It's a Shock to Find They're Only Human! The Beatles Came to Lincoln
By: Andy Bell
Sleaford Standard
December 6, 1963
Did you know that Paul McCartney hates "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" the new Beatles single, which sold a million in advance orders before its release? Or that Ringo Starr humbly refuses to call himself a drummer?
These are just two of the things I discovered in Lincoln last Thursday, the day I met the Beatles. Arriving at the ABC theater, I elbowed my way through the mass of school girls milling around the main doors, thankful for a fleeting moment that I wasn't a Beatle. Now it was time to meet them. Four boys with a nation at their boot clad feet.
I have always found meeting celebrities something of an anti-climax, and in the case of celebrities of the magnitude of the Beatles, it's even worse. I suppose it's the shock of finding out that they are 100% human after all. Then for a moment, you find yourself wondering what all the fuss is about anyway.
Perhaps if John Lennon had walked in with one eye in the middle of his forehead, or Ringo had answered questions in Chinese, it would have been different, but away from the footlights and the headlines, The Beatles are, believe it or not, just like you and me.
After a session with photographers in the foyer, three bundles of Merseyside dynamite were unleashed on the reporters. The fourth Beatle, Ringo, was feeling less dynamic for a good reason, which we were just to discover later. He waited until everyone was asking and answering questions and then made an inconspicuous entrance. Momentarily, Ringo was an unattached Beatle, a rare situation, and I decided to make the most of it.
So it was Ringo I talked to first. We chatted briefly about his days in Skegness when he was just another drummer (and a bearded one at that!) with the little known Mersey- Beasters Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. They spent the summer of 1962 at Bultins summer camp Skegness. I went on to ask him some semi-technical questions about drums. He looked at me as though I wasn't even talking his language. "Don't ask me," He said, "I'm no drummer." And I could tell that he really meant it. "I've got no ambitions to be a great drummer, either." He added, sensing my surprise, "The boys want an offbeat with the odd fill-in. And I give it to them; that's all right by me."
If any one of the Beatles could possibly be called quiet, then it is Ringo, except on stage, of course. But as we later discovered, the Beatles drummer was suffering rather badly from ear trouble. He was, in fact, smuggled away to hospital for treatment soon after he left us.
But there was nothing quiet about the other three. First impressions mean a lot, they say; these were mine. Paul McCartney seems permanently excited in an intelligent sort of way. One can't help thinking that Paul would look far more real in a grammar school uniform.
John Lennon clearly is the boss of the outfit; manly and mature by comparison, John gives the impression that he shouldn't really be a teenage idol at all. And finally, George Harrison, the baby of the group at 19. It isn't difficult to see why the girls go mad for George.
With the first house a little over an hour away, they were hauled off to a rehearsal by their road manager. That was because they were hoping to perform their new single release, "I Wanna Hold Your Hand", live for the first time. The idea clearly amused George Harrison, "We've got to go and learn our new record." He laughed.
But they never did rehearse the number for two reasons. The first was an unexplained disappearance of Ringo. The second was the rain. It was chaos. From the start, Ringo sat lazily behind Peter Jay's drum kit while George, John, and Paul tuned up and checked their equipment. Then, when they were almost ready, Ringo slipped away. Paul screamed into the stage mik,e switching from "Ringo" to "Starkey" (his full surname) as his patients ran out.
At last, drummer Ringo showed up. But so too did a member of the theater staff, "Sorry, boys, that's it." He said, "It's starting to rain. We're opening the doors." It was then that Paul McCartney made this startling remark. "I never wanted it in the act anyway. I hate it!" Fortunately for Mr. McCartney, 1 million teenagers do not hate "I Wanna Hold Your Hand". The disc has sold a million in advance orders before its general release.
Two hours later, I slipped into the back of the theater to watch the Beatles' first house act. I almost wrote 'hear', but the fact is, I hardly heard a thing apart from a scream lasting 20 minutes. Yes, Lincoln was the same as everywhere else, the curtain went up and the whole building exploded as 1600 teenagers went berserk in unison. The Beatles were no longer just the four likable young men I had shared a drink with two hours before. For 20 Electric minutes, they were gods, and a friended audience worshiped till their throats hurt.
No comments:
Post a Comment