weren't in any mood to work.

[Q] Playboy: How close were you to them personally at that time?

[A] Klein: Very. I was in California and I got this call that Mick and Keith had been busted. They'd both been busted for pot and Jagger had been charged with having some speed in his jacket pocket. It wasn't even his. It belonged to Marianne Faithfull, who he was going with at the time. But he took the rap. Anyway, I flew back for the trial.

[Q] Playboy: Was Jagger cool about the whole thing?

[A] Klein: How can you be cool about that? He was nervous as hell. Scared to death. He didn't want to go to jail. They got sentenced to a year. But I got them out on bail and we appealed the thing. Then I got a call that Brian Jones had been busted for pot. And I thought, "Oh, shit, here we go again." It wasn't easy. Those hassles shot a whole year.

[Q] Playboy: Did you ever tell Jagger and Richard that you thought they ought to lay off drugs?

[A] Klein: It's their business, you know. But I got pissed the day I got them out on bail, when Mick and Keith and Marianne got back to my hotel room and she pulled out a hash pipe and lit up. I mean, how goddamn stupid can you get? I grabbed the thing away from her and fucking threw it out the window. She stood there saying the law was unrealistic; well, I don't give a shit if it is. I didn't want them to go to jail. And it's not the money; I don't care only about that. It's just that if I'm involved, then I'm responsible. It becomes my cross to see that they stay out of prison. Their problems are mine, and let me tell you, I worked my ass off. Got them the best lawyers, sat in the front row at the trial every day. I was thrilled when they got off. I can't do this job any other way than to get completely involved with my artists. That's why I got so mad at Marianne; I was just afraid she was going to blow it for everybody.

[Q] Playboy: Did she and Jagger have a good relationship?

[A] Klein: Oh, yeah. I think she made Jagger a man. She's a real woman.

[Q] Playboy: How did you get along with Jagger?

[A] Klein: We got along fine. There were times when we were very close. I wasn't around too much and that used to piss him off. But we got along. He's a great talent, you know. There's really no one like him as a performer. But he wasn't the creative power in the Stones.

[Q] Playboy: Who was?

[A] Klein: Keith Richard; he's the writer, the creator of the group's music. If he doesn't produce, the Stones have nothing. During the past few years, with the drug trouble and all, they really haven't produced much. I kept them going by repackaging their old stuff--for which I got shit from the press, by the way. But I did a hell of a job for them. I made more money for them in the United States than the Beatles made, even though the Stones sold fewer records.

[Q] Playboy: Were you surprised when they fired you?

[A] Klein: Yes and no. I knew Jagger had been talking to other people, but we'd been working closely for three months on a deal with Decca, and I was spending a lot of time with him, so in that way it was a surprise. I guess I should have expected it. He was jealous of the Beatles. It was a question of ego--and how little time I had for the Stones. I can't really fault him for that.

[Q] Playboy: Were you giving most of your time to the Beatles?

[A] Klein: Yes. I didn't know what else I could do for the Stones. I mean, I could have made them more money, but the Beatles were the ones in money trouble. I told Jagger, "I was there when you needed me, what's your bitch?" The Beatles needed me then. The trouble with Jagger is that he's like a chick sometimes.

[Q] Playboy: When you say he's like a chick, do you mean his bisexual image is more than an image?

[A] Klein: I better not say, or he might lose some of his appeal for his male fans. Or his female fans.

[Q] Playboy: Did the two of you fight?

[A] Klein: No. We didn't fight. It ended formally. That's all.

[Q] Playboy: What control do you still have over their old records?

[A] Klein: Well, we're the publisher and the manufacturer of all the old product. But we do whatever they want, since they create the product.

[Q] Playboy: How is it that you retain so much if you're no longer their manager?

[A] Klein: I get 20 percent of the deals negotiated within the term of my contract. That's the contract they signed.

[Q] Playboy: How long does that last?

[A] Klein: Forever.

[Q] Playboy: Is that why they've filed suit against you?

[A] Klein: No, they want me to pay some money as a guarantee, that's all. It's suicidal for them from a tax point of view.

[Q] Playboy: Why do so many of your business relationships end in lawsuits?

[A] Klein: That's not fair. There are lots that get worked out. But remember, nobody sues a failure, they only sue a success.

[Q] Playboy: Is that why Apple is suing James Taylor?

[A] Klein: That's a completely different thing. Apple made James Taylor, gave him the exposure, the charisma of the Beatles' company. And then he just picks up and walks out on his contract. Didn't ask anybody, didn't talk to anybody, just went and signed a contract with Warner's.

[Q] Playboy: He said he felt stifled at Apple.

