Paul acting silly backstage

When the Beatles were getting ready to perform in Shieffield on December 8, 1965, the photographer, Leslie Bryce, from Beatlefan magazine was on hand to take a few photos of the boys for the magazine.   We are actually very fortunate that he took the photos, because they are the best photos of the 1965 UK tour that we have.    He took a number of shots of Paul McCartyney doing goofy things backstage.  Again---we have a Beatle with props for photos.

Union break

Taking a break during rehearsals for Thank Your Lucky Stars on July 11, 1964.   I wonder what John was up to!

Belting it out in Brighton

While there is a shortage of photographs from many of the stops during the Autumn UK tour of 1964,  Brighton is not in that group.   This is thanks to "Johnny Dean" and Beatles book Monthly, who was backstage and onstage with the Beatles on October 25, 1964 to document the performance and chat with the Beatles.   

The Beatles snuck into the Brighton Hippodrome theater  through a nearby garage that lead up to the theater while before the fans started to que up in the front for the first show .   Besides Beatle Book Monthly being on hand, Chris Hayes from Melody Maker was there to find out musical equipment the Beatles liked the best.    It was during this brief interview that Paul played a bit of their newest song, "I feel fine" for both men and expressed some concern that it would not be a hit song.   The reporters assured him that it was a great song and would fair as well as the other Beatles hits, but all four Beatles were nervous about it's upcoming release.    This is something the Beatles talk about in Anthology (not necessary with the song, I feel fine, but in general) that when you are on top, you are expected to stay there and there was an overwhelming fear of failing and not being able to out do yourself.  

The workers at the Hippodrome were searching the theater for fans who had been hiding in various locations around the theater in an attempt to find a way into the Beatles' dressing room.   However, none of the fans made it to the Beatles and they were returned to their seats.  

BBM reported that the Beatles wore their black mohair suits and sang Twist and Shout, Can't buy me love, Things we said today, I'm Happy just to dance with you, I should have known better, If I feel, I wanna be your man, A Hard Day's night and Long Tall Sally.   Meanwhile the fans most likely did not hear much of those songs as they were screaming and throwing a variety of things onto the stage.  Items included jelly babies, dolls, programs, and a swarm of love letters for the boys.    The fans were also trying to throw themselves onto the stage along with those items, however the police had made a barrier out of themselves right in front of the orchestra pit and none of the fans were successful in making onto the stage.  The head of the police stated that they were there not to protect the Beatles, but to protect the fans from hurting themselves.    18 fans had to be removed from the theater to a nearby school that was set up for first aid due to fainting and hysteria.  

After that first show the Fabs had planned on going back to the dressing room for a meal and a little telly.  However,  visitor after visitor keep pouring into the dressing room.  The first being a fortune teller name Eva Petulengro who read George Harrison's palm.   Miss Eva refused to share what George's palm predicted, but it was all good things.

Then came film star, Richard Harris and his wife and children.   The Beatles were not in the mood for them at all and they were quick to show it.   George sat on the couch and pretended like he was asleep, John wrapped himself up in a green raincoat and fell on the floor.  Paul and Ringo spoke to them, but gave short, one-word answers to any questions.  Paul told the visitors that both John and George were very tired and quickly signed autographs for the children and sent them on their way. 

The guys then were finally able to turn on the television and eat their meal of steak, peas and chips.  Afterwards, they flipped through some issues of Beat Instrumental that "Johnny Dean" had brought along and then it was time to get back on stage once again.

For the second show of the night, the Beatles wore grey suits and performed the same set of songs to a similar screaming crowd.   One fan named Marilyn remembers,
"I went twice to see The Beatles and once queued 17 hours for tickets. I remember Tommy Quickly, the Fourmost being on one show and Mary Wells another time, but remember being hysterical and unable to hear much. Great times. "  Then they made it out of the theater and back to London, where they were to enjoy a few days off from touring. 

