Hollywood movies have made it conventional wisdom that one way to speed through the red tape of immigration is to marry. This is true. Often, the marriage is one that is genuinely based on love and affection. Other times, not so much:
Federal officials say the revelation by Oregon first lady Cylvia Hayes that she married an Ethiopian man for $5,000 so he could get his green card has shined a light on the most common way to cheat the U.S. immigration system.
And potentially one of the most dangerous.
About 1 million foreign nationals gain legal status each year, and fully one-fourth of those are through marriage to an American citizen or someone who already is a lawful permanent resident, known as a green card holder.
Of those, some estimate 5% to 15% may be fraudulent, said Todd Siegel, a section chief with Homeland Security Investigations, which is part of Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
That would translate to as many as tens of thousands of fraudulent marriages each year — most of which are never discovered.
While cases like this may hurt or embarrass the U.S., what about the person in the marriage – usually the sponsor – who may have been duped into a marriage of convenience? And what rules are there to protect both parties should a legitimate marriage hit the rocks?
Do You Take Uncle Sam To Be Your…
Although former Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau once said that the government does not belong in the bedroom, when it comes to marriages involving foreign spouses, the government might as well be a third wheel on the honeymoon and well into the life of the relationship.
Wise sponsors, particularly those with significant wealth, should insist that foreign partners sign prenuptial agreements before they get married. Such agreements shield the estate of the American partner from the potential of losing a lot after a split. But even these agreements cannot completely absolve a U.S. sponsor of liability for the foreign spouse’s post-breakup claims when it comes to immigration-related matters.
Marriage and Green Cards
In the case of marriages that are less than two years old, the foreign spouse is granted conditional permanent residence. On the basis of that conditional green card, the foreign spouse comes to live with the sponsor in America. At the two-year mark of the relationship, immigration officials review the marriage to see if the couple is still together. Those spouses that satisfy officials of the bona fides of their relationship get approved for permanent status. Those who fail are required to leave the country.
It sounds straightforward enough, but often it can get complicated. One of the requirements the U.S. imposes on a resident who seeks to sponsor a foreign spouse is an affidavit of support. Filing such a document imposes a 10-year liability on the sponsor for certain types of government-based financial assistance that the foreign spouse – and the spouse’s children – may access in the future.
Let that sink in.
The theory goes that the sponsor should be held responsible for the costs of a foreign national who, say, goes on welfare after the break-up of a marriage. In that situation, the U.S. government may sue the sponsor to recover the costs involved.
In one case I had not long ago, the government was pursuing my client as a sponsor for $90,000 in social services benefits that were incurred by the sponsored parties several years ago. The sponsor argued he should not be held liable because he was disabled by illness and could therefore not support himself, never mind others. The government did not buy that excuse. They wanted their money.
I Owe How Much?
Often, the realization that a U.S. sponsor is on the hook for a foreign spouse’s government debts is a rude awakening. In such moments, the sponsors invariably look for ways to relieve themselves of these liabilities, such as arranging for the removal of the now divorced foreign spouse. If the couple is still on speaking terms, and the foreign spouse is unhappy in the U.S., the spouse may be persuaded to leave the U.S. But this is rare.
A more popular, if sometimes more mischievous, method of addressing the problem is a so-called “poison pen letter,” where the sponsor writes to U.S. authorities outlining all the failings of the foreigner and calls on the government to remove that spouse. On occasion, such letters accomplish their goal and the foreign spouse ends up deported. More often, however, the foreign spouse gains permission to remain in the United States despite the marriage breakdown by proving extreme hardship or that the marriage was entered into in good faith or that they or the children of the marriage were subject to extreme cruelty.
As might be expected, the situation gets especially complicated for a disillusioned sponsor when there are children involved. For one thing, chances for the foreign spouse to show that the marriage was entered into in good faith dramatically increase. A showing of extreme hardship is also made easier.