[A] Klein: Well, I got news: Peter Asher, an Apple employee, handled him while he was at Apple, and Peter Asher handles him now. They walked out together. So if Taylor was getting stifled at Apple, it was Asher who was doing it. It's funny, you know, when people sue me, it's fine. Nobody says a bad word. But if Apple sues somebody for breach of contract, we're sons of bitches, right? Bullshit. Taylor didn't even make an attempt to work it out, so we're suing Taylor and Asher for $5,000,000 damages--the money we would have made had he honored his contract. That's it. The man didn't try to sit down and talk it out, didn't say, "I'm unhappy, let me go." Nothing.

[Q] Playboy: Did you try to sit down and work it out with Jagger?

[A] Klein: I tried, but he wouldn't answer my call. His lawyers told him not to see me.

[Q] Playboy: So a five-year personal relationship turns into an exchange of subpoenas instead of a discussion man to man.

[A] Klein: Look, you do what you have to. There are a lot of greedy people in this business and asshole lawyers who want to stir up trouble. But I don't think it's any worse than any other. How about your business, how about yellow journalism, how about politics or Wall Street or the garment industry? There are good people in this business and there are scum. And when there's a lot of money involved, there are bound to be suits. Lawsuits are tools of the trade and you use the tools you have to survive. And if you're one of the survivors, innuendoes start flying that you're crooked or you're screwing somebody. You just learn to live with it.

[Q] Playboy: Speaking of innuendoes about being crooked, would you mind explaining your recent tax conviction?

[A] Klein: Well, in the first place, that case is under appeal. And it's interesting that charges were brought in 1966 over something that happened around 1960. I had a partnership that was required to file Federal payroll tax returns. There were several C.P.A.s who were working for me and it was their job to do it. I had never prepared those forms myself and I've never prepared them to this date. Someone in the organization was supposed to do it and our records indicated that we had. The Government has no records at all, by the way, to indicate whether the forms were filed or not. There was never a charge of failure to pay, because the money had been paid. The charge was failure to file the return itself. I think it was the first time ever that anybody had been tried and convicted for that. And it strikes me as kind of ironic that all this finally came to trial after ten years, just exactly at the time the Beatles' partnership action was occurring in London.

[Q] Playboy: Do you make any connection?

[A] Klein: I just think it's ironic, that's all. At that point, it was just one more thing. I sat and watched the press make all kinds of statements about me during that Beatle court action. At the time, I didn't think defending myself was the best thing to do.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think the press has treated you badly?

[A] Klein: In England, yes. I'm an American, you know, and I had their Beatles. That gave them a bias against me. But I don't talk to the press much, so when they write stories from clippings and just repeat the lies, I can't blame them too much. Except for being lazy. Rolling Stone, on the other hand, is a misinformed, ill-guided publication that's generally sensational and attacks anyone who is not aesthetic in their terms. They think business and money are bad. And that's what I represent to them, so they've taken it upon themselves to do a job on me. It's really interesting, you know, with all the words that have been written about me and the Beatles and me and the Stones, how negative the approach has been. Take somebody like Al Grossman. He was personal manager to Dylan, Peter, Paul and Mary and a bunch of others, and when they left him, I didn't hear one word. But when the Stones decided to go on their own, there was a flood of stories about me. I guess it would be better if I talked more myself, but I've never made many press statements.

[Q] Playboy: Why not?

[A] Klein: When I first got the Beatles in 1969, the only defense for the problems they had would have been that they were brought about by Epstein prior to my being involved. But I didn't want to say, "Look, it was all Epstein." He was dead and I figured it would be wrong. And the McCartney thing was sensitive and too much was getting said in the press as it was. I thought for a long time that if I let the shit fall on me, it would have been easier on Paul with his family problem and better for Epstein's image. I wouldn't offend Paul and he might come back and accept the situation and me.

[Q] Playboy: What made you change your mind and decide to talk to the press now?

[A] Klein: I think the time has come to do my laundry. I want people to know my side. I've been in this business a long time. There have been bad times, but there have been good times, too, you know.

[Q] Playboy: When were the good times?

[A] Klein: Let me tell you about Sam Cooke and maybe you'll see something about the humanity in this business. Sam was really the first artist I had that I got completely involved with the way I did later with the Stones and the Beatles. In 1961, I was very broke when I met a black disc jockey, "Jocko" Doug Henderson, who used to run the shows at the Apollo. A wonderful man, and he wanted to have a theater down in Philadelphia, so we became partners. I arranged to buy it and have him put on shows. I figured it would be a great way to meet the acts. They would come in to work and I could sit right there and, you know, meet them as they came and went. And the act that opened the theater was Sam Cooke. I knew his music, but I had never met him. Well, he came in and I got to him. We really hit it off. And the incredible thing was, he had no money. This great artist, this great songwriter had nothing, and he was under contract to RCA Victor at the time. So I went in to see them and we tried to negotiate a new contract diplomatically, but it didn't work out. So I went back to what I knew best, which was to do an audit for him on RCA. We used that as leverage, and finally we arranged a new recording deal that gave him the same control of his product that the Beatles have now. That's how I formulated it back in 1963. We renegotiated the deal, got all the old stuff as well as the new and we went ahead. The first album out was called Good News and I gave him a check for $250,000, which was good-faith money from RCA. Then he wrote me a check for 20 percent.

