David Stark recalls door-stepping Ringo one Saturday night in 1970, when he and a pal decided to ask him out for a pint.
Finding Ringo’s House
Compton Avenue turned out to be a secluded private road situated almost opposite the entrance of Kenwood House, a former stately home on the posh side of Hampstead Heath in north London. We parked on Spaniards Road, walked a few yards to our destination street and eventually found Ringo’s house, after getting a little help from Lulu and Maurice Gibb, who also lived in the road at the time. We’d rung their bell first, not knowing which house was Ringo’s, but they kindly pointed it out to us at the end of the street, a large double-fronted house named Round Hill.
Ringo opened the door
There was obviously some kind of party going on judging from the cars parked in and around Ringo’s drive, but we mustered up some Dutch courage, rang the bell, then held our breath and waited. We didn’t have to wait long, as the door was opened by the famous drummer himself, casually dressed and holding a pool cue. He was obviously in the middle of a game and wondering what the hell we were doing there.
“How can I help you, lads?” he asked.
“We were just wondering if you’d like to come out for a pint,” I volunteered, feeling somewhat stupid but at least sticking to the plan.
“That’s very nice of you but I’m afraid we’ve got friends in tonight,” Ringo replied, looking rather bemused but taking it all in his stride.
“Another time maybe,” he added.
Eric Clapton
As he said this, I suddenly spotted Eric Clapton walking through the hallway just a few feet behind him, so he wasn’t just fobbing us off. We quickly said our goodbyes as Ringo closed the door, then off we headed up the street and back to the car, laughing our silly heads off. All great fun and definitely something a bit different to do on a boring Saturday night in London.
© 2020 David Stark / This Day In Music Books
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It’s All Too Much
It’s All Too Much is the unique memoir by music industry veteran David Stark, who grew up in north London during the 1960s as a dedicated Beatles fan and was lucky enough to meet his musical heroes on various memorable occasions. From gate-crashing the Yellow Submarine film premiere in 1968 (aged just fifteen) and ending up sitting directly behind the group, to meeting all of them individually in some extraordinary circumstances, David has some highly entertaining stories about his many Beatles encounters which have never been told before.
