Meet The Beatles During Help (repost)

This weeks blast from the past came to this blog in two parts.    The first part was posted on September 1, 2009.  It was taken from the August/September issue of Beatlefan magazine and was written by Mark Vidals.   Several months after I originally posted the story, Mark contacted me and sent me color copies of his photos.  

Most 18-year-olds in 1965 would have given anything to meet the Beatles.

Mark Vidalis of Fairfield, CA, not only met all of the Fab Four but also made his mark in history by appearing as an extra in their second movie, "Help!"

At the time, Vidalis was visiting his mother in Nassau, the Bahamas, taking a vacation after graduating from high school in West Palm Beach, FL. Unknown to Vidalis, however, the attorney his mother worked for was handling legal affairs for the production company filming the Beatles movie on location there.

"One day, the lawyer asked me what I was doing," Vidalis explained. I told him, "Nothing," and he said, "Good, we're looking for bums." Then he told me to be at a local hotel that night, but he wouldn't tell me why.

Not having much else to do and curious as well, Vidalis showed up and found himself in an interview with director Richard Lester for a $14-a-day part as an extra in the movie.

Lester was looking for people who weren't too tall because "They didn't want anybody in the movie so big they overshadowed the Beatles," Vidalis said. "He also asked if I'd been involved in contact sports in high school because the part included some very physical work." Vidalis qualified on both counts and got the part.

The first day he was called for shooting was for a scene in the old prison camp. "The Beatles weren't even there, and I was extremely disappointed," he said.

The next day, though, he got a call to report to a house to be made up for the day's work. While standing on the balcony of the house talking with other extras, the four immortals from Liverpool joined them.


"For a couple of minutes, I was in awe," Vidalis said. "Here were guys who had people screaming and fighting to get close to them, and I had a chance to shoot the breeze with them." Soon they were making small talk, however, and Vidalis's thoughts changed to "I bet nobody will believe this when I get back to Florida."


Ringo Starr was the most laid-back member of the group. Vidalis recalls while George Harrison was the most "tense." Once, he asked Harrison for his autograph, and Harrison refused. "He was a little short-tempered that day," Vidalis said.


He recalls that Paul McCartney and John Lennon were together often and were both witty and personable. Overall, he remembers, The Beatles were outgoing, fun and easy to talk to.

"In between scenes we'd sit around talking as if they weren't the most famous people in the world," Vidalis said. On one occasion he even worked up the nerve to ask Lennon if he could have his picture taken with him, knowing that some people would never believe him without such concrete evidence. Lennon readily agreed.

In that photograph, Lennon was wearing a rumpled, striped jacket -- the same jacket he wears on the back of the "Help!" album cover. Vidalis later pilfered the jacket as a souvenir, figuring the wealthy Beatle would never miss it. He returned it when the distraught Lennon turned the Beatles' quarters upside-down hunting for it. It was Lennon's favorite jacket at the time.

In the movie, Vidalis portrays one of the high priest's troops who attempts to capture Starr and retrieve the sacred ring. In one scene shot in the ocean, he was called on to put Starr underwater. After he did, Starr pulled him under and came up yelling, "I can't swim." He really couldn't either, Vidalis said.

"In another scene, I had to climb up into a coconut tree and drop a coconut onto John Lennon's head, then jump out of the tree, making it look like I fell out." When he tried to make the jump, the board supporting him gave away and he really fell. "Fortunately, they only had to do the one take. I made it clear I wasn't climbing into that coconut tree again anyway."

In one of the last scenes of the movie, Vidalis and the other bad guys are walking in the ankle-deep surf, having given up their pursuit of the Beatles. "There's only one extra with his face towards the camera, " Vidalis said, "That's me."

By the time the two weeks of filming ended, Vidalis had decided the movie business wasn't for him. He wanted only to return to Florida and see how many people he could impress with what he had done. He was even offered a part in the James Bond movie, "Thunderball" but he turned it down because "after the Beatles, James Bond was nothing."

Vidalis admits he was an even bigger Beatle fan after the movie than before."It's something I'll never forget. The Beatles were such a big part of the life of anyone who grew up in the '60s. To have met them and even been involved in part of their recorded history makes me feel like I contributed somehow to that history."

a Fan's View of Ed Sullivan

I always love to read first had accounts of fans that saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan in 1964.   They are the gold of Beatles fans stories.    This one I found in Beatlefan magazine from the 80's.   

Fans’ View of Sullivan Show

By Debbie Gendler

It was mid-1963 when I first heard the Beatles. Family friends had returned from a spring trip to England with the album " Please Please Me” as a gift for me, since what else could you bring a 13-year-old?

I fell in love with the group immediately and proceeded to fire off a letter to their record company about how wonderful they were.  I loved not only their long hair but also the music, which was such a relief from the already boring sounds of Bobby Rydell and Lesley Gore.  It wasn’t until November 1963 that I received a response from their English fan club.  They notified me that plans were underway for the Beatles to visit the U.S. the next February.   ell, I got so excited that I wrote back a letter to the club that same day requesting all the details of the trip.  Since I wrote directly to the fan club this time, the response time for the return letter was only about a month, and I was then informed about the scheduled “Ed Sullivan Show” appearances.  This was around Christmas, and with the help of my parents, I phoned CBS in New York about obtaining tickets for the show. All CBS could suggest was for me to write to their ticket office stating the date I wished to attend the show, and if tickets were available, they would be mailed out.

