Beatles Shrug Off Press
By Ray Duncan
Pasadena Independent
August 30, 1965
A new era began in American life,
starting Sunday night, when the Beatles held a quiet press conference. Though
the average age in the room was very low, there was no screaming, no clawing,
no fainting, no gasping, and very little applause. It was an ordinary, orderly
press conference, such as might be held for the President or for a quartet of
astronauts.
A modest crowd of youngsters had gathered
outside the Capitol Records building in Hollywood for the supposedly secret
event, but they created no disturbance. Inside, in a large recording studio,
several uniformed guards had no trouble keeping order when the famous four
marched in. The people who seemed to do the least work at the Beatles. Beatles
press conference are --the Beatles
Photographers fought for favorable positions. (Dozens
of little girls with Brownie cameras were accepted as photographers for this
happening.) and guards kept the cameramen at bay, and the TV cameramen sweated
under the heat of the lamps. A British
press agent waved his arms to stage-manage the affair, but the four casually
clad Beatles sat in careless ease, facing the crowd and cheerfully evading most
of its questions.
One Beatle was smoking, another
chewed gum, and one did both. They wore loafer-style jackets and open shirts
and an air of having been through all this many times before. They were cordial and quick-witted enough,
even in the face of idiotic questions. After all, what can you ask a Beatle?
But something in their manner suggested an
undertone of good-natured arrogance and quiet contempt toward this part of
their peculiar career. As is customary
at these Beatles press gatherings, very little significant communication took
place. “Is there any truth to the rumor…..?” A questioner began, and a Beatle at that point
quickly answered, “No.”
“Will this be your last World Tour?” “No, and it's not a world tour. It's only
America after all.”
“What is your basic appeal to young people?” “I don't know, really " said Ringo,
trailing off into a smile, which is part
of the answer.
“Which singing group is next to you
in popularity? “ “I don't know. Really, there's a new one every week.”
One hard fact emerged from the Beatles and
seemed to move the audience deeply. They declared that their favorite American
singing group was one called “The Birds” [sic]
After 15 minutes of this sort of
exchange, it was more interesting to watch the audience, and there were many
remarkable, pretty girl children whose eyes were a little too old, but whose
lips were still vulnerable with youth. Many were brassiered beyond their years,
coiffed in a manner that couldn't be striking, and blonded in various
unconvincing shades.
The audience boys included one who
had dressed like a Beatle in concert black and who had also neglected his hair
in Beatles fashion. With him was a girl with ordinary girls hair, which looked
strange.
“Where do you get the ideas for
your songs?” “Out of my head.”
A bearded elderly man who claimed to be a
child psychologist asked the Beatles how they managed to survive the pressure
of publicity and adoration. They said, “Well, it's only about two hours a day.
The other 22 hours were just plain people.”
An adoring girl asked, “How long do you think
you will be supremely popular as you are now?” “Well,” said a Beatles, “let me figure…” And he trailed off into a reverie, ending with
a sudden smile, no answer.
“ Do you find that you have to be
more circumspect now than when you were less famous? “Circumspect? No, we're
Roman Catholics.”
And the jolliest question of all from a
serious adult, “Do you have any comment on the recent charge that you are
actually aiding the communist cause by softening and corrupting our youth?” Said the Beatles, who are getting $45,000 for
each of the two sold-out concerts in Hollywood Bowl last night and tonight, “We're
all capitalists.”
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