Bringing
the Loot 24/7
He's
the bail bondsman of choice for jailed rap stars
By
Tara Weingarten and Sarah Van Boven Newsweek Magazine Dec 1, 1997
ASK
JOSH HERMAN IF HE CAN remember the mo ment he realized he was a success,
and the burly 26-year-old doesn't hesitate. It was Feb 21 1996 the night
he attended his client Snoop Doggy Dogg's party at Monty's restaurant
in Los Angeles, a celebration of Snoop's acquittal on murder charges.
Handed a bottle of Cristal champagne as he entered the rooftop eatery,
the white boy straight outta middle-class West L.A. strolled over to chat
with rapper Tupac Shakur and producer Suge Knight. Surveying the many
rap stars munching on filet mignon and lobster, Herman realized, as he
tells the tale, that "everyone in there was out on one of my bail bonds."
Among
the cast of thousands of agents, attorneys, personal assistants and other
staffers who keep L.A. celebrities in the money and out of trouble, Herman
has created a lucrative role: bail bondsman to the hiphop stars. Even
though rappers are less than half of his prosperous bond business, Herman
has made more than $500,000 over the past few years springing the big
names from jail, bundling them into his Mercedes (license plate; BAIL
4 u) and driving them straight to the studio or video set. He estimates
he's posted bond for rap artists "at least 100 times," promising to pay
the full bail if a client skips town--and pocketing 10 percent of that
amount as his fee. Herman says he made $50,000 in commissions from Tupac
alone; Shakur was out on one of Herman's bonds when he was kilied last
year in Las Vegas.
Photo
by Michael Grecco
Herman at L.A. city hall

How
did Herman land such an odd gig? Pure nepotism cut with street smarts.
His grandmother started the family bail-bond business in the 1940s; father
Mark Herman spent the '7Os and `80s rescuing stars like Ike Tinner from
the slammer. In 1990, when record-industry attorney David Kenner called
Mark Herman to go rescue rapper Eazy-E, Dad decided 19-year-old Josh was
ready to drive on down to the jail. Josh even got a little bonus; on Eazy-E's
next album, one track had lyrics about being freed from a Compton jail
by a bondsman. "He didn't mention me by name," Herman says modestly. But
the reference certainly made for a good reference.
Kenner,
who represents Death Row Records and supplies Herman with many of his
celebrity clients, is impressed with Herman's work ethic. "He's there
when you need him," says Kenner. Herman knows he has to be available 24/7:
"If I'm at dinner and I get beeped, I'm leaving. If I'm out of the country,
I'm coming home." And neither Josh nor his father sees any downside to
spending so much time around accused felons. "I don't really worry too
much about him," says Dad. "He's got a license to carry a concealed gun."
Besides,
says Herman, having famous a customers gives him an advantage. While other
bondsmen wait for calls from cons flipping through the Yellow Pages, Herman
is beeped by record-company lawyers. And the best part (besides the parties)
is that he doesn't have to worry about a client like Dr. Dre's fleeing
the country and forfeiting Herman's bail money. For one thing, he says,
"Where are they going to go and not be recognized?" Plus, "Snoop is probably
worth $100 million to Death Row," he says. "That record company is going
to make sure he's in that courtroom."
Newsweek
Magazine December 1, 1997
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