I was getting nervous waiting for the tickets since there wasn’t much time left, but finally, in the last week of January, two tickets arrived for the live Sunday evening program.

At last, the weekend was here.  I excitedly watched all the news reports of the Beatles arrival at Idlewild Airport (I don’t think it had been renamed Kennedy Airport yet).  Saturday morning, my best friend and I boarded a bus in New Jersey, which took us to New York’s Port Authority Bus Terminal, and then we continued to my grandmother’s apartment, which wasn’t too far from the Plaza Hotel.  Before we barely said “hello,” we were off to our vigil outside the Plaza.  It was freezing outside with gusty winds, but just the thought that The Beatles were merely yards away was enough to warm our hearts.

The fans outside were frantic, and the screaming was never-ending, especially when anyone within the hotel would get near a window, no matter what floor the silhouette appeared.  Rumors rippled throughout the crowd that The Beatles were staying on the 20^th floor, no the 17^th floor, then the 9^th floor.  We couldn’t get any correct information. Then gossip began to spread about how and when the Beatles were leaving the hotel for the Sullivan rehearsals, but none of us seemed able to break the code.  It was tiring, the stories endless, but it was fun.

Every once in a while a female (you could count on one hand the number of males there) would charge out from behind police barricades which surrounded the middle fountain area and try to cross the street heading for the hotel’s front steps and revolving doors, but that always proved futile.  By now we were exhausted and our voices hoarse, so we decided to return to my grandmother’s apartment.

Sunday arrived, and we chose not to vigil outside the hotel but to spend our time getting ready for the show. Our tickets for the live telecast said that the doors closed 45 minutes before show time, but that was no problem since we arrived at Studio 50 by 5 p.m. 

It was almost impossible to get near the studio with the hordes of girls blocking the streets.  Fans who had been inside for rehearsals and the afternoon taping were screaming to the other fans who were there just to be there.  We made arrangement to meet my grandmother and parents at a designated spot after the show and we were off.  There seemed to be hundreds of policemen surrounding the studio  so we felt fairly safe.  New York in 1964 wasn’t quite as dangerous as it is today.

With tickets clenched firmly in our hands, the CBS usher had us line up outside the theater, though it was pretty upsetting to see other kids being escorted into the theater without getting in line.   Finally, we were led into the studio and directed up to the balcony.  Surprisingly, the seats were good after getting over our initial disappointment in being placed up in the balcony.

The noise level within the studio was unbelievable.  At one point, the soundman came center stage to quiet us down because he couldn’t get proper sound levels in the control room.

Photo from the rehearsal the previous day

Screams for Paul, “Ringo, I Love You,”  “George we hope your sore throat is better,” John, John,” it didn’t’ stop and grew even worse as Ed Sullivan walked out to quiet us down.  “Yes, please be quiet, you promised,” Sullivan would repeat again and again.  Yet now, looking back, he didn’t want to completely stifle the screams because it was an integral part of the Beatles phenomenon.The show was finally beginning.  The crew took their positions, the orchestra ready to go in their seats.  And the show began.  It was impossible sitting there through the opening act.   During the commercial break, Sullivan begged us to behave.  And then…The Beatles.

It was unbelievable to see them right before my eyes.  They were so cute!  At the end of the first set (All My Loving, Till There Was You, She Loves You), we thought it was all over, but then Ed said, “They’ll be back.”  We went crazy.  One teenage girl even slipped down several steps in the balcony with the CBS usher catching her just in time.  Ed made us promise not to scream throughout the other performers’ acts, but it was hard to sit through Tessie O’Shea and Georgia Brown.  And who even cared about a word from Pillsbury with the Beatles just behind the curtain?

The excitement when the group walked onto the stage this second time was even greater than the first.  This time, they sang only two numbers, I Saw Her Standing There, and I Wanna Hold Your Hand.  For the second set, I barely remember seeing them because I think I was in some sort of a daze.  I remember George especially looking up towards the balcony.  The songs went by so quickly that it was all over just moments after it began.  As the Beatles exited the stage, they all waved to us several times and nodded to us up in the balcony since we were the real crazies in contrast to the more sedate fans sitting in the orchestra.

And of course we were all jealous of Randy Paar (daughter of Jack Paar)—how come the show was partially dedicated to her?

The crowds outside Studio 50 practically attacked us as we managed to push our way out.  Each car that pulled away from the Broadway side of the theater was followed by a group of fans believing The Beatles were inside. The stage side entrance was too logical a place for the group to leave from.  To this day, I cannot imagine how The Beatles left the studio that night.  Unfortunately, we were not able to hang around anymore because it was already 9:30 Sunday night, and yes, there was school the next day.  But the look of the Beatles glancing up at us in the balcony and waving and nodding will remain in my thoughts forever. 

A Visit with Aunt Mimi

Before I post this article about Aunt Mimi, I want to take the time to remember a wonderful friend of this blog, Kathy Burns, who passed away last week.  Kathy was a Beatles fan from the beginning up until her death---she was a John girl and ran the Cyn Lennon fan club in the 1960s.  Kathy wrote a great book about her friendship with Aunt Mimi called "The Guitar's All Right as a Hobby, John." Kathy was a very nice woman, and she is going to be missed by everyone who knew her. 

