Autobiography (34 page)

Apparently so!

On page 6, Weeks refers to Arthur Young accountants being instructed to do the partnership and the company accounts, and highlights a meeting in the spring of 1984 at which Mr Morrissey was
‘surprised’
to see Rourke and Joyce in attendance, and states that Arthur Young were also Marr’s representatives. This all adds to the falsehood where I alone grasp the financial reins to the exclusion of all three other band members.

Although at the Arthur Young meeting the accountant suggested a future ‘cut-off’ point of royalty payments made to Rourke and Joyce – to which Rourke and Joyce unsurprisingly disagree – Weeks does not mention that this suggestion came from the accountants, thus leaving the court to wrongly assume that the cut-off period was put forth by Morrissey and Marr.

John Weeks inaccurately refers to the Arthur Young meeting as
‘one with all four of their clients present
’
, this statement building support for Joyce where there is none, since neither Joyce nor Rourke
were
clients of Arthur Young. There is nothing to even suggest that Rourke and Joyce were clients of Arthur Young – not one single piece of correspondence, no telephone calls, no billed payments to Rourke or Joyce, no indication that Rourke or Joyce had ever paid for the services of Arthur Young.

On page 7 Weeks states:
‘On 8th May 1985, Arthur Young wrote to Morrissey, who effectively held the purse strings.’

This is perhaps the most disconcerting of all the statements made by Weeks, for there is no evidence anywhere to suggest that I had ‘held the purse strings’. But Weeks also makes this statement in order to suggest that Arthur Young would much rather have written to all four group members, but sadly could not do so for reasons unknown. If any reputable accountancy firm acknowledged four group members as their clients then they would surely copy all four on crucial correspondence. If, as Weeks insisted, Simon Bowen had been ‘the band’s solicitor’, why had he never met Rourke and Joyce, or even written to them?

It seems that I cannot be allowed to even receive one letter from my own accountant without it being further evidence against me. Weeks gives no weight to the Morrissey–Marr partnership and my name seems repeatedly set aside for special disapproval. Even though there is nothing essentially illegal in my receiving a letter from my own accountant, Weeks is distracted by the fact that the letter was not also addressed to Joyce when, in fact, there was no reason why it ought to have been.

On page 8, Weeks states that:
‘In July 1985 Arthur Young were replaced by Ross Bennet-Smith. The decision to change accountants was taken by Morrissey and Marr without reference to Joyce or Rourke, and their letter of appointment is signed by Morrissey and Marr alone.’
What I can’t understand, however, is that if all four were the indisputable partners that Weeks insisted they were, how could such an accountancy switch have ever taken place? It could not.

Weeks does not consider how Joyce or Rourke responded to their not being consulted, and he does not ask them why they allowed such a switch ‘without their consultation’, and Weeks does not consider how possible it would have been for Joyce and Rourke to initiate the switch from Arthur Young to Ross Bennet-Smith
without
the compliance of Morrissey and Marr!

It is evident here (as elsewhere) that Joyce and Rourke were
not
considered to be equal partners to Morrissey and Marr by either set of reputable accountancy firms. If Joyce and Rourke had been recognized as equal partners to Morrissey and Marr, then surely neither Arthur Young nor Ross Bennet-Smith would accept such a critical move without the approval of Joyce and Rourke. Weeks flagrantly says nothing about correspondence from Arthur Young to Rourke and Joyce reminding both that their 10 per cent royalty would not continue once the band had broken up.

Joyce had said in court that he had never seen the original Rough Trade contract – yet his signature is on the contract as a witness to the signatures of both Morrissey and Marr! Could the lumpen lunacy possibly dive-bomb further?

At this stage, and at all stages, all evidence of Joyce and Rourke’s junior position is dispelled by accusing Morrissey and Marr of secrecy. In doing so Weeks also calls into question the professionalism of both accountancy firms, and he also fails to ask Joyce and Rourke what on earth they were doing when such critical business transactions took place. Even more importantly, Weeks does not ask Joyce and Rourke what steps they took once they realized that ‘their’ accountant had been changed. Why won’t Weeks ask such questions? Could it be because he knows the answer won’t help Joyce?

