With all of the publicity surrounding the “new” Beatles Get Back film directed by Peter Jackson, I have had countless conversations about the new film. The anticipation is at almost fever pitch as the trailers we have seen look incredible.
It made me decide to back and watch the original “Let It Be” film that was directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg. It has been years since I last watched it and through all the discussions over those years, one theme seems to permeate through everything: we were watching The Beatles fall apart. But were we?
Paul and George Argue
The most famous element was always the argument between Paul and George, where George tells Paul that he will play whatever Paul wants him to, or he just wouldn’t play. Fans also refer to Yoko being permanently at John’s side, which she was.
But was it a negative film? Is it too painful to watch?
I have to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed watching it again, and it was filled with lots of fun scenes where you could see all four of them enjoying what they were doing, especially when they break out into funny arrangements, or the silly voices come out, like in “Besame Mucho”. But, it wasn’t the dark, depressing film that I seemed to think it was.
The Beatles Rooftop Concert
Then of course, we end with that incredible rooftop concert. How Lindsay-Hogg and his team were able to capture that is incredible, with the limited technology and space available. Plus, when you see them performing, I think they were recapturing memories of playing to crowds, which they hadn’t done since August 1966. The Beatles were enjoying themselves and it still such an iconic film.
Apology Needed?
We know Peter Jackson’s 6 hour special series is going to be superb, and it will have been worth the wait. However, I believe we also owe an apology and debt of thanks to Michael Lindsay-Hogg who has probably had a lot of negativity surrounding the film he made. He did a great job with what he had to work with.
Let It Be or Get Back?
Yes.
Enjoy the original, but I can’t wait for the new one too.
As we come to remember George Harrison 20 years after he died, Peter Eijgenhuijsen looks at the cover to With The Beatles.
A friend of mine, a hard-core Beatles fan, came up with the idea of The Beatles Era when George died in 2001, this month twenty years ago. My friend was on a business trip to the United States, when he saw, in one of the offices he visited, a newspaper clipping on the wall. It showed just a picture of the cover of their second album With the Beatles with the left side made black. Only Paul and Ringo were looking at him, with serious faces, as if they were aware of their inevitable erasure.
It was then, that he realized that we were entering a new phase, that nothing would be the same ever again. It was then that he got the inspiration for his theory that we all live in The Beatles Era. An Era that can be divided in five periods: Before the Beatles, The Beatles Years, The Solo Years, The Reduced Solo Years, the period we currently live in, and the last and fifth period After the Beatles.
Everything Has a Meaning
One day, when I visited him, he showed me the impact of that moment with the album cover of With the Beatles. It was scary. The black and white picture, with from left to right John, George, Paul, and Ringo. When I covered the left side to get the effect of the newspaper picture, I understood that the effect must have been very powerful. “Of course,” my friend said, “we do not know how the period The Reduced Solo Years will end, but the order of the individual Beatles on the album cover does not look insignificant to me.” “Everything on the cover of Beatles albums, has a meaning,” I said. “Intentionally or unintentionally.”
The Beatles appeared at Operation Big Beat, the most impressive line up of Merseybeat bands ever! Tony Broadbent adds the drama to this incredible event.
The dense blanket of fog had come up river late that afternoon. No one had expected it. Not even the weatherman on the telly the night before. First report of it was on the midday shipping forecast on the radio. And by mid-afternoon tongues of fog had already moved across Liverpool Bay and were licking hungrily at Wallasey, Bootle, and Crosby. By teatime, both banks of the river and ‘the Tower’, at New Brighton, were shrouded in a grey-green fog the colour of the Mersey.
All of Liverpool was completely fogbound.
“What the bloody hell did I do in my past life to deserve this?”
“Don’t know, Sam, but it must’ve been something pretty bad.”
“Bloody hell, Terry, will you look at that bloody fog.”
“Well, I would, like, if I could see anything.”
