Beatles Colossal Brush Off Disappoints Fans (Cincinnati 1966)

Photo by Gordon Baer

 

Beatles Colossal Brush Off Disappoints Fans

By Dale Stevens

The Cincinnati Post and Times Star

August 20, 1966

Idols fly in, snub crowd, and vanish in 18 seconds

    Well, John, Paul, Ringo, and George-they say you're nice guys, but as far as I'm concerned, you're not. Even Frank Sinatra, at his saltiest, doesn't treat people the way you do. The Beatles, the English rock and roll group that has become the biggest hit in the history of show business, rolled into Lunkin Airport at 2:45 a.m. today. They preferred to stay over here overnight rather than in Memphis, where last night they did two concerts. From the door of the plane, past the waiting reporters and photographers, it took the Beatles a snappy 18 seconds to get into a limousine and away. 

    Their management, which apparently is more concerned with secrecy than courtesy, condescended to let the Beatles' car drive within the fenced-off area, so the 150 fans beyond the fence could wave, but standing within the fence were five young girls from Lexington, Kentucky, who had spent $367 on four floral horseshoes and wanted to hand them to Lennon, McCartney, Starr, and Harrison. 

    The limousine didn't stop, but Jan Greer, an 18-year-old Lexington student, got a grip on the window and tried to hand her carnation horseshoe to Paul McCartney. The 60 flower horseshoe split in two. Jan fell to the ground, bumping her head and rumpling her clothes, and away sped the Beatles, whose sole tribute to their followers and press was a collection of sincere, rehearsed smiles. 

    Afterward, the Kentucky girls insisted they didn't blame the Beatles. They still hoped to be able to present their flowers to the boys. They even vowed to buy another bouquet to replace the one lost in the motorcade. Jan, distraught, embarrassed, and sad because the Beatle car hadn't slowed down to less than 25 miles an hour, said she had said something stupid like "I love you" to Paul McCartney through the limousine window before falling. 

    Jan's friends are Linda Simmons, 19; Carol Lester, 18; Bonnie Sharp, 16; and Brenda Snowden, 16. Linda and Carol are secretaries in Lexington. For weeks, they had taken a few dollars from their salaries to pay for the flowers. The other girls, still students, had to save from their allowances for the $367, which included $20 to get the flowers here by refrigerated truck so they wouldn't wilt. Each horseshoe held five dozen carnations, one natural red, the other sprayed purple, blue, and green. Each horseshoe was three feet high, about half the size of a regular one used to crown winning horses, according to the florist who delivered them. And though the girls were permitted inside the runway fence, there was no guarantee they would be able to get their flowers to the Beatles. 

    They still had only words of love for the Britons after their brush-off. The newsmen had no such praise. All were miffed at the idea that the Beatles didn't even pause for a decent photo or as much as one question; the rush was put on by their management, of course, but it seemed a gross show of disrespect for the professional press to show up at the inconvenient middle-of-the-night arrival. 

    The medium-sized contingent of police, who were to guard the Beatles from possible overzealous fans, didn't have much to do at either Lumpkin or Vernon Manor Hotel because of the bewitching hour schedule. Barely 35 fans were at the Vernon Manor, evenly divided between teenage girls and fellows with hair as long as the Beatles' trusses. The Beatles and their group of about 65 people, managers, booking agents, international press, and supporting acts are housed on the sixth floor at the suburban hotel. Vernon Manor was sold out for the occasion. Some of the people staying there are believed simply to be in the same building with the Beatles. 

    Three cars were supplied by Stillpass Mercury for the motorcade, but owner Joe Stillpass laughingly denied he might later take one of the cars apart to sell it piece by piece. In the past, such items as bed sheets have been sold by the square inch once they had accommodated the Beatles. This scene this time was nothing like the 1964 Beatles' arrival, but the frenzy then was aided by their daylight landing. It doesn't signify any shift in sentiment by their followers. In 1964, almost 13,000 attended the Cincinnati Garden Show.

    Tonight, about 18,000 are expected at Crosley Field, and last night the best advance planning probably belonged to the two girls who showed up at the baseball park after the stage had been installed near second base. They chipped away part of the stage timbers for souvenirs, then kissed the infield dirt by the handful, replacing it near the stage steps in hopes the Beatles might walk on their kisses.

     That was precisely the atmosphere expected by Tom Dixon, Cincinnati police captain who headed the squad at Lunkin and Vernon Manor this morning. He said his men were prepared for anything, even the remote possibility someone might want to harm the Beatles. But his main job, he said, was to protect them from their followers. Kisses, he indicated, are more of a threat than killers. It must be true, for the limousine parked behind the Vernon Manor at 3:30 a.m. bore the script written on the dusky trunk, "Hi Ringo," and "I love you, Paul, and the dirty fingers belonged to Charlene Drescher of 1621 Pelham and Pam Kruger of 5832 Kennell, unlike the press, their adoration knows no bounds, and they do not insist upon professional conduct, and that, as I say, is show business.