Guest Editorial
Posted: 12:00AM, Tuesday 19th June, 2007.

Chapter 1 - The Iceman from "When the Writ Hits the Fan!" by Phil Dwyer

We are happy to present the opening chapter of the new book "When The Writ Hits The Fan!" by Australian music business lawyer Phil Dwyer. The book is now available as a 306 page print edition from IMMEDIA! either through our secure books ordering site at http://www.immedia.com.au/books or you can order a copy by contacting IMMEDIA! on (02) 9557 7766 or email info@immedia.com.au. The first thousand copies come wrapped with a free copy of the 2004 AustralAsian Music Industry Directory for $30 plus postage. An innovative electronic book version is also available online as either an HTML or PDF version for $30 and can also be ordered through IMMEDIA!. For more information go to http://www.immedia.com.au/writ

The context for this story is the Australian entertainment industry with particular emphasis on contemporary music. The principal cast consists of musicians, songwriters and their managers. It is told from my perspective as a lawyer who was there. Why I was there is also part of the story.

In the Australian music industry 1975 to 1985 was not unlike 1852 to 1862 in Bendigo, Victoria. Gold was to be found under every rock and it seemed like it would go on forever. It was with this spirit of optimism that I started writing this book in 1985. Fortunately I was distracted. In about 1990 I thought I would have another go and had my daughter write out the steps to operate the computer. Her first instruction was 'turn on - at side'. That caused such a bout of anxiety that I deferred the project for another twelve years.

When reviewing my involvement with the industry I have not had to refer to a diary, files or correspondence. The people and events have been well documented in newspapers, books and writs. For inspiration, all I had to do was look at company names to bring the memories back. Above the Clouds Pty Ltd was the name I gave to Glenn Wheatley's trustee company. It came to me during a flight home from Europe. John Farnham's Sirius Pty Ltd was from my trip to Norfolk Island. It is now frequented by the 'just wed or nearly dead' set but then it was a well-used tax haven, although not by John. Tutankamun Pty Ltd, The Angels' company, had its origin from my Egyptian period. Pizzicato, Staccato and Thieving Magpie, used by Australian Crawl, were from a phase when I was trying to improve my image. Then there were the bridges of Paris, the streets of Amsterdam, Los Angeles and New York and the ships of the Royal Navy. They all represented Australian groups or productions at one time or another.

I can also look at what I like to call my record collection. It is really just a pile of old vinyl albums. I am pleased to say that on many I have been personally acknowledged by the artists. I am particularly proud of the handwritten one from Chrissie Amphlett on Divinyls' What a Life album. It reads, 'Thanks Peter'.

Over the years the same names kept recurring. By that I don't mean the names of the stars, the Hunters, Finns and Reynes. I mean people like Vince Lovegrove, Brett Cottle, Ernie Rose, Ross Fraser, Phil Mortlock, Peter Karpin, Jeremy Fabinyi, John McDonald, David Joseph, Michael Smellie, Denis Handlin, Simon Young, Roger Savage, Kevin Jacobsen, John Bromell and Fred Bestall. They are the people this book is really about.

At the outset it should be understood that I only have a rudimentary knowledge of music. My father played the cornet. I made a dismal attempt at playing the trumpet and my wife played the tambourine. The closest I came to any entertainers was when I worked at the Northcote Post Office in the 1960s. I delivered telegrams to Bert Newton who lived with his mother in Alphington and to Doug Trevor, then a member of The Cherokees and now a successful manager, who lived with his mother in Northcote.

It should also be remembered that this is written through the eyes of a lawyer, not a musician. Unlike my colleague, Paul O'Gorman, I do not listen to 'demo tapes'. He thinks all such tapes are 'fantastic' although many of them lack the 'flagship single' he always seems to be looking for. I gave up doing that when, in frustration, I finally took a call from a client who had telephoned several times. I told him that the tape was fantastic although I couldn't hear a hit single. I said it needed some more work. He thanked me but said he was ringing just to let me know he was going to drop the tape in personally that afternoon.

I did my law degree whilst working in the Taxation Department where I spent some time as the 'entertainment assessor'. In those days touring artists were required to lodge a Tax Return and obtain a tax clearance before departing Australia. I assessed their returns. The Department was a strange place. Priority was given to ex-servicemen, particularly those with a disability, mental or otherwise. We had one who would stand to attention and salute at the beginning of each tea break. Married women were not employed. My wife, who also worked there, retired at the age of 22, when we married.

Twenty-year-olds were being conscripted for service in Vietnam. They were always sent off with a very long counter lunch at the Francis Hotel on their last Friday. On returning from one of these we were confronted by a senior assessor complaining about our absence. Our group leader, an ex-serviceman, resented this unpatriotic attitude and dropped him for the count of ten. We all cheered.