Still, a foreign spouse must prove certain details to get approval to remain in the United States. First, the foreign spouse must prove that the marriage was a legal marriage in the place where the wedding took place and that it was not terminated. Second, they must show that the marriage was not entered into for the purpose of procuring U.S. residence (re-run The Proposal starring Sandra Bulloch or Greencard starring Gerard Depardieu for an entertaining and fairly accurate portrayal of this scam). Finally, there must be a showing that no fee, apart form an attorney fee, was paid – such as the $5000 to Cylvia Hayes above. One or more of these failings can sabotage the removal of the temporary condition on the green card.
Don’t Forget To Ask For The Removal Of Temporary Residence
A huge mistake is when a foreign spouse neglects to file the application to remove the condition regarding temporary residence. From the moment the temporary green card expires, that foreign spouse begins accruing unlawful presence. Where such unlawful presence continues for a period in excess of six months, the foreign spouse becomes subject to a three-year bar to re-entry if he or she is removed or leaves the U.S. If the foreign spouse accrues more than one year of unlawful presence, then that spouse becomes subject to a ten-year bar to re-entry. Trouble is, a spouse isn’t made aware of these penalties until they travel outside the U.S. and then try to re-enter. A big surprise awaits at the airport.
Assuming the foreign spouse applies successfully for the removal of temporary status, the green card becomes a permanent green card. In that instance, the sponsor’s financial responsibility often survives for a period of ten years or until the foreign spouse gains U.S. citizenship.
That last part is key. In marriage-based cases, the foreign spouse is eligible to apply for U.S. citizenship after three years of residence. It would be wise to encourage such a foreign spouse to obtain U.S. citizenship as soon as possible, especially if the concern is about future financial responsibility.
Not that your marriage won’t be happily ever after, of course.
The preceding is a general overview and is not direct legal advice for your situation. Always consult a lawyer before making decisions in matters of law.
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I am a U.S. and Canadian Immigration attorney and have helped over 10,000 clients with various legal problems. I am a member of the New York and California bars in the… Read More
When Bruno Mars stopped at Madison Square Garden last year during his 24K Magic Tour, he didn’t feel the need to dress up—hitting the stage in sneakers, shorts and a pastel baseball jersey with the word “HOOLIGANS” displayed backwards on the front. Periodically, artillery-grade pyrotechnics pummeled the eardrums of the sellout crowd, while those within 200 feet felt flames nearly close enough to singe an eyebrow. As Mars told me the last time I interviewed him: “You gotta be fearless, man.”
The “Uptown Funk” singer—who closed his set in New York with the song whose 3 billion-plus YouTube views place it in the all-time top ten—can do whatever he wants these days. In addition to being one of the biggest stars in the music firmament, Mars is among a handful of high-profile acts who no longer answer to a traditional artist manager, choosing instead to take control of his own career starting two years ago.
For the 32-year-old Mars, the move has paid off. He’s garnered more than 1 billion streaming spins over the past year, grabbed six Grammys and raked in a career-best $100 million pretax—his tour has grossed upwards of $300 million since its 2017 launch—placing him at No. 11 on Forbes’ Celebrity 100 list and securing his place as America’s highest-paid musician. Best of all, Mars doesn’t have to hand over as much as 20% to a manager. Instead, he relies on salaried staff, with an estimated cost in the low six figures—a setup that should save him at least $10 million this year alone.
Of course, handing over a cut of income isn’t anathema to all musicians. Many of the industry’s top-paid acts still rely on high-powered managers, from U2 (who are managed by Guy Oseary and earned $118 million last year) to Katy Perry (Martin Kirkup, Bradford Cobb and Steve Jensen, $83 million) to Calvin Harris (Mark Gillespie, $48 million). Given those numbers, some argue that a well-connected guide can prove to be a bargain.
