An online Beatles fan club for and about Beatle fans
Thursday, March 19, 2026
Who's Who? Paul McCartney That's Who (1981)
Who's Who? Paul McCartney That's Who
AP
March 21, 1981
Paul McCartney finally has joined the ranks of the British establishment. The ex-Beatle is listed in the 1981 edition of Who's Who. The 39 year old rock music superstar, son of a Liverpool factory hand, and now reputed to earn $50 million a year gets a 41 line listing-- more than many judges, politicians and other outstanding public figures.
While McCartney was given the accolade, neither of the other two surviving Beatles, George Harrison and Ringo Starr, was mentioned in the famous 2800-page red book, the latest edition of which was published Thursday. McCartney may be the only personality in the tomb, widely regarded as the last word in social standing, to have a string of drug busts to his name, although they are discreetly omitted.
He declined to comment on his elevation, but many felt it was long overdue. It came almost 19 years after the Beatles first became famous, and 16 years after the lads from Liverpool were made members of the Order of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth II for services to the nation.
A spokesman for the publishers, Adam and Charles black said of the rock musicians' long omission from the reference book. "Their reputations may not be altogether permanent. We were very doubtful about the Beatles as four separate people. We wanted to wait and see if they made a continued mark, which Lennon and McCartney have done."
It was not clear whether John Lennon, McCartney's songwriting partner in the Beatles days, would have made the Who's Who. He quit music for five years and had just launched a musical comeback when he was murdered outside his New York apartment last December 8.
The publisher spokesman commented that Harrison and Starr, who have done little of note for years, have rather faded from the public eye. The Beatles broke up in 1969.
John Chambers of the Beatles fan club in their native Liverpool welcomed McCartney's accession to the establishment but criticized the continued snubbing of the other Beatles. "It's a bit crazy," he said. "It took four of them. It's 100% or nothing."
In McCartney's entry lists, 23 of the hits he composed with John Lennon, from "Love Me Do," the Beatles' first British hit in 1962, to "Hey Jude" in 1968. It also details McCartney's career after the breakup, particularly his success with his own band Wings.
McCartney is the only ex-Beatle to have consistently made his mark in show business since the split. He had a unique multiple listing in the Guinness Book of Records two years ago as the most successful composer of all time, with 43 songs that sold a million copies each. Winner of a record 63 gold discs with The Beatles and Wings, making him the world's most successful recording artist with estimated global sales of more than 100 million singles and 100 million albums.
Among other new entries in this year's Who's Who are author Andrew Boyle, whose book, The Climate of Treason unmasked royal art historian Anthony Blunt as a one time Soviet spy, actor Tom Conti who won a claim on Broadway, for Whose Life Is It Anyway, Prime Minister Charles Hogley of the Irish Republic and Prime Minister Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe.
Wednesday, March 18, 2026
The Good Show Scripts - A Book Review by John Lennon (1973)
The Goon Show Scripts
By John Lennon
New York Times Book Review
September 30, 1973
I was 12 when the Goon Shows first hit. Sixteen when they finished with me. Their humor was the only proof that the world was insane. Spike Milligan's (may he always) book of scripts, is a cherished memory, for me, what it means to Americans I can't imagine (apart from a rumored few fanatics) as they say in Tibet, "You had to be there." The goons influenced the Beatles (along with Lewis Carroll / Elvis Presley). Before becoming the Beatles' producer, George Martin, who had never recorded rock and roll, had previously recorded with Milligan and Sellers, which made him all the more acceptable --our studio sessions were full of cries of Neddie Seagoon, etc, etc, as were most places in Britain. There are records of some of the original radio shows, some of which I have, but when I play them to Yoko I find myself explaining "that in those days there were no Monty,Python Flying Circus, no Laugh In, in fact, the same rigmarole I go through with my "50s records," "before rock, it was just Perry Como," etc. What I'm trying to say is one has to have been there! The Goon Show was long before and more revolutionary than "Look Back in Anger" (it appealed to "eggheads" and "the people"). Hipper than the Hippest and madder than Mad, a conspiracy against reality. A "coup d'etat" of the mind! The evidence, for and against, is in this book. A copy of which should be sent to Mr. Nixon and Mr. Ervin.