The Department was organised on similar lines to that of the army with sections, platoons and companies. We even had our own military police. We called them D12 because they were half as good as D24. One day we were notified that our section was to be 'raided'. They were looking for spoons stolen from the tea trolley. I immediately collected all the spoons I could find and put them in the drawer of the least corruptible person on the floor, Kevin Fitzpatrick. It could not have done him any harm. He is now an Assistant Deputy Commissioner.

Once, when relieving on the enquiries counter, I was confronted by a Mr Fosteropoulos who wanted to talk to the 'manager'. After talking on the telephone to no one I advised him that we had a problem with his tax return. It couldn't be handled by the computer. It had been taken off the production line and given to 'the long name assessor' for personal attention. He made a quick exit. I left the Department in 1974 by mutual agreement.

Soon after commencing practice in 1975, Glenn Wheatley was referred to me by David Self during David's four-day career as a life-insurance agent. Glenn has not really changed since then. He still says H-E-L-L-L-O-W and P-L-E-E-E-A-S-E when he wants to make a point and is always picking imaginary lint off his jacket. His favourite sayings are 'give me a break', 'out of left field' and 'it's not always going to be this way'.

Glenn had a successful career as a bass player in The Masters Apprentices. He was in the process of forming, managing and publishing the then 'super group' Little River Band. The group was 'super' in the sense that it was made up of members of already successful acts. There was an awareness in the band of the value of copyright and the need to perform original compositions. This at the time was quite rare. Glenn, with his usual enthusiasm and optimism, was always convinced that the group would be internationally successful. For that reason the songs were directed towards the west coast American market.

Unfortunately, Glenn's success with The Masters did not mean he had money. He needed $4000 to buy a truck for the band. The security offered was a personal guarantee from Glenn, each member of the band, the truck, a block of land Glenn owned in Queensland and 'all the band's copyrights'. We had an upbeat meeting with Ray Nielsen, the manager of the St Kilda Road branch of the then Commercial Bank of Australia. Glenn gave a moving (but in retrospect probably not very accurate) dissertation as to the value of copyright. He certainly moved me. Unfortunately he didn't move Ray and the loan was refused.

Soon after that I had my first experience socialising with 'celebs'. I invited that week's rock superstar home for dinner. We had three children under two and my wife put in an extraordinary effort - three courses, candles, the kids bathed and fed. I bought the drinks. He arrived about 7.00pm (sunglasses still affixed in spite of the fading light) and promptly announced, 'Don't worry about me - I had a hamburger on the way'. That was a good lesson for my wife early in my career.

Unlike Glenn I did not formally study copyright or embrace technology. I am still trying to understand how the domestic sewing machine works. Nevertheless, I realised from the beginning that practising law has more to do with relating to people than solving complex legal problems. The trick at the end of the day is to ensure that your client is better off for the experience of having known you. More often than not I think I achieve that. Along the way I have managed to attract such epithets as 'mad dog Dwyer', 'cowboy' and 'whore for hire' but rarely from my clients.

One has to make choices in life and those choices are often influenced by minor matters such as paying the kids' school fees and the registration on the car. I was once sounded out for the Federal Court. Aside from having to go back to living on a wage, my background makes me nervous about judging other people. I declined. There was a time when I thought about going to the bar (becoming a barrister). After some consideration, I decided to continue practising as a solicitor. That was the right choice. It allowed me to maintain a direct relationship with my clients. That is my strength whereas research and procedural matters are an eternal source of frustration.

Certainly, no one can practise in the fields in which I have practised and survive without enjoying what they do. Fortunately I have always had an affinity with, and an understanding of, people who earn their living by entertaining others. That is not to say that I regard myself as part of the entertainment industry. I have always considered myself a member of the legal profession. However, I do understand the strength of character, determination and innate insecurities of professional entertainers.

It is true that creative people don't like confrontation. It's also true that they rarely say thank you or goodbye. I acted for Neil Finn and Crowded House from the beginning. Near the end, just before Neil moved back to New Zealand, I was called to a meeting at the office of their accountant, John Smith, in North Balwyn. By that stage John, to whom I had referred Neil and his manager Grant Thomas, several years earlier, had retired. I was detained in the waiting room for half an hour and then told I wouldn't be required. That was the last time I saw Neil - through the office curtains. That was also the day those accountants stopped getting referrals from me.

