Paul McCartney Archives - Page 19 of 23

Posted on 30/12/202130/12/2021 by liddypool — 3 Comments

The Turning Point for The Beatles

27th December 1960: Litherland Town Hall

Author Tony Broadbent takes a look at the defining moment in Beatles history.

The Beatles’ first 16-week stint in Hamburg, playing the Indra and Kaiserkeller clubs, all but ended in disaster. George Harrison was deported for being underage and not having a proper work permit. Paul McCartney and Pete Best were ordered to leave Germany immediately afterwards, on a trumped-up charge of arson; later rescinded. Stu Sutcliffe decided to stay on in Hamburg with his new girlfriend Astrid Kirchherr. And John Lennon travelled home, alone, by train and cross-Channel ferry; his guitar-case in one hand, his suitcase in the other, his amplifier strapped to his back.

Direct from Hamburg

For the first couple of weeks of December 1960, everyone kept to themselves and licked their wounds. Paul even got himself a temporary job as a delivery van driver to help with the Christmas rush. Then John resurfaced. The group played a couple of evenings at the Casbah Coffee Club, owned by Pete’s mum, Mona Best. The posters on the walls, hand-drawn by young accountancy student Neil Aspinall, the group’s new part-time roadie, proclaiming: ‘Direct from Hamburg’. But the momentum and drive The Beatles had built up as a group playing the Indra and Kaiserkeller had essentially stalled.

It was then that their booking agent-cum-manager Allan Williams, in another of his still relatively unsung all-important acts, given its later significance, introduced the group to 28-year-old Bob Wooler; itinerant disc jockey and compère extraordinaire. Wooler listened to The Beatles’ tales of recent woe; developed a liking for the young lads in the group; and offered to help get them some bookings. And he contacted promoter Brian Kelly, for whom he sometimes acted as compère, and for the agreed-to princely fee of £6; about $18 at the time, but still £2 short of what he’d originally asked for; set The Beatles up as last minute additions to Beekay Promotions’ ‘Post-Boxing-Day’ dance, scheduled to take place at the Litherland Town Hall ballroom, located some five miles north of Liverpool city-centre.

Chas Newby on Bass

The Beatles grasped hold of the opportunity with four sets of hands. But with Stu Sutcliffe still in Hamburg they still had to convince Chas Newby, then a college student, to fill-in on bass. (Chas had been the bass-player with Pete’s original Casbah Coffee Club band, The Blackjacks, before he’d suddenly disappeared off to Hamburg with The Beatles.) The Beatles all spent Christmas with their respective families; did a quick rehearsal with Mr. Newby; and on the evening of Tuesday, 27th December, 1960, donned their leather gear and got ready to rock ‘n’ roll.

Meanwhile, posters proclaiming The Del Renas, The Deltones, and The Searchers were already up, so Bob Wooler, ever the professional, was busy pasting overlays with ‘The Beatles – Direct from Hamburg’ across as many of them as he could. It’s hardly surprising that many in the audience thought John, Paul, George, and Pete were German. Especially when they first saw them in their black leather jackets and trousers and cowboy boots. What they made of tweed-jacket wearing Chas Newby, filling in for the still absent Stu Sutcliffe, is anybody’s guess.

Long Tall Sally

But right from the start, when Paul nudged Bob Wooler off the microphone before he could even finish his mellifluous behind-the-stage-curtain introduction: “Ladies and Gentleman… direct from Hamburg… the Be…” and started belting out the opening words to Little Richard’s ‘Long Tall Sally’, The Beatles stunned the crowd. No one had ever seen or heard anything like it. The group’s hard rocking, hard-hitting, boot-stomping ‘Hamburg’ sound was so new, so raw, so loud, and so very, very different; it blew everyone and everything else away.

All the dancers in the ballroom; there were over a thousand people there that night; just stopped, turned, and rushed the stage to get closer to the action; again totally unprecedented. The Beatles’ nonstop set of rock ‘n’ roll and R&B classics was an absolute smash. It instantly established The Beatles as a top ‘live’ draw all around Merseyside. Brian Kelly immediately booked them for two months straight. And every other Liverpool promoter, worth his salt, scrambled to book the group to do more gigs. From this point on the group never really looked back; only ever forward, towards the future, and reaching ‘the toppermost of the poppermost’.

