In February 1967, The Turtles soared to the top of the American music charts with their infectious hit “Happy Together,” a song that not only crushed the Beatles on the charts but also made two young Jewish kids from Los Angeles millionaires before they even turned 22.

Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman, the masterminds behind the harmonies that defined a generation, seemed destined for eternal stardom.

Yet, the story of The Turtles is far from a fairy tale.

It is a harrowing saga of betrayal, legal warfare, lost fortunes, and shattered dreams that reads like a rock ‘n’ roll nightmare.

Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman grew up just blocks apart in Westchester, Los Angeles, a working-class neighborhood where music lessons were a luxury neither family could afford.

They first met at Westchester High School in 1962, bonding over their shared passion for music and their uncanny ability to harmonize — often practicing in the school bathroom to take advantage of the echo.

Their early days were marked by struggle: Howard learned drums on cardboard boxes, while Mark taught himself guitar with a $15 pawnshop Stella.

By 1965, they were playing surf music as The Crossfires, grinding out five sets a night at local clubs for meager pay, sometimes sleeping in their van, subsisting on peanut butter and white bread.

The hunger was literal, with bandmate Chuck Portz collapsing from malnutrition during rehearsals.

Yet, despite the hardships, they persevered, changing their name to The Turtles — a nod to the British Invasion craze — and chasing their dream.

The Turtles signed with White Whale Records in 1965, lured by a $500 advance — a lifeline for the struggling band.

Their breakthrough came with “It Ain’t Me Babe,” which reached number eight on the charts, but it was “Happy Together,” recorded in late 1966, that catapulted them to superstardom.

The song hit number one in February 1967 and held that position for three weeks, selling millions of copies and becoming one of the most played songs in American radio history.

For Howard and Mark, the success was bittersweet.

Despite the massive sales, their royalty checks were meager — just $1,100 each for the biggest hit of the year.

Meanwhile, White Whale Records raked in hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The label’s business practices were predatory, charging the band exorbitant fees for studio time, promotional expenses, travel, and even sandwiches eaten during recording sessions.

Every penny was recouped from the band’s earnings, trapping them in debt.

The relentless touring schedule took a severe toll on the band.

In 1967 alone, The Turtles played 300 shows, pushing themselves to the brink.

Howard developed bleeding ulcers at just 22 years old.

Mark’s weight plummeted to 120 pounds.

Lead guitarist Al Nichol suffered a heart attack onstage but was forced to finish the song before collapsing — only for the promoter to dock their pay for not completing the full set.

The hospital bill was deducted from their royalties.

Despite their physical and emotional exhaustion, the band was shackled by contracts that stripped them of control over their music, their name, and even their instruments.

At one infamous show in Madison Square Garden, sheriff’s deputies seized Howard’s Fender bass mid-performance, much to the bewilderment of 20,000 fans.

In 1968, The Turtles discovered that White Whale Records had been collecting their publishing royalties illegally, forging signatures on contracts to steal approximately $300,000.

The band sued for fraud, demanding $1.5 million in damages, only to be countersued by White Whale for breach of contract and defamation.

The ensuing legal war drained both sides financially and emotionally.

The band spent $270,000 on lawyers — money they didn’t have — while White Whale drove itself into bankruptcy to avoid paying damages.

The conflict turned violent when White Whale’s owner, Lee Lacher, attacked Mark Volman with a tire iron outside the courthouse, leaving him with broken ribs and a fractured