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| I scanned this from an issue of Paul's "Club Sandwich" It shows the newspaper contest. |
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| Janette Carroll, 'The Red Devil' (left), watches Carmel Stratton plant one on Paul as he attempts to cut his cake one more time for the benefit of photographers. |
The main thrust of the birthday celebration came from the Daily Mirror newspaper which
organized an exclusive party at the Sheraton – approved and supervised by Brian
Epstein and Derek Taylor, who had flown up to Sydney a day early. “This Easy Contest Offers The Chance of a
Lifetime” howled the headlines, above a neat coupon that girls between sixteen
and twenty-two could fill in and append with a fifty word essay on “Why I would
like to be a Guest at a Beatles’ Birthday Party.” The judging was in the hands of Derek, Irish
comedian Dave Allen, Sunday Mirror editor Hugh Bingham, promotions manager
Leicester Warburton, and cadet journalist Blance d’Alpuget. More
than 10,000 entries flooded the newspaper office, from as far away as Brisbane,
Bendigo, Hobart and Canberra.
After great deliberation and searching interviews, seventeen
girls were chosen for the honor, with another fifteen runners-up promised a
brief backstage meeting the following night.
The party contingent was initially intended to be fifteen, but was
extended by Beatle decree to allow inclusion of girls from the cities of
Canberra and Newcastle.
The winners were Glennys Smith, a secretary from Cremorne
(20), Jenny Lamb, a sales assistant from Vaucluse (18), Sandra Linklater, a
student nurse from Earlwood (17), Caroline Styles, a secretary from Henley
(21), Ines Trues, a mannequin from Canberra (21), Evelyn Mac, a model from
Concord (21), Patricia Thompson, a student from Newport, Christine Buettner, a
student from St. Ives (16), Claire Hogben, a secretary from Pymble (18),
Carolyn Keirs, a librarian from Newcastle (19), Carmel Stratton, a showroom
assistant from Bondi (18), Anne-Marie Alexander, a secretary from Collaroy
(18), Marcia McAtamney, a student from Strathfield (17), Delphine Dockerill, a
university student from North Bondi (18), Jannette Carroll, a student from
Ultimo (16), Nancy Haddow, a secretary from Cremorne (22), Sandra Stevenson, a
teacher form Cronulla (21). For Glennys
Smith and Claire Hogben (the editor’s daughter), it was a double celebration,
as they also had birthdays on June 18.
Jannette Carroll, and inner-urban Sydeny-ite among some
fairly daunting silver spooners, was the youngest winner and now, as a school
teacher in her thirties, remembers vividly the event which altered the course
of her adolescence:
“It was my eleven year old sister’s idea to enter. I thought it was rigged and that only
politician’s daughters would win but was bored one Sunday so I sent in two
coupons. I had read John’s book so I
composed my entry in that sort of language.
I felt a bit silly about doing it so I didn’t say anything to my
friends.
Then about a week later mum came up to school to say that I’d
made it into the final and I had to go for an interview at the Mirror. We rushed into the city so I could get my hair
done and then I was shoved into this room at the Mirror that was entirely full
of men. Derek Taylor was there but most
of the questions were form Dave Allen.
They asked me why I’d entered and I said I didn’t have anything else to
do at the time. That must have amused
them because I was chosen over a whole lot of rich debutantes that were
streaming in and out of the place while I was there.
On the night, we were all dropped off at the Mirror by our
parents and then driven to the Sheraton hotel in big black limousines. Along the way there were girls by the side of
the road booing us and throwing things at the car.
We got there first and waited for the Beatles who were
coming from their second show at the Stadium.
They came in to meet us before the press were allowed entry and they
weren’t anything like I imagined superstars would be. Paul, George and Ringo came around to talk to
each of us personally but John seemed to hang back a little, as if he was
shy. Because of that I went out of my
way to talk to John and I think I ended up monopolizing a lot of his time.
Once the press and the other performers were allowed in and
the party got underway, I danced with Paul, George and Ringo a couple of times
each but I noticed that John wasn’t dancing at all. So I got a bit cheeky and went up to him and
said, “Don’t you know how to dance? I
thought all English people could dance.”
He started laughing and got up and danced with me and we got along great
for the rest of the night. I was wearing
a bright red dress so he christened me the “Red Devil.” They were all really sensitive, soft,
intelligent guys but John was the most amazing of all. He opened my mind with some of the things he
was saying, things I’d never talked about before.