Many times over the years I have been sacked and rehired without that fact ever having been communicated to me. In the early days I would be annoyed by that. Now I see it as just as much a part of the entertainer as a good set of teeth. I also appreciate what a lonely place the industry can be. In a rather sad conclusion to his autobiography, Tommy Tycho, after fifty years in the Australian entertainment industry, acknowledged that he has 'never had a close friend - anyone I could confide in'.1

Phil Tripp has been on my back to finish this book for years. Along the way he even dropped me from his 'A' list. I think that was because I tried to say something as a presenter at a seminar chaired by him. I have often told Phil I was making progress. He knew what that meant. Eventually, I just picked up a dictaphone and started to dictate. That process has its shortcomings. I have developed a neurotic need to punctuate which even extends to recorded telephone messages. Then there is the lawyer's compulsion to qualify everything. As Mark Twain once wrote: 'Sorry about the long letter but I didn't have time to write a short one'. Having said that, this book is intended for people to read and enjoy. It is neither a treatise nor a text book. Nor is it a deep and meaningful analysis of every Australian pop song ever released. It is more about reality than imagery. Substance has prevailed over form.

The second chapter sets out the history of the music industry which is the framework of the story. The next three chapters cover the dynamics within a group and their relationship with that strange species called a 'manager'. There are chapters on the importance of a professional image and the hazards of litigation. The chapters on contract and copyright cover the basic tools of trade of the industry. It's difficult to infuse these concepts with light and colour but they are fundamental.

The chapter on the Prices Surveillance Authority is included because it was an important turning point for the industry. The common denominator of the chapters on indigenous music, film and theatre is music. The chapter on legal practice nearly fell victim to the delete button. For me it is a little close to home. Phil Tripp's view was that it gives an insight into why people like me do what we do. Phil has always had a lawyer fetish. I have not defined every term in the text so the glossary might help.

Finally, I have resisted the temptation to redress a few perceived wrongs. There is no malice in this book. Those planning to make a career in the industry might learn something from reading it. People who don't participate might gain a better understanding of those that do. Hopefully any young lawyers who read this will not immediately lose interest in practising law. I had planned to use the Thesaurus and to include a few big words and some stylish alliteration. Finally, I accepted Renee Geyer's advice to just tell it as it is.

Available from June 2007 in all bookstores, distributed through Pan

Pat Daly was an iceman. He delivered ice to homes in Northcote, an inner suburb of Melbourne, in the 1950's. It was used in ice chests. Like his father and grandfather before him, he worked hard and had a good business. The kids particularly liked him when he gave them pieces of ice on hot summer days. Then one day an old customer showed him her new acquisition - a refrigerator.

The context for this story is the Australian entertainment industry with particular emphasis on contemporary music. The principal cast consists of musicians, songwriters and their managers. It is told from my perspective as a lawyer who was there. Why I was there is also part of the story.

In the Australian music industry 1975 to 1985 was not unlike 1852 to 1862 in Bendigo, Victoria. Gold was to be found under every rock and it seemed like it would go on forever. It was with this spirit of optimism that I started writing this book in 1985. Fortunately I was distracted. In about 1990 I thought I would have another go and had my daughter write out the steps to operate the computer. Her first instruction was 'turn on - at side'. That caused such a bout of anxiety that I deferred the project for another twelve years.

When reviewing my involvement with the industry I have not had to refer to a diary, files or correspondence. The people and events have been well documented in newspapers, books and writs. For inspiration, all I had to do was look at company names to bring the memories back. Above the Clouds Pty Ltd was the name I gave to Glenn Wheatley's trustee company. It came to me during a flight home from Europe. John Farnham's Sirius Pty Ltd was from my trip to Norfolk Island. It is now frequented by the 'just wed or nearly dead' set but then it was a well-used tax haven, although not by John. Tutankamun Pty Ltd, The Angels' company, had its origin from my Egyptian period. Pizzicato, Staccato and Thieving Magpie, used by Australian Crawl, were from a phase when I was trying to improve my image. Then there were the bridges of Paris, the streets of Amsterdam, Los Angeles and New York and the ships of the Royal Navy. They all represented Australian groups or productions at one time or another.

I can also look at what I like to call my record collection. It is really just a pile of old vinyl albums. I am pleased to say that on many I have been personally acknowledged by the artists. I am particularly proud of the handwritten one from Chrissie Amphlett on Divinyls' What a Life album. It reads, 'Thanks Peter'.

Over the years the same names kept recurring. By that I don't mean the names of the stars, the Hunters, Finns and Reynes. I mean people like Vince Lovegrove, Brett Cottle, Ernie Rose, Ross Fraser, Phil Mortlock, Peter Karpin, Jeremy Fabinyi, John McDonald, David Joseph, Michael Smellie, Denis Handlin, Simon Young, Roger Savage, Kevin Jacobsen, John Bromell and Fred Bestall. They are the people this book is really about.

