The Crawdaddy Club

In 1963, The Rolling Stones comprised bandleader Jones (guitar, harmonica, keyboards), Jagger (lead vocals, harmonica), Richards (guitar, vocals), Wyman (bass guitar), Charlie Watts (drums), and Ian Stewart (piano). Oldham had seen them play the Crawdaddy Club, Richmond^{[36][note 6]} that April^[38] and was impressed, thinking they would fill a gap in the British music scene.^[12] The Stones were the Crawdaddy's house band, under the aegis of the club's owner Giorgio Gomelsky,^[39] who had already "got them eulogized by Record Mirror ... [and] was their manager in every way other than writing".^[40] At 19 years old, Oldham was too young to hold a band manager's licence,^{[41][note 7]} and as such he "trawl[ed] the lower reaches of West End theatrical agents" looking for a partner.^[44] Eventually, Oldham turned to Easton because he saw the older man as possessing both the financial experience and the contacts in the industry necessary to forward the band's career;^[19] Easton also possessed the professional gravitas to give Oldham's involvement credibility.^[45] The two discussed the matter.^[35] Oldham argued that managing the Stones was "the chance of a lifetime",^[35] and begged him to come to the Crawdaddy with him the next week to see for himself.^[36] Easton disliked missing^[12] Saturday Night at the London Palladium on television, which Oldham called being like going to mass for Easton.^[35] Talking to Q Magazine later, he described himself as "an average character of my age, wearing a sports jacket"^[46] who hoped his night would not be wasted.^[47]

Easton travelled to Richmond with Oldham and, in Crawdaddy's, says Clayson, "stood out like a sore thumb" in the young crowd.^[19] Gomelsky was absent, having recently left for Switzerland in order to attend his father's funeral.^[39] The future photographer James Phelge, who was also in the audience, later observed that Easton looked like a schoolteacher.^[35] For his part, Easton later complained to Peter Jones of his "total humiliation and embarrassment": surrounded by screaming teenagers, in "his heavy tweed suit and his heavy brogue shoes", Easton reckoned he looked a country squire.^[48] Of the crowd and the heat, too, he called Crawdaddy's "the first free Turkish bath I'd ever had".^[46] Although he "had winced more than once during the performance [he] was experienced in spotting talent", says his biographer Laura Jackson,^[49] and recognised it in the Stones. The Stones were willing listeners, and, over a drink after the show^[50] it was agreed that Jones would visit the Regent Street office the following week.^[51]

Gomelsky knew nothing of events until his return towards the end of the month.^[39] A later assistant of Richards, Tony Sanchez, described how, "to Brian and Mick, who wanted–needed–so very badly to make it, walking over a couple of old friends was a small price to pay for the break that Oldham and Easton were offering them".^{[52][note 8]} Gomelsky says that he met with Easton a few days after the Stones had signed to he and Oldham. They wanted, Gomelsky says, to offer him compensation for his previous input to the band's development. What actually concerned them, he argues, was that Gomelsky would allow the group to continue their residency at the Crawdaddy Club.^[53] Gomeslky agreed; Easton also began booking them into the Marquee Club and Studio 51, in London's West End, at around the same time.^[54]

Signing and Decca contract

Easton and Oldham were keen to sign the Stones up to a label as soon as possible.^[36] Dick Rowe, of Decca Records, had heard of the Stones through George Harrison, but when Rowe tried to contact their agent, no-one appeared to know of one. Eventually, Easton's name was mentioned: "I knew Eric, of course. Once I'd spoken to him, the whole deal went through in a matter of days."^[55] Easton and Oldham formed an independent record label, Impact Sounds—through which they would manage the group^[36]—and signed them on 6 May 1963 for a three-year deal.^[18] Philip Norman describes the meeting:^[56]