After about an hour, all the reporters were sent away and
the party became much less formal and restricted; it became just like a
gathering of good friends. Ringo and
John became very funny; like whenever a photographer came near me, Ringo
whipped the glass of Scotch out of my hand and replaced it with a salt
shaker. Then once the photographers had
gone they became much more relaxed. When
one tried to sneak back in, George gently kicked his camera out of his hands.
The seemed to be a little infuriated with Little Pattie, who
kept putting Beatles records on, because they really wanted to hear the Rolling
Stones and Motown stuff (Little Pattie denies this). But apart from that they were in a great mood
and the party went on until about 2a.m.
I didn’t notice much of the other performers, except Johnny Chester who poured
a drink all over the front of my dress.
As we were leaving Paul shook all our hands and by this time
I was even braver so I said, “I’m not used to shaking boys’ hands on their
birthday” and offered him my cheek. He
very gently took my chin, turned my face around and gave me a beautiful kiss
right on the lips. I know it sounds
corny, but for about two weeks I washed every part of my face but my lips.”
The Beatles themselves seemed to be in enormously good
spirits throughout the midnight bash. ‘Ee,
it’s a proper do isn’t it?” Paul had
quipped when he first walked in the room.
“Hey Ringo, don’t get yourself plastered, “instructed George. “Shurrup
kiddo, watch hows yer speaks to yer elders,” he retorted, adding later, “I love
these Australian girls mate, they’re smashing.”
“You’d never meet such marvelous girls from a contest like this in
England.” Smoothly offered Derek Taylor.
“Their reasons for wanting to attend the party were excellently
explained. I couldn’t write better myself
– and that’s my job!”
Bob Rogers (who was allowed to stay throughout) has his own
recollections of the party. “The thing
that sticks in my mind the clearest is how absolutely rotten drunk Ringo
got. At about 3 a.m. he passed out on
his feet and just slowly sunk to the ground where he stood.” This incident was not witnessed by special
guest Patricia Amphlett, who had departed some hours earlier. After all, she was only fifteen, hit record
or not.
As Little Pattie, the diminutive Eastlakes schoolgirl, Miss
Amphlett had scored a freak hit record over Christmas 1963 with the charming
novelty song, “He’s My Blond Headed Stompie Wompie Real Surfer boy” and was on the
charts with her second hit, “We’re Gonna have a party tonight” when the Beatles
arrived.
“I went to see them at the Stadium on Thursday night with my
friend Noeleen Batley and one of the security men that we knew offered to take
us backstage to meet the Beatles. I was
absolutely terrified because I was very very shy and I only looked about
twelve. But they were marvelous; they’d
heard about my first record and wanted to know what a “stompie wompie” was –
something which I had great difficulty explaining.
Ringo was extremely warm and friendly towards me and he
insisted that Noeleen and I come to the party.
I rang mum and she said yes so I went back to the hotel in their
car. I think I spent most of the night
sitting a corner though.”
One gentleman spent most of the evening locked n his room,
although he was somewhat unaware of it.
According to Lloyd Ravenscroft: “the
M.S.S. security guard got stuck into the grog and started causing problems, so
we carried him down to his room, blink drunk, took away the key and rang Devon
Minchin to say I’d sacked the man and wanted another. He was so upset that he got in his car in the
middle of the night and came straight to the hotel and announced that he was
replacing the man personally for the remainder of the tour.”
Dave Lincoln saw the second half of the party that the press
were forced to miss. “After all the journos
and officials left, we all went back to our rooms, changed into dirty jeans and
the like and rocked on without having to look over our shoulders. It was a great party, just like being with
your best mates at the local.”
At one point, guests Evelyn Mac and Carmel Stratton gave
their hosts a crash course in the dancing of the Australian Surfer’s
Stomp. Ringo and Paul caught on quickly,
George gave up after a few clumsy attempts and john wouldn’t’ have anything to
do with it.
Among the afternoon media guests had been Dale Plummer of
Woman’s Day, who delivered a white fondant fruit cake baked by cookery expert
Margaret Fulton. With the candles blown out
(in four attempts) before the concert, it became a handy photo prop later in
the evening. The astute Ms. Plummer
noted that while George and John were consuming the “Beatle drink” of Scotch
and Coke, Paul was partaking of vodka and tonic because “vodka leaves no smell.”