[Q] Playboy: You were charging 20 percent back then, too?

[A] Klein: Yeah. I was embarrassed to ask him to give it to me, but he thought it was terrific. He was really happy. Then he asked me if I would be his business manager. I didn't know whether I wanted the involvement, so I said, "We'll talk about it." When he came to New York a few months later, I said OK. Then I told him to go home and take a rest, get off the road and find out what he really wanted to do. I convinced him to take his time and make an album that he believed in. I wanted him to stop doing other people's material. They were trying to make him into Nat King Cole, for Christsakes, and he was singing songs he didn't understand. The album covers were like crap; everything had been wrong. I told him to do what he felt, which is what I thought he really needed in order to find himself. I wanted people to know who he really was. I knew when that happened he'd get the recognition he deserved and wanted so much. At that time, he was king of the blacks, and they loved him. And he loved it--but it didn't make him any money.

[Q] Playboy: Did you want him to start performing for white audiences?

[A] Klein: Yeah, sure. I got him into the Copa, but he didn't want to go. He'd played there in 1957 with someone like Myron Cohen during Lent, you know, hair slicked down, singing bossa nova. Awful stuff. He didn't even last a week. He packed up and said he wouldn't ever play a white club again. But I felt it was really essential, so I got him this date and although he kept saying, "I want to do it," I knew he really didn't. So I took a 70-foot billboard on Times Square with his picture from the album cover saying Sam's the biggest Cooke in town. Then he knew he had to do it. He went in and killed 'em! Absolutely dead. He was fantastic. I went every night, every show. Women, white women, loved him.

[Q] Playboy: Were you managing him when he was killed?

[A] Klein: Yeah, it was right around my birthday, in December, and it was 1964 and my career had really taken off. I was handling records for The Animals and Herman's Hermits and The Dave Clark Five, which were just money deals for me. And I had just worked out a new record contract for Bobby Vinton, who's a good friend, and Sam was at the top of his form. I was really flying. I was going back to the orphanage where I grew up and I was going to take Vinton and Cooke and do a little show for the kids, take some records, all that stuff. Everything seemed perfect and I got a call from L. A. saying that Sam had been shot to death in a cheap motel, and I couldn't believe it. It was so fucking senseless. I flew to L. A. for the inquest and about a week later I was going into the Beverly Hills Hotel and I saw the hooker Sam had been with that night coming out on some guy's arm. I damn near went after her. It was really a hard time. When you do what I do, you're two kinds of animal: You're a businessman and you're a human being involved with artists who have a life style that's harder than most other people's. It takes its toll on you.

[Q] Playboy: What do you think it is that makes life so hard for performers?

[A] Klein: Everything. First of all, they're supposed to be creating all the time. That's a bitch. Every time you go into a studio, you gotta top what you did last time. And there's the money. All of a sudden, a kid who has nothing has $1,000,000--and fans turn him into a superhero and ask for all kinds of things. Christ, when the Beatles started out, their dressing rooms were full of cripples who came to see them as if they were going to get healed. It's really crazy.

[Q] Playboy: Were there groupies then, too?

[A] Klein: Yeah, sure, that's all part of the scene.

[Q] Playboy: Your critics call you "the ultimate groupie."

[A] Klein: That's silly. Artists fuck groupies. According to my reputation, I fuck the artists.

[Q] Playboy: Do you get involved musically with the groups you handle?

[A] Klein: Yes. That's one of my strengths. Sometimes John or George or Ringo will come in and want to play a song for me that they've just written. And I'll tell them what I think. They like to test things out on me, and I think I can pretty well judge what's good. I even gave John a line for one of the songs on his new album, Imagine. He was trying to work it out and we were together. Just fooling around, you know. We were playing snooker in his house, and it was late, and we were laughing and being silly, and he was trying to work out some lines for a song called How Do You Sleep at Night? It's about McCartney and all the shit that's gone down. There's a line that goes, "The only thing you did was yesterday," and the line that he had following was: "And you probably pinched that bitch anyway." I thought it was too strong, not worthy of him, so I suggested, "Since you've gone you're just another day." And he loved it. John's music is very personal, and so is our relationship, so there's an involvement that way. Shit, I love the guy.