It was a scene that had already been played in hundreds of other pop-managerial sanctums and would be in thousands more—the walls covered with signed celebrity photos, framed Gold Discs, and posters; the balding, over-genial man at a desk cluttered by pictures of wife and children (and, in this case, electronic organs), telling the two youngsters in front of him that, of course, he couldn't promise anything but, if they followed his guidance, there was every chance of them ending up rich and famous.^[56]

Dick Rowe was a friend of Easton's.^[33] Rowe—having missed the chance of signing the Beatles the previous year and was still annoyed over it—agreed to sign the band.^{[36][note 9]} For their part, Easton and Oldham retained the rights to the group's recorded material, while the group themselves were effectively leased to Decca.^{[57][note 10]} Easton intended that he and Oldham would cut out the traditional role of the A&R man,^[58] to which end they formed Impact Sounds. This would own and hold all master tapes and recordings, which they would also lease—"Spector-like"—when required for distribution.^{[6][note 11]} However, the deal almost did not happen: unbeknownst to Easton and Oldham, Jones had already signed a personal recording contract with IBC. Easton gave Jones £100 with which to buy his way out of his obligations,^{[6][note 12]} and in doing so bought the group's master tapes for themselves.^[57][63] The eventual deal with Decca was better news for Easton and Oldham than it was for the band. For example, Easton and Oldman were to be paid 14% of any profits from a single release, but their commitment to the band was for 6%, meaning that Easton and his partner received over half of what was earned.^[64]

Easton later told Q that "because there was a lot of interest from other companies, I could go after a really good royalty rate on record sales. And we got it."^[47] Sandford comments—reflecting on the group's youth—that "everyone except Easton and Wyman had to have their parents co-sign" their contracts.^[65] Easton and Oldham received 25% of the group's earnings in fees.^[36] Easton, responsible for the group's wages, personally paid each member £40 a week.^{[note 13]} Wyman says that the band, too, recognised the different qualities Easton and Oldham brought to managing them, calling the two polar opposites.^[11] The group collectively saw them as a good combination, believing that Easton, while he understood little of their music was the kind of established agent they needed.^{[66][note 14]} Jagger, in a 1975 The Rolling Stone Interview called Easton "a 50-year-old northern mill owner. It was completely crackers."^[67]

Gigs and production work

Easton gained the Stones their early work, among the first of which was a Kellogg's Rice Krispies advert jingle.^[69] Easton saw the Stones as a continuation of the homely musicianship shown by the Beatles, Brian Poole and the Tremeloes.^[70] Comparing them to the Beatles, he identified a similarity in their beat and upfront guitar playing, "except that the Stones were much more down to earth. More basic."^[37] To further emphasise the Stone's resemblance to their Liverpudlian rivals, Easton wanted the group to wear uniform suits on stage, as the Beatles did. They were also to present themselves as all things to all men and women, "direct[ing] Beatle-esque grins" at the audience and avoiding controversy. To this end he attempted to stop band members swearing on stage, to which Jagger muttered "bloody hell". Easton retorted, "bloody hell, you don't say".^[19] He considered that compromises had to be made before the British public would accept them: their long hair was an obvious target.^[19] For their first photoshoot, Easton bought the band shiny waistcoats, white shirts, slim-jim ties, black trousers and Cuban-heeled boots.^[71] Among the band, says rock journalist Paul Trynka, Jones was "the most enthusiastic about the new managers; that spring of 1963 he remained the Stone with whom Oldham and Easton would huddle and share plans".^[33] Easton ensured that the group's money was kept in discrete bank accounts, in order to lower their collective tax bill (although in the event, he overlooked that they would also be liable for tax on touring income). Easton also arranged generous credit with fashionable stores in London; this, says Sandford, allowed Jagger and Richards "to run up impressive bills that they waved away airily on presentation".^[72]

