EXECUTIVES BEHAVING BADLY

ADAPTED FROM A CHAPTER IN MY BOOK ‘THE BUSINESS’, PUBLISHED BY UNBOUND, AVAILABLE AT AMAZON AND ALL OTHER BOOKSHOPS.

In fifty years in the music business I’ve encountered a dozen or so towering personalities, all of them them highly competitive, most of them slightly crazy - Kit Lambert, for instance, or Ahmet Ertegun, or Irving Azoff. But no one more competitive or crazier than Walter Yetnikoff.

In 1975 he was appointed CEO of CBS Records and from that moment on the ambition lobe in his brain developed a permanent, painful erection. He decided to re-invent himself as a raging bull and went to war with Warner. He had banners printed for the CBS convention that read, “Fuck Warner. Fuck the Bunny”.

To give the conflict more focus he decided the first person in the firing line should be Mo Ostin, the newly promoted President of Warner Bros Records. So he added another banner, ‘Fuck Mo Ostin!’.

He constantly referred to Ostin as a “short little Jew”. His friends remonstrated, “But Walter, you’re just a taller Jew. What sort of talk is this?”

But he wouldn’t relent. “We’re going to bury those people. We’re going to have the leading market share.”  And he started poaching Warner artists.

When Walter learnt that James Taylor’s contract with Warner was up for renewal, he offered him a 2.5 million advance to sign with CBS. Taylor said OK, then changed his mind. He didn’t really want to leave Warner, he was happy with them. Walter called him to a meeting, locked the door and argued with him for ten hours until he agreed.

A little later, Mo Ostin got a chance to sign Paul Simon, one of CBS’s longest serving and most valued artists. Walter had been unnecessarily brusque with him and when Ostin heard about it he made an offer. Paul Simon swapped sides and Walter announced he would destroy his career. The war was on for real.

When Rod Stewart’s contract came up for renewal at Warner, his manager leaked a rumour that Walter Yetnikoff had called him. When he walked into Mo Ostin’s office he was offered $20 million before he could open his mouth – ten albums at $2 million a piece.

Nobody was balancing the budget. Established artists like these were meant to provide the profits needed for financing fledgling acts. Paying too much for them was unwise. But neither side could stop.

After seeing Bob Dylan leave CBS for Warner Asylum, Walter took no risks when Paul McCartney’s contract came up for renewal. He gave him everything he wanted. McCartney still hesitated, saying perhaps he should check around a bit first.

Since this could only mean going to Warner, and knowing McCartney’s passion for music publishing, Walter threw in a publishing company owned by the CBS publishing division, Frank Music. Its catalogue included all the songs of Frank Loesser, who wrote Guys and Dolls, and hits like ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’. When he’d bought the catalogue for CBS, Walter had promised Loesser’s widow it would be the ‘jewel in the crown’ of the company’s publishing, now he was giving it away for nothing.

McCartney accepted at once, as Walter knew he would. But it was pure financial vandalism – Frank Music was worth at least ten million, almost double the money McCartney was getting from the deal. It wasn’t like giving away a free tank of gas with a new car; it was like giving away three cars for the price of one.

This blustering power-game became the new image for industry executives. For Walter it meant staying up all night pouring sachets of coke into triple vodkas. He cheated on his wife with his secretary, then cheated on his secretary with one of his artists. His favourite lawyer was Alan Grubman, fat and slobby, who worked with his shoes off, had smelly feet and a bulging belly. He charged his clients the earth and swore just like Walter. They loved negotiating together, calling each other on the phone all day, cursing back and forth.

“You’re busting my balls!”

“Schmuck!”

“Cocksucker!”

“Putz!”

“Motherfucker!”

It was Walter’s favourite word, he used it incessantly. When Michael Jackson finished making Thriller, Walter told him. “Michael, you delivered! You delivered like a motherfucker!”

It was a word Jackson didn’t much care for, “Please don’t use that word, Walter.”

He relented. “You delivered like an angel - Archangel Michael.”

“That’s better. Now, will you promote it?”

“Like a motherfucker.”

Several hundredweight of cocaine was purchased and 5,000 radio stations received weekly packages. Thriller became the biggest selling album ever and Michael Jackson the biggest artist, but for some reason it wasn’t being played on MTV.

“Is it ‘cos he’s black? Walter asked.

“Absolutely not,” said MTV.

But Walter decided it was and told them “I’m pulling everything we have off the air. I’m going to go public, let everyone know you won’t play music by a black guy.”

MTV relented. They put ‘Billie Jean’ on heavy rotation and Thriller sold an additional ten million copies.

For a while, Walter was king of the industry. But increasingly he found himself in dispute with Lawrence Tisch, the overall head of CBS. Walter’s employment contract was extraordinarily detailed. It outlined every last thing to which he was entitled to - first class travel, five-star hotels, the best restaurants and a full American breakfast. One time, when he and Tisch had a breakfast meeting at the Beverly Hills Hotel. All Walter wanted was a bagel but Tisch pointed out it wasn’t authorised in his contract; he’d have to pay for it personally.

From then on Walter travelled everywhere with a bagel in his briefcase. Any time Tisch was present, whether it was in a CBS board meeting, at a negotiation in another company’s offices, or sitting next to him in first class on a flight, Walter would put his briefcase on the table in front of him and place the bagel on top of it. Finally, Tisch got so fed up with his craziness he decided to sell the record division.

Walter talked to his friend Norio Ohga at Sony. The company’s success with the CD and the Walkman had left them in search of software to go with their hardware. A deal was agreed and Walter got $23 million commission.  

For a while he was still in charge but he was fast losing control, mainly of himself. When rival record executive David Geffen started making movies, he persuaded Michael Jackson to give him a song for a title theme. It meant getting clearance from Sony but when Geffen called to ask for it, Walter came on the line and said to get it he’d need to give Walter’s girlfriend lessons in sucking cock. Since Geffen was gay, this seemed a touch insulting. In retaliation he persuaded Michael Jackson to fire his long-term lawyer, a friend of Walter’s, and hire a new one - then renegotiate with Sony for a higher royalty.

Walter exploded in all directions; he sat in his office screaming obscenities down the phone at anyone he could get hold of. It was more than his Japanese bosses could take and Nori Ohga had to organize his dismissal. He was required to leave by a side door accompanied by a guard.

Keen not to lose face, he instantly started a new record company. When he failed to find investors, he used his own money. And when that was gone, his career in the music business was over. He quit alcohol and drugs, wrote a best-selling book and did voluntary work in a New Jersey soup kitchen.

For the last ten years of his life he was the best company for lunch you could ever ask for.

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