“It depends on whether you see it as giving up 10-20% or whether you see it as somebody that you’re going to bring into your organization that’ll add more than 20% worth of value to your business,” says Gillespie. “If you’re running a large business, you want people to be motivated to grow and build that business, and to be aligned with you. I think the reason why it has worked for us for a long time historically is because it brings that alignment.”
Yet other musicians on the Celebrity 100 have eschewed managers, for various reasons. For Beyoncé, it was partly a way to break free from a controlling father; for Taylor Swift, the reasoning may have had to do with a preference for her existing support network; for Jay-Z, Diddy and Dr. Dre—the top three musicians in America in terms of net worth—helming their own careers appears to be part of their identities as self-made moguls.
“Managers have existed, but really only for Puff Daddy the artist and really not in the traditional sense of … a manager being somebody who kind of tells an artist what to do,” said Diddy’s lawyer Kenny Meiselas in an interview for my book, 3 Kings. “More of kind of like a right-hand man, who would help him execute on the artist side.”
For Bruno Mars, who has never tried to present himself as a businessman, it was something quite different, all part of a fascinating tale that’s a bit of an open secret in Hollywood circles—indeed, many of the people I interviewed for this story asked not to be mentioned by name—but fully reported for the first time here.
In 2011, when I met Brandon Creed, the manager who oversaw Mars’ rise to superstardom, he told me how he and Mars were planning to take their time building a following, playing smaller venues on a joint tour with singer Janelle Monáe rather than take the plunge on a bigger solo excursion or open for a better-known name playing arenas. In the meantime, Mars made songs like “Billionaire,” in which he dreamed of how his future wealth would land him on the cover of Forbes.
“I wouldn’t have to worry about, you know, ‘I can’t afford to get breakfast, so I’ll wait until lunchtime to eat,’” Mars explained of his aspirations. “If I was a billionaire, none of that would matter. I’d be eating diamond cereal.”
Bruno Mars and his then manager Brandon Creed share a laugh on the red carpet at the State Department Dinner for the Kennedy Center Honors in 2014.KEVIN WOLF/AP
Creed helped Mars get closer to that goal, and their long-view strategy paid off: The singer’s Moonshine Jungle Tour, which started in 2013, grossed more than $150 million. After earning an estimated $8 million in 2011, Mars made the Celebrity 100 list for the first time in 2014 with income of $60 million, then again in 2015 at $40 million.
Mars’ ascent occurred in the midst of a fundamental shift in how music gets monetized. Decades ago, acts often lost money while touring to promote their albums, with managers and artists alike filling their coffers with the proceeds of hefty sales of recorded music. But as piracy and then streaming cut into that income—and as new territories like Australia, South America and Eastern Europe built modern, U.S.-style 15,000-to-20,000-seat arenas —the equation changed. Suddenly, top stars were willing to break even on music in order to sell out huge venues and make millions.
For managers, this was a quite a shift as well. In the past, albums had been an annuity of sorts: They would still get their cut of steady sales even if an artist subsequently fired them. That’s not the case with tours—once they’re over, they’re over, along with the cash they generate. There are more distribution channels now too: a bevy of streaming services and video outlets in addition to radio and physical.
“It means that there are more places to be able to showcase the artists’ music,” says Gillespie. “It also means that you’re managing a lot more relationships. … The title ‘manager’ has always remained the same, but the role has changed a lot.”
In recent years, some decided to give themselves a bit more security. Many joined a major rollup like Live Nation’s Artist Nation, which boasts more than 60 managers, including Oseary and his Maverick group. Others went a different route. In 2013, Scooter Braun—the man behind acts from Justin Bieber to Ariana Grande—raised roughly $100 million, much of it from Kansas financial services outfit Waddell & Reed, to purchase large stakes in various companies, including the firms operated by the managers of Drake, Lady Gaga, Jason Aldean and others.
One A-list act that wasn’t known to be part of that deal at the time: Mars. According to multiple sources, Creed sold half his company to the Waddell-backed fund for a low-eight-figure sum—but didn’t tell his biggest client.