Top of the Bill

The Beatles played 19 dates for Brian Kelly and an ever- growing number of other local promoters in January 1961. They played 31 dates in February, including their first lunchtime sessions at the Cavern Club and appearances at the Cassanova Club. They did 37 dates in March; three bookings in a single day increasingly the norm; including the first ‘all-nighter’ at the Iron Door for Sam Leach and their first evening appearance at the Cavern. The Beatles played Litherland Town Hall for Beekay Promotions fully 19 times during 1961; although never again as last minute additions, only ever as ‘top of the bill’ headliners.

“Up to Hamburg we’d thought we were OK, but not good enough. It was only back in Liverpool that we realised the difference and saw what had happened to us while everyone else was playing Cliff Richard shit.” — John Lennon

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Posted on 10/12/2021 by liddypool — Leave a comment

Strawberry Fields Forever from Magical Mystery Tour

Strawberry Fields Forever by The Beatles on Magical Mystery Tour

“Strawberry Fields Forever” from Magical Mystery Tour

Equal time here for a critically acclaimed Beatles song, one that some critics have described as a masterpiece. “Strawberry Fields Forever,” written by John Lennon, was on the other side of the double-A-sided 45 with Paul McCartney’s “Penny Lane” when it was initially released in 1967, and then included on the Magical Mystery Tour album. It was based on Lennon’s recollections of playing as a child on the grounds of Strawberry Fields, the Salvation Army home for children in Liverpool.

Lennon crafted the song during the six weeks that he was on the set for a small part in Richard Lester’s film How I Won the War. With the help of LSD to give the song its psychedelic tone, Lennon referred to “Strawberry Fields” as psychoanalysis set to music, a look inside the real him, including some of his significant insecurities. For example, in David Sheff’s Lennon biography All We are Saying Lennon reflected:

John Lennon on Strawberry Fields Forever

“No one I think is in my tree.” Well, what I was trying to say in that line is “Nobody seems to be as hip as me, therefore I must be crazy or a genius.” It’s the same problem as I had when I was five: There is something wrong with me because I seem to see things other people don’t see. Am I crazy, or am I a genius?… What I’m saying, in my insecure way, is “Nobody seems to understand where I’m coming from. I seem to see things in a different way from most people.”

In the studio, some elaborate instrumentation accompanied Lennon’s introspection: all four of the Beatles played additional percussion instruments in addition to their guitars and drums, as did some Beatles assistants. Four trumpet players and three cellists contributed as well. And John Lennon and Paul McCartney each played a mellotron, a keyboard instrument that played tape loops and could mimic musical instruments. For this song, the mellotron’s flute sounds were accessed.

Knowing Where We Came From

“Strawberry Fields” began and ended with the mellotron and was dreamy/avant-garde/psychedelic in tone, with a false ending followed seconds later by cacophonous swirly-sounding mellotron, trumpet, and snare. John said this was one of the favorite songs that he wrote.

Knowing where we came from – and where we’re going, together – is worthwhile. Be smart, be safe, be well.

Tim Hatfield

Get Tim’s great book looking at the meanings behind Beatles songs:

httpss://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10LSq_J5ol4

Posted on 09/12/202109/12/2021 by liddypool — Leave a comment

9 DECEMBER 1961 THE BEATLES DISASTROUS FIRST EVER “LONDON” GIG IN ALDERSHOT

The Beatles played in Aldershot on 9th December 1961. Tony Broadbent takes a look at the momentous day that would end Sam Leach’s hopes of becoming Beatles manager, and convince John, Paul, George and Pete that Brian Epstein was the right man for the job.

THE PALAIS BALLROOM, ALDERSHOT

SAM LEACH thought quick and hard. When in doubt do something, anything. “I tell you what lads, never say die, we’ll drive round the town, pin up posters on every hoarding or telegraph pole we see. That done, we’ll drop off your instruments and equipment at the Palais Ballroom, then I’ll take everyone for a quick bite to eat at the little cafe opposite. How’s that sound?”

For once, The Beatles were stone cold silent.

After grabbing something to eat, they all split up and scoured the town for prospective punters. Handing out handbills to everyone they met. They visited every pub and coffee bar and dropped word about the fabulous group playing that night, at the Palais. But the good people of Aldershot weren’t interested, even when, in utter desperation, Sam played his final card and told any and every one that’d listen that admission was free.

“Aldershot’s not ready for rock ‘n’ roll or The Beatles,” Sam said, dejectedly, lighting up another cigarette.