Multi-taskers

The Beatles (well three of them that is) show us how to multi-task.  Here they are conducting and interview while signing autographs all for Beatle Book Monthly.   At the same time the BBM photographer is snapping photos of the occasion.    Those autographs the fellows are signing went as prizes to BBM readers.   I bet a lot more people entered that give away than my Good ol Freda one.

Ready, Steady, Go!

On Friday, March 20, 1964 at 6:15pm, Beatles fans in England were treated to watching their favorite guys from Liverpool on the television program, "Ready, Steady, Go!"   Now this wasn't the first time the boys had been on this show, but it was pretty great that they took time out of making their new movie to appear on television. 

It was a pretty impressive show.  The Beatles mimed to some of their songs "(It Won't be Long, Can't buy me love and You can't do that).   John talked to the host about his new book and the guys were interviewed.   One of the highlights of the highlights of the interviews was when Cathy McGowan interviewed Ringo and one of the questions she asked him was if he was a mod or a rocker and of course Ringo answered very off the cuff, "I'm not a mod or a rocker, I'm a mocker!"   Of course this is a great line and it was included in the Beatles movie, "A Hard Day's Night."

The neat thing about the show was the background consisted of artwork of the Beatles made by fans.  As you know, fan art is something Beatle fans have made since the beginning of the fandom and it continues today at Beatle conventions.    I think having the fan art decorating the Beatles while they are performing and being interviewed is awesome!  And just think if YOU did some of the art and to see the Beatles standing in front of it would totally just put you over the moon.  

Towards the end of the program, the Beatles judged the art contest.  But they judged it in typical Beatle style, buy drawing mustaches and black eyes on the art.   Here is what Tony Barrow had to say about it:

Toward the end of the programme, the camera found Keith Fordyce standing in front of a wall covered in caricatures of the Fab Four: 'Last week we had a contest asking you to send in paintings, drawings, cartoons or photo montages of the Beatles and we got an absolutely fabulous response, 32 sack loads of entries.' To the accompaniment of their recording of ' This Boy' all four Beatles inspected the impressive selection of entries, using marker pens to add mustaches and comments here and there.  John scrawled "Buy My Book" in big letters across one and drew in a funny face on another.  Paul blackened in the eyes of a cartoon of himself.  Eventually they decided that someone named Jeremy was the winner and with shouts of of 'Good old Jerry!' John handed him a pair of albums as a prize.

This is one of the fan drawings that was in the contest and drawn on by the Beatles (I think by George).  Can you see it in the background of the photos?   It was sold at auction many years ago.

So who was this young man, Jeremy, who won the contest?   It was Jeremy Ratter who would later be known as Penny Rimbaud  who was the drummer of a heavy punk band in the 1970's called "Crass."  Strangely the albums he chose were two classical albums, which I always wondered if that was really what he wanted or if it was done for a joke.     The Beatles signed Jeremy's winning piece of art, which was his artistic take on "I wanna hold your hand."  But it is unknown what ever happened to the autographed artwork.

John giving the classical albums to Jeremy Ratter.  His winning drawing is right behind him.

The Beatles on the March 20, 1964 Ready Steady Go is a great show to watch.  If you decided to find it on youtube, make sure you look for Mal Evans totally walking in front of the camera and the host pushing him out of the way.   It makes me laugh every time!

--Information for this post was found in the article "Ready Steady Go!" by Tony Barrow published in the October 2000 issue of Beatle Book Monthly

The Americans

The Day they met their fans -- it was 50 years ago today

One of my all time favorite fan meeting moments occurred 50 years ago today!   That is of course the fan club convention held at the Wimbledon Palais on December 14, 1963.   I love how the Beatle sat there and signed autographs, allowed fans to touch their hair, posed for photos, and gave kisses to the girls in the fan club.   They say that 3,000 fans got to meet the Beatles that day, but it might have been slightly smaller because it was also said that some girls from the front of the line got back in the line and met them a second time!    After the meet and greet session, the Beatles held a concert for those fans.   What a day that must have been for those fan club members!   And what a truly amazing occurrence the Beatles had.   Today something like that would cost thousand upon thousand of dollars.  