One of my earlier efforts at writing was a "newspaper" called The Daily Howl. I would write it at night, then take it to school and read it aloud to my friends; looking at it now, it seems strangely similar to the Goon Show! Even the title had "highly esteemed" before it! Ah, well, I find it very hard to keep my mind on the BOOK itself, the tapes still rings so clearly in my head. I could tell you to buy the book anyway, because Spike Milligan's a genius and Peter Sellers made all the money! (Harry Secombe got SHOW BIZ). I love all three of them dearly, but Spike was extra. His appearance on TV as "himself" were something to behold. He always "freaked out" the cameraman/directors by refusing to FIT THE PATTERN. He would run off camera and DARE them to follow him. I think they did, once or twice, but it kept him off more shows than it helped him get on. There was always the attitude that, he was "wonderful, but, you know..." (indicating head.) I think it's because he's Irish. The same attitude prevails towards all non-English, British.
I'm supposed to write 800 words, but I can't count. Anyway, Spike wouldn't approve. I could go on all day about the Goons and their influence on a generation (at least one), but it doesn't seem to be about THE BOOK! I keep thinking how much easier it would be to review it for a British paper. What the hell! I've never REVIWED anything in my life before. Now I know why critics are "nasty." It would be easier if I didn't like the book, but I do, and I'd love you to love the Goons as I do. So take a chance.
P.S.: Dick Lester (of Hard Days Beatles fame) directed the TV version of the Goon Show, "a Show called Fred." It was good, but radio was freer -- i.e., you couldn't float Dartmoor prison across the English Channel on TV (maybe the B.B.C. should have spent more money.) Also, there is a rare and beautiful film (without Harry Secombe) called "The Running, Jumping and Standing Still Film." Ask your local "art house" to run it. It's a masterpiece, and captures the Goon "spirit" very well.
Starr Mad at Use of Lennon's Death
Starr Mad at Use of Lennon's Death
Los Angeles Times' Service
March 19, 1981
Months after the death of John Lennon, drummer actor Ringo Starr still finds it hard to talk publicly about what the loss of the fellow ex-Beatle means to him. Sitting in the den of his rented Beverly Hills house before leaving for recording in Montserrat and then a brief vacation, Starr replied to a question about Lennon by saying, "I lost a great friend, and the world lost a great human being, and the music industry lost a great musician, and that's really all I want to say."
Like others, touched by the Beatle, Starr, the only member of the Fab Four to visit Lennon's widow, Yoko Ono, immediately after the December 8 murder, has been appalled by the commercialization of the rock star's death. When someone brought in yet another Lennon "tribute" magazine during the interview, he snapped. "That whole thing drives me mad. They've got buttons and pins and dolls, and badges. It's all bull."
Part of his reluctance to talk about Lennon's death seemed to be an intrinsic desire not to contribute further to the circus of emotion. But the bearded musician also appears sensitive about revealing such deeply personal feelings
. The interview was scheduled to discuss Starr's new album, You Can't Fight Lightning, and movie Caveman, both due in April. The film is a Lawrence Turner David Foster production, directed by Carl Gottlieb, and is a "prehistoric comedy" that co-stars Barbara Bach, Starr's fiancée. It's the ex-Beatle's first starring role after bits and pieces in such films as Candy, Litzomania, and That'll Be the Day. He's hopeful it will finally establish him as a genuine actor, not just novelty marquee bait.
The album, which will be released by Portrait Records, is Starr's first in more than two years, and he believes that it is his best since Ringo in 1974. He is joined on the LP by several friends who wrote and or produced individual tracks, besides Harry Nilsson, Steven Stills, and Ron Wood, the guests include two members of his old gang--- Paul McCartney and George Harrison.