A Visit with Aunt Mimi

By Alanna Nash

Freelance writer Alanna Nash of Louisville, KY, wrote the following account of her 1971 visit to Mimi Smith, John Lennon’s famous aunt. By the way, she says she took no photos that day at Aunt Mimi’s because “I got the impression that she didn’t want any made.” (The truth is, she was pretty intimidating.) Aunt Mimi also was none too pleased with Lennon’s activist lifestyle at that time.

When John Lennon was gunned down in front of his New York apartment building on December 8, 1980, his widow, Yoko Ono, made three phone calls.

According to Newsweek magazine, she called “the people that John would have wanted to know.” – his 17-year-old son Julian, from his marriage to Cynthia Powell; his former partner Paul McCartney, and his aunt, Mimi Smith, who reared him from the age of four.

Twelve years ago, as a college student studying in England, I paid Mary Elizabeth Smith—Aunt Mimi—a visit in her Sandbanks, Dorset, home.  During my teen years, when Beatlemania was at its height, I had carried on a long correspondence with George Harrison’s parents.  But my only communication with Aunt Mimi had been a brief postcard she’d sent me some years back in response to my many letters.

Still, I figured that was enough to get me through the door, and I invited a fellow exchange student to go along.  Once we got to Sandbanks, a mechanic at a corner garage pointed the way to Aunt Mimi’s home- a large, $50,000 “holiday cottage” on Poole Harbor that Lennon had originally bought for himself.

“Mrs. Smith?”  I began.  She peered around the door the way women in Hitchcock films do just before they become victims. I quickly dredged up the ancient postcard, and while Mrs. Smith stood there teetering between entry and denial, my friend, a tall, soft-spoken boy with a Beatle haircut and round, Lennon-like spectacles, convinced her we didn’t mean any harm that we were just “into the Beatles.”

Slowly, the door opened, and we got our first good look at her. What struck me most was how much older she looked than in Beatle days, but her resemblance to Lennon was unmistakable—the same straight, narrow nose, the same shaped eyes and face, the same intellectual bearing. “You can only stay a little while, I’m afraid.” Six hours later, as we packed up to leave, I remembered that.

Aunt Mimi told us she lived alone, except for a housekeeper, who had the day off.  She showed us the living room, a cozy room furnished with good pieces that looked as though they’d gotten a lot of use, and excused herself to make a pot of tea.  I remember that the room was filled with books – and with Beatles mementos, displayed tastefully on the walls and shelves.  We were looking at the awards – including a 1963 Billboard magazine plaque for Most Promising Group – when Mrs. Smith returned with the tea and asked us to look over the mantle.  There hung a plaque that an anonymous American fan had sent immortalizing her famous words, “The guitar’s all right as a hobby, John, but you’ll never make a living at it.”

We started out slowly, exchanging pleasantries and asking questions about the Beatles' early days (“the boys had talent, yes, but they had a lot of luck, too. When they first played me ‘Love Me Do’ I didn’t think much of it), but soon, Aunt Mimi was ready to move on to stormier topics.

“I don’t know what all this business between John and Paul is about,” she said of their breakup. But I don’t dare ask John. I did ring Paul about it, and he told me things would straighten up. The boys have been friends for so long. I remember them coming home from school together on their bikes, begging for biscuits. I’m sure they’ll get back together again. This is just a phase they’re passing through.”

If Mrs. Smith was really certain of that, she was, however, disturbed by much of her famous nephew’s behavior.  “I’ve just quit reading the papers now,” she said.  “Apple sends me his records, but I won’t play them.  And I’ve asked my friends not to tell me about them.  That shameful album cover (Two Virgins) and that art show of his,” she said, referring to Lennon’s London gallery exhibit of erotic lithographs.  “He’s been naughty, and the public doesn’t like it, and he’s sorry for it.  Now, he wants sympathy.  That’s why he’s come out with these fantastic stories about an unhappy childhood.”“It’s true that his mother wasn’t there and there was no father around,” she continued, “but my husband and I gave him a wonderful home.  John didn’t buy me these furnishings,” she said with a sweep of a hand, “My husband bought these things.  John and Paul and George wrote songs together sitting on the sofa you’re sitting on now, long before you ever heard of The Beatles. Why, John had a pony when he was a little boy!  He certainly didn’t come from a slum!  None of the boys did!  The Harrisons weren’t as well-off as the other families,  perhaps, but George wasn’t from a slum, either, the way the press had it.  And that’s why you never see photographs of John’s boyhood home!  We certainly weren’t impoverished, the way John’s talking now!”

I asked what she thought had changed him.  Mrs. Smith leaned toward us and whispered as if there were someone else in the house who might hear.  “She’s responsible for all this,” she said.  “Yoko.  She changed him, and I’m sure she and Linda are behind this split with John and Paul.  Cynthia was such a nice girl,” she added, smiling, “When she and John were in art college, she’d come to my house and say, ‘Oh, Mimi, what am I going to do about John?’  She’d sit there until he came home.  She really pursued him.  He’d walk up the road and back until she got tired of waiting and went home.  I think he was afraid of her, actually.”

With that, I said something about what a different man he had become, writing songs like ‘Power to the People’ and staging a “bed in “ for peace.  Mrs. Smith became visibly enraged, “Don’t talk to me of such things!”  she said.  “I know that boy.  He doesn’t know what he’s saying!  It’s all an act.  If there were a revolution, John would be first in the queue!  First to run!  Why, he’s scared to death of things like that! That’s Yoko talking, not John!”