“Alright, smart arse, back inside the Grapes. This calls for some serious drinking. I’m ruined I am, bloody ruined. What time is it?”
The Beatles will Get Through
Sam Leach (right) with Paul McCartney and Pete Best
Spike glanced at his watch. “Five past, Sam. But no need to worry, I’m sure The Beatles will get through.”
“I don’t doubt it, Spike, especially with that mad sod, Nelly, driving. No, it’s the fans I’m worrying about. What with all the ferries being stopped and most of the busses not running, how in hell they’re going to get themselves there, I don’t know. You couldn’t find the bloody Tower in this fog, even if it fell on top of you. We’ll be bloody lucky if we can find it ourselves. The real sod of it is, though, ticket sales have been much less than I’d hoped. You’d think the kids had given up on rock ‘n’ roll.”
“Maybe for one night, Sam. But not in our lifetimes, they won’t.”
“Thank you, Sigmund Freud. What time is it?”
“Quarter past. What time did Neil say he’d have them here?”
“Half-past. But in this pea-souper, who the heck knows?”
Terry McCann arrived with a tray of drinks. “Look on the bright side, Sam. Just imagine The Beatles and Gerry and Rory all playing their hearts out at ‘the Tower’ just for us. Cheers.”
“I tell you, I’m ruined I am, totally bloody ruined. Cheers. Talking of which, what time is it?”
“Nigh on half past, Sam. Stop yer worrying.”
“That’s all very well for you to say, sunshine, but…”
Neil Aspinall’s Battered Bedford Van
A car-horn beeped a tattoo outside in the street and eyebrows shot up in question and hope. Spike was already at the pub door. “It’s them. All aboard the New Brighton ferry!” They downed their drinks in a rush, piled out of the Grapes, and into the back of Neil Aspinall’s battered Bedford van.
“ ‘Lo Sam. ‘Lo fellas,” chorused Neil and The Beatles.
“Get yer arses in quick or we’ll all catch our deaths,” shouted John Lennon.
“All arses aboard and accounted for, sir,” yelled Sam. “Hey, thanks for turning up, lads. At least tonight won’t be a complete bloody loss.”
“Well, wherever it is we’re going,” groaned Neil, “I’ll see if I can get us there by the middle of next week. Everyone hold on tight.”
“Next stop, the Mersey Tunnel,” shouted George.
We’ll Play For Nothing
After a few minutes of hurtling through the streets of Liverpool at five miles per hour, Paul McCartney turned to Sam and said, quietly, “Look, Sam, we were talking, like, on the way to pick you up. If this bad weather hits you hard tonight, we’ll play for nothing, okay?” Sam turned to John and George who both nodded their agreement. Pete, sitting up front, holding his snare drum on his lap, gave a thumbs-up. Sam coughed and nodded his thanks, his eyes a little glassy. Terry and Spike huddled by the back doors kept their thoughts to themselves.
When the old Bedford van at last entered the approach to the Mersey Tunnel, George yelled out again. “There it is, fellas. You can just make out the Hessy’s sign on the side of the building.”
“Oooh, Hessy’s,” yodelled John and Paul in Goon-like voices.
“Ra-di-o!” The Beatles all yelled as Neil tapped out the beat on the car-horn. Then they all clapped and cheered.
“We do that every time we pass that sign,” explained Paul.
“It’s our way of wishing for the day we hear one of our own songs actually played on the radio,” added George.
Where Are We Going Fellas?
“Where we going to, fellas?” John shouted.
“To the top Johnny,” the other three Beatles chorused.
“And which top, is that, fellas?”
“To the topper-most of the popper-most,” they yelled in unison as the van rattled on through the Mersey Tunnel.
“We best start by topping the bill at ‘the Tower’, then,” John shouted back. “How much bloody higher can you get than that?”
“You guys could make it all the way to the moon, if you wanted to,” Sam said, the lump still in his throat. “Thanks, lads. I won’t forget this. Not ever.”