The first gig Easton booked for the Stones was a benefit concert in Battersea Park organised by the News of the World.^[36] Easton had some doubts as to the quality of Jagger's singing voice,^[12] comparing it in the negative to Roy Orbison and Elvis Presley.^{[51][note 15]} Sandford describes Easton—"his voice falling to a reverential murmur"—as being worried that the BBC would not approve of it.^{[12][note 16]} As a result, Easton pushed for the band to replace Jagger; Jones seemed agreeable to the suggestion, but Oldham vetoed it,^[6] calling them both "completely insane".^[75] However, in 1965 Easton told KRLA Beat his reaction to seeing the group play for the first time:^[36]

It was absolutely jammed with people. But it was also the most exciting atmosphere I've ever experienced in a club or ballroom. And I saw right away that the Rolling Stones were enjoying every minute of it. They were producing this fantastic sound and it was obvious that it was exactly right for the kids in the audience.^[36]

The jazz musician George Melly said Oldham "looked at Mick like Sylvester looks at Tweetie Pie", while Easton was "impressed, but with certain reservations".^[11] Easton's son Paul later told how his father was amazed at what he saw in the Crawdaddy, as well as the numbers queuing for entry outside.^[50]

Increasing fame, increased pressure

In May 1963, Easton supervised the group's first recording session at Decca's West Hampstead studios, where they recorded a cover version of Chuck Berry's "Come On".^{[6][note 17]} Oldham had booked three hours' studio time with Easton's cash, on the proviso, said Easton, that they did not run overtime.^{[77][note 18]} In the meantime, Easton was booking all the gigs he could for the band, and they were playing at least every night, and sometimes twice.^[64] The following month the band applied for an audition at the BBC, but were turned down as not suitable.^[6] Easton feared that this rejection would prevent the band getting radio exposure.^[47] The BBC thought Jagger "sounded too black", says Davis. Once again, Easton argued to sack Jagger, but in the meantime, under pressure from the group's fans, in July the BBC offered Easton a date for the group's audition.^[6] The following month Easton began booking the group into a series of ballroom appearances, so marking the end of their days as a club-based blues band, suggests Davis.

Easton deliberately took the group out of London. Their first tour was around East Anglia, playing distant towns such as Wisbech^[33]—their opening gig—Soham, Whittlesey and King's Lynn.^[79] This was hard work, commented Oldham later, as "most places north of Luton were Beatles territory".^{[80][note 19]} Easton's strategy was to get the band into a habit of non-stop gig; this would make them well known around the country. He was lucky that a nationwide tour by Bo Diddley and the Everly Brothers was about to commence, and Easton was able to have the Stones hired as a backing group. This was relatively successful, suggests Davis, considering the relatively poor showing of "Come On".^[79] Although the group saw little immediate change in their circumstances, Easton was organising their future "on the path ordained for an aspiring 'beat' group—the dreary round-Britain path of the pop package show".^[82] He was, says Jackson, "busting a gut" to get the group gigs^[83] and interviews,^[84] and as well as running their fan club from his office.^[83] For the remainder of 1963, the group were playing almost every night.^[85]

Reviews of the group's first single were, says Norman, lukewarm,^[86] but according to Easton, "Come On" sold 40,000 records, and he paid them £18 each in royalties^[6] and was incensed when they took the song off their live repertoire soon after.^{[87][note 20]} In mid-1963 they were given the as-yet-unreleased song "I Wanna Be Your Man" by the Beatles. It was to be the Stones' second single and was recorded at Regent Sound Studios on Denmark Street—described by a roadie as "tiny, ropey, and look[ing] like someone's front room"^{[note 21]}—overseen by Easton.^[33] The song met with mixed reviews, but Easton's production was praised by Johnny Dean of Beat Monthly.^[91] The B-side was "Stoned". Easton, says Davis, "scammed" both the group and his business partner by assigning the rights for the song to a company he had co-ownership in, without their knowledge.^{[6][note 22]} On the other hand, he bought the group a brand new Volkswagen van for their touring needs^[6]—"which I thought was very good of him", commented Richards later, "considering he was making a heavy fortune off us"^[68]—and regularly acted as producer^[93] during their studio sessions, as Oldham often failed to turn up.^[94] Easton, says Stewart, did not trust Oldham in a recording studio.^[68] He also negotiated free stage equipment from Jennings Music in return for endorsements.^[95] On one occasion, the equipment was worth £700.^[96]