“Aldershot’s so crap, they’re not even ready for inside bloody toilets,” snapped John. “But as we’re already bloody here, let’s all just sod off down to Soho, in London, and get ourselves royally pissed.”

“Hey, come on, John,” pleaded Paul. “We’ve got to give it a try, even if we only play for five minutes. Eh, oop, kid, what do you say?”

“No, they can all go and get buggered…the dozy sods.”

Paul McCartney Started to Sing

Paul put his head on one side and started to sing ‘There’s no business like show business’. He smiled inanely and waved his hands in the air as if they were tambourines. “Hey, come on, John.” He kicked a foot out like a Kentucky minstrel and started prancing up the street. “Hey, Johnny, you know the show’s always gotta go on.”

“Ah, sod it,” snapped John. “Where the fook are we going to, fellas?”

“To the top, Johnny,” they all chorused back.

“And which fookin’ top is that, fellas?”

“To the top of the fookin’ poppermost, Johnny,” they all yelled.

“Okay, fellow Beatles, we fookin’ well play. The show goes on.”

Everyone cheered then, even Dave, Sam’s driver.

Sam Opened The Doors and……..

Sam opened the doors of the Palais Ballroom at half-past seven on the dot, as advertised, but the only thing he was met with was a face-full of swirling snowflakes. He closed the door quickly. “God’s holy trousers, whatever did I do in my past life to deserve this?” He shook his head. “No business, like no business? Sod that, let’s have a ball, anyway.” He sauntered into the ballroom. “They’ll all be along in a minute, lads, so why don’t you get started. Just think of it being like your early days in Hamburg. You know, those times you told me about, when it was the sound of your music alone that had to grab the punters by the scruff of the neck and drag ‘em in, off the street. What was it called, now? The Punjabi?”

“No!” The Beatles all shouted back. “The fookin’ Indra.”

“That’s what I meant,” said Sam. “Do some fookin’ Indra. If anything will bring the buggers in, it’ll be a bit of that.”

“Yeah,” sniffed George. “Mach some more bloody schau.”

“Mach schau! Mach schau!” yelled John into the microphone.

Pete, Count us in!

“Okay,” shouted Paul, vamping a run of notes on his bass. “Pete, count us in.” Pete hit his sticks together. Tik-a-Tik-a-Tik-a-Tik-a. Paul hit a single bass note and launched straight into ‘Long Tall Sally’. That done, fully energised by the music, The Beatles shot themselves full of rhythm-and-blues and ripped it up and rocked it up for three finger-blistering, pick-scraping hours. They pounded out the beat as if they were playing ‘the Tower’ in front of four thousand screaming fans, not the eighteen or so people dancing and jiving at the Palais Ballroom. And Sam, Terry, Spike, and the van driver, Dave, could do nothing but lose themselves in the magic of it all. Swinging and swaying, clapping their hands, popping their fingers, and tapping their feet to the relentless rockin’ Mersey beat.

Money

And then with John’s final scream that all he ever wanted from life was ‘Money’, The Beatles rolled up the night with one last long chiming chord. Everyone clapped and cheered, jumped up and down, and shouted for more. And all four Beatles up on the stage, their hearts thumping in their chests, sweat pouring from them, looked out from under the spell they’d just cast and saw that as tiny as the crowd was, the cry for more was as urgent and as heartfelt as any audience they’d ever played to.

John sighed and nodded at Paul. Paul nodded at George. Paul, his voice hoarse, whispered, “Roll Over Beethoven.” John, George and Pete each nodded back. George picked out the opening notes of the Chuck Berry rocker, each note as sharp and bright as the glass in the mirror ball hanging from the ceiling. The girls spun. The boys jived. And The Beatles rocked it, two by two, for ten glorious minutes and everyone dug to the rhythm-and-blues until ‘Liverpool’s Number One Rock Outfit’ brought their first rocking visit to the south to a close.

Roll over Aldershot and go tell London the news.

Sam stood at the foot of the stage, beaming. “That, fellas, was bloody marvellous. You did yourselves and all of Liverpool proud. So, what say, we celebrate? I’ve asked the local judies if they’d like to stay on for a bit and, believe it or not, they all said yes. I wonder why? So I had our Spike go and get in two crates of Watneys Brown Ale and a box of Smith’s crisps from the pub over the road. So, if you’re up for it, like, I’ll go crank up the record player, put on a swinging platter or two, and we can all have ourselves a proper party.”

