Dancing with Ringo at the Fab Four's Last Waltz

 

Ringo with the author, Naomi and Joan 

Dancing with Ringo at the Fab Four's Last Waltz

by Naomi Marcus

The San Francisco Examiner

August 11, 1991

Although I dined out on this story for years (and more than once, was accused of being a pathetic liar), I gradually forgot about it. So the memory came back nearly new and sharp when I looked at a calendar. I mentioned to a friend that this August 11[sic] will be the 25th anniversary of the day I met the Beatles and danced with Ranco at Candlestick Park. "You met the Beatles?" marveled my friend, "you never told me about it." For him and any others I may have missed, here's how it happened in 1966.

I was 10 years old, a pragmatic fifth grader.  I liked John best. I didn't hang posters or collect Beatle junk or sigh over their pictures, but I knew the words to all their songs. I loved them, but I was cool.

 I had no more thought of trying to get to their San Francisco concert from my Big Sur home than I would have of flapping my arms and flying to the moon. But that July, Joan Baez, a family friend and neighbor for several years, called me with a jolting invitation. She was traveling with the Beatles. She had a ticket for me to the Candlestick concert, and as a special treat, "you'll probably get to meet them."

 I suffered two harrowing days while my parents debated the wisdom of letting me go off on such a lunatic venture. (My father's words) I stamped my foot, raged and pleaded, and eventually convinced them. Another big deal: what do you wear when you go to meet the Beatles? I opted for paisleys (very Merry Quant), a green Paisley suit, and cherry red patent leather shoes.

 Joan's sister, Pauline, and brother-in-law, Peyton, picked me up for the drive to San Francisco. The concert was in the evening, and we arrived at Candlestick in the late afternoon. I remember an unending series of checkpoints, which began when we parked and saw a very large policeman. "You guys, the Baez party, this way, please."  Our little group was passed from checkpoint to checkpoint like a baton. "The Baez party, yes, they're expecting you." The stadium was reverberating, already nearly full, as we were led down flights and flights of steps down to the field and past the stage. Envious fans in the lower rows yelled as we were escorted past them, "Bring me back Paul's hand, "Bring me back a lock of George's hair," "Oh god, oh God, take me with you!"   I kept my eyes on the ground. I couldn't breathe.

We crossed the field, turned into the dugout, and went through an odd-shaped, low door into a maze, avoiding passageways and corridors. I felt curiouser and curiouser, like Alice.   Then," boom" around the bend into a loud, crowded room lined with cubicles, and John Lennon stood, pale and bored. He was impatiently answering a reporter's questions, holding a sneaker in one hand and banging it rhythmically against his other palm. So cool.

 Joan swept us up, gathered me to her and, circled the room, introduced me to each member of the band. I was the only kid in the place. John was surrounded but managed a wave. "Hullo." Ringo took my hand gravely and said, "How do you do?" Paul Tossed the Paul grin my way. "Are you Joan's little sister?"

 Then my eyes were two pinwheels as flash bulbs popped, I watched the choreographed ease with which the Fab Four draped themselves around every local VIP who wanted a picture taken. Then it hit me with a dull shock, "Joan," I said plaintively, "no one at school will believe me." She grabbed Ringo and a photographer, and we barely got our picture taken before it was announced that everyone had to leave so the Beatles could dress for their performances. Joan rushed me into a changing cubicle and said, "Shhhhh. We can hide here." I didn't think I could handle watching the Beatles change clothes. I mean, I was only 10. To my relief, someone found us and shooed us out.

 The press was filing out to the performance area, but we waited in another room where the guitars were set up. I sat on the edge of a long banquet table that was littered with a feast of leftovers. John's pen and ink doodles were all over the white tablecloth, and I saw some of the journalists serendipitously tearing off pieces as they left. 

