Monday, January 30, 2012
I located this adorable John and Yoko photo on the Fuck Yeah John and Yoko Tumblr. I would love to know more about it. Did a fan take this? Where was it taken? I just love how the two of them are smiling and very much in love.
I found this information about a Rolling Stones fan and the cover of the Sgt. Pepper album to be fascinating! Can you imagine the shock this girl must have been in when she realized that HER shirt was on the cover of the Beatles Sgt. Pepper album??
By Leanne Kleinmann
February 4, 2007
"It was twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play ..."
Just those words can start die-hard Beatles fans, from middle school to middle age, singing through the iconic songs on what Rolling Stone magazine called the "most important rock 'n' roll album ever made."
From the concept to the music to the cover art, "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" was groundbreaking. It's also 40 years old this year, an anniversary that's contributing to a storm in the blogosphere about exactly what Apple, creator of the iPod, is going to announce tonight with its ad during the Super Bowl.
But back to "Sgt. Pepper," and that psychedelic album cover. There are the boys, John, Paul, George and Ringo, in their Day-Glo satin military coats. There's an army of cardboard cut-outs of people the Beatles admired, from Bob Dylan to Sigmund Freud. And there, in the far right corner, is a slouching Shirley Temple doll, wearing a striped shirt that says, "WMPS Good Guys Welcome the Rolling Stones."
The sweater was the creation of Mary Anne May, at the time a senior at Immaculate Conception High School. WMPS, a big AM-radio station in town, had a contest to win a chance to meet the Stones at their 1965 concert at the Coliseum.
May, a big fan, was determined to win, so she "bought a kids striped shirt at the dollar store." Mick Jagger was wearing striped shirts a lot onstage then, she pointed out. She stitched the letters on and hoped for the best.
Her dream came true, and during intermission, she went backstage, holding her contest-winning creation. "Is this for me?" asked Jagger, taking the shirt. That's the last she saw of it.
It eventually made its way to Peter Blake, the British Pop artist behind the Sgt. Pepper cover. May found out her shirt had made the big time when someone at WMPS spotted it on the album cover in the summer of 1967.
"I rushed over to Pop Tunes to have a look," she said, but she still had to save up her money to buy the album. (She no longer has her copy.)
Mary Anne May is now an elementary school art teacher who still lives in Memphis. Of her shirt's brush with fame: "I have no idea where it is now. I'd love to have it back."
Sunday, January 29, 2012
I am always looking for better quality photo than what I previously had. This one I first had with a water mark all over it, then I found one that didn't have a water mark but was very small, and now I found this one: no watermark, larger size and is more complete! Jackpot!
One of the biggest surprises have found with having a Beatles blog is the number of people that contact me. I love hearing from other fans, especially those who have a fun story or photo to share. But I also hear from people who want to help spread the word about a Beatles event. I guess people think this is a popular blog and it a good way to get the word out. If the event has to do with Beatles photos or is something I think is neat, then I will almost always share it. It might not be in the category of Meeting a Beatle for real, but I am happy to spread Beatles news. I am always happy when I can post a photo with permission! And so is the case with the information I received about an upcoming auction for a print of Paul McCartney. You can read about it from the press release. What the press release does not tell you is that the beautiful photo of Paul was taken on July 28, 1968 for the well-known and well-loved "Mad Day Out" photo shoot. This photo was taken in the glass dome that was located in the backyard of Paul's Cavendish home. Paul was wearing his pink suit for most of this photo session, but did remove the pink jacket and was wearing a yellow vest underneath for a few shots (such as this one).
Rock Paper Photo, the largest online gallery of pop culture, fine art photography and Tom Murray, renowned Beatle’s photographer have joined together to donate one of Murray’s highly sought after Beatles prints for the GRAMMY-affiliated MusiCares 22nd annual benefit gala on Friday, February 10, 2012 at the Los Angeles Convention Center.
The gala will recognize 14-time GRAMMY winner, Paul McCartney, for his creative accomplishments and charitable work and award him as the 2012 MusiCares Person of the Year.
To mark the occasion, Murray created a one-of-one, 30 x 40 profile print of the legendary Beattle that will be featured during the gala’s silent auction. The print is normally available in a 20 x 24 size and is part of The Mad Day Collection: Summer Of ’68, which includes Murray’s photographs from the Beatles final group publicity shoot during the summer of 1968. From two rolls of film, Murray kept 23 negatives which are considered the most important color photographs of the group from that period of their career. The photos were revealed to the public for the first time in 1996 and have since been exhibited in cities across the US and Europe, including New York, Los Angeles, Paris, London and Stockholm.