John didn’t bother looking at Paul or George. He already had his eye fixed on something blonde standing in the middle of the dance floor. “Oooh, yes, please, Mr Sam, I could do with a bit o’ hanky-panky about now. I need to exercise me evil ways.”

Dancing with The Girls

They all took turns dancing with the girls, everyone doing their version of The Twist. John, impatient for his next turn at dancing waltzed with George, then Paul. Pete sat that one out. They played ‘Bingo’ using beer bottle-tops as counters. Played football with Ping-Pong balls. The rest of the time they just played the fool. John, his back hunched, his face distorted, staggering around the ballroom yelling, “The bells. The bells. It’s the bells.”

Sam handed Spike a camera. “Here, Spike, take some more photographs. I want to remember this. They’re certifiable, the lot of them.”

“Yeah,” said Spike, “certifiably brilliant.”

There was a sudden loud hammering on the front door.

“Come on in, if you’re coming,” shouted Paul.

“Bugger off!” yelled John.

Police!

Terry went to investigate and quickly reappeared, his arms waving from side to side, in a frenzied hand-jive. He snatched the needle arm from off the turntable, spun round, and mouthed the word, “Police.”

The effect was instantaneous. John began giggling and was soon doubled up with laughter. Paul sniggered. George grinned. Pete bit his lip. Sam, madly signalling for quiet, bounced his hands up and down in front of him as if trying to push the sound to the floor, but it did no good, the giggling and laughter just grew louder, as did the knocking.

Sam sighed, burped, belched; went to deal with ‘the bizzies’.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” yelled an authoritative voice. “Do you know what bloody time, it is?”

Sam peered out into the gloom. In the pale yellow light of the street lamps were four police vans, two police motorbikes, a mounted policeman, and a very big, sour-faced police sergeant.

“Er, um, we were just finishing, like, constable.”

“And about bloody time, too. It’s gone bloody midnight. And you lot are creating a very serious disturbance of the peace.”

Sam blinked and blinked and tried desperately to sober up. “Er, we, er, were just going, officer.”

Get Out of Aldershot!

“Now, wouldn’t be soon enough,” barked the police sergeant. “You bloody shower have got fifteen minutes to get out of Aldershot, do you hear me? On yer bikes, the lot of you, and don’t you ever come back.”

“You and Aldershot can fook off, too,” George muttered under his breath. “Never would be far too soon for us ever to come back here.”

Get Tony’s great book, The One After 9:09 now

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A DISAFFECTED LIVERPOOL TEENAGER BECOMES INVOLVED WITH THE BEATLES WHEN HE’S HIRED TO HELP PREVENT THE MURDER OF THE GROUP’S MANAGER, BRIAN EPSTEIN.

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Posted on 06/12/202106/12/2021 by liddypool — Leave a comment

The Beatles meet with Brian Epstein: Part 2

6 DECEMBER 1961: THE BEATLES MEET WITH BRIAN EPSTEIN AT NEMS

Part 1 The Beatles First Meeting with Brian Epstein

After their first meeting with Brian Epstein, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Pete Best had a follow up meeting at Brian’s NEMS office in Whitechapel, Liverpool. Tony Broadbent takes up the story from his book, The One After 9:09:

“I tell you, the door’s bloody well locked.”

“That’s because it’s half-day closing, dafty.”

“Well knock on it, then.”

“You knock, you’re nearest.”

“Pete, you do it.”

“Me hands are full.”

“Well, use yer head, then.”

“We could always use Bob as a battering ram, if we had to.”

“We already are,” growled John Lennon.

This Is Me Dad

He opened the door and smiled a greeting as all four Beatles tried to push through as one. “This is me Dad,” John said, pointing over his shoulder to the small dapper figure of Bob Wooler. The absurdity of it perplexed him for a moment. He’d fully expected the Beatles to come by themselves, his simple hope they’d all arrive together and on time. Now here they were with a stranger of sorts in tow and everyone smelling very strongly of beer. It was all suddenly so very awkward. The Cavern’s disc jockey smiled at him, apologetically.

He knew very well who Bob Wooler was. And in many ways had every reason to be grateful to the man, as the DJ had been largely responsible for creating local demand for The Beatles’ recording of ‘My Bonnie’. So once he’d managed to get everybody sat down in his office, upstairs, he took Bob Wooler as his cue.