“There was some unhappiness there,” says Robb McDaniels, a longtime music executive. “If the manager does sell their company … effectively what they’re doing is they’re monetizing their artists’ contracts and artist relationships and not sharing that with the artists.”
Around the time Mars finally found out about the nature of the deal in 2016, sources say, he split with Creed and took his management operations in-house, though only Mars can say how much of his decision was influenced by this discovery as opposed to the allure of keeping a larger chunk of his income. He continues to remain silent on the topic—a spokesperson for Mars declined to comment, as did Creed himself.
“While some people may speculate about why Bruno and Brandon agreed to go their separate ways, the facts are only known by them,” says a source close to Creed. “Brandon is proud of their long partnership and always wishes Bruno ongoing successes.”
Mars’ day-to-day affairs now appear to be headed up by Aaron Elharar, a relative unknown whose LinkedIn profile lists his profession as artist management and previous experience in enterprise business development, with no mention of Mars. He did not reply to a request for comment.
Still, Mars’ management situation seems clear enough. His official website points to “inquiries@gorillamgmt.com”; Gorilla Management’s website consists simply of the outfit’s name, the words “FULL FUEGO” and the same email address. Gorilla lists no other clients and didn’t reply to a request for comment. A search of public records reveals the company was registered in both California and Delaware, formed in 2002—right around the time Mars moved from his native Hawaii to Los Angeles to pursue his musical dreams. Gorilla’s website wasn’t registered until 2016, the year Mars split with Creed; Elharar’s email address is listed in the filing. And then there’s this: The first song written for Mars’ Unorthodox Jukebox—his last album with Creed—is called “Gorilla.”
Despite the split from Mars two years ago, Creed is still thriving. Not long after selling half his firm to Braun, he teamed up with a different management powerhouse, merging his company with that of rising star Jeffrey Azoff to create Full Stop Management. (Jeffrey’s father, music-business powerhouse Irving, is also a partner.) Their combined roster now includes Harry Styles, Sara Bareilles, Bon Jovi and the Eagles.
Neither Waddell & Reed nor Braun would agree to be interviewed for this story, so it’s hard to say definitively how the deal worked out for the financial giant; a quick scan of Waddell’s recent annual reports reveals nothing related to music management. At the end of the day, the outlay is barely noticeable for a company with some $80 billion in assets under management.
Braun, meanwhile, has become one of Hollywood’s most important power brokers. In addition to his management roster, which he runs with help from an army of young surrogates, he’s also active in a range of other ventures including Silent Labs, through which he’s invested in startups including Uber, Spotify, Casper and Pinterest.
The music management space continues to change. Two years ago McDaniels cofounded a company called Faction to give acts the tools needed to self-manage with the help of an app that connects social accounts, streaming platforms and other relevant business information in one place. If an artist takes off, Faction can offer up staffers with actual management experience for a flat fee or a 5-10% cut; that arrangement has also attracted established musicians including electronic star Paul Oakenfold.“We’re trying to experiment with this new management model,” says McDaniels, who now serves as chief of Beatport while chairing Faction. “And it’s showing some kind of a success.”
As streaming continues to soar and acts like Mars disrupt the music industry, traditional management is becoming a less enticing career path.
“A lot of young managers who have made a lot of money in management are shifting their minds towards starting record labels, and a lot of them are partnering up with majors,” says Justin Lubliner, 28, who manages acts including electronic up-and-comer Gryffin and boasts his own label, Darkroom Records, with Interscope. “There’s a big perceptional shift from management being sexy to the record labels being sexy, because people want to own. People don’t want to get fired anymore.”
As for Mars, don’t look for him to slow down anytime soon. His 24K Magic Tour will continue through mid-November. If the past year is any indication, he should be able to easily afford a box of those diamond cornflakes—and he certainly won’t have to fork over a big bite to anyone else.