On page 9, Weeks states of Ross Bennet-Smith:
‘on behalf of their clients, the four partners
’ and also states:
‘Unlike Arthur Young, they did not meet all four partners in person.’
Before one asks the rudimentary ‘why not?’ it is fascinating to see Weeks hammer and hammer the notion of ‘the four partners’, knowing that he is the only person historically to have ever done so. Certainly, Ross Bennet-Smith and Arthur Young have never once referred to ‘four partners’!

Furthermore, why would any professional accountancy firm accept the business of four partners if two of those partners had never been seen or heard? What was to prove that the missing two ‘partners’ even existed? The Judicial Judgment now enters the realm of the hallucinatory.

On page 10, Weeks states:
‘On 12th November 1985 Mr Bennet-Smith sent Mr Morrissey only a copy of the 1983/1984 accounts asking him to arrange for all four band members to sign where indicated.’
No one, including Weeks, asked why Mr Bennet-Smith would write to only Morrissey if all four were recognized as equal partners. What was preventing Mr Bennet-Smith from writing to Joyce? And why would Mr Bennet-Smith not write to Joyce if Joyce were indeed an equal partner? Weeks is adamant that the partnership was a four-way equal split, though there is no documentation throughout the history of the band to support this insistence. Weeks relies excitedly upon the fact that Arthur Young had
‘met all four members of the band’
,
but he does not mention that this took place only once, and at a meeting to which Arthur Young had not invited Joyce or Rourke!

Overall, the point of interest is shifted in Weeks’s judgment to one group member (Morrissey), who, according to Weeks, gained the attentions of accountants so that Joyce could not. Yes, the judgment of John Weeks was that silly. Weeks apparently didn’t feel the need to ask why Andrew Bennet-Smith (and others) did
NOT
write to Joyce as well as –
or even instead of
– Morrissey. After all, why ask one person (Morrissey) to
‘arrange for all four members to sign where indicated’
?

Surely if all four were equal partners, and surely if all four were seen as sensible adults, it would be the duty of any accountant to themselves obtain signatures, and not to give one the responsibility of chasing the others down? Further, Weeks will not consider the fortune of Joyce in
not
being burdened with the responsibility of either hunting down the signatures of others, or personally answering any accountant or lawyer.

If, as Weeks drummed and drummed in paradiddle echo, Rourke ‘was always’ an equal partner, why did Rourke eventually accept a financial settlement to drop the legal action that Joyce continued with? One might think that Rourke would only ever do such a thing if he knew deep down that he had never been appointed 25 per cent equality.

When Craig Gannon became the fifth Smith, how could there continue to be an equal 25 per cent split between the ‘four partners’? It would be mathematically impossible. This fact does not serve Joyce and Weeks does not mention it in his final judgment – a judgment that lists no less than thirty devious, truculent and unreliable errors on behalf of its author. Weeks succeeded in depicting Morrissey and Marr as oil and water; Nigel Davis succeeded as the reason why all kings kept court jesters; Joyce succeeded as an adult impersonating a child; the tenure of the Smiths is desecrated into comic opera; Rourke succeeded as an overgrown houseplant – his brain battling with woodworm; the truth clashed with an outmoded law; I must account for everything I have ever done and everything I have not done, whilst Joyce need only cry tears of non-responsibility; Johnny’s crime is that he watched it all and said nothing, hoping to avoid the noose already tight around my own neck; the three tough Manchester lads sat like nervous girls, as the Weeks of great title and wealth buried
How soon is now?
in a sorefooted farce of bewildered sorrow.
There is a light that now goes out,
and Joyce bows his head as the agent of disaster.

Nothing and no one can alter the artists’ position.
‘I do possess what none can take away,’
Oscar Wilde had said, but an appeal against the Weeks judgment will only succeed if fresh evidence is found. Hysterically, fresh evidence is provided by Joyce himself in January 1999 when he appears on a television documentary on the Smiths (principally the court case) where he addresses the camera with the statement:

‘
W
e didn’t come to an agreement we were going to get
2
5 per cent.’

There it is
.
Why didn’t he say that in court? And how exactly is perjury defined? Not that it would have made any
difference, Weeks is so weighted in favor of Joyce that he expects me to prove the 10 per cent agreement, and allows Joyce to rely on the presumption.