Easton favoured Brian Jones over the other band members; Davis suggests that a private deal existed between them whereby, for example, when on tour, Jones and his then-girlfriend would stay in nicer hotels, and Jones would receive £5 more in payment than his colleagues for being the frontman.^[6] Jones' girlfriend, Lynda Lawrence, later said that "there was this camaraderie, and understanding between them".^[33] Easton may have prevented Wyman from being sacked alongside Ian Stewart, whom Oldham wanted to remove as not looking sufficiently part of the band.^[12] Easton did, however, acquiesce to Stewart's dismissal;^[19] Oldham later came to believe that both Jones and Wyman were a pro-Easton faction within the group.^[97]

Problems in America and at home

In June 1964 Easton organised the group's appearance on the BBC's Juke Box Jury. This became extremely controversial, as the group refused to abide by the script, and voted against every record they were played.^{[note 23]} Around the same time, Easton travelled to New York^[100] to organise the Stones' first US tour with Decca's subdivision London Records.^{[note 24]} In New York they stayed at the Hotel Astor in Times Square. This was to cause problems: Easton rarely knew either the promotor or the venue he was booking.^[101] To save money, everyone shared rooms, and Easton was in the same room as Ian Stewart;^{[note 25]} Norman argues "it was not so much a tour as a series of one-nighters".^[101] In an attempt to get the group onto the Ed Sullivan Show, Easton personally visited Sullivan, but Sullivan, Easton later said "threw me out of the place, essentially".^[74]

The group also appeared on Dean Martin's Hollywood Palace show; it was not a success. Says Davis, Martin "went out of his way to insult them in his introduction". As a result, Jagger phoned Easton—by now returned to the UK^[103]—"and yelled at him".^[6] For Easton, says Stewart, the Hollywood show "was the thin end of the wedge".^[68] Easton was blamed for a poorly-organised circuit: while some shows in New York were well attended, on other occasions they played to small crowds, either in massive stadia such as the 15,000-seater Detroit Olympia^[64]—where they played to an audience of about 600 people^[104]—or fairgrounds and fields in Nebraska^[64][68] (where, Wyman later recalled, "you could just tell they wanted to beat the shit out of you").^{[103][note 26]}

There was growing tension between Easton and Oldham as well, as the latter had "discovered that Easton had demanded kickbacks from local promoters" while they were touring.^[6] Easton, meanwhile, found Oldham's erratic behaviour bizarre. In his attempts at creating an image for himself, Ian Stewart describes Oldham as being "more interested in the image of Phil Spector, running around in big cars, with bodyguards, collecting money, and buying clothes" than producing records.^{[105][note 27]} Easton, says the author Fred Goodman, "as unflinchingly middle class as any man who ever worked in the music business, could only scratch his head". The group's road manager, Mike Dorsey, visited Easton in Ealing and asked him to control Oldham.^{[105][note 28]}

Easton—who by this time saw the group as being as big as The Kinks^[107]—had booked the group to top the bill at the National Jazz and Blues Festival in Reading, with 50% of the door receipts for the band, who were to be billed as "the triumphant return for the conquering heroes" of America.^[108] Soon after they appeared on the BBC's flagship music programme, Ready Steady Go!. When they left, Jones was left behind because of the fan crush; Easton gave him a lift, with Jones hiding in the floor of the car.^[109] The autumn of 1964 British tour saw Eric Easton Ltd receive 20% of the tour profits, and when the Stones beat the Beatles in the Melody Maker's popularity poll, Easton brought each member a new watch.^[110] Following the tour, however, Easton and the group sued the tour promoter, Robert Stigwood for supposedly withholding profits. Easton wrote to Stigwood, "we have made every effort to settle the matter amicably, unfortunately without success. The Stones were paid their basic salaries as agreed. This action is over profits".^[111]