At the outset it should be understood that I only have a rudimentary knowledge of music. My father played the cornet. I made a dismal attempt at playing the trumpet and my wife played the tambourine. The closest I came to any entertainers was when I worked at the Northcote Post Office in the 1960s. I delivered telegrams to Bert Newton who lived with his mother in Alphington and to Doug Trevor, then a member of The Cherokees and now a successful manager, who lived with his mother in Northcote.

It should also be remembered that this is written through the eyes of a lawyer, not a musician. Unlike my colleague, Paul O'Gorman, I do not listen to 'demo tapes'. He thinks all such tapes are 'fantastic' although many of them lack the 'flagship single' he always seems to be looking for. I gave up doing that when, in frustration, I finally took a call from a client who had telephoned several times. I told him that the tape was fantastic although I couldn't hear a hit single. I said it needed some more work. He thanked me but said he was ringing just to let me know he was going to drop the tape in personally that afternoon.

I did my law degree whilst working in the Taxation Department where I spent some time as the 'entertainment assessor'. In those days touring artists were required to lodge a Tax Return and obtain a tax clearance before departing Australia. I assessed their returns. The Department was a strange place. Priority was given to ex-servicemen, particularly those with a disability, mental or otherwise. We had one who would stand to attention and salute at the beginning of each tea break. Married women were not employed. My wife, who also worked there, retired at the age of 22, when we married.

Twenty-year-olds were being conscripted for service in Vietnam. They were always sent off with a very long counter lunch at the Francis Hotel on their last Friday. On returning from one of these we were confronted by a senior assessor complaining about our absence. Our group leader, an ex-serviceman, resented this unpatriotic attitude and dropped him for the count of ten. We all cheered.

The Department was organised on similar lines to that of the army with sections, platoons and companies. We even had our own military police. We called them D12 because they were half as good as D24. One day we were notified that our section was to be 'raided'. They were looking for spoons stolen from the tea trolley. I immediately collected all the spoons I could find and put them in the drawer of the least corruptible person on the floor, Kevin Fitzpatrick. It could not have done him any harm. He is now an Assistant Deputy Commissioner.

Once, when relieving on the enquiries counter, I was confronted by a Mr Fosteropoulos who wanted to talk to the 'manager'. After talking on the telephone to no one I advised him that we had a problem with his tax return. It couldn't be handled by the computer. It had been taken off the production line and given to 'the long name assessor' for personal attention. He made a quick exit. I left the Department in 1974 by mutual agreement.

Soon after commencing practice in 1975, Glenn Wheatley was referred to me by David Self during David's four-day career as a life-insurance agent. Glenn has not really changed since then. He still says H-E-L-L-L-O-W and P-L-E-E-E-A-S-E when he wants to make a point and is always picking imaginary lint off his jacket. His favourite sayings are 'give me a break', 'out of left field' and 'it's not always going to be this way'.

Glenn had a successful career as a bass player in The Masters Apprentices. He was in the process of forming, managing and publishing the then 'super group' Little River Band. The group was 'super' in the sense that it was made up of members of already successful acts. There was an awareness in the band of the value of copyright and the need to perform original compositions. This at the time was quite rare. Glenn, with his usual enthusiasm and optimism, was always convinced that the group would be internationally successful. For that reason the songs were directed towards the west coast American market.

Unfortunately, Glenn's success with The Masters did not mean he had money. He needed $4000 to buy a truck for the band. The security offered was a personal guarantee from Glenn, each member of the band, the truck, a block of land Glenn owned in Queensland and 'all the band's copyrights'. We had an upbeat meeting with Ray Nielsen, the manager of the St Kilda Road branch of the then Commercial Bank of Australia. Glenn gave a moving (but in retrospect probably not very accurate) dissertation as to the value of copyright. He certainly moved me. Unfortunately he didn't move Ray and the loan was refused.

Soon after that I had my first experience socialising with 'celebs'. I invited that week's rock superstar home for dinner. We had three children under two and my wife put in an extraordinary effort - three courses, candles, the kids bathed and fed. I bought the drinks. He arrived about 7.00pm (sunglasses still affixed in spite of the fading light) and promptly announced, 'Don't worry about me - I had a hamburger on the way'. That was a good lesson for my wife early in my career.