Lennon, too, had agreed to contribute a song or two. The two, Starr said had planned to go into the studio in January. One of the Lennon songs was to have been a toast to the fact that they had both turned 40 last year. Its title "Life begins at 40."
After talking at length about the film and the album, then posing for accompanying photographs, Starr settled in a chair for a more informal conversation. Inevitably, Lennon's name came up again, and this time, a more relaxed Starr opened up a bit. When asked if the outpouring of emotion after his friend's death surprised him. Star said, "No, the four of us were well loved, but I think John was especially loved. He'd give his heart away. I think people sensed that about him, even though he had this reputation as a cynic and a rapier wit; a lot of people even seemed frightened of him. I could never understand that, because he was the kindest man I've ever met. He wouldn't take any crap off you, but he was so gentle."
Starr said that he and Bach spent the day after Thanksgiving in New York with the Lenons. "We had such a great day," he recalled.
Tuesday, March 17, 2026
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I love this photo
I can't recall if I have posted this one before in recent days but then I dont' really care if I have because it is just so great that I will post it again!
Leaving it Until the Last Minute (Fan Meeting 1982)
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| No photos were taken during this meeting with Paul so I included a photograph of Paul from around this time period |
Leving it Until the Last Minutes
By Laurie Ross
With a Little Help From my Friends
April 1983 (Issue #42)
When I arrived in London on the morning of October 9, 1982, the biggest question and worry on my mind was, "Will I see Paul?" For the previous three years, I had been lucky enough to meet him at AIR or see him in concert, incredible luck, when you consider that in my office, where I work, I have to choose my holidays in January, so there are no last-minute plans for me. Except for in '81, the last two previous occasions I didn't see him until my last couple of days in London, which is hard on the nerves, to say the least. In fact, once I had to phone my boss and tell her a far-fetched story about my friend being injured in a car accident and how I had to take care of her. Luckily, she believed me. I hope she didn't hear my whoop of joy as I hung up the phone. I got to see Paul, after all.
Anyway, my hopes were a bit dimmed when I rang my London friend only to be informed that Paul had finished recording the day before I arrived. Grrr, however, I had three weeks in England altogether, and felt very hopeful. I spent a lot of time with my good friend Doylene, who was very patient with me and kept me company at MPL and at the gallery where Linda's photo exhibit was. Of course, we didn't see the man, as of course, he was in New York, but we didn't know that then. It's so humiliating and frustrating waiting outside MPL when you know the staff inside know exactly where Paul is, but wouldn't dream of telling you, and probably have a good laugh at your expense. It isn't hard to tell a Macca fan in Soho Square. We're the ones trying to casually read a paper while jumping every time a car stops in front of the building and craning our necks to look into "the" window.
After a week, I flew to Kenya for a marvelous two-week holiday. Of course, we Beatle fans are always sniffing out anything at all to do with them, so it wasn't surprising to find me madly going through a hotel's guest book, as I knew Paul had been there in November of 1966. This was at the Tree Tops game viewing hotel in the Adair forest. It's a fantastic place that is built on stilts and is in the middle of nowhere. Everyone has to travel together in a specially built bus, as the roads are so narrow and winding that a normal car just couldn't do it. A water hole and Salt Lick are right outside, and the animals come at all hours of the day and night. We weren't very lucky and only managed to see water buck, baboons, warthogs, and impala.
Anyway, I found Paul's signature. He had signed as Hunt Hanson from Frisco, USA, and right below him, Mal had signed his name. Someone had written "Paul McCartney incognito" beside his name, which made it easy for me. Of course, I had to take a photo of this (I was tempted to rip out the page, but would have had about 10 witnesses, so I thought better of it), much to the amusement and bewilderment of the other guests, the things we Beatle nuts do.
I arrived back in London totally rested and ready for some serious Macca hunting. This time, I was on my own, as Doylene had gone back to the USA. I spent a couple of hours each afternoon at Soho Square, and the only thing I accomplished was to get on a first-name basis with all the pigeons that call the square home. Finally, I got fed up and took off to Cornwall for a few days, hoping that maybe one last week there would bring me luck.
