Me & the Beatles

 

The Beatles with Ricky, Johnny, Billy and Linda Pollak

Photo from the Pollak Family album 

Photos from the Pollak Family Album 

   

This is a very lovely story from the girl who was a teenager when the Beatles came to her house in Miami for the Life magazine photo shoot and spent the day swimming and lounging in the sun.  There is just one part that I don't think is true.  In 1964, did this girl really spend time talking to George Harrison about meditation and India?  Nothing is impossible, but it seems far-fetched that George was talking about those things in 1964.   A side note  -- I sure would love to see more photos from this day from her family photo album!

Me & the Beatles

By Linda Pollak

The Miami Herald

November 18, 1995

 Linda Pollock was a 15-year-old living in Miami Beach when Beatlemania hit the states in 1964. In one of life's simple twists of fate, Linda's house was picked to be the backdrop of a Life magazine photo session. Here's her first-person recollection of when she--- well --- met the Beatles. 

    Glancing out my bedroom window this quiet Saturday morning, I see the two convertibles arrive again. How can I simultaneously feel so incredibly lucky and utterly inept? Today is supposed to be recuperative. Our excitement over yesterday's Life magazine photo shoot has almost died down. Still, now I'm trying to salvage friendship, smarting from the sting of exclusion, calmly, the maid's voice issue from the intercom, confirming my fear that yesterday's guests have returned. It can't be. I'm 15, home with only the maid and the Beatles are parked in my driveway.  Yesterday, I played the perfect hostess as our family entertained the cocky lads from Liverpool, sheltered them from the hysterical horde of teenage girls ready to bear their first born.

     Ed Sullivan had officially launched Beatlesmania just days before, hosting the Fab Four on his Sunday night variety hour and pulling a domestic audience of more than 70 million people. He promptly invited them to appear again the next week, and in between, they came to my house. 

     25 years after their last performance, including 15 since the untimely death of John Lennon, the Beatles are the third highest-grossing entertainers in the world. With the first authorized documentary set to begin airing Sunday night on ABC TV and three new studio albums scheduled for release in the coming months. The Beatles are back, indeed. 

     I don't have to think about that February day when I met the Beatles. Sometimes, it feels like this experience belongs to someone else. Someone young and naive with unlimited opportunities ahead.

    It was such a different time.  Anything but a crewcut was a sign of rebellion, and being a "bad kid" meant skipping school for a day.  America knew them as a group for only seven years, but together, we asked questions, took a stand, and lost our innocence.

     I was a Junior at Beach High. One Thursday evening, I was at a friend's house when my mother called to say, "you're not going to school tomorrow. Something's happening, and I'll tell you when you get here." I came home immediately. "If you need to make any calls, you better do it now," she said, beginning the explanation to me and my three brothers. "I promised these people privacy so the phone's off limits until tomorrow night." We sat motionless, too curious to call anyone. 

    Then calmly, "tomorrow the Beatles are coming over."

     "What? You gotta be kidding!" Scream my brother Billy, "this is the biggest thing in history!"

     In retrospect, I suppose we shouldn't have been quite so surprised. My parents were prominent members of the Miami Beach social set and threw great parties. Celebrities often came to our house. My mother had been a recording artist in the Big Band days, singing with the orchestras of Gene Krupa, Count Bassey and Duke Ellington under her maiden name, Jerri Krueger, until she gave it up to marry my father in 1945.

     Paul Pollak was a Chicago businessman who moved to Miami soon after the 1926 hurricane and became one of the city's original hotel developers. With his brother and brother-in-law, he bought the Breakwater Hotel on Ocean Drive and the Belmar at 26 and Collins Avenue before it was demolished. He also contributed to the beach expansion of Collins by building the Driftwood and Thunderbird motels. 

    Miami was the place to be in the 50s and early '60s; the nightclub scene was jumping; Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr were appearing together at one joint, and Dean Martin and Joey Bishop were up the street. Mom was friendly with most of these celebrities from the old days. When they played Miami, she asked them to a charity fundraiser at our house. We had a beautiful home on North Bay Road, right on Biscayne Bay, where she entertained Liza Minnelli, Tony Bennett, Lauren Greene, and others. June Allyson was married there. Sinatra once threw his own party there. And President Kennedy lived next door for five days when he visited Miami. 