Unlike Glenn I did not formally study copyright or embrace technology. I am still trying to understand how the domestic sewing machine works. Nevertheless, I realised from the beginning that practising law has more to do with relating to people than solving complex legal problems. The trick at the end of the day is to ensure that your client is better off for the experience of having known you. More often than not I think I achieve that. Along the way I have managed to attract such epithets as 'mad dog Dwyer', 'cowboy' and 'whore for hire' but rarely from my clients.

One has to make choices in life and those choices are often influenced by minor matters such as paying the kids' school fees and the registration on the car. I was once sounded out for the Federal Court. Aside from having to go back to living on a wage, my background makes me nervous about judging other people. I declined. There was a time when I thought about going to the bar (becoming a barrister). After some consideration, I decided to continue practising as a solicitor. That was the right choice. It allowed me to maintain a direct relationship with my clients. That is my strength whereas research and procedural matters are an eternal source of frustration.

Certainly, no one can practise in the fields in which I have practised and survive without enjoying what they do. Fortunately I have always had an affinity with, and an understanding of, people who earn their living by entertaining others. That is not to say that I regard myself as part of the entertainment industry. I have always considered myself a member of the legal profession. However, I do understand the strength of character, determination and innate insecurities of professional entertainers.

It is true that creative people don't like confrontation. It's also true that they rarely say thank you or goodbye. I acted for Neil Finn and Crowded House from the beginning. Near the end, just before Neil moved back to New Zealand, I was called to a meeting at the office of their accountant, John Smith, in North Balwyn. By that stage John, to whom I had referred Neil and his manager Grant Thomas, several years earlier, had retired. I was detained in the waiting room for half an hour and then told I wouldn't be required. That was the last time I saw Neil - through the office curtains. That was also the day those accountants stopped getting referrals from me.

Many times over the years I have been sacked and rehired without that fact ever having been communicated to me. In the early days I would be annoyed by that. Now I see it as just as much a part of the entertainer as a good set of teeth. I also appreciate what a lonely place the industry can be. In a rather sad conclusion to his autobiography, Tommy Tycho, after fifty years in the Australian entertainment industry, acknowledged that he has 'never had a close friend - anyone I could confide in'.1

Phil Tripp has been on my back to finish this book for years. Along the way he even dropped me from his 'A' list. I think that was because I tried to say something as a presenter at a seminar chaired by him. I have often told Phil I was making progress. He knew what that meant. Eventually, I just picked up a dictaphone and started to dictate. That process has its shortcomings. I have developed a neurotic need to punctuate which even extends to recorded telephone messages. Then there is the lawyer's compulsion to qualify everything. As Mark Twain once wrote: 'Sorry about the long letter but I didn't have time to write a short one'. Having said that, this book is intended for people to read and enjoy. It is neither a treatise nor a text book. Nor is it a deep and meaningful analysis of every Australian pop song ever released. It is more about reality than imagery. Substance has prevailed over form.

The second chapter sets out the history of the music industry which is the framework of the story. The next three chapters cover the dynamics within a group and their relationship with that strange species called a 'manager'. There are chapters on the importance of a professional image and the hazards of litigation. The chapters on contract and copyright cover the basic tools of trade of the industry. It's difficult to infuse these concepts with light and colour but they are fundamental.

The chapter on the Prices Surveillance Authority is included because it was an important turning point for the industry. The common denominator of the chapters on indigenous music, film and theatre is music. The chapter on legal practice nearly fell victim to the delete button. For me it is a little close to home. Phil Tripp's view was that it gives an insight into why people like me do what we do. Phil has always had a lawyer fetish. I have not defined every term in the text so the glossary might help.

Finally, I have resisted the temptation to redress a few perceived wrongs. There is no malice in this book. Those planning to make a career in the industry might learn something from reading it. People who don't participate might gain a better understanding of those that do. Hopefully any young lawyers who read this will not immediately lose interest in practising law. I had planned to use the Thesaurus and to include a few big words and some stylish alliteration. Finally, I accepted Renee Geyer's advice to just tell it as it is.

Available from June 2007 in all bookstores, distributed through Pan MacMillian for $39.95. The digitally downloadable version in HTML or PDF can be purchased for $30 HERE (Scroll down the page to the item). And you can also purchase the book by mail order HERE (Scroll down the page to the item) for $38.80 inc shipping in Australia.
for $39.95. The digitally downloadable version in HTML or PDF can be purchased for $30 HERE (Scroll down the page to the item). And you can also purchase the book by mail order HERE (Scroll down the page to the item) for $38.80 inc shipping in Australia.

Guest Editorial Posted: 12:00AM, Tuesday 19th June, 2007.

Chapter 1 - The Iceman from "When the Writ Hits the Fan!" by Phil Dwyer

Guest Editorial
Posted: 12:00AM, Tuesday 19th June, 2007.