This article was written by Tony Barrow, who organized the entire event and was published in the July 1991 issue of Beatle Book Monthly.   The photos are ones I have scanned from various books and magazines (including BBM) and found online.  

Were any of you there and met the Beatles?   Do you know anyone who was there?   We would love to hear about your experience!

The Day They Met Their Fans

By Tony Barrow

The four Beatles stood in a bunch and stared across the vast empty ballroom, blinking in disbelief at what they saw.   In the inadequate light from shafts of weak winter sunshine pouring through a couple of open emergency doors they could make out the general shape of what looked a bit like a huge cage.    When someone switched on the main lighting, they were able to see the thing more clearly for the first time.

Surrounding a temporarily extended bandstand where the Beatles were about to perform, the venue management of Wimbledon’s Palais De Danse had erected an amazing steel fence well over two metres high.  Behind the makeshift stage, taped to the rear wall beneath an old electric clock that had stopped, they had hung a boldly painted sign:  “Wimbledon Palais Welcome the Beatles!”

Paul stepped forward and grabbed at the front bars of the grim-looking cage-like structure, shaking the metalwork until the whole thing rattled.  “This is a joke, isn’t it?” he asked me with half a smile.

“Do we go on before or after the lions?” questioned George quietly and with a completely straight face.

“It’s bloody daft!” barked John from the centre of the deserted dance floor.  He turned on his heels and stomped suddenly, swung round again to face me and muttered abruptly, “Gold hold of Eppy!  I want to sort this out.  Now!”

Brian Sommerville, the man we’d brought into NEMS Enterprises quite recenty to be the Beatles’ on-tour press officer during their extensive series of UK concerts in the autumn of 1963, whispered to me, “That cage round the stage is must higher than I expected.  You must admit it more suitable for a circus than for the Beatles.”

“Brian!!!” bawled the raucous voice of an unseen John Lennon from the far side of the ballroom  “I’d better find out what he wants,” said Sommerville.  “He doesn’t mean you, it’s Eppy he wants,” explained George quite patiently.

The truth is that Brain Epstein was keeping his head down that day.  The Beatles’ manager was well aware that the boys would kick up a fuss when they saw the incredible security set up at Wimbeldon.

As a rule Eppy was known to be absolutely hopeless at delegating, unless it suited his particular purpose.  But he’d said to me, “Tony, this is your baby.” In the case of Wimbledon, he made it clear that I was responsible, it was my pigeon, I carried the can.  “You talk them into it, Tony!  It was your idea in the first place, so deal with it.”

In a way, it was indeed all my fault that the Beatles were appearing at Wimbledon that December Sunday a couple of weeks before Christmas in 1963, to face an audience of their fan club members.  The whole affair was an elaborate and carefully planned public relations job to regain some sort of goodwill with members of the fan club, who had been joining up in such enormous numbers throughout the year that many had finished up having a raw deal, waiting far too long for their membership kits to come through and not getting replies to their letters.

The Fan Club Get Together at Wimbledon was part of a package of desperate measures.   I devised in a last ditch attempt to improve the relationship between the group and their 80,000 paid up card carrying UK fans.  The other main way we won back the faith of those who had been disgruntled with the Club’s standard of service that year was to dish out free copies of the first specially produced Fan Club Christmas Record.

At first, Eppy had been against both the Christmas Record (“too expensive”) and the Get Together (they don’t have any free dates).  To satisfy their fans all over the UK, we needed at least one function in the North and another in the South and it was true that there were no open dates apart from the occasional free day during the autumn tour.  “They’ve been on the road most of the year,” argued Epstein.  “I’m not asking them to fill up free dates.”