Alcohol may not have tainted Paul’s breath, but his kiss had
devastating effects on one of its recipients, Jannette Carroll. “The next day I was an absolute celebrity at
school, with kids questioning up at the canteen to ask me questions. But I think I lost as many friend as I
gained. One close friend got really
angry and asked why didn’t you tell me you’d entered, I would have too, and
then didn’t speak a word to me for six years.
After a while, getting mobbed in the playground wasn’t much fun, in fact
it nearly got me expelled from school- the very staid Fort Street Girls high.
A reporter from the Sunday Mirror came out to interview me
and took of photo of me in my school uniform.
It appeared on page three with a heading of “Pals Make it Hot for Red
Devil” and on the Monday I was called before an absolutely furious headmistress
who was threatening all sorts of things.
Seventeen year old Sandra Linklater also found that meeting
the Beatles had more repercussions than she had imagined. A student nurse at Royal Prince Alfred
Hospital, then the biggest hospital in the Southern Hemisphere, Sandra entered
the competition when a close friend won two concert tickets and refused to give
one to her.
“RPAH had a hard rule that training nurses couldn’t be
photographed in their uniform but that was the only shot I had so I sent it to
the Mirror. A few weeks later I got a
call at home form a livid Matron Nelson who demanded to know why I was on the
front page of the Mirror in my uniform.
When I got to work I had to go and see her and try my best to explain
it. Then a few days later I went to the
newspaper office with my mother for an interview and the next day I was on the
front page again!
In 1964, a seventeen year old girl was a little more
protected than she is now. My father
thought the Beatles were totally disgusting and he rang the Mirror demanding to
know where this party was going to be held and who was going to be there. Matron did the same thing. At first they refused to tell him but when he
said that he wouldn’t’ allow me to go, they told him it was at the
Sheraton. On the night he drove me to
the Mirror and then followed the convoy of limousines to make sure they were
telling him the truth. Matron gave me
strict instructions not to be seen with a cigarette or glass of alcohol in my
hand, because the reputation of the hospital was at stake.
When we got to the hotel, I was really terrified because all
these screaming girls started banging on the car, abusing us. I didn’t know those sort of things
happened. I can’t remember much about
the party itself except that we all danced a lot. At one point a girl fainted and someone said,
“you’re a nurse, take care of her.” I took
her pulse and helped her into the toilet to freshen up.”
The most memorable incidents happened after the party. A car took me to the hospital at about 5a.m.
and in those days there was a 10:30p.m. curfew.
I started work at six and at nine Matron called me into her office and
had me recount everything that happened, though she pretended not to be really
interested. Over the next week I must
have told every detail to at least 200 people.
Wards from all over the hospital were ringing in to ask if I could come
and talk to their patients. For
literally years afterwards I was known to everyone in the hospital as “The
Beatle Nurse,” I got so used to it I never even thought about it.”
“The Sunday Mirror was quite ingenious,” says Dick Hughs. “If
you drove around Sydeny and looked at the street posters you would read “Vaucluse
girl at Beatles Party,” then “Bondi girl at Beatles Party” and so on. They printed up a poster to cover the suburb
of each of the seventeen girls. “
The Sunday Mirror also carried pages upon pages of comments
from the girls concerning their night with the stars. According to Nancy Haddow, who was “adopted”
by Ringo for the night, “Ringo’s a bit shy but full of fun. He called me ‘luv’ all night and told me that
he would never get married because he is scared stiff about walking down the
aisle. He’s a beaut dancer, he taught me
how to do the Monkey and the Banana – apparently nobody does the twist in
England anymore. He let me read his palm
and I found he had the longest line of fame I have ever seen.” Carolyn Styles was amazed by her host, “Paul
had memorized very small detail he could about all the girls so that when he
met one he was completely at ease and could ask her straight off about her job
or something she was interested in.”
Jenny Lamb, who gave Paul and a bottle of Scotch, was amused by Ringo, “When
he went to the bar to get drinks for the girls, he would make all kinds of
grimaces and mutter ‘work all day, work all night.’ He also went around asking everyone if they
were foreign and when they said no he would shake his head sadly and walk off.” Delphine Dockergill gushes, “Paul is the most
divine person I have ever met. I thought
he would be terribly conceited but he was natural and friendly. He is the most fantastic dancer, the way he
moves is amazing. And when he danced
cheek-to-cheek with me I thought I’d faint!”
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