“Hey, shurrup will you, Sam. And start soddin’ praying, instead. We’ve got to get to the bloody place in one piece, yet.”
“Righto,” yelled Sam. “Our Lennon, who art in heaven…”
Debbie Greenberg never missed a Beatles gig at The Cavern and she has some amazing memories. One of the most important Cavern appearances was when Brian Epstein came to see The Beatles for the first time.
“The Beatles had played a few numbers with Tony Sheridan in Hamburg, including “Ain’t She Sweet”, but the one that sticks in my memory is “My Bonnie”. When The Beatles played these songs at the Cavern they were absolutely brilliant. I think Tony had a big influence on how The Beatles dressed and moved. John Lennon copied Tony’s posture, holding his guitar high up on his chest.
“Tony was very talented but by all accounts a force to be reckoned with. His mood could change in an instant. It must have been difficult to work with somebody so unpredictable. They had first met when both were playing for a season at the Top Ten Club in Hamburg. German band leader Bert Kaempfert had spotted them and arranged for them to cut a disc of “My Bonnie” together, which was released in Germany.
Raymond Jones
“News of this record filtered back to Liverpool and one fateful day, Saturday 28th October 1961, a Liverpool teenager called Raymond Jones went into NEMS record store to ask about the disc. Situated on Whitechapel, NEMS was just a stone’s throw from Mathew Street and the Cavern. The young store manager was Brian Epstein, who prided himself on being able to source any record that had been officially released. After hearing the track with its throbbing beat he was intrigued.
Brian asked his assistant, Alistair Taylor, to arrange a visit to the nearby Cavern to see The Beatles at one of the lunchtime sessions. He got there on 9th November 1961 with Alistair and saw The Beatles play for the first time.
Epstein was entranced by their performance – and by the Cavern, the place he later called a “cellar full of noise.”
A Handshake
However, Brian Epstein was not the first candidate for the position of Beatles manager. A Liverpool-based promoter called Sam Leach, who regularly organised dances and live shows in local venues, frequently hired the Beatles. As he was giving them regular work and they were all very good friends, he suggested he should become their manager.
The group agreed and on the strength of a handshake with John Lennon, the group’s leader, he thought he’d secured the position as their first manager.”
As we know, after seeing The Beatles, it was Brian Epstein who would become the group’s manager and take them to the toppermost of the poppermost.
Get Debbie’s book on the story of the Cavern Club.
Cavern Club – The Inside Story
This first-hand account of Debbie’s teen years frequenting and eventually helping to run the original Cavern Club is the authentic inside story of the Beatles launch pad, full of triumphs and failures – and surprise celebrity encounters.
£17.25Original price was: £17.25.£13.50Current price is: £13.50.
Tony Broadbent looks at that day when Brian Epstein first walked into The Cavern to see The Beatles at a lunchtime gig.
BILL HARRY had been as good as his word. Even the weather had played its part. Early November was usually cold, wet and windy. And here he was, without an overcoat. Even so, he walked briskly down Mathew Street. Not to appear overly eager, but promptness was ever a virtue. He noticed his personal assistant, Alistair Taylor, had to make an effort to keep up with him.
“Bit of a surprise, Brian. Not your usual lunchtime custom.”
Mathew Street
He narrowed his eyes. Mathew Street didn’t improve with daylight. It was still a dark, grubby little street, utterly devoid of character. He turned and smiled, encouragingly. “It’s only so we can get some more information on this Polydor record they’ve released, Alistair. We needn’t stay long.”
He tried not to look too disquieted as he picked his way between the goods-lorries. Or, indeed, disgusted, as he did his best to avoid stepping on the squashed fruit and vegetables that littered the cobblestones. That would give entirely the wrong impression. Yet, even he saw that, dressed as they both were, in their business suits, they looked more and more out of place with every step they took. He did his best to ignore the inquisitive, almost insolent, gazes of the shop girls, office girls, delivery-boys, and apprentices. All of them stood in a line that stretched down one entire side of the street. Yet, much to his surprise, he found the chatter and swell of voices only added to his own growing sense of excitement.