In the end, we doubled up a Northern Area Fan Club Convention with an already scheduled Liverpool show on December 7.

In the event it proved relatively easy for the boys to slip across the road between the city’s Odeon cinema and Empire theatre.  In the afternoon on the stage at the Empire, they did an appearance as “Juke Box Jury” panel guests for BBC Television, plus a special concert performance for fans, also televised by the Beeb and shown under the title, “It’s the Beatles.”  Then they followed up the pair of throws at the Odeon in the evening as part of their nationwide tour.

Eppy saw no chance of slotting in a London fan shindig until I drew his attention to the one-off Wimbledon Palais gig he’d fixed back in the summer for December 14.

The Wimbledon one-nighter was a special deal done with the Rabins, Oscar and Ivor, who had run the nationally famous South London ballroom for most of their lives and had their own dance band and talent agency. 

The Rabins jumped at the chance of letting us invite fan club members to meet the Beatles in person because they knew there was immense media interest in the group and they’d get a lot of publicity out of the situation.  At first they wanted to negotiate a new deal for the day, suggesting they’d halve their usual ballroom hire charge for the convention. Eppy said they’d need to scrap the charge altogether let alone halve it, and they were lucky to be getting 50% of the door money from the evening’s show in the circumstances.  The Rabin boys agreed but complained it would cost them such a fortune in special security precautions that they’d be unlikely to make any profit on the day.   

 “That’s their affair,” replied Epstein coldly, and left me to get on with the arrangements from the convention. 

My main problem was to find a way of letting the Beatles make personal contact with as many members as possible before the stage show.  By good fortune, the venue had a long bar that was ideal for this purpose.

We agreed that the four boys would line up behind the counter, greeting fans one by one, signing autographs and shaking hands, an awesome task when we realized that something like 3,000 fans would be attending.

When I put the plan to the group, they were 100% cooperative.  I didn’t reveal how many people they’d have to meet because nobody could estimate the total with any accuracy in advance.  The day was fixed up at such short notice that it was simply a matter of announcing the details and waiting to see who turned up.

On the day of the convention, I was surprised as anyone to see the cage the Rabins had put up around the stage.  After discussing the situation with John and the others, I met the venue management and pleaded that the top half of the structure should be torn down.  But the Rabins remained adamant that they could not promise the group would be safe in the middle of several thousand fans without such a high defensive structure for protection.  When they added that all they’d booked in the way of security guards was a small bunch of local commissionaires, mostly men aged between sixty and seventy, I couldn’t argue any further over the cage. (Sara’s note:  I am not sure how completely true this is.  A few years ago I was contacted by the widow of one of the security guards.  She said that he husband had always talked about the show, but she had never seen a photo of him there until she saw the one I posted on this blog.   He looked like a young (30’s maybe?) man.   And if he had just recently passed away, then it couldn’t have been in his 70’s in 1963).

The ridiculous cage in itself would have been enough to make the Beatles refuse to perform in other circumstances.  But, as Paul pointed out persuasively, “This is no ordinary show and it’s certainly no ordinary audience.  These are our own closest fans, they’re traveling to Wimbledon from all over the South of England and the Midlands, some will be from hundreds of miles away.  What we ought to do is go ahead with the show but apologise to the crowd for the cage and make it clear it wasn’t our idea.”

“The biggest danger, as I see it, “said George seriously, “is that if there’s a big crowd, everyone will push forward and there’s a risk of some kids getting crushed at the front.  It’s not just our own personal and physical safety that’s involved; a lot of fans might get hurt.”

After some further argument, the other three fell in with Paul’s suggestion and I sighed with relief.  As the little summit meeting broke up, Neil Aspinall and I left the dressing room to look at the set up in the bar area while Mal Evans headed for the stage to put the gear in place.

The long wooden bar was perfect for what we wanted, sturdy enough to stand up to the anticipated crush of fans, wide enough for the boys to draw back if things became too hectic but just the right height for allowing autographs books and photographs to  be signed and handed back across the counter.