“I had a fan tell me she went up to John and Yoko on the street for an autograph, and Yoko said she could have the signatures, but a far better thing for her to do would be to go up the street and jump in the fountain and feel the water of life rush over her!”  Yoko, Aunt Mimi concluded, was not exactly right in the head.

“Every time John does something bad and gets his picture in the papers, “ she continued, “he rings me up to smooth me over.  See that new color television?  It was a Christmas present, but he had it delivered early.  A big present arrives every time he’s been naughty.”

I remember reading that before Lennon returned his M.B.E. award to the Queen in protest against Britain’s involvement in Biafra and Vietnam, it sat on Aunt Mimi’s T.V. set.  I mentioned that, and Mrs. Smith took us into the music room -  John’s bedroom when he lived there.  She opened the closet, and there, in a haphazard pile on the floor, lay John’s gold records.  Mrs. Smith picked up a frame nearby.  “He sent back the medal, but I still have this,”  she said, handing me the M.B.E. certificate.  John had crossed out the Queen’s signature with red ink and neatly returned the paper to its frame. 

“I usually have a large photograph of John hanging in there,” Mrs. Smith said on the walk back to the living room.  “When he’s a good boy, it’ll go back up again.”  Five years later, in 1976, I recalled that visit to Rick Mitz, my editor at a now-defunct magazine.  We talked about my writing a story about it and decided we’d better first find out if Aunt Mimi was still alive.  Rick dashed off a letter to John at the Dakota and back came the following reply:

Dear R.M.

She’s alive

I’m busy

Luv, John Lennon

A Memorable Visit to Henley (repost)

Miss Tammy at the amazing Beatles Photo Blog was looking for this story, which I had posted way back during the blog's first year. I felt like it was time to repeat the story because it was such a good one.   

When I have spoken about this blog at various places, I often get asked the question about which Beatle was the kindest to the fans.  And people are shocked when I tell them "George" because George has this reputation for being a bit of a grump and hating fame and recognition.  While it is true that George disliked the lack of privacy and the mania that came with being a Beatle, we have seen over and over again that George was the first one to stop and talk to the fans and even invite them into his home.     This story from 1999 shows that George's loving heart toward his fans continued even later in his life. 

A memorable visit to Henley-on Thames

By Javier Estrach

Originally published in the Oct/Sept 1999 Issue of Beatlefan magazine

On holiday in England, my wife and I decided to go to Henley-on-Thames for a couple of days just to try to see George. We were sure that it would be almost impossible, but we’d try anyway.

We got to Friar Park on May 23 in the afternoon without a clear idea of what we could do but wait.  We took pictures of the house for a while, and we waited for, I don’t know, how long.  We were going ‘round and ‘round until a few minutes later, we decided to walk by the street beside the stockade on the right side of Friar Park.

So we walked away from the main gate.  After a few minutes, we heard a noise in the woods inside the estate, a sound like footsteps on dried leaves.  We looked over our shoulders and saw a man standing very quietly in the shadows watching us (we were talking Spanish, a foreign language to him, so I suppose that called his attention).  We recognized this very familiar silhouette.

So I started calling him:  “George! George!” Then he said very quietly, “Huh? Who’s there?” 

“George, we come from Argentina just to try to see you.  We have a present for you from our country.  Please, could you give us just one minute?  Please, just only one!”

“What kind of present?”

“It’s a T-shirt.  It’s for you, George.”

“But I don’t’ want a T-shirt.”

“Why not?   It’s a nice one! (I think he wasn’t so sure about us or what kind of people we were).

  Then I reminded him about another present that I sent him earlier in the year.

“George, some months ago, I sent you by mail from Argentina a Juan Manuel Fangio video (the old F1 car racer).  Do you remember?  I know you received it because a couple of months ago, I received from your office this badge and card as a response.  Please, George, give us just one minute.  Please!”

Then he smiled and said the magical words:  “OK, go down to the gate.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, go down to the gate.”

I can’t describe it—it was simply one of the most emotional moments of our lives. We were almost running to the gate, and I was thinking, “I can’t believe it! It’s true! I’m not dreaming! I’m here!”

Of course, we got to the gate first, so we had time to calm ourselves.  Within a minute, we could see one of those little electric golf carts coming, approaching the gate.  It was him!  He got out of the cart with a big smile on his face, and we said, “Nice car, George.”

“Yes it is.”  Then he opened a smaller gate beside the big one and shook our hands (terrific!).  We were thrilled and knowing that we were living one of the greatest experiences of our lives.

He was dressed in jeans, white T-shirt, plaid shirt and a dark red jacket.  He looked healthy and had a light, maybe 10 days’ beard, goatee-style.

We started telling him how important he is to us and how important he has been through the years for us; not only his music but his words and his way of thinking and that we learned to be better people because of him.

He smiled and said, “Thank you very much.  Thank you for listening.  Many people hear stupid music now, music without any sense.”

Then we were talking about the video that I sent him earlier in the year and the “Ohm” badge and the card that he sent me back and he told me that sometimes he prefers to send something better than a simple autograph and that the Ohm and the Swami Sivananda’s words help people feel better inside because everyone is special and that we were.

Then smiling he asked jokingly, “How is Gardel?” (A famous Argentinean tango singer)”

And we responded, “Every day he sings better!  It’s an old saying our country.”  He smiled. 