Bob Wooler

“Thanks to Mr Wooler’s constant featuring of ‘My Bonnie’ in clubs and dancehalls around Liverpool, NEMS has sold over a hundred copies of your Polydor recording in the last week and a half, alone. Further, to which, I’ve already met with the London representatives of Deutsche Grammophon, the owners of the Polydor label, to ask them to release your record in the United Kingdom.”

It was a good opening verse, but The Beatles were impatient to get to the chorus. That’s why they’d brought Bob Wooler along. They liked and respected the DJ, because they knew he liked them and championed their music. He was also an adult, like Brian Epstein, and they wanted his opinion, because as eager as they were for business guidance, they were still very cagey about it all. When they’d all met up in the Grapes, prior to their appointment at NEMS, John Lennon had been his usual blunt self.

All Mouth and No Trousers?

“This Epstein fella has no experience with rock ‘n’ roll other than selling pop records from his shops. From the look of him, he’s probably more into Mantovani and his bloody Orchestra or, worse, bloody opera. So, the question is, Bob, as much as we need help, like, is this Epstein ever going to amount to anything? Or do you reckon he’s all mouth and no trousers?”

As ever, Bob Wooler played it cautious and said he’d best hold his counsel until later. It was always the wiser course to rehearse your ad-libs before you ever gave voice to them, off the cuff, so to speak.

BRIAN EPSTEIN looked at each Beatle, in turn. “You don’t currently have a manager, do you?” They slowly shook their heads. “So, I take it then,” he added, cautiously, “that there’s no one that negotiates your fees or that deals with your engagements on a regular basis?”

We Don’t Have A Proper Manager

They shook their heads. After a lengthy silence, Bob Wooler made as if to speak, but it was Paul McCartney that spoke up. “As I said, last time, Brian, Pete sorts out our diary of engagements, usually. Helped of course by his mum, Mona. She owns the Casbah Club, like. But other than that, no, we don’t have a proper manager. So we generally take whatever we can get.”

“Yes, I see,” said Brian Epstein.

“We take anything and everything we can get our bloody hands on, okay?” snapped John. “But we get lots of bloody work and we don’t have to go bloody begging for it, either, if that’s what you think.”

“No, no, John, I’m not inferring anything. It’s only that whatever you’re getting from people, I think you’re worth much, much more. And I think that all the promoters around Liverpool know that. That’s why you’re always in work, but really going nowhere at all.”

A Dead End?

The silence this time was like a blanket of fog. The truth of Brian Epstein’s words hit hard, even though The Beatles had talked of little else for weeks. They were working harder and harder and becoming more and more popular every time they played, but were really just going round and round the same old circles. John, Paul, and George all shared a growing dread that, as big as The Beatles were around Merseyside, there was a very real danger that a proper recording contract, let alone greater fame and fortune, might elude them forever. Liverpool had very quickly and surprisingly turned into a dead end. And for once, drained of all their colourful banter, The Beatles stared back at the man who’d suddenly shone a bright light onto their deepest and darkest fear.

Brian Epstein smiled, almost bashfully. “As I told you, last Sunday, I don’t have much experience in these sort of things, but I’d very much like to look after your affairs.” He swallowed. “To put it simply, you do need a manager. The question is would you like me to do it?”

The Beatles Sat Still

The Beatles sat as still as statues and just stared at him. He resisted the temptation to shoot his cuffs and instead re-read the points he’d written down on his notepad. He looked up. “If you did want me to manage you, I’d require fifteen per cent of your gross fees, on a weekly basis. In return, I would assume responsibility for arranging all of your bookings, which, let me stress, would be much better organised, far more prestigious, and would take you much further afield than all the venues you play here in Liverpool.

I would also make it a point that you would never again play a date for less than £15, except for your Cavern lunchtime sessions, where I will renegotiate your current fee of £5, so that it’s doubled to £10. With the number of people you attract to the club regularly, Ray McFall can more than afford it. Further, I will do my best to extricate you from the recording contract you signed with Mr Bert Kaempfert, in Hamburg. After which, I’ll use my influence as one of the largest record retailers in the north-west to get you a proper recording contract with a major British recording company.”

Would You Like Me To Manage You?

He looked down, aligned his notepad with the edge of the leather-bound blotting pad and carefully and deliberately placed his hands flat on the desk. Summoning up all his theatrical training, he composed his face into one of quiet confidence. “So, would you like me to manage you?” He looked at each Beatle, in turn, again, purposefully ignoring the ripples and currents in the silence.