Through auctioning or donating his Beatles prints for charities, Murray, has raised nearly $7 million for charities worldwide. All proceeds from the MusiCares silent auction will benefit the MusiCares Foundation, which helps provide critical assistance for music people in times of need.
The MusiCares Annual Benefit Gala is one of the most prestigious events to be held during GRAMMY Week and the celebration culminates with the 54th annual GRAMMY Awards on Sunday, February 12, 2012. Rock Paper Photo is participating in this event in partnership with Waste Management.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Here is another fan story from the November 197 7 issue of "The Write Thing." This one is written by Carol Sikkema of Minneapolis, MN who met Paul at his London home on June 28, 1977.
Fan “celebrated” Paul’s June birthday by chalking their greetings, sentiments, and messages (and some of the usual anti-Linda slander) all over Paul’s front gates. Member John Awarski (Cleveland) was with him a few days afterwards and Paul casually pointed out the “decorations”, ruefully remarking “I should have waited til after my birthday to paint the gates.”
A few days later my friend and local member Carol Sikkema was visiting London and gave this report: (editor, Barb Fenick)
..We went in and out of London a few times on our trip, but we didn’t get the chance to really relax and look around until June 28th. I took off for Paul’s house armed with my camera and naturally wearing my Wings T-shirt. I didn’t feel very hopeful about getting a glimpse of Paul tho, especially after meeting the man who runs the tobacco-cosmetics etc. stand at the Underground Station nearest their house. He informed me that Linda bought all her cosmetics there and he hadn’t seen either Paul or Linda for quite some time. He was glad to direct me to the house, anyway (Probably does it several times a week!)
There were two guys with cameras and autograph books waiting across the street from the house. I joined them for a minute to take my picture. They were Philip and Ian from Portsmouth, England – members of the Wings fan club there. Every now and then one of us would catch a glimpse of Rose in the window, and we could hear the kids playing in the yard, so we know Paul was probably home, but we were sure he would be staying inside. The idea of going up to the gate and ringing the buzzer was too nervy to even consider. Standing by the wall I could see “Happy birthday, Paul” chalked all over.
Suddenly Philip said, “The door’s open and I can see Joe English and Paul coming out!” Sure enough, they came out and all of a sudden there was Pauli opening the tall gate for Joe’s car to leave. He gave us a friendly smile as we rushed up and agreed to come out in a minute for some pictures. We couldn’t believe our good luck!
After Joe drove off Paul came out and we started taking pictures like mad. He threw himself back into a cute pose for me as I stuck my camera practically into his face. I found myself thanking him repeatedly for being so nice to let us have a minute. He smiled politely at me and asked us where we were from. The guys said “Portsmouth,” and when he looked at me I threw open my sweater like some sort of Burlesque queen and yelled, “Minneapolis,” modeling my T-shirt for him . (It’s hard to believe later the things you do at times like that!)
Paul was wearing black pants and a dark green hooded sweatshirt. He looked really fantastic, handsome, slender and healthy and seemed to be in a good mood, happy to stand around and talk to us.
Linda was meanwhile slowly backing out of the gate in their dark green Rolls. She was smiling at us and gave us a friendly wave as Paul went to the gate to tell Mary to stay inside with her bicycle. Linda was wearing a loose brown patterned maternity dress.
Then a girl walking from down the street arrived at our little group and just breezed right though as though we weren’t even there. Paul looked after her and pointed, saying “you can’t have her autograph!”
With that he got into the passenger seat of the car after reminding us (but nicely) that we maybe we shouldn’t “hang around” after they left. I’m sure his neighbors do get a little tired of constant groups in the neighborhood. They drove away, both waving and tooted the horn.
Well, we bounced all the way down the street, laughing and trying to recall all that we’d said. After a brief stop at Emi studios where Philip kindly took some pictures for me, we went back to the Underground. I practically knocked the tobacconist down with my “Guess what?!”
I’ll never forget how nice Paul and Linda were and how sweet they were to take a little time for us. They are both the greatest!
Monday, January 23, 2012
I always am happy when I find the name of a fan that is in a fan photo or better yet the story behind the photos. I have posted these two photos recently, but I am posting them again because I recently found the story that goes with these photos in the November 197 7 issue of the Write Thing. The fan story was written by the girl that always gets chopped out of the photograph, Toni Kraker who lived in Glendale, New York.
