Meet the Beatles for Real

Tuesday, July 28, 2026

A Great Peaceful Time in New York City

John and Yoko pose with a fan, Gary Lane at 8th st 1/2 east of 2nd Ave in Greenwich Village in NYC

The Adventures of Nancy in Maccaland (1984)

Nancy was standing right behind the cameraman in this photo.

The Adventures of Nancy in Maccaland

By Nancy Hefka

With a Little Help From My Friends

April 1984

We had initially intended our vacation to NYC on the 18th of October (1984) when I got a hysterical phone call from Diane Carroll. Paul was definitely coming to town and had been there, popping in and out. Okay, change of plans. We decided to go the 26th through 28th of October. Plane tickets bought and reservations made. Then another hysterical phone call. The premier's the 25th. He's driving me nuts! Okay, call the airport. Change departure date.

Detroit at 6 a.m. on the 25th of October was not the best place to be. Cold, foggy, and frosty. Seemed we'd never make it to the airport, and when we did, we were the only ones not in gray business suits. What would the day bring? After landing and getting to Diane's place via a taxi driver who remarkably resembled Idi Amin, we made our way over to the Carlyle Hotel. There, we all were: myself, Kristen, and Bruce from Detroit, Lizzie Bravo and Diane, Vinny, and Linda from NYC plus several others were hanging around waiting for the man. He'd better be worth it.

Finally, around 1:15 (over an hour late), he shows up. He looks thin, very pale, with grey peppered hair, but he had an electricity that affected everyone around him. The first person he saw out of the limo was Bruce, so he wished Bruce a good morning. Bruce looked at his watch and wished Paul a good afternoon. Paul gave him a funny look and pointed-- a clear gotcha. Then havoc began. Everyone started pushing and shoving, but Paul looked as if he would have stayed if it hadn't been for some jerk who started screaming and lunging, ruining a well-behaved crowd.

I was pushed into Paul. I hate crowds, and even though I was delighted at my proximity to the man, I was nervous with all the pushing and the guards trying to pull at him. I was losing balance and grabbed at the only thing offering support-Paul's shoulder. Then, to my horror, another realization came into effect: my camera, with the extra-long shoulder strap I borrowed, was hitting him on the butt!! Any second, I expected him to turn around and scream.

More pushing, and I was beginning to lose it. In Paul's ear came my immortal words: "What is all this bullshit? How can you stand it?" The entire escapade may have lasted three minutes. Finally, the guards pulled him into the door, and Paul finally turned around and saw me. I expected him to give me the finger. What I got was a huge grin, a thumbs up, and much laughter. Thank God, he had understood. I was told later that the camera goosing was probably his biggest thrill for the day.

We moved on to the Hard Rock Cafe. We saw a very sick-looking Elton John, who was wearing a zebra-striped suit, hat, and matching glasses, but no Julian Lennon. We headed back to the Carlyle by bus, only to be informed that we had missed both Paul and Julian. Now what? Over to the A Club, where we heard the press party would be. We were first there and watched the crowd grow. Finally, after such notables as Lee Eastman, Martha Quinn, Nina Blackwood, Ian Hunter, Marian Faithfull, Jane Curtin, Susan St. James, Treat Williams, and many more came, Paul arrived (late as usual.) He got out of the limo, smiled a bigger smile than he had to, and winked at me. He posed for photos, both he and Linda looking very nice but strained, and vanished into the building. We ran down the street to grab a Coke. We ran back and waited. He was out again in a little over an hour. I was standing next to two cops who couldn't have been nicer. Paul came out, looked straight at me, waved, and gave me the famous Macca head nod and thumb up of his, and off in the limo he went.

We ran for the Gotham Theater just a few blocks away. It was packed, and the cops were on horses; they were only going out of their way to try and incite a riot, so they could hurt people. One girl got clubbed just for trying to cross the street. We took that scene in from the second-floor McDonald's. It was pandemonium. Out stepped King Paul the First, bowing, throwing kisses, accepting flowers, and God did we laugh!

Soon the people from the canceled Elton John show came over, and the crowd grew as we waited for him to come out. He was whisked away in his limo, and the cops whisked out their clubs, and we took off the other way. We walked down to the Plaza, reflecting on the day. We never did see Julian, but we saw Paul five times, and he recognized me both times at the A Club. I was thrilled to have been noticed positively. We ended the day taking a carriage ride to the Dakota and back. What a nice way to relax and let sanity return.

A beautiful day at Friar Park

Photo by Terry Doran

Monday, July 27, 2026

The beautiful engagement ring

July 27, 2001

I know Paul and Heather's engagement is not a big memorable moment for many Paul fans. However, can we just take a moment to appreciate how beautiful Heather's engagement ring was? I love engagement rings that aren't the traditional diamond.

Green Day

July 27, 1976

I Want to Hold Your Hand? (1978)

Paul and John entering the Warwick in 1965

I Want to Hold Your Hand?