On November 10, my last day in London rolled around, and after a futile trip to Berondsey where Paul had done a scene for his film two days previously. I finally admitted defeat. 1982 just wasn't my year to see Paul. I had a lovely holiday, and so what if my cake needed some icing? Cake is good by itself! I met my London friend for a pub lunch, and we headed back to her place for coffee. We got off the bus, and I decided to have one last look at Cavendish. She lives quite close to him. We went on ahead, and I walked slowly down the road. In all my years of traveling to England, he had never been in that house. He was either on holiday or in Sussex. So you can imagine my shock when I walked by and saw that every light in the place was on. I had heard he had been spending a bit of time at Cavendish, but never dreamed he was living there.
I raced back to my friend's place and dithered for over an hour over countless cups of coffee before finally deciding to go for it. I know Paul doesn't like fans at his house, but I was desperate and willing to take the chance. I arrived back at number seven at around seven o'clock and walked self-consciously up and down the road for 10 minutes or so. When two girls who haunt MPL turned up, they told me that Paul had been at Cavendish the night before, and had been furious to see them there, and that really made me feel good. I was ready to run! One of the girls chickened out and left. The other stayed to keep me company while we paced up and down. She entertained me with various tales of their encounters with Paul. None of them good. She seemed to think they were hysterical. Poor Paul.
About 15 minutes later, a car pulled up and out got Linda. I started walking towards her, smiling when to my horror and shock, she started screaming at us, "Go away! This is our private life! Leave us alone!" I couldn't believe it. I started walking away and turned around to look at her again, as if it was some sort of nightmare. She yelled at me, "Get going or I'll call the police!" The other girl, by this time, had headed for the hills, leaving me alone. All I could think of was that I'd never see Paul again, and I was totally shattered. Then I thought, "Why should I take this? I've never been a bother to her or Paul before", and I didn't consider myself one now, so I thought it wasn't the truth.
So I yelled at her, "I've never been here before. I just want to see you and Paul before I go back to Canada tomorrow." She started walking towards me, and I cringed, thinking she was going to hit me. She seemed angry enough. To my surprise, she started patting my arm and apologizing profusely. She seemed sincere about it, too. I blubbered on, nearly in tears about how I missed the AIR sessions by one day, and all my friends had seen him, and I just had to see Paul before I went home. Somewhere in there, I handed her a small binder I carried around to sign. She had thought I was with the other girl and felt bad that she had yelled at me. She told me to come back in an hour, and Paul would be there, or I could stay. I told her I'd stay, and she said that would be all right. I must have asked her three times if she was sure Paul wouldn't be angry at me. I'd just die if he ever yelled at me. (Cringe.)
She was so nice to me that it was unbelievable. And while I'll never be a fan of hers, that experience has lifted her up a bit in my book. It wouldn't have surprised me if she'd invited me in for a cup of tea, but no such luck. As she went in the gate, she told me not to get too cold. James jumped on her as she went to close the gate, and he yelled something at her, but I didn't catch it. All I saw was a flash of golden hair and a little figure in pajamas.
So I waited and waited. Every car that went down Cavendish gave me heart failure. It was a nice feeling, knowing that I was waiting outside his house with permission, but I still felt very self-conscious and practically sick with worry. An hour and a quarter later, a Range Rover pulled up and out gets Paul. With very unsteady legs and feeling sick to my stomach, I approached him and he looked at me curiously. As I got closer, he seemed to change, and his eyes got a warm look. So perhaps he remembered me from the year before. I'd like to think that.
I started babbling about how Linda said it was okay to wait and that I was going back to Canada the next day. I just wanted to see him before I left. He said, "That's okay." I handed him the binder, open to Linda's signature, so he could see I had talked to her. While he signed it, I asked him how the filming was going. "Great." Was it a feature length? "Yeah." And would it premiere in the spring? "No, not until next fall." I must have groan or made some name mark, because he looked up from the signing, gave the cutest smirk, and said, "Patience...."
