Francis shrugs. Doc McGhee, the manager of Bon Jovi and Kiss, would always tell him: "Just remember, the artist is the enemy".
"As sure as we're all going to die, you will get that fax or that phone call saying we no longer need you; whether you're the best manager in the world, the best security guy in the world, it doesn't matter. And it won't be from the artist; it'll be from their attorney. And he was right.''
Cher, he says, is the exception that proves the rule; the nicest person he ever worked for - although the job was hardly arduous. Francis was summoned to her luxurious Malibu home to guard her after she had received death threats from an obsessive fan wielding a samurai sword. He lived with her, on and off, for nine months, apparently doing nothing more taxing than check the locks and carry her platinum credit card on her frequent excursions around antique and lingerie shops.
"It was paradise - for two weeks. But after that, you just want to be somewhere else.''
Cher, he says, is "like a sister. If she was in trouble, I'd be there in a minute - the only voice on the end of a phone I'd say yes to. But she's a very, very lonely person. She has everything she wants materially. But happiness? I don't think so. People in the rock world have to work a lot harder than the normal person to have a stable relationship, because the lifestyle spells divorce.''