This is one of my favorite times of the year. And this
year brings particularly good news.
“That sounds
uncharacteristically optimistic.”
I was being ironic.
“I should have
realized that.”
You really should
have.
Moving on…
Once a year, Universal
Studios (now called NBCUniversal),
the company that produced Major Dad
which I co-created and which ran for four seasons on CBS and its 96 episodes were subsequently syndicated both nationally
and around the world sends me a “Statement of Accounting” reporting how Major Dad is doing financially.
This is no courtesy “We thought you might like to know” memo
keeping me thoughtfully in the loop. My Universal contract gave me a financial
interest in the syndication-accumulated revenues. Which are hardly small potatoes. For enormous hit shows like Seinfeld, syndication revenues run in
the hundreds of millions of dollars.
With Major Dad, however, the
profits…
Well, according to my most recent “Statement of Accounting”…
There are no profits.
However…
No, wait. Let me save
“however.” So I can end this on an “up.” First…
Behold the saddening story of studio deal making.
Overview:
The big money in series television is not in salaries. Those can undeniably be hefty but nowhere
near “Syndication Money” hefty. (Their
enormity described ungraciously as “Fuck you
money”.)
The big money is also not in “residuals”, the additional
payments writers (actors and directors) receive when their episodes are
rebroadcast. Residuals can, in reality,
be miniscule. I just recently received a
“Residuals” check for five dollars and thirty-three cents. Not infrequently
I have received residual checks for amounts smaller
than the price of the stamp required to send
them to me.
“Eleven cents! The drinks are on me!”
“Syndication Money” is indisputably the Mother Lode. It occurs very rarely – few series run long
enough to attain that opportunity. But
when the dam bursts, grab a bucket.
Larry David? Seth
MacFarlane? Chuck Lorre? Swept off to Nirvana in a tidal wave of gold.
Not so with myself.
Why not?
Two reasons.
Reason One: Those writers’ shows were bigger hits
than Major Dad.
Reason Two:
They had substantially better contracts.
“Reason One” is self-explanatory, so I shall elucidate upon
“Reason Two.” As best as I can, not
being a studio accountant armed with the training and temperament to devise a
scheme crafted to rip off the “talent” to the advantage of the folks who sign
the studio accountants’ paychecks.
And it is entirely legal.
(Though not particularly friendly.)
I will keep this simple.
You do not want “Net” profits, because, as a “Net” profits participant,
your profits inevitably fall through
the net and you end up with nothing.
In the Major Dad
situation, I was fortunately, a “Gross” profits participant, avoiding the abject
porousness of the “Net.”
Unfortunately, there is many varieties of “Gross” profits
participation. My variety, as explained to me by my agent with a straight face
leading me to wonder if he would not
have made a successful actor – or sociopath – was defined as “Modified” or “Rolling Gross.”
“Rolling Gross” means that although you are in an indisputably
“Gross” profits participation position, your profits, as delineated in your
contract that your agent encouraged you to sign will inevitably roll away from you.
“Leaving you nothing?”
Leaving you less
than nothing.
Which is the message of the annual NBCUniversal “Statement of Accounting.”
I will not go into eye-watering detail of the document I
received from Glen Svalstedt, Executive Director, Financial Contract Reporting
Department for NBCUniversal.
Bottom Line (minus fees, expenses, charges and interest
payments):
Major Dad
continues to be in the “red.” (Meaning
no “Fuck you money” for Earlo.)
But now the previously promised good news.
2013 – Major Dad
was a reported $4,638,312 in the hole.
2014 – I threw the “Statement of Accounting” away in uncontrollable
disgust.
2015 – Major Dad
was $4,384,016 in the hole.
And, as of February 11th 2016, Major Dad was below the “break even”
point – at which point my “Rolling Gross” would purportedly kick in – by
$4,323,862.
Do you see what’s happening?
The Major Dad “deficit”
is shrinking!
I am definitely getting closer!
Can you believe it? I
mean, if things continue the way they have
been…
I’m looking at a substantial windfall in, “ballpark” figure…
Eighty-seven years.
(Although the accruing profits are annually diminishing. So
it could actually take a little longer.)
Is it too soon to sing, “We’re In The Money”?
I don’t think so.
February 4th, Twenty-One-Oh-Three, or so…
I’m looking at a wonderful birthday present.
2 comments:
Just wondering if you get a minuscule CPP and/or OAS.
The solution here is clearly to dig up a time machine - anywhere in your yard will do - go back in time, renegotiate the contract, return to our time, a few minutes before you dug up the machine, and rebury it.
Then go in and enjoy inspecting your bank statements.
wg
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