On a Magical Tour with the Beatles (1979)

Photo of George taken by Kenny Everett 

Photo of George taken by Kenny Everett

Kenny Everett and George Harrison in L.A. in 1966

 On a Magical Tour With the Beatles

By Kenny Everett

Daily Mirror

September 19, 1979

    The Beatles were my idols. Not only were they from Liverpool, but they talked like me. I adored their music, and I wallowed in the Mersey Beat wave back in the 60s, when they were at the height of their world success,

     I was an up-and-coming DJ, working for pirate radio. So imagine the thrill it was one morning when I received a phone call asking me if I wanted to tour America with the Beatles in 1966. There I was, in my tiny bed sitter, thinking that I'd better buy another pack of corn flakes, when Alan Keen, the boss of Radio London, rang me and asked me just that. It was heart attack time!

     I think that was just about the highest peak in my life. It all happened because someone had thrown a jelly baby at Ringo Starr while the Beatles were performing somewhere. Ringo picked it up and ate it. And the next day, there were stories and the papers saying that Ringo loves jelly babies.

     So Bassetts, the sweet people, suddenly thought, "Ping! Let's have a disc jockey touring America, reporting back each day on the Beatles for a special Bassetts radio show."

     I was dreadful at doing interviews, and I never knew what to ask. It was almost great, I say almost because I never really got close to the Beatles. I was frightened of speaking to them, in case I annoyed them, or they thought I was stupid.

     One night in a hotel bedroom when I was trying to do an interview with The Fabulous Four, I was stuttering and stammering, and John Lennon said, very candidly, "You're not very good at this. Are you?" I felt like crying. 

    Paul McCartney was smashing because he took me off into a bathroom and did a great interview with me. He told me exactly what questions to ask him, and then gave enough very polished answers to last me a week. After that, I always tried to get him off on his own. 

    The worst moment of that American tour was when I was nearly killed with The Beatles by the fans. The boys were doing a gig in Pittsburgh [sic], and they had a caravan parked in the middle of a field. 1000s of fans were on the outside of the field, but one guy broke through the police cordon. Six or seven policemen immediately chased him. There was suddenly a gap in the police ranks, and we watched in horror as 1000s of screaming kids broke through and started running toward us. All they wanted was a piece of John Lennon's leg or half of Paul McCartney's hair. 

    We all piled into the caravan and locked the door. I'm convinced that if that crowd had got to us, we'd have been ripped to pieces. The police finally managed to force the crowds back.

     My one regret is that I was too young to know the Beatles really well. I did eventually become quite friendly with them, though one day, years later, I suddenly received a very expensive dressing gown from John Lennon and Yoko. I never did know what I've done to deserve that.