The ‘evil' shrink who made Brian Wilson call him ‘master'

Telegraph

a day ago

In the summer of 1990, Brian Wilson – the Beach Boys genius who has died at the age of 82 – appeared at a San Diego fan convention. Also in attendance was Peter Reum, a former therapist who knew Wilson. Reum had already heard rumours that Wilson was heavily medicated – drugs administered by Wilson's Svengali-like psychotherapist, Dr Eugene Landy, and a team of sinister handlers – and saw videotapes of Wilson's poor physical state. In the flesh, Reum's worst fears were confirmed.
He recognised the symptoms of excessive psychotropic medicine-taking in Wilson: facial twitching and paralysis, tremoring hands, an inability to stay tuned-in to basic conversation. The long-term effects could be devastating: nervous system breakdown, physical deterioration, and even death. Reum reached out to Carl Wilson, the star's brother and Beach Boys bandmate, to help free Wilson from Dr Landy's control.
The doctor-patient relationship went back to 1976, when Landy first put Wilson under his aggressive treatment program, which involved 24/7 supervision and total surrender to Landy's methods.
As Philip Lambert, a music professor at City University of New York and a writer on Brian Wilson, told me in 2019: 'Landy deserves some credit for rescuing Brian from a downward spiral in the mid-1970s, then again in the 1980s. Unfortunately, the therapist himself eventually spun out of control.'
By the early Nineties, Landy had stopped working as Wilson's doctor but repositioned himself in a lucrative role as Wilson's business partner and creative collaborator. Landy also stood to inherit up to 70 per cent of Wilson's fortune, which Landy was (supposedly) surprised to learn himself.
In 1992, Wilson escaped by entering into a conservatorship – a legal ruling that finally prised him from Landy's grip.
The 2014 biopic Love & Mercy, starring Paul Dano and John Cusack as younger and older versions of Wilson, tells the story of the musician's battle with mental illness and the influence of Landy, played with oily, odious malevolence by Paul Giamatti. The film is noted for its accuracy – particularly the faithful recreation of iconic moments and much-told stories from the Beach Boys' heyday, such as the meticulous, highly innovative recording of Brian Wilson's 1966 masterpiece, Pet Sounds.
Brian Wilson's mental health problems began in the mid-Sixties. He recalled first hearing voices after taking psychedelic drugs. The voices plagued him forever after ('All day every day, and I can't get them out,' he said four decades later). He was terrified that the devil, disguised in the form of other people, was coming to kill him.
Trapped by the success of his own genius in the wake of Pet Sounds – and tormented by the voices in his head when he performed live – Wilson drank, ate, and drugged himself into near-oblivion. As rock 'n' roll legend goes, he spent two years in bed.
It was Wilson's first wife, Marilyn, who contacted Dr Eugene Landy, described by Brian Wilson biographer Peter Ames Carlin as a 'hustler-turned-psychologist'. With his perfectly white teeth and immaculately coiffed hair, Landy specialised in treating dysfunctional Tinseltown types. Landy also did a strong line in self-promotion. Clearly, he had designs on the spotlight himself.
Landy declared that Wilson needed 24/7 therapy for at least two years and put together a team, which included himself, a physician, a nutritionist, and handlers to monitor Wilson's every move.
Landy had success. He put Wilson on a diet, and even padlocked the fridge. He shooed away Wilson's druggy pals, though Wilson was sometimes permitted a joint as a reward for good work. As Peter Carlin details in his biography, if Wilson didn't want to get out of bed, Landy chucked water on him; if Wilson said he felt sick during dinner, Landy instructed him to puke on the table.
Carlin described Landy's endgame: for Wilson to emerge as 'a resocialised, detoxified, super-productive artist and citizen'. During an appearance on Saturday Night Live, Landy stood off-stage and held up prompt cards, reminding Wilson – who had begun referring to Landy as 'my master' – to smile.
Brian Wilson was back in shape and recording and playing live with the Beach Boys again. They even had a snappy PR slogan: 'Brian is back'. Landy shared column inches with Brian in Rolling Stone. But there were sinister behind-the-scenes stories: that Wilson was only allowed his dinner if he did as he was told; and that one of Landy's entourage stood over Wilson at the piano with a baseball bat.
'I feel like a prisoner, and I don't know when it's going to end,' Wilson said in a 1976 interview. If he tried to escape, Wilson claimed, Landy might put him 'on the funny farm'.
There was already suspicion about Landy in the Beach Boys camp. Landy at one point had suggested taking a percentage of Wilson's earnings. Landy certainly didn't go out of pocket. His monthly fee bumped up from an already eye-watering $10,000 to $20,000. In an effort to get Landy fired, Beach Boys manager Stephen Love (also the Wilson brothers' cousin) showed Brian his monthly bill. 'And Brian was so appalled at how much he was paying this guy, he actually took a swing at him!' said Love.
The Beach Boys had a hugely successful 1977, but there were tensions over money, musical direction, and ego. Brian spiralled again into drink, drugs, depression, and self-destruction. He was under immense pressure to craft new songs per the band's lucrative record contract. His marriage broke up. He plied himself with steaks and junk food – hitting 24 stone at his peak – and at one point attacked his own doctor. He went missing, apparently hitch-hiking to San Diego, and landed in hospital.
The Beach Boys tricked Wilson into re-joining Landy's program. They told Wilson that he was fired from the band and that his money was all but gone; he'd be out on the streets unless he re-joined Landy. Landy agreed to treat Wilson again, but demanded complete control and no interference.
The treatment began again in 1983. Landy set Wilson up at a beachside home in Malibu, right at the edge of the Pacific, and put him under round-the-clock supervision. Landy diagnosed him (wrongly) as a paranoid schizophrenic and manic depressive.