I landed in London on September 19, 1977 with the temperature as cold 42 degrees. It was so warm in New York when I left that all I brought along were short sleeve shirts and one sweater. When I got off the plane I needed a coat. I was booked in the London Embassy hotel, but when I arrived, I found out my reservations were never completed. I couldn’t believe how my luck had started out. Here I was in the middle of London freezing to death and with no hotel room. I started to complain but they promised to put me up for a night in the Westmoreland Hotel which happened to be in St. John’s Wood. I went for a walk and if I would have made a right turn instead of a left I would have walked right into Paul’s neighborhood. I didn’t realize how close I was. I could have died. One strike, two to go.
That Thursday (22nd) I loaded my camera and took a cab to Paul’s street. A large green fence and a high wall surround his elegant townhouse. I heard some kids laughing and spotted the gate open about 2 inches. I peeked inside and there were Mary and Stella riding their bikes and having a great time. Heather was standing in the doorway but there was no sign of Paul or Linda. I waited another half hour before I got up enough guts to ring the door bell.
I had brought baby James a gift and asked if someone could come out and get it. Before long Heather appeared at the door and collected the present. I asked if her father was home, she said no and wouldn’t give out any other information except that Paul and Linda were still in the hospital with the baby. She was a great help. She wouldn’t even say when they would be back. I was leaving London that Monday, so my chances didn’t look that good. When I got back to the hotel, a daily newspaper printed a picture of Paul, Linda and baby James. They really were still there. I was getting more depressed as the day went on. I went to MPL Communications next in Soho Square. I spoke to a really nasty lady who said it was impossible to see Paul. What does she know? That was all she said and then I felt worse than ever. My husband told me not to vie up and that we could try Paul’s house again on Sunday. He said at least I had taken pictures of the house. Big deal. I was looking for the jackpot.
It seemed forever until Sunday, but it finally rolled around and we got to Paul’s house about 11:30. All the windows were closed and the drapes drawn. It was so quiet I thought for sure that no one was around. About 20 minutes later Mary and Stella were running around the yard screaming and carrying on so loudly that I figured with all that noise the baby wasn’t home yet, which meant Paul wasn’t. I knew this was my last chance and since my arms were full of presents for Mary, Stella and Heather I had to ring the bell so someone could take them from me.
I rang the bell and a man’s voice came over the intercom system asking who was there. I said I had some gifts for the kids and could someone come out and get them. I had no idea at the time that I was talking to Paul McCartney! All of a sudden the front gate opened and there he stood in the flesh. He just said, “Hi, how are ya?” I almost died. He looked fantastic, even better than in pictures. HE had on a blue stripped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants and slippers. You could tell that he just washed his hair by the way it was so fluffy and shiny. He could tell that we were form New York and asked which part. When we told him Queens he said he likes it there. Stella was with him and I asked her if she wanted to take a picture. She ran behind her father and hid. Paul said that Stelly doesn’t like to take pictures. That’s what he calls her, Stelly. Martha and Lucky were there too. He signed a Wings press kit for me and asked if I could take his picture, he said why not. So I tried to focus it but I was shaking so much I thought for sure it would blur, so he said, why not take another one in case this one doesn’t come out. He was so wonderful. The second one he suggested we take together with his arm around me and all. He was so nice and pleasant and didn’t even mind talking with us. One of his neighbors came by and interrupted the whole thing. So we figured ten minutes with the main man was better than nothing, so we said good bye and took off. As we were leaving Paul called me back because he had my pen. I said he could keep it and then realized that he had touched it so I tired to take it back but he kept pulling on the other end. He got a great big laugh out of that. Imagine having Paul McCartney laugh at you. So I kissed him goodbye, thanked him again and when I was at a safe distance, I cried my eyes out. I couldn’t believe it had really happened. It was one of the happiest days of my life and I shall never forget it or how nice Paul was to us. It is certainly a traumatic experience though. I don’t know if I could handle it again if it ever came up, and I sure hope it does!
This photo shows that there were different styles of Beatles dresses available. I was only familiar with the middle dress. It looks like these fans might also have Beatles garter belts on their legs as well. I think they are going to sing a trio version of "We love you Beatles" any second now....
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Tempy, and unknown girl, George and Denny
Here is the 2nd part of the story of when Tempy Snow went around the country following George Harrison while he was promoting his 33 1/3 album in 1976. This part of the story takes her back to her hometown, Boston, where she has the best part of the story! Enjoy!