Then we gave him the T-shirt and he looked at it very carefully and he asked us what the drawing was on it.  We explained that it was a drawing of one of the main streets of – and he added, “Ah!  Buenos Aires?”

“Yeah, very good George!”

“Thank you very much, but you don’t need to give me anything.”

“We know but we live very far away from here and this is just a way for us to feel a little bit closer to you.”

“OK, thank you.”

I reminded him about another little present I sent him.  “Did you receive the magnet that I sent you for your birthday?”

“For the fridge?”  He said, laughing.

“Yeah, that one.”

I sent him a little magnet and he’s got it on his fridge!  After talking with him for awhile, we apologized if our English wasn’t as good as we would like; we were a little bit nervous.

But he said, “Don’t worry. Your English is very good. You speak much better English than I Spanish.”

He asked how long and where we were staying in Henley and what places we had been visiting in Europe.  He laughed when he told him that we went to Hamburg and we talked about the Reeperbahn and the Grosse Freiheit.

“That was a long time ago.”

We talked about the similarity between the “red light district” in Amsterdam and the one in Hamburg. But the most important point is that he was comfortable with us and always smiling.

He asked us what life was like in Buenos Aires.  “I’ve never been to Argentina.  I’ve only been to South America when I was in Brazil many years ago.”

“Yeah, we remember.  It was in Guaruja with Emerson Fitipaldi in 1979.”

“Yeah, Emerson is a good friend of mine.”

Then, in the middle of our chat, I asked him, “What about your health?  How are you now?”

“Oh, fine, thanks. I was in America for a lot of tests, and the doctors said I was OK.  Papers are always saying a lot of silly things, but I am fine.”

After all that time at the gate of his house, we felt it was time to start to say goodbye.  We asked for just one minute and he was very nice and gave a lot more.  But first we asked if we could take a picture with him.  “Because our friend won’t believe us, George.”

“Oh yeah, sure.  One picture with each one.”

So my wife, Silvia took my photo with him first.  When I was ready to take the picture of him with my wife, I don’t’ know what happened but the automatic camera didn’t work!  I tried two more times but without any luck and George says, “There’s no more film in the camera.”

“No George, the film is OK.  I don’t’ know what the hell is going on!”  So he very kindly took a look at the camera.  He pressed the red button and –magic!  It worked (He took the best picture of my wife’s feet).  So I took the camera again and attempted to take the picture but again, the camera simply didn’t work.

“I can’t believe it George!”

And he said joking “There are no good photographers these days.”

Fortunately, we had two cameras with us so I used my old ‘60’s Asahi Pentex and this time I took one of the quickest photos of my life with that camera.

Now finally it was time to say goodbye.  He shook our hands I couldn’t help my impulse so I embraced him strongly and he embraced me very warmly.  He and Silvia embraced and George gave her a kiss.

And so matchless was this moment for us, I said to him, “For you, this is maybe one very little moment in your life, but not for us.  This is something that we’ll never forget in our whole life!”

“Oh!  Isn’t that too much?”

“No, it isn’t at all.”

“OK.  Thank you.  Bye-bye.”

“Bye George!  Take care!”

He went back inside, closed the small gate and just before getting into the golf cart, he turned around with our gift in hand and said thank you again.

“Thanks to you!”  We said and we could see the cart moving way into the woods.

Growing up with the Beatles - a book review

What Beatles book sold over 160,000 copies and every Beatle fan in the world had on his or her bookshelf in 1976?   Why none other than Growing up with the Beatles by Ron Schaumburg.   Admittedly, most fans bought this book for one reason:  the photos!  What other Beatle book has a pull-out poster in the middle?   The photos in this book are gorgeous, and in 1976, they were photos that had never been seen before, and really, even today, some of the shots aren't extremely common ones.  

I decided to revisit this book for this week's Wednesday review and see if I thought it held up over time.  The text of the book is that of Ron, a first-generation Beatles fan.  He talks about his life growing up near Kansas City and how his life as a young boy was intertwined with the Beatles. One of my first realizations was that 12 years really wasn't enough time to have a true retrospective of what type of legacy the Beatles were going to have on the world.  And was it really long enough for Ron to understand the impact the Beatles had on his life?   The title was "Growing up with the Beatles," but was Ron truly "grown up" when he wrote the book?  And what about the Beatles?   While as a band they had disbanded, they still all had more to experience as well.  I think this book would have been better if it had been written today, as several books of this type have been over the years.

But with that aside, it is a fun book to read, and it gives you a glimpse of what it was like to be a male Beatlemaniac. Many of these retrospective books are written by females, which I love, but the male view is different and fun as well.  The thing I found shocking (alright, that is a little harsh of a word) is that Ron was actually an anti-Beatles fan in the mid-1960s!  He admits that he hated the Fab 4, and when the Shea Stadium concert was on television, Ron was hurling insults at the screen!  Oh my! But Ron eventually came back to the Beatles, and they became a big part of his daily life.  Magical Mystery Tour was playing on the turntable when his dad sat down to give him the talk about the facts of life. 

I do recommend re-reading this book through the eyes of 2015.  It is a fun book to read, and it is a classic in Beatles bookdom.  Of course my favorite part was when Ron tells about meeting Ringo in person!  In 2008, Beatlefan magazine interviewed Ron, and he tells the story of the magazine, which I am going to share here. 