It was then that he noticed the Rupert badge I was wearing. I had gotten it from Selfridge department store after going through their Christmas grotto, which was"Rupert Meets Father Christmas." He said, "What's that?" And I stupidly replied, "It's Rupert." He was holding on to the badge and was about to say something when I thought about how I had wanted to ask him about Kenya, and rudely interrupted him. I'll always wonder what he was going to say to me.
I told him I'd been to Kenya and had seen his signature at Tree Tops. Could he remember signing in as Hunt Hansen? This was a trip 16 years back, mind you. He said, "Yes, that name sounded familiar." I asked if he enjoyed Kenya, and he smiled and had sort of a faraway look when he said "yes." Then he really startled me by asking if I'd liked Kenya. Had I stayed all night at the Tree Tops to see the animals, and what animals did I see? I rambled on about how great the photography was, how I loved the animals, and how I slept through the rhino at the Tree Tops. People knock on your door if they spot an uncommon animal, and I slept through it all and how I never did see one.
I stopped to take a breath and probably just shut me up, he took my hand and shook it and said, "You're going back tomorrow then?" And when I nodded, he said, "Well, have a good journey. Tarrah." John Hamel, who had been standing quietly by the whole time, came forward, and they proceeded to unlock the gate. I started skipping down the street when I realized they were still there, so I stopped and watched them fumble with the lock. Don't know what the problem was. They finally got it open, and I watched Paul step inside. I never took my eyes off of him until the top of his head disappeared into the front door.
I danced all the way back to my friend's place with a huge grin plastered on my face. I stopping once to examine my autograph. "All the best. Paul McCartney" with a lovely little face he'd drawn. I still had the grin on my face when I boarded the jet the next morning. And need I add that I didn't need a plane to fly home. I had the icing on my cake after all.
Speke Up (1996)
I Won't Let It Be Forgotten
By Ann Todd
Liverpool Echo
March 15, 1996
Paul McCartney has given his blessing to a church project to brighten up his boyhood home. On his last visit back to Liverpool to officially open the Liverpool Institute for the Performing Arts (LIPA), Paul especially asked to be driven through Speke. He wanted to see his old home in Western Avenue and show his son James where he grew up.
As he traveled through the familiar streets, he told his brother Mike, he wanted to do something to boost this estate's image. Now he is to get together with Mike and Rector of Speke, Reverend Michael Plunkett, to come up with a plan.
Mike McCartney, who still lives in Mercyside said, "Paul felt that Speke had been neglected and we had to do something to help raise its profile." He told Paul about the annual Music and Arts Festival run by Reverend Plunkett, based in St Aidan's church.
Mike said, "Paul said the first school prize he ever won at Stockton Wood Juniors was a drawing of St. Aidan's church. He wrote to Reverend Plunkett to offer to help in any way he could, and the two are going to think something up together for the benefit of the people of Speke."
Meanwhile, Mike is helping with this year's Spring Fling Arts Festival, which starts tomorrow with a jazz band and clowns outside St Aidan's. He has also got his showbiz pal Les Dennis, another former Speke boy, to make a guest appearance at the festival concert next Saturday, which Mike will compare. Mike said, "I was talking to Les one day, and he mentioned he was a Speke boy who went to Stockton Wood school."
Monday, March 16, 2026
John on the phone
This isn't the best photo in the world -- it is a little blurry and a little dark. But it is John on the telephone so it is worth posting!
John Lennon by Maureen Cleave (1981)
John Lennon
By Maureen Cleave
London Observer
1981
I knew him from early in 1963 when the Beatles recorded "Please Please Me", which was top of the hit parade until 1966, by which time they were the most famous people in the English-speaking world.