Every social interaction was recorded by Landy's minions – on audio or video tape – and every movement reported back. Wilson's friends called his handlers the 'Surf Nazis'. He wasn't permitted to go anywhere without a Surf Nazi in tow. They took notes while silently observing him. Landy forced Wilson to carry a beeper for on-demand contact and cut Wilson off from his friends and family, including his mother and daughters, Carnie and Wendy – two thirds of pop group Wilson Phillips.
When journalist Michael Vosse visited Wilson, their two-hour catch-up was interrupted three times by the Surf Nazis, who brought him various pills.
'They said something about allergies, but his speech was slurred and his eyes were f----- up,' Vosse said, as recalled in Carlin's biography.
When Rolling Stone visited Wilson's home for an interview, the journalist noted there was a constantly-ringing phone in the dining room, like a Batphone especially for Landy. Wilson said that without Landy 'I wouldn't know how to live.' In the same article, Landy claimed that he and Brian Wilson were 'partners in life'. Certainly, they became partners professionally and financially – Landy's name found its way onto Wilson's official documents. Landy boasted: 'I influence all of his thinking. I'm practically a member of the band.'
Not satisfied with being a self-appointed Beach Boy, the not-so-good doctor steered Wilson into a solo career. Landy naturally took an executive producer credit on Brian's first solo album.
Landy milked Wilson for a reported $430,000 per year. Fees included $35,000 for professional services, $300,000 for career advice, and $150,000 for representing Wilson at corporate Beach Boys meetings. When Landy wanted more money, Carl Wilson reportedly gave away some of Brian's publishing royalties.
Landy even controlled Wilson's love life. After Wilson met Melinda Ledbetter in a car showroom – where Love & Mercy begins – it was Landy, not Wilson, who called to ask her on a date. Landy's minions stalked them on dates and Landy checked in every hour. Three years into the relationship, Landy cut Melinda off entirely.
'I live in a strange hell,' Wilson told a writing partner. 'I'm a prisoner and I have no hope of escaping.' Wilson claimed that he tried to kill himself by swimming out to sea – but one of Landy's men fished him back out.
Peter Carlin likened Landy's control to the fraught relationship between Wilson and his abusive father Murry, who was the Beach Boys manager and sold the rights to Wilson's songs without his consultation. Melinda agreed. 'There was a total parallel between Murry and Landy,' she said. 'Because Brian came from such dysfunction, it was hard for him to recognise how dysfunctional the situation with Landy was.'
Wilson worked with producer-songwriter Andy Paley on his solo album. Paley recalled strange incidents during the process: Wilson being manipulated with the promise of milkshakes; constant interruptions from Landy; and Landy forcing them to use his own insipid lyrics. Landy moved the studio sessions around at the last minute and instructed engineers to not mix Wilson's original recordings. When the Surf Nazis left their medicine bag lying around, the engineers looked inside and found what looked like 'every pharmaceutical on the face of the earth.'
'Anything good we got out of those sessions was done totally on stolen time,' Paley said. 'Landy was always checking in, phoning in directions, basically never wanting to give Brian any breathing room. It was a hassle and many times heart-breaking because we'd do something good, finally, and then Landy would swoop in and dive-bomb it.'
Landy certainly believed in his own hype. As he said in a 1988 interview: 'Brian Wilson is a perfect example of the fact that in my field, I'm an artist.'
In that same interview, Wilson made alarming, slurred, barely coherent comments about why it was basically fine to be imprisoned by Landy. 'Well, life is a prison in itself... everybody has to have a little imprisonment to understand this is where we are.'
Wilson's cousin and bandmate Mike Love – who feuded with Wilson himself over credits and royalties – spoke out: 'Landy thinks that Brian is the goose that laid the golden egg.'
In February 1988, the California Board of Medical Quality Assurance brought charges against Landy for sexual misconduct with a female patient and misconduct and gross negligence with Wilson.
The Los Angeles Times wrote an expose, investigating the relationship between Wilson and Landy. In the same edition, Wilson wrote a statement defending Landy. Rolling Stone noted that Wilson 'spouts out lines Landy has fed him like a robot'.
Landy claimed that the doctor-patient relationship was long since dissolved. Now, they were just partners. They had set up a company together, Brains and Genius. Others around them saw it differently. Even the Surf Nazis were concerned about his over-medicating of Wilson – which Landy prescribed illegally through a psychiatrist.
In 1989, Landy was forced to surrender his licence to practice psychology. Now the pair really were just creative and business partners. Landy claimed a third of the $250,000 advance for Wilson's 1991 autobiography, Wouldn't It Be Nice. The book was packed with bizarre stories designed to vindicate Landy as an all-knowing psychology genius, and the Beach Boys as toxic idiots.
In 1990, Wilson's family filed a suit to appoint Brian a conservator and separate him from Landy for good. In February 1992 the Superior Court of Santa Monica ruled that Landy must remove himself from Wilson's life. A lawyer named Jerome Billet was appointed his conservator.
Brian Wilson's legal battles didn't end. There were lawsuits against Irving Music over song rights and against Mike Love over royalties. Wilson also brought a $10 million lawsuit against Jerome Billet for allegedly mishandling those cases. More positively, Wilson received a proper diagnosis after parting ways with Eugene Landy – mildly manic-depressive with a schizoaffective disorder.
Landy died in 2006. Brian Wilson didn't entirely regret the association. 'I still feel that there was benefit,' he later said. 'I try to overlook the bad stuff, and be thankful for what he taught me.' He also recalled that Love & Mercy left him feeling 'exposed'.
As he told Rolling Stone: 'Whatever the film shows, it was much worse in real life.'