John’s eyes slid sideways and he wrinkled his nose. Paul and George both coughed so as to conceal the slight nod of their heads. Only Pete Best held Brian Epstein’s gaze without regard to how his band-mates felt. This would dramatically change his role in the group and he wondered what his mother would think about it. After all, as she’d so often told him, it was really his group, wasn’t it? Pete Best and The Beatles. He was the one the girls always screamed and shouted for. Everyone said so.

Bob Wooler did his best to fade further into the background. After all, he’d often been one of those greedy Liverpool promoters Brian Epstein had just spoken about. It was time to keep a very still tongue.

You Manage Us!

John’s voice suddenly boomed out like a foghorn. “Right, then, Brian, you manage us. Where’s the contract? On yer desk, is it? Give it us, here, then, and I’ll sign it now.”

“I don’t have a contract for you to sign, John, because I didn’t want you to think I was being presumptuous. However, I promise, I’ll have one drawn up by the next time we meet.”

“Will it make a difference to what we play, Brian?” Paul asked.

“No, Paul, not at all. I just want to help present you in the very best light possible, ensure you’re always paid what you’re worth, and given the proper respect that is your due.”

This was the sort of stuff they wanted to hear. The Beatles nodded. At least three of them did. And so did Bob Wooler.

Bob Wooler was deep in thought. Even he’d underestimated the manager of NEMS. Brian Epstein’s timing had been impeccable. If he’d had the courage or the vision or the money, he might’ve had a go at managing The Beatles himself. As it was, he had enough on his plate tending to his turntable, his ever-expanding record collection, and arranging for groups to play at the Cavern and elsewhere. One thing he knew for sure, though, this latest development would put a good few Liverpool noses out of joint.

George Harrison scratched his nose, absentmindedly. “I think I better go now, go relax in a bubble bath. I need to ponder what the word ‘presumptuous’ means when it’s at home.”

Discover more about this important time in Beatles history in Tony’s great book, The One After 9:09

The One After 9:09

A DISAFFECTED LIVERPOOL TEENAGER BECOMES INVOLVED WITH THE BEATLES WHEN HE’S HIRED TO HELP PREVENT THE MURDER OF THE GROUP’S MANAGER, BRIAN EPSTEIN.

PURCHASE ON AMAZON

Kindle from $2.99 and Paperback from $6.99

£2.16

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Posted on 03/12/202103/12/2021 by liddypool — 2 Comments

The Beatles First meeting with Brian Epstein: 3rd December 1961

Brian Epstein: After The Cavern

After having seen The Beatles at The Cavern, Brian Epstein had decided to become The Beatles’ manager. However, he had to convince them first. He summoned them to his office at NEMS and he was about to meet the group, but it wouldn’t go smoothly. Tony Broadbent, in an excerpt from his book, The One After 9:09, looks at this historic meeting.

The Beatles were coming to see him. Brian Epstein adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time and tried to stay calm. Over the last four weeks he’d seen ‘the boys’ perform many times at the Cavern. Had made a point of chatting to them on each and every occasion. Today was to be the first sit-down meeting at his office. He tried to work, but found himself fidgeting with excitement. So he went downstairs, into the store, aimlessly straightened a few things, then stood and looked out at a deserted Whitechapel.

There was little foot traffic, but that was quite normal for an overcast Sunday afternoon. He did notice, though, that what passers-by there were stopped to admire the store’s window-display, which was all very gratifying and a small thing, perhaps, but his own. Brian was shopkeeper enough to hope the interest shown would translate into Christmas sales. He consulted his wristwatch, winced, cleared his throat, shot his cuffs, blinked, and adjusted his tie again.

He’d toyed with the idea of wearing an open-necked shirt, silk cravat, and tweed sports-coat. All perfectly acceptable weekend wear. But as this could well be the beginning of a formal relationship with the group, he’d opted for workday business attire. It always paid to make the right impression. He looked at his watch again. They were now very late. He began to colour at the thought they might not come, at all, but as the flat grey December light slowly began to fade and the store darkened around him, he could do nothing but wait—and wait.

“Hey ‘oop? Is anyone in there? Mister Epstein, sir? It’s us.”

The Fab Three?

The banging on the store’s front door awoke him from his reverie and he quickly went to unlock it. There were only three Beatles standing there. He tried not to look too surprised.

“Hello. Thank you for coming. Let’s go up to my office, shall we? I see Paul isn’t with you. He’s not ill or anything, is he?”