Onto Boston! The first thing I did was call out “sick” from work, otherwise called a bad case of jet-lag. The second thing I did was decide to take a taxi home, much quicker. When I reached my apartment it was close to six and I didn’t even know where the party was. Suddenly remembering the name of Joe Bergman I called all the likely hotels in Boston and asked for her. When the Copley Plaza admitted she was there I laughed; John had stayed there two months before, he must have recommended it to George. It was now quarter after six. I was wearing a sweater and jeans and my hair was filthy, but I could only summon up enough wits to grab my camera and my last roll of film and run over to the Copley before it was too late.
As I arrived panting in the lobby I saw two fellow Boston fans, Tina and Penny already sitting outside the party doors. “We were wondering where you were,” they said. “Chicago, you know. I saw him in Chicago.” I blithered and noticed the absence of my fellow George freak, Blue. I called her, blithered some more but got the message across. She said she’d be right in. Then Denny, another local Beatle fan, arrived and the group of us looked sadly at the guarded doors which invited guests were already going through.
Figuring I’d have a long wait all night in the lobby I said to hell with my coat and went to check it. I was asked at the check counter if I were with the WB party and I heard myself say, “yes.” I was, in a sense, directed to the complimentary WB check booth and feeling momentarily important I checked my coat and returned to the doors and nearly died. Denny was inside the party! (By a mistaken identity I found out later). I felt my body tremble with a sudden violent wave of determination to get in. In July, I had crashed Paul’s end of tour party through the same principal – seeing George Tebbens getting in and then being inspired with hidden courage to make it as well. Only in the lobby of the Copley it was to a much more intense degree. Twelve years hovered over my shoulders.
Less than 10 minutes later, while I was still standing there seething with will, George in a white suit came through the lobby. Everyone rushed up to him but I stood where I was by the doors. He flashed by me, up the stairs and into the party. A second later I went flashing by the security guards, up the stairs and into the party. When I found myself in there it was like discovering I was dreaming within a dream. Denny came up to me, all smiles and excitement but I could only stand there trying not to wake up. Then George was standing beside us and Denny was busily showing him one of his photo albums which George graciously looked through, cover to cover. When he saw a picture of Pattie, he laughed shortly but easily and said, “Oh, there’s a person I used to know.” I realized that would hurt less. George enjoyed the concert photos the best but refused Denny’s offer to take on, saying he had his own tour photographer. I decided I better say something and asked him if he was going to tour. “Yes.” George said, “next year.”
Then he was whisked away to meet more important people, namely the radio, newspaper and magazine people who were going to hopefully soon help promote 33 1/3. A WB photographer hovered around him constantly taking picture after picture and I and several other people with cameras gave him plenty of competition. I madly used up my one roll of precious film praying it would come out as I had no flash and the room was cocktail-party dim. In between shots, I stumbled over to the bar and asked for a Coke and was foolishly pleased a short while later when I overheard George tell someone that drink in his hand was also a plain Coke. Doctor’s orders, he could not drink because of his hepatitis. He smoked an English cigarette while telling someone else that he did not have USA residence yet as if to emphasize the point. He also spoke enthusiastically of a holy man in India to some uncomprehending woman and more calmly about a Beatle “reunion” at Keith Moon’s wedding on December 15th. What else he may have said escaped me. I was too busy focusing him in as he stood a mere 3 or 4 feet away from me and then standing there gaping that he was 3 or 4 feet away from me and flashing by at the speed of light. At one point I collapsed at a table with Denny and muttered over and over, “I can’t believe this.” At another point, I summoned up enough nerve to interrupt George for another autograph –“for a friend in Cincinnati”—Kay, who’d gone so far with me but not far enough.
Suddenly it was dinner time and the 50 some guests began sitting down. Denny, on the advice of a friend who’s heard rumblings from security, left but I could not bring myself to follow him. I sure as hell wasn’t going to wake up from the dream now. I stood awkwardly at the back of the room until everyone was seated, spied an empty chair, decided I had nothing to lose, marched over and asked, “Is anyone sitting here?”