He didn't change all that much in that time. Far from being surprised, pleased, and grateful to be rich and famous, he seemed nettled at not having been so earlier. "I was always rather surprised," he once said, "that I wasn't a famous painter."
If he hadn't liked me, I would never have dared to like him, but I had a nice pair of red boots that were considered rather avant-garde at the time, and he fancied those. All the Beatles were obsessed with physical appearances, particularly with their own hair. The dreaded moment in any performance was when their fringes stuck to their foreheads with sweat, making them look slightly like Hitler.
John Lennon never succeeded at looking like a pop singer. His face was against him. That long, pointed nose, small, narrow eyes, long upper lip. It was a Holbein portrait, not a contemporary image. His super, silliest stare was due to equal parts of a natural arrogance and short-sightedness. He was too vain at first to wear spectacles, too disorganized for contact lenses.
Other pop singers bought their parents attractive bungalows in the suburbs. John Lennon showed his father, Fred, the door. "I've only seen him once before in my life," he said cheerfully, without qualm, "and I'm not having him in the house. His clothes were all wrong. Look at those trousers." He would say, mystified. "Must have sat in something."
He once ordered a gorilla suit. "I thought I might pop it on in the summer and drive around in my Ferrari. Actually, it's the only suit that fits me."
He always said whatever came into his head. Sir Joseph Lockwood, the chairman of EMI, presented them with some gold discs, fumbled with the words of the song "You're Fired," said John. Groucho. Marx would have said that, but with a script.
People, of course, were rude to them, too, at the beginning. This is what Paul Johnson wrote in the New Statesman in 1964 about the television audience of Jukebox Jury: "What a bottomless chasm of vocality they reveal. The huge faces bloated with cheap confectionery and smeared with chain store makeup. Their open, sagging mouths and glazing eyes, their hands mindlessly drumming in time to the music, the broken stiletto heels and shoddy stereotypes with it close, those who flock round The Beatles, who scream themselves into hysteria, whose vacant faces flicker over the TV screen, are the least fortunate of their generation, the dull, the idle, the failures. "
There is a touch of humor in the description they put up with this fairly good humor; much of the time, Ted Heath said they didn't speak the Queen's English. To which John said that "a lot of people who voted for him didn't speak the Queen's English either."
His favorite childhood author was Richmond Crampton of the William books, and I always thought he had a lot in common with William: the untidiness, the antisocial behavior, the unself-consciousness. Like William, he was always battling against the odds, yearning for the impossible. Like William, he triumphed. At last, he always found his own story, The Beatles' story, romantic; he'd like to talk about both the rags and the riches. Indeed, by the time they reached the top, there wasn't much else to do but talk.
You can become a solicitor or a social worker without idolizing other solicitors and social workers. But it's impossible to become a pop singer without first being a fan. Some of this early naivety survives their initial fame. "I can remember what it was like," John Lennon said, "waiting for Gene Vincent and thinking 'He's coming! He's coming!'"
They had years uninterrupted by the National Service, in which to be fans, in which to plot and plan for their turn, which would surely come. "I used to read the ads in Ravel for guitars and just ache for one. I used God like everybody else for this one thing I wanted. 'Please, God, give me a guitar.'
"This boy at school had been to Holland. He said he'd got this record at home by somebody called Little Richard, who was better than Elvis. Elvis was bigger than religion in my life. We used to go to this boy's house after school and listen to Elvis on 78s. We'd buy five senior service loose in the shop and some chips and go along. The new record was 'Long Tall Sally.' When I heard it, it was so great. I couldn't speak. You know how you are torn? I didn't want to leave Elvis. We all looked at each other, but I didn't want to say anything against Elvis, even in my mind. How could they be happening in my life? Both of them, and then someone said, 'it's a (N word), singing.' I didn't know Negros sang, so Elvis was white, and Little Richard was black.
"But I thought about it for days at school. Of the labels on the records of Elvis and Little Richard, one was yellow, and the other was blue, and I thought of yellow against the blue."