The Cavern Club
“This is silly, Brian. Look at the steam billowing out of that hole in the wall. There must be a fire down there or something.”
He smiled enigmatically. “We’re here. And exactly on time.”
Thin wisps of steam surrounded the entrance to the Cavern like a cheap theatrical effect. But the impression it made on him was much more dramatic. It was as the very air itself was suffused with the pounding beat of drums and electric bass. Out of the blue a large man, wearing a dinner jacket and red cummerbund under an open overcoat, stepped forward sweeping out an arm towards them, like a door opening. “You must be Mr Epstein. Please go straight down, sir. We’ve been expecting you.” Paddy Delaney, the club’s doorman and chief bouncer, threw a slow salute and smiled. He nodded and said, “Thank you,” and tried hard not to salute back.
He glanced over his shoulder to see if Alistair Taylor was actually following him. Then he stepped through the brick-arched doorway and descended into the depths of The Cavern. It felt like he was entering a train tunnel and a blast of hot, fetid air hit him before he had a chance to catch his breath. The place was dark and dank and stank of disinfectant and cheap tobacco and sweat and body odour and urine. He almost gagged, but continued on down the narrow slippery stone stairs to the warehouse cellar. He put out a hand to steady himself and immediately withdrew it when he felt the walls running with condensation. For one panicky moment he regretted being there and was about to turn and push his way back up to the street, when the beat of the music caught and grabbed him¾transfixed him.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
He swallowed—lost for words as much as for air. It was different from anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t at all like the charity show at the Albany Cinema. It was raw, urgent, almost primal, and it hit him in the chest. Pounded at his head.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom¼Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom
What On Earth is This Place?
“Good God, Brian. What on earth is this place?” Alistair Taylor shouted. But he pretended not to hear and just continued his descent into the depths of The Cavern.
At the bottom of the steps, a man sat at a battered folding canteen table. On top of it were two bowls of loose change. One for silver, the other for pennies. The man looked up and waved him past the line of teenagers waiting to pay their admission money. He pressed on, the crush of tightly packed bodies parting in front of him, as if it too had been ordained.
The Beatles
He was in a low cavernous space made of three, long interlocking brick arches. It resembled nothing so much as a dungeon in a second-rate horror movie. Undeterred, he moved closer to the source of the sound and light until he found himself at the back of the long central aisle. There was a small stage at the far end with rows and rows of swaying teenagers seated in front of it. He looked around. Both outer aisles were one writhing mass of dancing, jiving, jumping bodies. Then suddenly The Beatles were there in front of him.
Boom. Ba-Boom. Boom. Ba-Boom.
He couldn’t speak. He could hardly breathe. He didn’t even turn round when he felt Alistair Taylor come to stand by his side. He was already bound in chains, chains of love, and he didn’t want to break away from them. Not now. Not ever.
Boom. Ba-Boom. Boom. Ba-Boom¼
The sound of The Beatles hammered at him. It was beyond loud; it was physical. The beat thudded against his chest. Went deeper and deeper and became one with the beating chambers of his heart. Became the very lifeblood rushing and pounding in his ears.
Boom. Ba-Boom.Ba-Boom. Ba-Boom.
And suddenly he was through the sound barrier and on into the realm beyond. He became one with the mass of dancing, joyous, revelling bodies and he knew with all his heart the boys on stage were playing, singing, drumming, moving, only for him.
Boom. Ba-Boom. Boom. Ba-Boom
He felt free. “Oh, my God,” he all but cried to himself. “This is what it must feel like to feel really and truly free.” There was no prickling, no blushing, no dark sweats. Only a joy that coursed through him and buoyed him, and held him tethered, transfixed and deliciously captive. He realised he was grinning like a demented young schoolboy. And as he tried to still the urge to shout his feelings out loud, he felt tears of sheer joy pricking at the corners of his eyes.