“You are now,” a newspaper man told me. I sank down, still able to somehow feel more shock waves wash over me. I had only prayed for a miracle, not a perfect one. However, as I sat there besides important talking men in suits and their ladies in semi-evening wear, I began to feel decidedly self-conscious. I looked like a grub, a dirty one. I bend my head over my oysters and my suddenly nervous finger promptly slid over my plate. After that my dream like reality took over and I managed to chat away half-sanely to the VIP beside me and eat half sanely as well. Since I only had one meal in two days I ate like a horse despite the fact that George was sitting a table away from me. Also, two heads obscured my view of him; it gave me a brief time to contemplate just what was happening to me and I began to feverishly thank the Universe in general.
After the beef wellington, carrots, potatoes and almond soufflé, heads moved and I was able to see George again. A girl from my table got up, went over to his and began snapping pictures. George made faces and plopped a napkin over his head while everyone laughed heartedly. Then Mo, the Prez of WB, went to the microphone stand. Incredibly enough it was situated almost right beside me; I couldn’t have picked a better seat if I’d wanted to.
Mo laid out his speech, “We all know about George Harrison as being one of four young men who changed musical history of the world…” however Mo had known him through mutual acquaintance of Mick Fleetwood and Gary Wright. When George and Gary had been in Lappland together on vacation they had sent him a picture of them standing beneath a sign saying, “2 Mo” –which really meant 2 miles to a town called, “Mo”, but Mo was touched by the gesture and kept the picture on his desk. Then he was very pleased when WB thereafter signed George. 1976 had been a great year for them and George had really capped it off. Then he spoke of how George was a great person, the concert for Bangla Desh showed his humanitarianism, his friend with Eric Idle showed his sense of humor and his devotion to God showed his deep spirituality.
During Mo’s speech George started to give out what I can only describe as “Let it Be” looks. It became eerie for me to see something so hauntingly familiar, something out of a time-warp.
Mo ended his speech by honoring George’s spirituality, presenting him with a little green elephant God. George went up to the mike, all smiles, thanked Mo and said that in India the elephant is a symbol of removing obstacles and that’s how his life had been going recently. He noted in particular his signing with WB and his regard for Mo. He also said he’s had a lot of friends at A&M but the “vibrations weren’t right.”
Then he spoke briefly about 33 1/3, describing the meeting with Lord Buckley’s manager which had inspired “Crackerbox Palace” and the legal background behind “This song.” He drew laughter at the end by saying he had to go on Saturday Night Live in order to pay off his lawyers.
He sat down and they played a cut off 33 1/3, which I liked right off but to this day cannot remember which song it was. Then they showed the flims “True Love” and “Crackerbox Palace” which, needless to say, I liked as well. Afterwards I would remember nearly every scene movies had been my world for 12 years not the man in the white suit a few feet away from me. After the films, “This Song” was supposed to be played but the engineer put on the wrong cut. George jumped up and cried, “Sorry, track 3!” Then he grinned and said, “This one’s nice too.” More hearty laughter. During “This Song” George sat bouncing to the beat and I did as well. Then he gave me the famous stare. Either I was just too freaked or subconsciously remembering that the I Ching had advised that with firmness and correctness came good fortune, but I merely stared back, calmly. He turned his eyes away first. And again I found myself thanking the Universe.
The applause at the end was enthusiastic and I felt relieved. No more down Rolling Stone articles would be written this month.
Before the party broke up Mo suggested George sign the 33 1/3 t-shirts everyone had found on their chairs. George spent 20 minutes signing shirt after shirt, grumbling good-naturedly, “Thanks a lot, Mo.” Then Denny re-entered with a UPI friend who shot picture after picture. George gave Denny a look and said, “Oh, so we’ve got UPI here now.”
As for me, I only stood as close as I could to him, knowing the dream was about to end. And I sensed a hint of disapproval from George that I was there and so constantly hovering but as he passed me on his way out I offered my hand and said, “good night, George.” His handshake was limp and moist and I think my eager one crushed him. However, that touch is the one thing that convinces me the whole thing was real to this day.
Out in the lobby George chatted with the small crowd waiting for him for about five minutes and gave Blue a smile and autographs. After he had disappeared into the elevators Blue and I became semi-hysterical. He had been healthy looking, happy and nice to fans and that for us was all that mattered.
November 17th-Wednesday: The next morning Blue and I, along with The Harrison Alliance saw him leave the hotel. I did nothing but take pictures, making up for what my camera had missed in Chicago. And after that I walked down the street, so high Blue had to pull me back from oncoming cars. Strange how within such a glorious feeling of life I didn’t care about it anymore. I can never forget that highness at the end. That is what being a Beatle fan should be all about.