Allen Klein (December 18, 1931 – July 4, 2009) was an American businessman whose aggressive negotiation tactics affected industry standards for compensating recording artists.

[5] After years of pursuit by the IRS, Klein was convicted of the misdemeanor charge of making a false statement on his 1972 tax return, for which, in 1980, he was jailed for two months.

[11][12] In early work experience with a magazine and newspaper distribution company, Klein showed skill with numbers, and learned about how profits were often concealed from those who had been crucial in generating them.

[30][29][31] In 1963, Klein began a business partnership with Jocko Henderson, an urbane black disc jockey who had daily radio shows in both Philadelphia and New York City.

[32] Henderson hosted lavish, profitable live rhythm-and-blues shows at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, and formed a partnership with Klein to begin doing the same in Philadelphia.

[33] As Henderson's partner, Klein was introduced to Sam Cooke, a preeminent talent equally adept at writing, producing, and performing his numerous hit records.

[45] Though the latter two prospects did not materialize, Most was suddenly one of the most talked-about and financially gratified figures in the English recording industry, and Klein was a step closer to eventual agreements with both the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.

To shelter his clients' money from Britain's high taxation rate on income earned abroad, Klein held it for them at the Chemical Bank in New York City and paid it to them over periods of time of up to 20 years.

As a result, ABKCO acquired ownership of the disputed songs and was able to publish another Rolling Stones album, More Hot Rocks (Big Hits and Fazed Cookies).

But in the lead-up to those negotiations Richenberg commissioned a hostile investigative report on Klein, which The Sunday Times ran under the headline "The Toughest Wheeler-Dealer in the Pop Jungle".

Northern Songs was managed by Dick James, whom Brian Epstein had rewarded with the Beatles' publishing rights in return for helping them get placed on a TV show, Thank Your Lucky Stars, early in their career.

[92][93] EMI was loath to renegotiate, but its American subsidiary, Capitol Records, was so impressed by Abbey Road that it agreed to vastly improved royalty terms.

[94] Abbey Road proved to be the Beatles' last true collaboration, but Klein recognised an opportunity in the band's shelved January 1969 album and related documentary project, both titled Get Back, to get another album release out of the splintered band while also fulfilling its obligation to provide one more film to United Artists, the studio that had released A Hard Day's Night and Help!.

In the spring of 1971, Harrison learned from his friend and mentor, Ravi Shankar, about the desperate people of Bangladesh, who had been devastated both by military violence and a vicious cyclone.

Harrison immediately set about organizing an event at Madison Square Garden within just five weeks—the Concert for Bangladesh—from which a live album could raise further funds for Bangladeshi refugees.

But Klein failed to register the shows as a UNICEF charity event;[106] as a result, the proceeds were denied tax-exempt status in Britain and the U.S.[107] The IRS attempted to tax the income, and $10 million of that amount was held back for years.

[109] Aside from the question of its charity status, unwelcome attention had been drawn to the project after an article in New York magazine accused Klein of pocketing $1.14 on each copy of the live album (priced at $10)[110][111]—allegations that raised suspicions among the three former Beatles with regard to his conduct in their business affairs.

[112] Lennon also felt betrayed by Klein's lack of support for his and Yoko Ono's increasingly politically focused work, typified by their 1972 album Some Time in New York City.

They then sued him in the London courts, citing excessive commission fees, the mishandling of the Concert for Bangladesh, his misrepresentation of their individual financial standings, and his failure to ensure that Apple Records' artists prospered under his control.

[127] Klein received a lump sum payment of approximately $5 million in lieu of future royalties and as repayment of the loans that ABKCO had made to the Beatles.

[108] Harrison had been sued for copyright infringement in 1971 because of the alleged similarity of his song "My Sweet Lord" to "He's So Fine", which had been recorded by the Chiffons in 1963 and was owned by Bright Tunes Music.

[129] The multi-Academy Award-winning 1955 film Marty, an independently produced movie that undercut the Hollywood studio system, provided a business template Klein closely studied and later adapted to the recording industry.

[130] Starting in 1967 Klein produced four films in the Spaghetti Western genre, a lean-and-mean style of cowboy movie with taciturn heroes and explosive violence.

Although Albee had had big successes with The Zoo Story and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, the play Klein produced had an even shorter run than his previous attempt.

[143] On their 1997 single "Bitter Sweet Symphony", the English band the Verve sampled a 1965 orchestral version of the Rolling Stones song "The Last Time" by the Andrew Oldham Orchestra.

[144] Klein, who owned the copyrights to the Rolling Stones' early work, refused clearance for the sample; after a lawsuit, the Verve ceded the songwriting credits and royalties.

The song became a hit, popular for use at sporting events, and it was a big money-maker for ABKCO, which licensed its use for commercials advertising Nike shoes and Opel automobiles.

In 2004, the same year that ABKCO collected a Grammy Award for a Sam Cooke documentary, Legend, Klein fell and broke bones in his foot, requiring surgery.

[149] In the 1978 television mockumentary The Rutles: All You Need is Cash, which parodies the career of the Beatles, Klein is portrayed as "Ron Decline", played by John Belushi.

With the possible exception of Alexis Mardas, who occupied a far less central role, nobody in the Beatles' milieu has received a more damning verdict from historians than Allen Klein.