Mal seemed less happy with his side of things, “It’s going to be a freaking fiasco!”  What?  “Well,” said Mal, “the P.A. system won’t go loud enough without feeding back and the bits they’ve added onto this stage are wobbling about already just with the weight of me walking about, so what will it be like when the four lads go into action?  I can see John or Paul disappearing through the floor during the first number!”

The 3,000 fans who finally came to Wimbledon that December day in 1963 helped to make it a surprisingly successful occasion. They filed past the Beatles in the bar, all on their best behavior, and they went wild when the Beatles performed but they also saw to it that nobody got injured in a crush.  They were very tolerant about the wire cage between them and the stage and everybody enjoyed the show, most of all John, Paul, George and Ringo, although this was the first day after the end of the Beatles’ most exhausting UK concert tour to date.

Unfortunately, no such occasion ever took place again simply because Beatlemania grew so big and it would have been impossible for so many fans to meet the boys in person.  We didn’t realize it that day in Wimbledon, but lifelong memories were being made in the Palais De Danse.  Those 3,000 followers of the Fab Four would be able to recall for the rest of their lives that they had been amongst the first and last fans in the world to meet John, Paul, George and Ringo face to face and to be able to talk—and  in many cases—touch or even kiss them.

“What did you think of Wimbledon?”  asked Eppy as casually as possible afterwards.  The four boys were unanimous, “Great!  Fab!  Gear!  Terrific!”  So Eppy didn’t say another word about it.

Sixties Fanmail

I have been watching the Freda Kelly documentary and that re-sparked my interest in the Beatles fan club and fan mail.   I found this article written by Tony Barrow in the January 1992 issue of the Beatles Book Monthly and found it interesting.   I especially enjoy the little stories of the fans who met the Beatles 

The Beatles backstage in Stockholm in 1963

Sixties Fanmail

By Tony Barrow

In dressing rooms at theatres and television studios, the Beatles passed many of their free moments reading bundles of fan mail and discussing the contents of letters with one another.

In the really early days before their national success, they wrote long, personal replies to individual letters by hand, particularly when they were away in Hamburg.  Later, if a fan letter was handed in at EMI’s Abbey Road Studios and the Beatles were there for a recording session, there was every probability that it would be read in detail on the spot and within the hour by one or more of the boys, and even the possibility that John, Paul George or Ringo would slip outside during a break for a chat with the writer.

Individual Beatles often dropped in unexpectedly to spend an hour or an afternoon at their fan club offices, first in Liverpool and later in the capital.  Widespread fame never really changed their attitude towards keeping in touch with their fans, although it was more difficult during tours abroad.  The boys fairly regularly visited their club’s central London headquarters at 13 Monmouth Street, off the top end of Shaftesbury Avenue, staying long enough to sign pictures, look through letters and collect their own birthday or Christmas presents.

I have never forgotten (and I’ll be he hasn’t) the extraordinary gift one fan sent through the mail to George for his 21^st birthday – a full-sized front door “to put all your silver keys in!”  He was also sent a pair of gardening shears by someone hinting that the Four Mop tops might like to give themselves a drastic do it yourself haircut!

Apart from the fan club, people wrote to the Beatles c/o Johnny Dean at the editorial offices of “The Beatles Book” and reliable, informative replies were printed in subsequent issues.  Such was the close contact between the Beatles and their followers at the peak of the group’s professional lifespan. 

Other than in exceptional circumstances, fans of today’s major pop and rock superstars in the Nineties stand little hope of having their letters read or answered by the big names in person.   Fans clubs are big businesses nowadays, often part of lucrative, commercially prosperous, professionally-operated merchandising machinery geared up to sell products rather than proved a truly personal information service to followers of the artists.