On the group's second US tour, in late 1964, Easton caught pneumonia in New York and returned to London to recover. Following his illness, he contemplated a world tour, with the taking in Australia, New Zealand and the Far East.^[112] At about this time, Easton found out that Watts had secretly got married the previous month, and commented: "I suppose now I will have to buy him a wedding present". Meanwhile, relations continued to sour with Oldham. While the group was in America, Easton booked them onto several radio shows in the UK, including Saturday Club and Top Gear. Oldham found out and cancelled; when the group failed to appear for the BBC shows, the fans were angry and the BBC engaged its lawyers.^[113] Easton was under pressure to make deals for the band that were as good as the Beatles had had; he wrote to his US concert agent, Norman Weiss, saying:^[114]

I always have to reckon with the fact that the boys have a permanent picture in mind of the Beatles' $1 million-dollar, ten-day stint. Their idea is: if Eppy [Brian Epstein] can get this sort of deal for the Beatles, why can't you get it for the Stones? While I realize that miracles take a little longer to perform, I have at least got to kid myself that I am making the effort to actually perform miracles.^[114]

Dismissal

Easton was also sacked as the group's booking agent and replaced by Tito Burns.^[6] Clayson suggests that Easton's dismissal was as a result of divide and conquer tactics by Klein, who had originally been employed to undertake some of Oldham's administrative work but was able to persuade Oldham that Easton was no longer required.^{[133][note 31]} Trynka says Easton was sacked in favour of the "far more predatory Allen Klein" by an Oldham-Jagger-Richards triumvirate.^[33] In 1968, Easton's barrister described him as having been ousted,^[136] and music writer Nicholas Schaffner later called it a purge on Oldham's part.^[137] It is likely that Richards was the prime motivator behind the move;^[138] one of the things he liked about Klein was that "at least he was under fifty".^[139] Easton was summarily sacked,^[33] and an attempt to buy him off failed.^[133] In October 1971,^[128] Easton launched a series of lawsuits for breach of contract^[140] against the band, Oldham, Decca, London Records, Allen Klein and Nanker Phelge.^[128] As a result, the High Court froze a million pounds-worth of the Stones' UK assets until the case was concluded. Decca was also instructed to suspend all royalty payments to the group.^[141] This process was to last many years. Wyman was, in his own words, "the lone voice to express reservations".^{[33][note 32]}

Easton's barrister, Peter Pain, told the court that "in many ways, the whole story is rather sad ... it is probably no exaggeration to say that everybody is suing everybody".^[136] Easton attempted to enforce a prison committal against Oldham for failing to pay monies owed or to supply documentation.^[142] Oldham, says Goodman, was keen to avoid Easton's lawsuit if possible and was^[143]

Very nervous. In the three years since his split with Easton, he'd gone to extraordinary lengths to avoid his former partner (and to avoid being served with legal documents), including using a body double and climbing out of an office window.^[143]

While Oldham's paranoia and fear of a trial for perjury increased, Easton appears to have found the affair little more than "disheartening or silly";^[143] the first time Oldham ran away from him, Easton called after him "you'll have to accept them [the documents] sooner or later, you naughty boy ...".^[144] It was two years before Oldham was eventually brought to earth,^[145] and Easton's lawyers confronted Klein robustly in November 1967.^{[note 33]} Easton eventually settled for a golden handshake^[68] of $200,000 in withheld royalties, in exchange for which he would drop his future claims.^[140] On the other hand, according to Easton himself, he voluntarily left the band, on account of the lifestyle not suiting him and the "unsavoury people" he was forced to deal with.^[146]