    After a while, we kids got used to celebrities, but this was the first time we entertained celebrities from our generation. Along with the Beatles, comedian Myron Cohen was scheduled to appear on Sullivan's show, which would be broadcast from the Deauville Hotel. Life magazine arranged a photo shoot at the Deauville, but the hysteria, Beatlemania, quickly nixed the plans. 

    Myron phoned my mother to say hello and mentioned that the Life photographers were having trouble trying to photograph this group that appeared with him. "You have a beautiful home", he said, in a sing-song, Yiddish cadence; "maybe I could bring them over."

     "Fine Myron, if it's important to you," said, mom, "but who is it?"

     "Well, what do I know? Four kids from England with the hair, the Beagles, the Bagels, something, whatever.  You and I could have a visit."

     At 10 the next morning, the Life photographers began setting up equipment. Of course, the cleaning lady and the deli delivery had already been there. About an hour later, two convertibles pulled into our driveway. The Beatles were here. Their manager, Brian Epstein, introduced himself, then his clients.

     Immediately, my mother asked, "who's drinking what?"  Noticeably impressed with the house and my parents' wall of celebrity photos, they were uncertain how to react. Politely they waited to be told what to do next. While the Beatles changed into matching jockey-cut bathing suits, the photographers asked my brothers and me to get into the pool so they could pre-focus. Then four pale, skinny guys tiptoed in, replacing us. Paul took my position. 

    The photographers told them to just have some fun. They goofed around for a while. Ringo started a splash fight. John did a few cannonballs, then got out and sat off to the side with his wife, Cynthia, just watching. Clearly, he didn't like being told what to do, even if it was to have fun. He changed back into his black sweatshirt and trousers. 

    The other stayed in their swimsuits and borrowed our guest robes to warm up. I got incredible offers for those robes. Some kids wanted to buy the pool water! 

     We served a buffet lunch, which Mom described to the boys as "divine ham, gorgeous roast beef, beautiful lox, and nice fresh bagels." Paul turned to her and said, "We've heard about this lox and bagos, but could you tell us which is the bago and which is the lox?"  Myron Cohen put that right into his act.

     As our guests were leaving, my mother, the perfect hostess, said, "Boys, you've been charming. If you'd like to come back while you're in town, please feel free to drop in."  By the time we said goodbye, the news had spread, and hundreds of people were lined up outside the gates of our house. Someone wanted a handful of Beatle hair and must have jumped on the back of Ringo's convertible. As the car pulled away, I heard him scream, "ow, me head!" 

     It all seemed to happen so fast. Then it was over. My friends were furious, jealous, envious. I was just beginning to get back to normalcy on Saturday, and now the convertibles are here again. The boys were taking up my mother's offer. My brothers were at the Saturday morning movies. Mom was at the beauty shop. I had just washed my hair when the doorbell rang. I panicked, thinking, "No, this is not possible. I've got wet hair!"  Quickly, I threw on a bathing suit and pretended I had been swimming. What else would a 15 year old do? 

    Brian Epstein was at the door. "We really enjoyed yesterday, Miss Pollak, and since your mother did invite us back, you think it would be all right? " I said with the proper British inflection. "Of course", I responded, thinking "I was home alone with the Beatles. No one will believe this." Epstein needs my mother's permission, so we phone her at the beauty shop. Mom makes a deal. Yesterday, she played by his rules, agreeing to complete privacy. Today, she wants her kids allowed to invite a few friends each.  He agrees. 

    Mom tells me to have the deli do a repeat performance and explains the deal she's made. My brothers come home with some friends, and a few bring guitars. We crank up the radio and dance. I remember doing the twist. 

    The Beatles are much more relaxed today, and we have a really easy-going, fun party. Ringo clowns around with everyone. Paul knows he's the "cute one" and  is very sociable. John continues to keep his distance. I relate best to George. He's kind of quiet like me, and we get into a long conversation about meditation and India. Eventually, I traveled there. 

    It was a wonderful day.  When they left, they invited us to the telecast and the backstage party. Afterward, we went to the show but couldn't hear a thing beyond the first chord. The screams were deafening. My father wouldn't let us go to the party. I was angry about that for years.

     Life ran one photograph on its back cover.  The shot of four heads bobbing in a pool, rather than the planned 13-page pictorial.  I never heard from the Beatles again. Years later, a friend told me about an interview with them. She heard someone ask what they remembered most about their first trip to America? One recalled spending the day in Miami Beach at a fancy house owned by a really nice lady. That's where they learned which is the lox and which is the bagel.