Ken Sharp of Beatlefan:  There's a personal connection between George and your book.

Ron: the week before I did an interview for a big radio station in Chicago, I was told George Harrison had come through doing a promotional tour for "33 1/3," and he was on the same radio station, and he'd had dinner with the staff.  Because they knew I was coming in to do an interview, the publisher sent them some advance copies, and they gave one of the copies of "Growing up with the Beatles" to George.  They told me that George sat at the table and he wasn't eating his dinner, but he was leafing through the book.  I have this great created memory of George sitting and leafing through the pages of my book; it's a happy one for me and I tell myself that he was enjoying it! (laughs)

Ken:  Take us back to when you met Ringo in 1974.

Ron:  I was living in LA and there was an ad in a paper for the premiere of the movie "That'll be the Day", which co-starred Ringo and David Essex.  In the ad, it said, "In person, Ringo Starr."  I said "Wow, I might be able to finally meet a Beatle."  I remember standing on the street with a big crowd and a limo pulling up.  And Ringo's kind of short (laughs), and here was this crowd, and this little guy walks in, and it was kind of hard to see him.

I brought three albums that I hoped to get him to autograph, "Sgt. Pepper,"  "Abbey Road" and "Ringo."  I was sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start, and I realized there was no microphone or podium.  There wasn't going to be an event.  Nobody was going to speak or say, "Hey, ladies and gentlemen, meet Ringo!"   We were all just a bunch of audience members waiting for the movie to start.  I began to think, if I'm going to have a moment with Ringo, I'm gonna have to make it happen myself.  So I stood up and walked to the back of the theater, acting like I was going for a drink.  I didn't really want a drink.  I just wanted to scope out the situation.  I saw where Ringo was sitting, came back to my seat, and got my albums.  I thought it was best and most polite to have him sign his own album, so I grabbed the "Ringo" record.  I walked back to where he was.  He was sitting with Harry Nilsson and Ted Neely, the star of "Jesus Christ Superstar."  I zeroed in on Ringo, leaned over Harry Nilsson, made eye contact with Ringo, and told him, "I just wanted to tell you that you've been a friend for so many years."  He said in his dry Liverpudlian accent, "Oh, have I?"  I said, "Yeah, I wondered if you'd mind signing my album?" and handed him the "Ringo" album, and he said, "Well if you buy the album, I guess I have to sign." It wasn't exactly upbeat happy, "Oh, here's a fan."  He seemed a little bit grumpy about it but I didn't feel bad about it because he was at an announced public appearance. It wasn't like I cornered him in a restaurant or in the restroom.  Anyway, so he signed the record.  I guess you could say he was being dry and sarcastic in his typical way, or maybe he was just really pissed.  I tried to tell the story in the book as accurately as it happened and I think I characterized him as being a little grumpy.  The publisher suggested that maybe we should alter the tone a bit.  I think they were right.  They said that we'd been building up to something like this throughout the book, and here's this chance, and we don't want it to be too much of a letdown.   I went along with that.  I think the book accurately tells the story of what happened, but it omits some of the tones, and that's fine.  What also happened, as I described in the book, when we were handing the album back and forth, one of my knuckles brushed one of his, and I felt "Bang!"  I'd made contact with the hands that gave the Beatles' music its backbeat.  It was a nice little moment. 

The link below is the affiliate link to Amazon, where you can purchase this book.  I get a small percentage of anything purchased through this link.  Money made from the Amazon Afflication is used to pay the annual fee to keep this site online.  Thank you for your support.  Sara

https://amzn.to/3T8ti07

Get the newest issue of Beatlefan magazine!

In the most current issue of Beatlefan, there is an interview I did with Kit O'Toole for her column, "Hard Day's Net."   It really turned out to be a nice little interview about this blog.   I hope some more Beatle fans join us here at MTBFR because of this interview.   Here is a bit of information on how you can get a hold of Beatlefan magazine if you aren't already a subscriber.   And let me tell you, I have subscribed for over 20 years and I LOVE Beatlefan.   There is just a wealth of Beatle information located inside those pages by some amazing writers.   Here is a message from the creator and editor of Beatlefan, Bill King:

Sample issue of Beatlefan costs $7 in the U.S. or $10 abroad. U.S. funds only. If you want the latest issue featuring the interview with Sara Schmidt, be sure to specify #207. PayPal accepted, payable to goodypress@mindspring.com. Credit cards, checks accepted at P.O. Box 33515, Decatur, GA 30033.

The Guitar Man

It happens often to me that I write something for this blog and then a few days later I find more to the story or a new photo.   Such is the case with a story I found in a 1979 issue of Beatlefan magazine about Tony Saks.  This story gives a little more detail than I had previously known and I decided to go ahead and include it because the first story I wrote about him got a very positive response. 

 I am not sure who actually wrote this article for Beatlefan (maybe Bill King?) because no writer is given.

Beatles Guitar Man

From Beatlefan magazine

Vol 1 No 6 (1979)

If you’ve been to a Beatles convention this year or happen to live in the Norfolk, VA area, then you no doubt are familiar with a colorful 70-year-old character named Tony Saks and his unique guitar.

Saks calls himself the “world oldest Beatlemaniac” and his guitar is, he says, the only one in the world played and autographed in gold by all four members of the Beatles.  Saks figures that puts it right up in a league with Elvis’ jet and Bonnie and Clyde’s bullet-riddled car, and so he’s making the rounds of Beatles conventions giving people a chance to pose for a picture with the guitar – for a price.