In the Sixties, and throughout the height of Beatlemania, the majority of those who wrote the Beatles could expect a reply, one way or another, apart for one period of several months in the autumn of 1963 when the U.K. fan club, freshly established in London at that time, was overwhelmed by a totally unexpected avalanche of mail.  We’re talking about something like 50,000 letters which took both the tiny fan club staff and Brian Epstein’s management organization totally by surprise.

Until the club was re-arranged to cope with such vast number of enquires, the system broke down for a while.  When it was up and running properly again, there was not only effective letter-answering but also a Covent Garden phone line number via which callers, fan club members or not, could get instant answers to questions about The Fab Four.

Perhaps the most significant point of all about the way the Beatles’ fan mail was handled was the constant element of personal contact with members of the band.  Whether at the various fan club offices or at the HQ of “The Beatles Book”, people knew the Beatles were personally responsible for answering letter and phone enquires).  There was no deception, no sales pitch (because neither Johnny Dean’s firm nor the official fan club offered merchandising facilities) and, as a rule, not much of a delay in dealing with incoming letters from fans.

In 1963, after the Beatles had become the nation’s top new recording group, one of the earliest letters to “the Beatles Book” was a poem from a girl named Mary in Shewsbury:  “Please could you change your name?  To me you’ll never be the same, since podding the peas last Sunday morning, There amongst them without warning—a BEETLE!  Ugh (P.S. Happy Birthday Ringo).

Some fans devised ingenious reasons for claiming priority treatment, “I was in the scullery when I heard you singing ‘Roll Over Bethoven.’  I rushed to turn the wireless up, tripped, lost my shoe, and broke my toenail.  Now I can hardly walk as my foot is hurting so bad.  So I think that your autograph would compensate for my disablement.”

Isn’t it fascinating to see words like “wireless” and “scullery” in there to remind us just how recently they were in common use?  And how long it is since you podded peas on a Sunday morning instead of defrosting a packet of read-shelled ones from the fridge?

After Christmas each year, fans wrote to club secretary, Anne Collingham with queries about the special record the Beatles made for members, “I think Ringo’s swing version of Good King Wenceslas is fab and everyone laughs when they hear that bit about Ricky the Red Nosed Ringo.  I’m puzzled about one thing—who says Merry Christmas in that hearty Santa Claus voice at the very end?”  Sheila Barry of SW1 was told the voice belonged to Paul.

In reply to another letter, the fan club’s Bettina Rose told this anecdote, “I remember meeting Brian Epstein and the Beatles for the first time just after I had been given the OK to begin the first Southern Club.  Brian asked me how many members I had enrolled and all four boys looked at me in anticipation.  I went very red and said, “Nine.”   Three weeks later I had a hundred times as many – after just one advertisement in a music paper.”

At the height of the group’s fame, the fan club in the U.K. alone rose to an unprecedented 80,000, a figure which I believe has remained unmatched by any other pop or rock act to this day.

For many devoted collectors of the Beatles records, it was disappointment to come away from one of the group’s concerts having seen but not heard the Fab Four, the playing and the singing being drowned by constant screams from several thousand people. 

The relatively lo-fi sound system in theatres simply would not cope.  One Birmingham fan wrote, “It would be truly splendid to be able to go to a Beatles’ concert in 1964 knowing that everybody was going to get both sides of the performance – the hearing as well as the seeing!”

A lot of letters used to report on information meeting with one or more of the boys.  Christine Ramming’s uncle had a hotel near St. Moritz and she stayed there when John and Cynthia were at the nearby Palace Hotel in 1965.  She waited outside for hours, having been told that the Lennons were asleep.

“Eventually John emerged,” she wrote, “with George Martin, to hail a taxi; I went straight to him, greeted him and gave him a little Beatle doll which I had made myself and he thanked me.  I was very happy that I had seen him so near and could talk to him, without being surrounded by policemen and hundreds of other girls.”