“No, he’ll be along in a minute, Mr Epstein, sir,” replied John Lennon. “He probably just forgot to wind his watch.” The other two Beatles nodded in agreement.

Where is Paul?

He nodded, and led the way upstairs, but even after half-an-hour of strained conversation there was still no sign of Paul McCartney. He tried to still his growing frustration and the creeping sense of dread his dream was already stillborn. Almost at his wit’s end, he turned to the Beatle sitting nearest the door. “George, I wonder if you’d give Paul a ring…find out why he’s so late. I’d hate to think it was something serious. You can use the phone in the outer office.” The youngest Beatle raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, nodded, and left the room.

He smiled a thin-lipped smile at John Lennon and Pete Best, then turned and looked out of the window at the darkening Liverpool night. John pulled a face and retreated behind a handy copy of Mersey Beat. Pete did the same. And after more moments of pained silence, broken only by the murmuring from the outer office and the rustle of John’s newspaper, George came back into the room. He gently closed the door behind him, turned, and said, very calmly, “Paul’s just got up from having a nap. And he says he’s now going to have a bath.”

Very, Very Late!

Brian Epstein was incredulous. “But this…this is disgraceful behaviour. It means he’s going to be very, very late arriving.”

George nodded. “He’ll be very clean, though, won’t he?” he said, eyes twinkling, a slow smile twisting into a lopsided toothy grin. John sniggered behind the now shaking pages of Mersey Beat. Pete turned away; bit his lip. Brian Epstein blinked and blinked and blinked and suddenly his irritation completely dissolved and he started to laugh, not realising he’d just taken his first real step into the strange new world of Beatles.

When Paul finally arrived, more than an hour later, Brian Epstein was already manager enough to realise a change of scenery was called for and he suggested they all decamp to a local milk bar. Once he’d paid for everyone’s coffee and biscuits, there was little time left to beat about the bush. “Look, I don’t really know too much about managing a group, such as yours, but with all the contacts I have with the major record companies, in London, I feel certain I can help you and be of real assistance in your future endeavours. And, if you were prepared to go along with me and give me a chance, I feel sure we can do something really special together.”

London

The four Beatles listened intently to what Brian Epstein had to say. They appreciated his candour regarding his experience or, rather, the lack of it. They were already very wary of people who tooted their own horns too much. What really got to them was the magic word ‘London’. That’s where the real pot of gold was to be found—a recording contract with a major record label. It was, also, the very first time anyone had ever seriously asked about managing them. They’d be the first to admit they needed proper guidance if they were ever to achieve any real success. Still, they didn’t want to be rushed into anything, by anybody, however honest and charming they might seem.

When Brian Epstein had finished, John glanced at Paul, George and Pete, then back at their would-be manager. “Well, that’s all very nice, Mr Epstein, sir. We’ve all enjoyed the coffee and bikkies, and we definitely appreciate your interest in us. But you’ve given us a lot to chew over for one night. Plus, we’ve got to go play the Casbah Club, over in West Derby, before bedtime. So if it’s alright with you, like, we’ll just sleep on it.”

“Of course, of course. I mean, I wasn’t suggesting anything be resolved tonight.” He stood up, his hands open, his heart on his sleeve. “Thank you for hearing me out. And in closing, may I say once again how very special I think you all are, as individuals, and as a group.”

We’ll Think About it

Paul nodded, smiled, and held out his hand. “Thank you, for your interest, Mr Epstein. We’ll definitely think about it.”

He grasped the opportunity. “Then perhaps we could all meet later in the week to discuss any further questions you might have?”

Paul glanced at John, who nodded back.

“Yeah, okay then, Mr Epstein. Later this week, it is.”

“Would Wednesday afternoon be too soon? Only it’s half-day, early closing at the store, and you’re booked to play the Cavern that evening, so you could come over before that, couldn’t you?”

He knew their schedule. That was flattering. It said a lot.

“We could,” George drawled, “once we’ve all taken a bath, like.”

Get Tony’s fascinating book, The One After 9:09 here

The One After 9:09

A DISAFFECTED LIVERPOOL TEENAGER BECOMES INVOLVED WITH THE BEATLES WHEN HE’S HIRED TO HELP PREVENT THE MURDER OF THE GROUP’S MANAGER, BRIAN EPSTEIN.

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Posted on 25/11/202125/11/2021 by liddypool — Leave a comment

The Beatles Get Back: Do We Owe An Apology?

Let It Be?

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.

David Bedford