Dirt Road In, No Way Out
by Molly-Ann Leikin

A very talented lyricist came to see me several years go, claiming she was about to quit writing forever. She was extremely frustrated with the business and couldn't seem to make any money. This writer was a gifted artist, an excellent networker/schmoozer, and had terrific demos, so I couldn't understand why her resume, credit sheets and performing rights society statements were blank. There had to be something she wasn't telling me.

There was.

As we segued into our third cup of peppermint tea, my client confessed that she had some major credits, but wasn't able to claim them, due to a nefarious deal with a sleazoid producer.

Oh? Seems that over the years, she had been hired to write lyrics for the themes to five kiddie cartoon shows. Having had some songs on those shows myself, and having been paid well for them, I was puzzled as to why my client wasn't getting her money. Well, it seems they were buyouts - the dirtiest word in the music world. Buyout. My client was paid a one-time fee of $500 a lyric. In exchange for that fee, her name never appeared as the author. Instead, the producer's name rolled by every Saturday morning as the lyricist, and every quarter, he was paid the performance royalties my client should have gotten. For the five songs, she received a total of $2500, period, no matter how long the show ran and in how many markets.

I hauled out my calculator, and estimated that in addition to her self-esteem and a career, she had lost over $500,000 in royalties. And that's just so far. It doesn't consider future earnings. Some of her songs are still on the air, so adding another hundred thousand big ones wouldn't be out of the question.

Although the producer was morally bankrupt, unfortunately what he proposed to my client was not illegal. As often as we've tried to form one, there is no songwriter's union, and we have no clout with the networks. They find music an annoying thorn in their collective sides at best anyway, so this scumbag mogul who bullied my client, got away with it. He found someone vulnerable and hungry for recognition, and she caved. Had she said no, she was afraid he'd quickly turn around and yank in some homeless hillbilly hitching on the corner of Wilshire and Gayley, get him to write the lyrics and sign them over for even less money. Which could happen.

However, we need to understand that we are all brothers and sisters of the symphony. We shouldn't be so willing to take dirty deals. Because for every one we accept, we make it harder for the next guy in line to say no. If we all stood together and said these deplorable propositions were unacceptable, the producers would have to be mensches and pay us all what we are worth. Royalties and performances included. They wouldn't be able to rob us blind and have us be grateful for it.

But many artists, especially new ones, are easy prey for the aggressive, bottom-line-oriented tycoons of the entertainment world. A recent phone call from a young colleague revealed that she'd just written the score for thirteen episodes of a new t.v. series. Then, when she got to the dubbing stage, the head of music at the studio producing the show announced he wanted half the credit. Oh? Not on the screen, you understand, where the world would see that an Oscar-winner was strangely collaborating with a newcomer, but the studio head's name would only appear on the cue sheets, which the performing rights societies use to calculate earnings. The Oscar-winner wanted to rape my friend but didn't want anyone to know he did it.

It was a shattering experience for my colleague. Devastating, in fact. How many of us would have walked away from it, integrity intact? How many of us would have taken the deal, and ground our teeth knowing we'd been robbed and could never retrieve what we'd lost?

One of the problems in taking the deal is that now this composer is complaining about it. I believe if you accept a less than upstanding offer, you should do it with a certain amount of grace, claim responsibility for saying yes, and move on. The trouble is, this composer could get to be known as someone who can be ripped off, so next time the Oscar-winner needs a score, he's going to insist on the same deal. And word gets around. Every producer who comes along could ask for a "taste" of this woman's writing and get it. Once you've given in, your reputation is set and there's no turning back, no matter how talented you are.

Though I'm sure many of you are as gifted as John Williams or Jerry Goldsmith, the acknowledged, living masters of film composition, you usually have to earn your reputation by accepting jobs that aren't necessarily why you went to film music school. Henry Mancini openly admitted his first feature film assignment was "Ma & Pa Kettle Go To Hawaii". It was a far cry from "Peter Gunn" or "Breakfast at Tiffany's", but it was a job and a title on a resume.

There's a difference between taking a job for the money and taking a job for money you shouldn't take. During a musicians union strike in the 70's, when 99% of the composers in the business were picketing the studios, a composer who was new on the scene, sneaked away to San Diego to record every episodic cue he was offered. He happily crossed the picket lines, thought only in the short run, was hated by his colleagues, and truthfully, hasn't been heard from since.

Another film composer who took all the work he could get during a previous strike, ran off to Europe to record his music cues. When the strike ended, although he managed to schmooze himself into getting jobs, they always seemed to be second rate assignments. My take on it is his karma was dirty. No surprise to me, several years later, he went to prison for tax evasion. I truly believe his lack of backbone during the composers' strike set him up for the fall later on down the road. Had he said "no, I can't take the job, we're on strike," like everyone else in the union had said, I suspect his moral fiber would have been strengthened. Later, I believe he could have created his own good luck to make up for any financial losses he suffered during the strike.

I wasn't born wealthy and anyone who knew me during my scuffling days can verify that I spent plenty of years wondering where my next box of macaroni was coming from. So it's not like I'm immune to the underhanded proposals that cross my desk daily. But it sure feels good to say no. And I sleep better at night.

Ultimately, it's up to each of us to decide how we're going to handle what comes along. But just remember: there's a dirt road in, and no way out.

This title came from a song written by Julie Ferris, and is used with her permission.

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