[Q] Playboy: What does John think of Paul's solo music?

[A] Klein: In a funny way, it inspires him. He was really anxious about McCartney's first album, and then he heard it and said, "I can do better than that." And he has. He's been disappointed in Paul's stuff, mostly. There were a couple of good songs, but I think maybe people are expecting too much from Paul. He's really working in a vacuum at this point. George and John and Ringo all have each other to try things out on and to get criticism from. Paul's alone, and I think that hurts his music.

[Q] Playboy: What do you think is ahead for him?

[A] Klein: I'll tell you, I think things are going to get worse for McCartney before they get better. People are going to start finding out that he's not "poor little Paul." You know, before George did his benefit for Pakistani refugees in Madison Square Garden last summer, he called Paul and asked him if he wanted to come and play. Paul said, "Sure, I'll come--if you'll dissolve the partnership." What kind of shit is that?

[Q] Playboy: How did George react?

[A] Klein: It made him sad. Just sad.

[Q] Playboy: What kind of plans does George have now?

[A] Klein: He's got the confidence now to do anything he wants. You know, I'm really proudest of what I did for him. Nobody knew he was a songwriter, nobody knew the talent that was there. And I encouraged him to do All Things Must Pass and look what happened. Beautiful. He wants to go on tour now, after the show at the Garden came off so great. By the way, so does Lennon. And so does Bob Dylan. But George is really the sweetest and gentlest of the boys and I was very proud he got his chance. He plays on John's new album, you know, and he's fantastic.

[Q] Playboy: What about John? What's he going to do?

[A] Klein: Lennon is Lennon and he can do anything he wants. He's a leader. He's involved trying to get Yoko's child back now. Her ex-husband has custody of her daughter and it's been very difficult for her to see the child. John wants to work that out before he does anything else. After that, well, he can do just about anything he wants. His head is in a very good place now.

[Q] Playboy: And Ringo?

[A] Klein: He just finished making a movie called Blindman. It's a Western with Tony Anthony, and Ringo plays a bad guy. Really nasty.

[Q] Playboy: Isn't that a little out of character for him?

[A] Klein: It's a real role. In most of the other movies, he just played himself. But I'll tell you something; Ringo's not all sweetness and light as a person. There's meanness behind those eyes if you cross him. And he has a tremendous amount of natural strength. If I want a true reading on a situation, a straight reaction with the most thought and the least emotion in it, I go to Ringo. I don't think many people know that about him. He's a very powerful and serious guy.

[Q] Playboy: Does he have a future as an actor?

[A] Klein: Yes, he's a professional. He works very hard. He's a talented natural comedian, but we found out on this new movie that he can play any role when he gets down to work. I don't think he'll ever give up his music--he loves that too much--but he's got a strong second career now. And I'm proud of that, too. I'd done the least for Ringo before this flick and before his 1,000,000-seller single. And now, well, it's just great. He's working and he's happy.

[Q] Playboy: Do you expect your relationship with the Beatles to continue despite the trouble?

[A] Klein: Yes, I do. Paul's the only one who's got trouble. Look at the rest of them. They're producing--more and better than they ever did before. They're all happy and they're with their families. I think I've contributed a lot to that. It's not how much money I make for them; they're the Beatles, for Christsakes. They'll make money no matter what. That's not important. I just wish people would look at the three of them right now and understand why I'm proud. I've been through a lot of shit for these guys. But it's been worth it.

[Q] Playboy: Is it an ambition of yours to see the Beatles perform again?

[A] Klein: Yes, I'd like to see it, just so that the stigma of their split wouldn't be with me. Even if it's just one time. I'd like that.

[Q] Playboy: What do you do for an encore after having managed the Beatles and the Stones at the same time?

[A] Klein: Ringo suggested that maybe I ought to manage America. And right now, I think I might do some good there. I don't know what I'll do next. There are plenty of talented performers I'd like to help. I especially like the ones they say are difficult. That's a challenge.

[Q] Playboy: Who would you like to handle?

[A] Klein: Dylan, Joe South, Keith Richard, Paul Simon, John Fogerty. Heavy talents. All of them create the music that's really moved this generation.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think you'll get any of them?

[A] Klein: If I work hard.

[Q] Playboy: Don't you ever get tired of how hard it all is?

[A] Klein: Sure I do. Sometimes I get so disgusted I don't think it's worth it. I think I can't take any more. But what do you want me to do? This is the business I know, the one I'm good at. If it gets me down sometimes, hurts my personal life, takes over my whole being, drains me, that's just the way it is. If I didn't love it, I'd get out.