Nevertheless, I rush a
VHS
copy of the Joyce interview to my acting barrister Murray Rosen. Here is Joyce, on camera, admitting that 25 per cent equality had never been proposed during all of those years when he readily accepted his 10 per cent (a 10 per cent which, it’s worth adding, amounted to an enormous sum of money). I hear nothing from my barrister or my new solicitor as the appeal approaches. I am worried. I demanded acknowledgement of the
VHS
. It is not forthcoming. I demand that the VHS be presented at the appeal as new evidence. I warn my new solicitor that he must impose urgency upon Murray Rosen to utilize the
VHS
, and by reply, my solicitor resigns.

At the appeal the
VHS
is not submitted. Instead the appeal rests on documentation from Ross Bennet-Smith that was sent to Joyce during his Smiths term which clearly outlines to Joyce his 10 per cent cut of Smiths royalties, which Joyce admitted that he received and accepted, but added that he did not understand the implication of the 10 per cent figure next to his own name. Surely this was proof that Joyce knew and had no issue with being a 10 per cent member? Of the three elderly appeal judges, Lord Waller fell asleep unashamedly throughout the entire hearing – his chin resting on his chest. He awakes briefly and his right index finger lodges in his right nostril, as he fiddles about with the unseen. It would be comical if not so grotesque, and we can only despair at how lives and reputations rely so urgently on the thoughts of such puppetry. The more alert Lord Thorpe dismisses the acceptance by Joyce of the 10 per cent documentation with the appalling
‘I accept that Mr Joyce received this documentation, but he put it away in a drawer and said he didn’t understand it, and if Mr Morrissey claims that he didn’t understand [aspects of accountancy] then I accept that Mr Joyce couldn’t either.’

What Lord Thorpe is saying is that Joyce hadn’t the intelligence to detangle:

M. Joyce 10 per cent

and Lord Thorpe is also saying that Joyce can be forgiven for, instead, believing that he imagined he had read:

M. Joyce 25 per cent

With that, this crucial and indisputable piece of evidence is strangled, and Joyce once again has the luck of the Gods. Thus, my Appeal is thrown out on the basis that Joyce cannot possibly be expected to understand anything that I, the axis of all human endeavor, might not understand.

What on earth have the private actions of Joyce to do with me?

Plainly, my barrister, Murray Rosen, would not produce the VHS evidence of Joyce admitting that he was not an equal 25 per cent partner because Rosen wanted to protect John Weeks. Rosen was in line for judicial promotion, and in the halls of justice, solidarity amongst the adjudicators must never be jumbled by mere scruples.

The very final words of the appeal belonged to Lord Waller who, now awake, said, in May 1999:

The Judge was right to conclude that the basis on which the Smiths commenced their partnership both as a fact and as presumed by law was never varied, and I would dismiss the appeal.

However, if the judge was as right as Lord Waller had no doubts that he was, why would Joyce announce on television in January 1999, ‘We didn’t come to an agreement we were going to get 25 per cent.’ In the circle of Joyce, Lord Waller and deputy Weeks, someone is trifling with truth like a trooper.

The truth sleeps, and the moon above goes on and on saying nothing.

I cannot be robbed of anything that matters, but the Smiths are dead, and it’s so lonely on a limb.

I emerge bolder. Everything inside me has suddenly changed. I arrive at full growth as the press titter the success of Joyce in crushing monster Morrissey – yet Marr is never mentioned even though the case was officially Joyce versus Morrissey and Marr, and, whilst the press manage to report the Weeks verdict, they cannot penetrate it. As always, Johnny slips out the backdoor unnoticed.

I am blessed with a lucrative deal from Mercury Records in New York and I begin recording the album
Maladjusted
, yet another collection of unpopular themes, and one which will largely pass unnoticed, although I swell with pride at
Trouble loves me
,
Ambitious outsiders
,
A
lma matters
and
Wide to receive.
I suddenly find myself represented by Vicki Wickham, who had tripped up one night and found herself dancing with Marlon Brando (who probably mistakenly thought she was a woman), but
Maladjusted
slumps in at number 8 in the UK and number 60 in the US, with the usual barrage of vicious reviews.