The story behind the Rickenbacker six-string goes back to Feb 8, 1964, the day after the Beatles arrived in New York City for their first visit to the U.S.    A Rickenbacker representative named F.C. Hall demonstrated the instrument for the band members, letting all four have a go at playing it.  Saks, a well-known guitar teacher from Norfolk, was present to assist Hall.

The next night, shortly after The Beatles’ first Ed Sullivan TV appearance, Saks and his wife Grace met The Beatle sand manager Brian Epstein at the Plaza Hotel.  Later that evening, Saks offered to buy the guitar from Hall and did so for $467.50 thinking one of his guitar students back in Virginia might want it. 

The students suggested, however, that Saks ought to get the instrument autographed by the Beatles.  So he contacted the group’s London office when the band returned later that summer for a U.S. tour and Beatles press officer Derek Taylor set up a meeting between Saks and his wife Grace and Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr.

The meeting took place around breakfast time on September 13, 1964 at the Holiday Inn (where the band was staying) in Baltimore, MD.  Each of the group members signed the guitar, using gold tape, and Taylor later recalled that all went well except at one point when the tape slipped almost ruining McCartney’s signature.  Mrs. Saks then got the Beatles to autograph some “She Loves you” sheet music and posed for a picture with McCartney.

Saks used the guitar, which he dressed up with four Beatles dolls (now collectors items in themselves), to promote his Guitarland music shop and guitar teaching business over the years, and also displayed it at civic clubs and shopping malls in the Virginia area and at music conferences.  In recent years he began putting on special displays of the instrument on February 9 and on September 13, which he proudly notes is not only the anniversary of the guitar signing, but the birthday of Starr and McCartney children. 

Then a Virginia newspaper columnist suggested to Saks that he take the guitar to the 1979 New York Beatlefest, “I decided to go at the last minute,” Saks said, and the trip turned out well as some 200 people paid $2 each to have a Polaroid picture taken of them holding the guitar.  He also took it to the Chicago Beatlefest, where 170 people paid $3 each to pose with the instrument and recently to the Beatles Forever II convention in Minneapolis where he also appeared on local TV.

“It wasn’t until I went to New York that I realized there was some (monetary) value to showing it off,” Saks said.  He would like to get the four ex-Beatles involved in some way with a charitable use of the guitar next year but right now he’s mainly, “trying to figure out how I can use it to add to my Social Security I started collecting in January of this year.  I ‘m retired now.”   He also sells guitar picks emblazoned with “McCartney Maniacs Unlimited.”

Although face value of the mint condition 1964 Rickenbacker like his would be around $1,000, Saks estimates the value of his Beatles guitar at $50,000.  A somewhat overenthusiastic figure, probably, but there’s no denying the instrument is worth much more than $1,000.

Money aside, thought, Saks said he’s enjoying attending Beatles conventions and meeting today’s fans.  “I love ‘em,” he said, “just like I do the Beatles.  I really am the world’s oldest Beatlemaniac.”

Walking on Air

I love it when things "Come Together" for me and this blog.   Several weeks ago, over at one of my favorite places online, Wings McCartney, posted some great fan photos of Paul McCartney taken in 1982.   I intended on posting them here but never got around to it because I posted other things.  Well I have  been sorting my Beatles fan magazines and found a fan story about meeting Paul in 1982 and sure enough the story takes place the same day as the photos!   So now I can post the story and photos together.   I love that!

The Story comes from the December 1983/January 1984 issue of Beatlefan magazine.  It was written by Linda Lampo.   The photos were taken September 24, 1982 outside of Air Studio by Janet Merrill.

 
I met Paul McCartney for the first time at AIR studios on Sept 23, 24, and 28, 1982.

I went to AIR Sept. 23 and a crowd was there, so I went inside to ask when Paul would arrive.  The doorman said he was there already, but to come back in an hour or two as he usually comes out at 6p.m.

So at 4:30 I came back and a half hour later I spotted Linda McCartney coming down the street.  She had come from dinner, and was being nice to everyone.  Then she went inside and at 6 p.m. both Paul and Linda came off the elevator.

Paul was fixing his tie and as they came out the door, they both said "Hi" to me (I was standing by the door).  I asked Paul to sign an autograph, but he was being rushed to go to a party, so he said, "I'll be here tomorrow.  Come back."

That's all I had to hear.  My husband took a picture while Paul laughed.

The next day Paul came alone.  At 1 p.m. his Volvo pulled up and he came around the Oxford Street corner and signed autographs.  He was wearing jeans and had a lot of gray hair, but looked good.  I called to him and he stopped and signed my photo.  He asked me if I liked the photo of him that was signing (which I thought was strange).  Then I gave him a ceramic guitar I had made.  He said he loved it because it was handmade.

My husband took another picture and Paul shook hands with him and said to us "I got the guitar," and turned to me, "you got the photograph," and to my  husband, "you got the snap."

September 28th was my next to last day in London and I had to see Paul one more time.  So, again I went to AIR, where I knew hew as still recording.  I was lucky as here he came again at 1 pm.  Everyone knew who we were waiting for.  But this time only three girls were close to him - me and two others (one, another American had her baby with her).

