What if you were not only friends with the Beatles, but considered the heir apparent to their throne not only by virtue of being friends with them, but being in a band, signed to their record label, and having them write and produce music for you? Paul McCartney wrote their first hit "Come And Get It," and George Harrison helped produce their third album on Apple Records, even playing guitar on their hit, "Day After Day."

The 70's pop group known as Badfinger eventually created their own spotlight to shine in, with a little help from their friends, the Beatles.

Two of them slightly resembled Paul McCartney and John Lennon - Joey Molland and Pete Ham. One of them, Pete Ham, could sing a lot like McCartney when he wanted to. And Badfinger made no apologies at writing and performing music that followed in the footsteps of the Beatles during the years which came on the heels of the breakup of the world's biggest band. It left a void that Badfinger walked right into. But half of them never made it out again to survive into maturity.

The 70s was a time when artists making great music and good money could easily get ripped off by their handlers - managers, representatives, and record companies. It appears that while most major rock stars of the time were busy trying to keep the 60s alive with peace, love and music, focusing on their artistic endeavors or out saving Bangladesh, agents in shark-skins were quietly beginning to circle and feed in the background. They didn't know then that such a thing could ever happen, so they didn't begin looking for it until after it was too late.

The 60s, along with the Brian Epstein era, were over. Even the Beatles had to deal with their contentious manager Allen Klein near the end of their career as a group, but they parted ways with him as soon as they contractually could. After Epstein was gone, so was a lot of the natural, unselfish goodness of the times in the way the Beatles were treated by the business people surrounding them. People turned from peace and love, to grab all you can, a sentiment that characterized much of the self-centeredness of the 70s and 80s.

The Beatles learned how to not trust anyone who wasn't family anymore, and became business-smart out of necessity. McCartney had a lawyer in the family. Lennon had Yoko, who turned out to be one of the most astute business people in the Beatles' equation. Even George had his share of lawsuits and lawyers when he faced a plagiarism lawsuit for "He's So Fine," the song he unconsciously modeled "My Sweet Lord" after.

The Badfinger story is a sad one. Not because of what was done to them, although that was bad enough. As protected as they were, even the Beatles could not avoid having agents of evil appear in their lives from time to time with the intent to do them harm. So the tradedy was not in being taken advantage of, but in feeling like they were a victim of the very same world that celebrated them at the same time.

They reacted with shock, disbelief, and the suicide of one half of the band (Pete Ham in 1975 and Tom Evans in 1981). The surviving band member, guitarist Joey Molland still plays music to this day, and lives to tell the tale. Drummer Mike Gibbins passed away in 2006, at age 57, of natural causes. But at least two of them survived into maturity. The two were not the lead singer-songwriters of the band, but also were not as caught up in the spotlight either. Like Beatles' survivors Paul and Ringo, they were considered the more down-to-earth, easy-going members of the band.

Pete Ham was devasted, as was Tom Evans six years later, when their hard work and constant touring to support their radio hits turned out to leave them broke, facing bankruptcy, and more lawsuits from their record company in the wake of such apparent worldly success. The manager who ripped them off contractually, and disappeared with their money physically, was never seen or heard from again.

How could you possibly have everything in the world: hit records, sellout concerts, and friendship with the Beatles, and still be broke as a pauper? It just didn't add up. It absolutely boggles the mind.

Pete Ham faced a disillusionment so large that he could not shrug it off or get past it. This was at a time when he was enjoying the height of his fame in his music career, and could not reconcile being pals of the Beatles, in one of the most successful bands of their day, with that of being a pauper, not even able to make his house payment, all at the same time. It was too much to take in all at once.

Tom Evans was also facing the loss of his house due to bankruptcy, at the time of his passing in 1981. It was known that he never quite got over his best friend Pete Ham's suicide in 1975.

Badfinger had 50% of their band carry on into maturity. By my odds, this calculates to fame having a 50% chance of survival.

In today's climate of rock bands having to give away their music away as free downloads, the decline of the star-making machinery (i.e. the record industry's long-gone power over artists) and our attention split between Youtube, Facebook and a million other websites, I don't think getting as famous as the Beatles or Badfinger in the same way is even possible anymore. If anything, it is a completely different type of fame brought on by all the changes in technology since the 60s. But if it was possible, is it worth taking a 50% chance that you will not survive the experience?

I'm sure that if asked, 50% of the population would say yes, it is worth the chance. And the other 50% would say no, it is not worth it. With fame, you are at least remembered for a while after your death, even if your life was not that great while you were alive. I'd call it a toss up. It would entirely depend on what you wanted out of life. What you came here to do.

People say they want fame and fortune, but fame and fortune is never the same for you as it is for someone else. It may look attractive and appear to give you all that you want in this world, but it can also be a harsh mistress. Not having it can kill, as well as having it.

I think of all the famous people who died of a drug overdose while at the height of their fame, as well as those who died in the depression and self loathing following the loss of or inability to handle their fame. For every Jerry Garcia or Jimi Hendrix, there's a Nick Drake or a Kurt Cobain.

This is also where you have to take into consideration what mental health issues these men suffered from. Nick Drake was in a state of suicidal depression while Kobain took anti-psychotic medication to treat his bipolar disease and manic depressive episodes.

So, when you're at the top of your game, as famous as you will ever get, you die of a drug overdose. And when you are forgotten by the music industry or feel you have been taken advantage of by it, you do the very same thing. Is one overdose celebratory while the other one self-punitive? Is killing yourself something you do to hurt yourself, or let others know how much pain you are in? Or perhaps it's for the reason that hides in plain site - a way to simply get the pain to stop right here, right now, at this moment, telling the world you've had enough pain for one lifetime, and let the consequences be damned.

This is the apparent contradiction of fame and fortune. It can give and take in equal measure.

"Did I hear you say
That there must be a catch?
Will you walk away
From a fool and his money?

... better hurry cause it may not last."

                                                Badfinger

"It's all too much for me to take
The love that's shining all around you
Everywhere, it's what you make
For us to take, it's all too much."

                                                The Beatles