Tyler Perry remembers the Friday nights when his father, a construction subcontractor, came home broke, stiffed by his bosses for the week's pay.

"That's an awful feeling," Perry, the Atlanta-based movie producer and director, said. "I wouldn't pass that on or wish that on anybody."

Perry tells the story in the fading sunlight of a cold afternoon outside his new house, a 30,000-square-foot palace atop a hill overlooking the Chattahoochee River. It is the filmmaker's way of rebutting an alternative narrative that emerges from documents filed in Fulton County courts — the claims by several construction firms that Perry gave them the same kind of treatment his father received.

Six construction firms have filed liens against Perry's house and his new movie studio, the first established by an African-American.

The court papers show that Perry's unpaid bills from the two projects total slightly less than $200,000.

The contractors allege Perry refused to pay their final bills either for no apparent reason or because their work met with his arbitrary disapproval. They say he ordered work redone on impulse, deciding he wouldn't like the stones purchased for an outdoor fountain, for instance, or deeming newly planted trees too short.

"He wanted to do it his way," said Brooks Hilton, a landscaping contractor who said Perry owes him $17,635. "He wouldn't take any advice. I guess in Hollywood it works that way, but not in real life."

Perry, though, said he withheld payment only for shoddy work or for undocumented charges and then only for a handful of the dozens of construction companies he hired. Even those, he said, still got paid hundreds of thousands of dollars each before he dismissed them.

He sees the contractors' complaints as a form of extortion and as part of the burden of celebrity.

"There's a Tyler Perry tax that's put on things," Perry said in one of two interviews last week.

"I've seen the worst of what people can be, the worst of what family members can be," he said.

"I pride myself on taking care of my business. I pride myself on being able to pay the bills."

But "I'm not sympathetic to anybody who's trying to rip me off. Just because I'm a Christian, just because I'm a nice guy, it doesn't mean I'm a wimp."

Perry, 39, got rich by creating movies, plays and television programs — "Diary of a Mad Black Woman," "Madea's Family Reunion," and "House of Payne," among others — that appeal to the black middle class, especially women. These tales of empowerment and inspiration, imbued with Perry's take on spirituality, helped him earn $125 million between June 2007 and June 2008, according to Forbes magazine.

Along the way, his biography — he grew up poor in New Orleans, struggled to pay his rent while trying to make a name in Atlanta and finally enjoyed immense success — became a staple of profiles of Perry in the entertainment media. This helped forge the reputation of a sensitive and compassionate mogul.

Perry's repeated disputes with contractors and others, though, run contrary to the image.

Trying to figure out who's right and who's wrong only leads into the murky space between perception and reality.

Brewing disputes

On Oct. 4, a paparazzi-lined red carpet welcomed guests to the unlikeliest of places: an old Delta Air Lines complex in southwest Atlanta. Now it's the home of Tyler Perry Studios — "A Place Where Even Dreams Can Believe," as its Disney-esque motto puts it.

Hollywood's African-American luminaries — Sidney Poitier, Cicely Tyson, Ruby Dee, Oprah Winfrey and others — came to pay homage to Perry at what a reporter for the television program "Entertainment Tonight" described as "the studio opening of all studio openings."

"I never dreamed I would witness this in my lifetime," said a tearful Tyson, one of many guests whose remarks foretold the reaction to another event a month later: Barack Obama's election as the first black president of the United States.

But even as Perry's guests toasted his studio that Saturday night and assembled at his home for a "gospel brunch" the next morning, the disputes over construction bills were brewing.

For Trevor Erridge, owner of Multistone Commercial Services Inc., which installed tile and stone surfaces outside Perry's home, the troubles started just before the new studio opened — "two weeks before he went on 'Entertainment Tonight,' " as Erridge said.

Multistone employees were working on a patio overlooking formal gardens behind the house when Perry stopped by to check their progress, Erridge said. To Erridge, all that remained was "finishing touches." To Perry, it was clear the work couldn't be completed before his big party. He fired Multistone on the spot.

Erridge, who says Perry still owes Multistone about $93,000, was stunned.

"We had a fine relationship right up until this point," he said. "It was a pleasant working experience. Until we didn't get paid."

Merritt Huber, whose Carolina Lumber & Supply Co. sold supplies for the studio construction, described a similar experience.

"Early on, he was paying very well — very timely," Huber said. "As we got later in the year, things got really slow. And now we're in this mode of not getting anything."

Perry's employees never explained why the studio stopped paying Carolina Lumber, Huber said. Finally, in December, he filed a lien — which stakes a claim to the property, should it ever be sold — for $11,782.

"We're a small business," Huber said. "He owes us a pretty good sum. It's not a king's ransom, but certainly in these times it makes a big difference, especially to a small company like ours."

Brooks Hilton, the landscaper, worked at Perry's house for seven months, from September 2007 until March 2008. It was an alluring job, worth as much as $800,000.

But Perry dictated by whim, Hilton said, ordering up new tasks or criticizing work he already had approved. After Hilton's workers planted a row of 22-foot trees to buffer the house from neighboring property, Perry decided they didn't provide enough privacy, Hilton said. So Hilton had to remove the trees, bring in enough fill dirt to raise the grade by 5 feet and then replant the trees.

Through his general contractor, Perry fired Hilton's company last spring. Perry and Hilton are suing each other over the quality of the work, as well as the bill that Hilton said Perry still owes.

But, like other contractors, Hilton expresses little animosity toward Perry.

"Tyler's an all right guy," Hilton said. But "he's the most miserable guy I ever met. He don't trust nobody. Everybody wants something from him."

'Ridiculously unfair'

Perry cherishes his privacy. His house is barely visible from the street, and a uniformed guard mans the front gate. Asked how much he spent building the 17-acre estate, Perry demurs, professing embarrassment over the final cost. Walking the grounds, he uses words like "peaceful" and "amazing."

Then he points out the flaws he says were caused by some of the contractors who complain they haven't been paid. Dying trees and shrubs. A leaky pool. Mismatched masonry.

"I want to give the little guy a shot," he said, again recalling his father the subcontractor and the difficult times his family faced when the money wasn't coming in. But he plans to go to court, if necessary, to fight the contractors who filed liens against his property

He could afford to pay all the disputed bills, Perry said, just to make the conflict go away. "But it's so ridiculously unfair," he says. "It is so unfair to be targeted that way.

"Every person I know who has come from where I come from and who has had some level of success deals with this: 'Because you have it, you should give some to me.' I don't mind sharing, but don't try to extort it from me."

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State Rep. Matt Reeves, R-Duluth, introduces himself while attending an AAPI mental health event at Norcross High School on Sunday, Aug. 11, 2024. (Ben Gray for the AJC)

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