Angela Crossland met Paul and Ringo outside Manchester’s Granada Television studios in February 1963, “When I asked for his autograph, Ringo replied that he had his hands full.  Seeing a bag in his hands, I grabbed it so he could sign autographs and through my good deed (for the other fans) I nearly didn’t get an autograph.  Paul and Ringo walked to a green car with a Beatle playing a guitar on the front.  Paul got into the driver’s seat.  Ringo got in next to Paul, got his bag from me and said, “Thanks luv” in that adorable scouse accent.  I will treasure these autographs forever.”

Irene Snidall accompanied a local reporter to a concert at Sheffield City Hall on May 25, 1963 and managed to meet the boys backstage in their dressing room, “John and Paul were changing from their stage clothes into something more casual, a black T-shirt topped by a grey denim shirt for John, Paul struggling into a black polo-neck sweater from which his tousled Beatle-cut and grinning face suddenly emerged.   I felt terribly self-conscious, clutching my handbag and LP cover, but my nervousness disappeared as soon as Paul began talking to me.  That was my first impression of Paul, very friendly, and soon he was chatting as though we had known each other for years.  He signed my LP with such a long message I really believed he must be writing his autobiography and passed it across to John who did the same.  When asked if he would like a cup of tea, John answered, “Ee, aya, bah gum, a will’ in his very best broad Yorkshire accent.  Then in his Professor Lennon voice, “And a little something to eat please.”  This is something I found terribly attractive about John, he is always changing from one thing to another, his humour is off-beat, and it would be pointless to write down any of the things he said as they would never be as hilariously funny in print.”

Anne, Vicky and Marie met the boys at the Liverpool premiere of “A Hard Day’s night”:  “When the Beatles came into the Odeon, we were standing in the foyer.  We couldn’t believe that we were so close to them, it was the nearest we have been since the good old Cavern days.  The next evening in the Liverpool Echo, George said ‘The best welcome I had was when I saw six girls that used to sit on the front row of the Cavern.’  Three of them were us, so you can imagine how thrilled we were that the Beatles still remember their old Cavern friends.”

Jean Westgate saw the film’s Royal premiere at the London Pavilion:  “My seat in the theatre was to the back, immediately near the entrance to the ladies cloakroom.  I happened to glance sideways and see the Beatles all coming through the door marked LADIES saying “Shh!” to each other!”

Fans who made a pilgrimage to Merseyside to check out old haunts of the Beatles used to be delighted with the meetings they managed to have with relatives of the boys.  James Park came down from Lanarkshire, Scotland in 1964 and regarded himself as one f the luckiest fans in the country, “I went to Ringo’s house and was given a warm reception by his mother.  Then she ordered a taxi to take me to George’s house.  I was invited in by George’s father and met his mother and brother, Peter.  Mr. and Mrs. Harrison drove me in George’s former car to Paul’s house in Allerton but his father wasn’t in.  They continued to John’s house in Woolton where I spent four hours talking to John’s wonderful Aunt Mimi.  After supper there I went to the Cavern Club where I spent two fabulous hours.”

What Barbara St. Reid of Middlesex wrote to “The Beatles Book” in the summer of 1964 nutshelled a general view.  Barbara admitted that until recently she thought that the Beatles must have become big-headed due to their phenomenal success.  “Why do I suddenly change my mind?  Earlier this week I actually met Paul, George and Ringo (John was at a luncheon) when they were filming near where I live.  They were taking quite naturally and when they explained to us that they could not sign autographs because it would hold up production.  Paul especially seemed very regretful about it and even asked people if there were any photographs for us.  I thought this was one of the nicest gestures I have seen.  Now when anyone calls them big-headed slobs or anything else insulting, I shall know what to say!

Other fans aimed to set or break records.  Sheila Sullivan wrote from Stepney to say how she’d enjoyed “A Hard Day’s Night”:  “My friend Tina has seen the film 13 times and I have seen it 15 times.  Our mums saw we are both Beatle nuts, we can’t agree more.  Please hurry up and make another film!”