Can He --- And $50 Million -- Reunite the Beatles? (1976)

 

Can He -- and $50 Million -- Reunite the Beatles?

By John Scanlon

Gloucester County Times

September 12, 1976

    The demise of the Beatles in 1970 ended a string of hit records that had kept Alan Amron on a musical high for seven years. He immediately started going into withdrawal. Amron, a Long Island, New York resident who lists his occupation as an inventor, lived and died with each rumor of a Beatles reunion. 

    He was a walking almanac of Beatles facts who spent his time listening to old Beatles records. Then, in May, a light bulb went "poof" in Alan Amron's head. "As an inventor," he reasoned, "I don't want to live and die. I want to live, do something for mankind, and then die."

     So on May 31, 1976, Amron walked into the offices of the Village Voice, a weekly New York newspaper, and paid $800 for a big advertisement. The ad announced the birth of the International Committee to Reunite the Beatles, and a part of that ad, which also appeared in Rolling Stone magazine, explains what Amron's brainstorm is all about. 

    "Sure, promoters can offer lots of money, but we, unified, can offer more money and support. There are countless millions of us, the people who love the Beatles, and just $1 contribution from every fan will help us in our effort to reunite the Beatles." Countless millions of people means that Amron stands to gather countless 1000s of dollars. The local reaction is that Amron has invented a ploy to exploit John, Paul, George, and Ringo, leading their fans down the long, winding road that leads to his door.

     Such a suggestion makes him bristle. "It's all legitimate," he says. He vows that he's not getting a salary. His 35 volunteers, who have been dispatched around the world and urge fans to send money to Amron's Long Island office, are unpaid. 

    He claims that by June 1977, Amron hopes to give the Beatles a $50 million check. If the campaign fails, he intends to donate the money to cancer research or to charities in other countries from where donations originated. "The reason I picked June 1977," Amron explained, "is because it's the 10th anniversary of the Sgt. Pepper album."

     Amron is offering the Beatles instant prosperity. In return, he just wants something for posterity. He'd even settle for a one-night stand, a two-hour concert at a site of their choice, as long as it's televised for the world to see and filmed so future generations can see the reunion of the century. He says, "You're talking about billions to be made, not for me, for them. Think about it: albums, movies, ticket sales. They can have the rights to everything. People ask me if I think they're worth it. Darn right, I think they're worth it," he says.

     Amron hasn't discussed the campaign with any of the Beatles or their agents. About four weeks ago, he thought it would be nice to get a statement from one of the musicians, just to see what the reaction might be to his fund drive. He gathered some publicity material, hopped in his car, and drove to John Lennon's New York City apartment. 

    John was at the curb opening the door of his limousine, and Amron, you might say, suffered a bad case of lockjaw, a disease commonly caused by hero worship. "I gave him the kit and didn't say a word," Amron said, becoming unnerved again at the thought. "I mean, I was so freaked out at seeing him, you know, John Lennon right there, and I was, oh, he looked, it was so unbelievable. For five seconds, we just stared at each other. I smiled, gave him the kit, and left."

     Since then, Amram has called Lennon's office. An agent told him the former Beatle was aware of the widely publicized campaign, but was not ready to make a statement. "I think the chances of a reunion are very good," Amron declared. "I think the Beatles have decided not to say anything yet and are just watching us very closely to see what happens."

    Meanwhile, the mailman keeps dumping stacks of checks and money orders on Amron's desk. Contributions have streamed in from Germany, from Belgium, the Turks went to see the Beatles reunited, and so do the Australians. Not to mention the folks in London, San Francisco, and a brandious university professor who contributed $200. 

    Amron has been receiving about $500 a day since last week. He plans to check with his accountant to find out how much has been raised during the three-month campaign. Based on an average day of receipts, it seems like a half million dollars might be in the fund, meaning that he has a short amount of time to raise a large amount of money. Amran isn't worried. He is planning a week of Beatles nostalgia, one in New York, probably at Madison Square Garden, and the other at a yet-undetermined site in California. He figures they'll be big money raisers. "It would be phenomenal to get the Beatles back together, you know. I've idolized them from the moment I saw them on Ed Sullivan," Amron said. Yes, it would be something.