Carolyn Fears says she can still remember the moment she excitedly opened her first paycheck as a big-time New York City model. What shocked her, she says, is that it was a lot smaller than she expected, thanks in part to an unanticipated $1,500 that had been taken out by her agency, Ford Models, Inc. The reason, one of the firm's bookers told her, was that Ford charged all models a fee for the promotional book sent to potential employers. "I didn't realize it, but Eileen Ford, the head of the agency, was standing behind me," says Fears. "And she said, 'Excuuuse me, do you have a problem with that? If you don't like it...get out.' I ran into the bathroom and cried. I learned not to ask about those kind of things."

Now, 10 years later, she's asking. In a federal class-action lawsuit scheduled for a pretrial conference before a judge in New York City next month, Fears, 32, and 12 other models allege that 15 of the world's top agencies-including Ford and Wilhelmina—violate state and federal laws by charging "extortionate" fees and commissions amounting to as much as a third of a model's earnings. If successful, the suit—which Wilhelmina president Dieter Esch says "has absolutely no merit"—could potentially cost the agencies tens of millions of dollars. (Ford declines to comment on the case.)

"I think the suit brings up a valid issue," says Michael Gross, author of the bestseller Model: The Ugly Business of Beautiful Women. "The agencies doubledip—they are paid by both the client and the model. An agent can make $100,000 on a model's quarter-million. Is. that fair? But then what's fair in a world where a girl can make it because she's a genetic freak?"

Fears is painfully aware that critics such as Gross see models as spoiled airheads who make pots of money for doing, basically, not much. "I've always understood I was lucky to have this job," acknowledges Fears, a willowy six-footer. "But when I get my paycheck, the law says there should only be a certain amount taken out." Male supermodel Hoyt Richards, who just joined the suit, concurs. "It's the same sort of creative accounting that those guys did on Wall Street, " says Richards, 40. "People need to realize there is some foul play here and there needs to be a remedy."

Taking on the industry's titans was the furthest thing from Fears's mind in 1989 when she arrived in Manhattan from Mokena, Ill., to pursue a modeling career. Despite braces on her teeth, Fears—the older of two children of a now-retired elementary school principal and his homemaker wife—was signed by Ford within a few months.

Like many newcomers, Fears was sent to Paris to build up her portfolio. It worked. Returning in 1992 with magazine covers under her belt, she immediately clicked, earning between $100,000 and $200,000 annually. That is not as high as it seems, she says, because the average modeling career lasts only about 10 years. "I was always aware that I needed to save for when I couldn't model anymore, " Fears says. "But how am I supposed to have savings with someone gouging out of my check?"

With an eye toward the future, Fears moved to Los Angeles in 1997 with her husband, Bruno Troadec, now 44, a French surfboard maker she met while on assignment in South Africa. Though she continues to model, she and her husband own a surfboard shop in Sunset Beach, Calif., an enterprise that she says keeps them busy seven days a week, 50 weeks a year.

Last year a friend who knew how upset Fears was with the modeling industry put her in touch with L.A. attorney (and ex-model) Brian Rishwain, 38. At the time Rishwain was seeking plaintiffs to join a suit against the agencies, a project he had begun after being approached by a model for help in getting out of her contract. "It took Carolyn a while to be 100 percent sure she wanted to participate in the suit," says her husband. "She doesn't show it, but it is stressful. We don't yet know what the consequences will be."

Fears doesn't anticipate any financial windfall. "It'll take a long time to work its way through the courts," she says of the suit. "And if there is a settlement, it might not go back to the years I've even worked." But there are other kinds of payoffs. "These big companies are in a business that deals with little girls," says Fears, pointing out that many models start working as early as 15. "They are taking advantage of the situation," she continues. "I want to try to protect these kids."

Pam Lambert
Champ Clark in Sunset Beach