By Susan Maier

With a Little Help From My Friends

July 1978

I guess the reason I like the movie I Want to Hold Your Hand so much was how those girls tried to get to the Beatles by infiltrating their hotel. Back in August 1965, when the Beatles came to New York for their concert at Shea, my friends and I thought the surefire way to meet them would be to get into their hotel. There were three of us: my friends Phyllis, Fran, and me.

First, we tried to make reservations at the hotel. We even got a guy to call up for us to make it sound more businesslike. But there was a convention in town taking up any spare rooms. We hung around the hotel, sitting in the lobby the day before the big arrival of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. One newspaper reporter talked to us and bragged about how he had been upstairs to see the rooms that the Beatles would occupy. We begged him to get us in the next day, but he just laughed and said that he wasn't getting his own daughter in.

We met a man who had a steady room at the Warwick, but wouldn't be using it the next day. We offered him some ridiculous sum of money, which we didn't have, to use the room. But of course, he turned us down. The next day, the newspaper mentioned: "three little girls who offered money for the use of a room". They made the money offered even more ridiculous than what we had said!

It all looked bleak and hopeless. Then we met this guy outside the hotel who told us that there was a mayoral campaign going on in the hotel on the fourth floor, and they were looking for volunteers. We marched on up to the fourth floor, and sure enough, they took us with open arms. We couldn't believe it! They had us addressing envelopes and pasting articles in scrapbooks. Before we left for the day, they gave us ID passes and special buttons to wear, so we could get past the police barricades the next day. They told us that the Beatles would be arriving tomorrow, as if we didn't already know that.

Needless to say, none of us slept very well that night. The next morning, after the important decision of what to wear, we set out for the hotel. When we got there, there were crowds of girls already waiting, and police barricades set up two blocks away. We had our special buttons on and flashed our passes at the suspicious-looking police, and walked into the hotel. Oh, what a feeling to walk right into the lobby of the Beatles Hotel with all those girls waiting outside. We thought nothing but nothing could go wrong.

We were put to work addressing envelopes again. Luckily, Phyllis had brought a small transistor radio, which we managed to listen to, so we would know what was going on. Every once in a while, screams would fill the air from the street below, and we had all to do from flying out of our seats. All of a sudden, there was such a commotion from below that even the people around us started running to the windows to see what was happening. We ran with them, and from the open windows we could see down to the hotel entrance very clearly. A Rolls-Royce had drawn up, and four figures were being ushered into the hotel. I couldn't see their faces; just four heads of long hair. We were ecstatic! We went back to addressing envelopes until we could think of the next move to make. Who could work now?

There were a few other girls working there who had the same idea as us, but they didn't hide their purpose as well as we did. Then over the radio came the news that the four guys that had just arrived at the Warwick Hotel in a Rolls were imposters. They were a group called the Teddy Boys. We were sick. This meant that the Beatles were still on their way from the airport, and we didn't know what to do next. Fran decided to walk down to the lobby and see if anything was happening. She was very quickly chased back upstairs. Meanwhile, Phyllis and I had gotten friendly with one of the elevator operators, and he took us up to the penthouse where the Beatles were to stay. He opened the doors and we just stood there stunned. We didn't get out of the elevator. I'll never know why. He couldn't stay at that floor for more than a minute because they could tell in the lobby what floor he was stopped at and he wasn't supposed to be there. So he took us back down to the fourth floor. First chance down the drain.

Next, we met up with this other girl who told us to follow her. She led us around and around. I don't think she knew where she was going. We went down some back stairs and right into a room with long tables set up and cartons of Coke stacked up. We didn't realize until later that we had walked right through what was probably the press conference room. We could have hidden under the tables because they had long white tablecloths over them. We could have waited to see what would have happened. I can just imagine us being found under the table at the Beatles' feet. So much for our second chance.

Anyway, there was this nice older woman back on the campaign floor, and we got to talking. She led us on a stairway, and at the bottom there was a young policeman standing in front of a bank of elevators. As best we understood it, the Beatles were to come through there into their press conference. The cop said we couldn't stay there, but the woman persuaded him to let us stay. We swore that we wouldn't come off the steps. He was really very nice and said okay, but to stay seated. We thought that finally our luck was coming through. Well, out of nowhere, this nasty man came down the stairs and told us that if we were still there when he returned, he would call the police. He left, and yes, you guessed it. So did we. Looking back, I'll never understand why we didn't just stay there. Maybe he never came back, and if he did, what could he have really done to us?

By this time, the people running the campaign headquarters were wise to our real motives for working there. They told us they needed our badges back because they were issuing new ones with a different design for the next day. Of course, that was it. We were finished. Without badges, we couldn't get back into the hotel anymore. And to think, the three of us put in more work there than the other people running the thing. That guy who was running for mayor lost anyway. I just wish that our experiences in the Warwick Hotel had had a happy ending. But you know, I wouldn't have missed it for the world, even the way it was. As the newspaper pointed out, there were eight teenage girls working as volunteers, but it wouldn't do them any good. There were just four floors closer to the Beatles than the girls on the street, and I, for one am, glad that I was one of those eight girls.