Children liked the Beatles because they looked like furry animals, puppies that you could pat and fondle. But they were, of course, grown men, and they had rakish habits. John, Paul, George and Stuart Sutcliffe (who later died) after 18 months in Hamburg, playing and eating and sleeping on the stage, knew each other better than most married couples -- in sickness and in health, for better or worse and always for poorer, everything was a group activity, including, as John Lennon said later when he spilled the beans in Rolling Stone -- sex.
These bacchanalian reveals were called orgies, to rhyme with Porgy, and were part of any tour. Indeed, the group of any tour, of any group, away from home. "I hope I grow out of it," John Lennon said, "Being so sex mad. Sex is the only physical exercise I bother with." I once put forward a case for marital fidelity. He was interested in this, as he was in all new ideas. "Do you mean to say," he said "I might be missing something?"
Everything happened so fast when Cynthia was first brought to London with their son, John Charles Julian. They were all installed in a not very nice flat beside the West London air terminal. There were always fans outside, just a few, days and nights, and all weathers. John always ignored them totally. He was frightened of them.
Then he, George, and Ringo all moved into till carpeted, interior-decorated mansions in Weybridge and Esher; they saw only each other, scarcely knowing day from night. John was, for him, preposterous. The sitting room had yellow tartan walls. "What day is it?" John would ask with interest when you rang up. There were no regular meals, but there probably hadn't been those since they were 15.
They gave each other presents. George gave John a pair of crutches. John gave Ringo a small stuffed puppy in a glass case standing on a little carpet. They dropped in on each other in their Ferraris and Rolls-Royces. They played buccaneer and the dictionary game, watched television with the record player turned up high at the same time, they took each other's photographs, recorded each other's voices, and late at night, they set off for London and the clubs.
John could sleep almost indefinitely. Those who were nervous of him were reassured by this natural indolence; he usually cooperated because he was too lazy to argue. He added daily to his possessions, but they got the upper hand, a giant compendium of games from Aspreys that he could open but not shut, a suit of armor called Sydney, more telephones, of which he did not know the number, the Rolls Royce with a television set, refrigerator, writing desk and yet another telephone. He only got through once to somebody on this telephone, and they were out.
He was a young man waiting for something to happen. "This won't do at all," he said, "I'm just stopping here, like at a bus stop. I think of it every day, me and my Hansel and Gretel house, and it won't do. I'll get my real house when I know what I want. I'll take my time."
There wasn't much time left, and he went on wasting it. He loved money, but he was disappointed. In vain. It hampered him. "Here I am famous, so loaded, and I can't go anywhere." Is difficult to cope with such fame unless, like the royal family, you have a training and supporting setup. Others in his position take up eating, paranoia, and hypochondria. All the Americans have psychoanalysis. As a matter of course, he tried pills, drink, pot, and dope, not to satisfy a self-destructive urge, but rather from boredom.
John's disposition was basically cheerful. He was delighted to see anybody who got in from outside to know what you had read, what you had seen. I cannot think that his life was blighted by the loss of his mother, though he was made very angry by it, or that he resented being working class, or that a noble mind was overthrown by evil capitalist pressure; he was bored.
He had too many choices, too little to do. He had never done a conventional day's work in his life, and he had no self-discipline. The rot set in when there was no reason to get up in the morning. His bad and unpredictable behavior prevented him from meeting more interesting people, and his laziness inhibited him from learning anything new.
But there were a few more creative years left, and he wrote some of his best songs. How he composed them was a mystery. He did say he thought of the words and the music together. He once arrived at the recording studio with the tune for "A Hard Day's Night", the theme song for their first film, in his head, the words written on the back of a birthday card sent to his son, Julian: 'To baby Julian,' it said 'from Jackie, a morning regular.'
"But when I get home to you," the song read, "I find my tiredness is through and I feel all right." I said. I thought 'that my tiredness is through' was a weak line. "Okay", he said, obligingly, getting out his pen and crossing it out, and he wrote, "I find the things that you do, they make me feel all right."
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