Mr Brian Epstein of NEMS
The music stopped. The effect so wrenching, he had to shake off a rising feeling of panic he might never hear it again. But as the wave of clapping and cheering slowly subsided, and his heart stopped racing, he found he could breathe once more. He blinked, blinked. Slowly became aware of a smooth, velvety voice. “I have some special news for all you Cavern dwellers.” He tried to focus, to listen. It was probably some announcement to do with The Beatles. “We have someone rather famous in the audience today. A Mr Brian Epstein of NEMS Music Stores.”
“Oh, damn and blast,” he said to himself. That was the very last thing he’d wanted to happen. He felt his skin start to prickle from his neck to his cheeks—the precursor to a shaming, full, red-faced blush. He felt nauseous. Tried to swallow. Did his best to smile. Maintain his dignity. Almost at the point of choking, he nodded, waved a hand for the music to continue. Mercifully, the group’s drummer immediately counted out the time on his drumsticks. The pounding beat began again. The sound engulfed him. And in an instant he was transported from the depths of misery to almost dizzying heights of joy.
The Boys Had An Extraordinary Presence
He stared at the boys on the bandstand. The lead singer was singing, imploringly, of wanting money. But money was the very last thing on his mind, it was The Beatles, themselves, that utterly consumed him and his hungry eyes missed nothing. The boys were all dressed in leather jackets and jeans as in the photographs. Their hair still unfashionably long, three of them with it brushed down over the foreheads. In between songs, they smoked, ate sandwiches, and drank Coca-Cola straight from the bottle. At times, they even turned their backs on their audience and talked and joked amongst themselves.
They ad-libbed sarcastic replies to requests and shouts from the audience. Yet they were always surprisingly funny and engaging. Once or twice, without any sort of apology, they even stopped singing halfway through a song, seemingly dissatisfied or bored with their performance. Much to his surprise, he found them no less charming for their outrageous antics. A feeling, he noticed, fully shared by the rest of the audience. The boys had an extraordinary presence. More importantly, they exuded that unmistakable charisma that spelled star quality. The very thing he now realised he’d unknowingly been searching for all the days of his life.
I Must Go and Talk To Them
At the interval, he turned, almost breathless, to his still utterly bewildered assistant. “Come on, Alistair. I must go and talk to them. I must.” Holding an arm out in front of him, as if to ward off any killjoys, he jostled his way through the crowd to the cramped band-room at the side of the stage. He approached a Beatle lighting a cigarette. “Hello,” he said, “I’m Brian Epstein. And this is my personal assistant, Alistair Taylor.”
“That must be very nice for you,” said George Harrison, grinning. “What brings Mr Epstein and his personable assistant here, then?”
My Bonnie
“Your, er…it’s about your record, ‘My Bonnie’. People keep coming into the store and asking for it. They say you play it, here, at the Cavern.”
“Well, I don’t play it meself, like,” said George, dryly, “but he does. That little short fella hunched over his turntable desperately trying not to listen to what we’re saying. Here, Bob, meet Mr Brian Epstein of…”
“NEMS. Yes. Thank you, Mr Harrison.” Bob Wooler checked the status of the disc he was playing, squeezed out from his little cubbyhole, and proffered his hand. “The Beatles’ record of ‘My Bonnie’? Yes. I’m the one you have to blame for that. People are always pestering me about how they can get hold of a copy.”
He shook Bob Wooler’s hand. “Yes, well, I’ve been on to Polydor Records in…in London and they’ve never heard of it.”
The Beat Brothers
“Yeah, well that’s because they know us as ‘The Beat Brothers’.” It was Paul McCartney. “Hello, I’m Paul. Only, George, here, just said you’re Brian Epstein, of NEMS. We’ve bought thousands of records from your shop. Well, hundreds, maybe. But, er, our record will be listed as ‘Tony Sheridan and The Beat Brothers’. We were just the backing group, like. Although we do have a contract with Polydor to do more.”