Paul stopped and said hello to us.  Then he played with the baby.  He was being very casual.  It was time for him to leave and so he started walking and as he got to the door, he turned around and said goodbye to me!  I naturally waved back.  He made it feel so pesonal.

That is one trip I'll never forget.

It ain't fair

This story of meeting John goes with a photo that I posted a long time ago.  I love it when I find a story that goes with a photo.   I found this story in the December 1982/January 1983 issue of Beatlefan magazine.  It was written  by E.S. Moger (who says his name is Steve in the story) of Ann Arbor, Michigan.   

Photo taken by E.S. Moger of his friend interviewing John and Yoko in the hallway of the hotel before leaving for the rally

this photo was taken shortly after the meeting, in the car on the way to the rally

This wasn't taken the day of this story, but I thin it is the only photo I have seen that has John with John Sinclair.

Ask Beatlefans what they remember most when they think of John Lennon and you’re in for as many different answers as there are Beatlefans.  Some will say his singing voice.  Others, his songwriting abilities. Some will point to the fact that he was the unofficial “leader” of the Fab Four.  Still, others will remember that Lennon was the one who once said The Beatles were more popular than Jesus Christ.  But perhaps the thing John Lennon will be most remembered for besides his music, is his activism. His efforts for peace and love, for equality on all levels they all showed us the other side of the man most history books will record as simply a “rock n roll idol.”

It was because of his social activism that I was granted a rare opportunity to meet my idol, John Lennon, in December 1971.  I was working at a Detroit area radio station when one of their reporters asked if I would like to meet John Lennon and Yoko Ono in person. What a question to ask a die-hard Beatlefan like myself, I thought!

So it was on December 9, 1971.  I found myself loaded down with cameras, microphones, tape recorders, and one reporter and driving out to Ann Arbor, Michigan, to interview Lennon.

The former Beatle had agreed to perform at the “John Sinclair Freedom Rally” at Chrisler Arena.  Sinclair had received a 10-year prison sentence for possession of two marijuana cigarettes.  Feeling the punishment was harsh and unjust, Lennon agreed to do a benefit concert at his own expense to raise money for Sinclair’s defense fund.

At 8:30p.m., I knocked on the Presidential Suite of the Ann Arbor Hotel.

“Are you sure your sources were correct?” I kept asking the reporter. How could we have simply waltzed up to this spot without a dozen people stopping us? “Don’t worry, Steve,” he kept assuring me. This is the floor and the right room.”

My heart was racing a mile a minute when, without warning, on the third knock, the door opened, and there stood Yoko Ono in the flesh! The reporter asked her if we might get a chance to speak with Lennon before the scheduled concert that night.  Ono replied that they both had been traveling a lot lately and were very tired.  But perhaps later, on their way to the arena, they could answer a few questions. We both thanked her and agreed to let them rest. 

I stayed in the hallway outside Lennon’s hotel suite from 8:30p.m. until he finally burst into the hallway at 12:35a.m. His hair was short, and though the hallway was dim, he wore sunglasses. Underneath his short black leather coat, he wore a black T-shirt with white letters reading, “You Are Here.”

Lennon looked tired and weary as he approached us.  Without waiting for him to speak, the reporter began asking questions.  I noticed Ono speaking up as often as Lennon, giving answers as though she were an extension of him.  

Lennon said he had been contacted by someone regarding the rally and wholeheartedly supported it.   He just couldn’t conceive of anyone being jailed for 10 years because of two marijuana cigarettes. No, he had never met Sinclair, but the issues raised in his case were very close to Lennon. During the interview, both Lennons looked my way more than once, I suppose wondering why I hadn’t taken any pictures yet with the camera slung around my neck.  I had not more out of respect for them than nervousness.

Thank heavens I was with someone because many times I had a chance to say something yet did not.

Lennon  finally mentioned the song he had just finished writing for the occasion about Sinclair’s confinement in jail.  He planned on performing it that night.  Unexpectedly, there was a deadening silence with no one saying a word.  It was then that I saw my chance to snap a few pictures.

The impasse was finally broken when Lennon mentioned that he had to leave for the concert.  It was then that I found my tongue and allowed myself to speak, “John, can I help you carry your case?”  Ono looked down at the one case Lennon was carrying, and a slight smile began to form on her lips.  Then I heard Lennon’s reply, “Thanks, but I think I can handle my guitar myself.  See you later.”  I watched as the Lennons stepped into the elevator and disappeared from sight.

Over 15,000 people paid to get in – not to see Stevie Wonder, Jerry Rubin, Allen Ginsburg, or others – but to see and hear John Lennon, who finally walked out onstage at 3 a.m.  He and Ono played for only 20 minutes – long enough to sing the song he had written for this special event, “John Sinclair,” and a few others.  John Lennon had come to our town to play and sing for a man he didn’t even know!

Sinclair was able to listen to a live broadcast of the concert from his cell in Jackson Prison.

We may never know whether Lennon’s benefit concert was a catalyst for the events that happened in the days following, but John Sinclair was released on bond by an appeals court a few days after the 1971 rally, having already served a few years of his sentence.  Later, the remaining portion of the sentence was commuted for being “harsh and unusual punishment.”

The song Lennon wrote for Sinclair was later recorded on the LP “Sometime in New York City.”  Naturally, I have the song and the LP, but more importantly, I have the memory of John Lennon during this very active and important part of his life.

--E.S. Moger