Back in 1990, the manager of a local band asked me if I could possibly secure the services of a 2000 AD artist to do a cover for him. He had no particular artist in mind - anyone who worked on the comic would suffice. "I'll see what I can do," I said, "but it'll probably cost you." I 'phoned SIMON BISLEY, who wasn't really interested, so I told him to name a figure that would make it worth his while. Perhaps wishing to price himself out of a job he didn't want, he quoted a sum far in excess of his usual page rate (at that time anyway). I relayed it to the manager, thinking it would be beyond his means, but - surprise, surprise - he agreed. I told Simon it was a deal and he went to work, turning the job around in no time flat.
Simon generously offered me £100 for putting the job his way, but I declined on the grounds that, as he had done all the work, he was entitled to all the money. All I did was make a few 'phone calls to describe to him what the band had in mind (before he and the manager started communicating directly between themselves). As it turned out, it was worth every penny they paid - and then some - because the cover was what swung a record deal their way. The band's manager played their demo album to the record company, and then delivered the coup de grace - the finished cover art by a high-profile artist. A deal was struck on the spot.
I was told that I would get an extra-special mention on the sleeve notes, which was only fair, I thought. After all, the cover had got them the deal, and I had got them the cover. When the album was released, everyone else and their granny got a mention - everyone, that is, except ME. I had suddenly become the invisible man. Simon Bisley got paid, the band got a cover AND a record deal, the manager got to bathe in the reflected glory and the publicity (plus whatever percentage he was on), staff in the hotel where the band rehearsed were publicly thanked on the sleeve notes, sundry other individuals were credited for simply breathing - and I got hee-haw!
Well, that's not quite true. I got ONE spare, second-hand, well-played, copy of the CD (with well-worn, wrinkled inlay booklet). I'd have thought I deserved a brand-new, shrink-wrapped copy at least.
And the moral of this story? If anyone ever asks you to do something which they hope is going to make their fame and fortune, charge them for your time. Promises of gratitude are worthless.
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