He smiled, a winning smile. “Er, Paul MacArthy?”
“No, that’s McCartney. You must’ve been reading your Mersey Beat. I’ll duff Bill Harry next time I see him. He’s always misspelling me name.”
He nodded. “Tony Sheridan?¼and…‘The Beat Brothers’? Yes?” He half-turned. “Alistair, make a note of that, please?”
George stuck his head over Paul’s shoulder, grinned. “Would the rather famous Mr Epstein like to hear the record played live? Because if he did, like, I’m sure we could ask the not so famous Mr Wooler, here, to oblige. Couldn’t we, Bob?”
He smiled, enthusiastically, nodded again. “Yes. Thank you. That would be delightful. That is, of course, if Mr Wooler wouldn’t mind?”
“It’s all work and no play for those of us that toil in obscurity in the vineyards of pop,” muttered Bob Wooler, as he squeezed himself back into his tiny cubicle. But once The Coasters had finished their ‘Searchin’, his dulcet velvety voice purred: “Now dig this, all you Cavern dwellers, it’s time you made this disc, one of NEMS’ best ever, best sellers.”
In the latest in his series on Beatles merchandise, Terry Crain takes a look at the Beatles Skateboard.
Whoa, dude! If you needed to catch some rays and hang ten with the lads, a Beatle skateboard was your item of choice. Surf Skater Company, Incorporated., 39th and Killam Avenue, in Norfolk, Virginia, manufactured a skateboard – the employees probably tested the boards in the street while on break!
Isaac Glazer founded the Surf Skater Company. Glazer was a member of the Army’s first Special Service Forces and a decorated World War II veteran, participating in the D-Day invasion. He became a Doctor of Optometry and later, founder and president of Surf Skater. Glazer died in 2007.
Dezo Hoffman Beatles Photo
The skateboard, available in three sizes and various colors, was basically a wooden board with metal wheels. The large, bold type, “The Beatles Skateboard,” was featured on the board next to the Dezo Hoffman group photo. The skateboard container had a graphic drawing of the group with embellished colorful stripes. Collector Dennis Dailey whimsically noted, “It actually looks like they spent more time and energy into designing the box than the skateboard.”
Playthings Magazine
Article Promoting The Beatles Skateboard
A press release was published in Playthings magazine, December 1964 issue, on page 73, stated:
“Beatles Skate Board in 3 Models Now Available from Norfolk Firm
Available for immediate delivery are three models of The Beatles Skateboard, a new addition to the line of Surf Skater Company, Inc., 39th and Killam Avenue, Norfolk, Va. The Beatles have given the company the exclusive rights for the manufacture of the items. Model #210-B measures 18½” by 5¾by ¾”, #2100 B is 27″ by 6½” by 1-1/16″, and #2200-B has dimensions of 32″ by 6½” by 1-1/16″. Made of quality wood and painted in attractive colors, each features a steel wheel assembly attached with rust-preventive cadmium-plated nuts and bolts. Rubber-cushioned for faster steering and greater turning action, this assembly consists of a rigid flat steel plate attached to Union Hardware wheels with bright dust covers. Decorating the board are its name and a picture of the Beatles, which can be easily peeled off and kept as a souvenir. The skateboards are packaged in two-color cartons.”
Seltaeb
Surf Skater Co. Inc. was named in a NEMS Enterprises, Ltd vs. Seltaeb, Incorporated lawsuit filed in the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, First Judicial Department, dated: New York, New York, July 6, 1965.
Get your copy of Terry’s excellent book on The Beatles Merchandise
NEMS and the Business of Selling Beatles Merchandise in the U.S. 1964-1966 (2ND EDITION)
The book covers the approximately 150 licensed items that dotted store shelves and helped fuel the band-crazed fan during the time right after the band landed in America and performed on The Ed Sullivan Show. Toys, games, dolls, jewelry, clothing, wigs, and more!
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