Then the Beatles appeared, dressed in black suits and boots, and idly began to run through some songs. Ringo's drums weren't set up, so he came over to me and held up his hand. "Would you like one of my rings? Now, this is a nice one. It's a whistle ring." He slipped it off his finger, blew on it, and hummed pleasantly. He dropped it into my palm while his three mates strummed and sang. He took my hand and helped me jump down. We danced to one song. I racked my brain trying to remember which song, but I was dancing so hard I don't think I heard anything at all. 

Later, Joan slipped into the back room and returned with the shirt John had just been wearing. "Here, " she smiled, "another keepsake." He saw, and he winked. John Lennon was about to sing for a million hysterical people, and he winked at me. So, who are you? Really? Not her sister? Now? Are you?"

Presently, they slung their guitars over their shoulders, and we all were escorted through the maze toward the stage. I watched Ringo, my new favorite, make a wrong turn and head away from our procession. I uttered my one word for the night," Hey...," and he turned around, grinning sheepishly. They looked like a chain gang as they trudged single file along the corridor, adjusting guitar straps and jacket cuffs. Just going to work. It seemed sad and tedious, another stop on their long and winding road. But as it turned out, it was the end of the journey. After the Candlestick show, The Beatles never performed together on stage. 

When we emerged onto the field, the band clambered up the stairs and hit the stage running. We positioned ourselves below them, leaning against the platform on which the stage was built, spotlights dipped and whizzed around. People were leaping from their seats, rushing the stage like kamikaze pilots, and bulky policemen were thudding into them and carting them off. It was a great spectacle. The music began drowning and deafening me. The rhythm was all over us. Cake boxes with whole cakes in them landed near us, followed by stuffed animals, candy, and jelly beans. Joan held me and shielded me with her arms. "Oh my god." I remember her saying, "Your father's going to kill me!"

 Two hours passed in a roar. I don't remember how we left the stadium or how I got in the car. I remember falling asleep in Joan's perfumed lap with John Lennon's sweaty shirt tucked around me as we sailed down 101 in her cozy black Jaguar, going home.

The mystery of the tablecloth has been solved!

 In 2016, I wrote about the tablecloth The Beatles doodled on while backstage in San Francisco in 1966.  You can read that story here.  

Quick recap:  The caterers, Simpson's Catering, brought The Beatles and their crew their food while they were backstage before the San Francisco show and also supplied the tablecloth for the table.   The Beatles used the colorful Japanese pen gifted to them by fans to draw doodles on the tablecloth after the meal.   Joan Baez was also there, and she drew on the tablecloth.   Afterward, Simpson's Catering took their tablecloth back with them, now adorned by Beatle art and autographs.  It was put on display in the shop's front window, and many fans stopped by to see it and take photos of it.   Then six days after the concert, someone broke the large window and took the tablecloth.    

That is all we knew about this piece of Beatles artwork.   It has been missing since 1966.   Although I do have to say that someone in the comments section of the article from 2016 someone came forward and said that the guy who originally stole the tablecloth in 1966 gave it to his uncle, who had no idea it was stolen until the 1980s.    Whoever had the tablecloth gave it back to the son of the caterer in 2020, and now he is selling the tablecloth through Bonhams auctions.  

You can bid on the famous tablecloth here.    It only has one day left!

Thanks to this auction, we can see the artwork up close. 

This is the biggest section that is made by a Beatle.   John Lennon drew all of the yellow areas.  Paul signed his name in bubble letters and put an arrow.  

These drawings were drawn by Joan.   Who do you think she was doodling?

George and Ringo were seen drawing at the table.  But when I looked closer, I realized that they had doodled on paper and not actually on the tablecloth.   What a shame!   I am sure those scraps of paper are long gone.   The caterer asked George and Ringo to autograph the tablecloth. 

This photograph by Marilyn Doerflers really shows some of the art -- notice John's yellow drawing especially?

I am glad that this mystery has been solved and that the tablecloth has survived all these years.  I find it a bit disappointing that there isn't more artwork on it (such as the one they did in Japan the same year), but original John Lennon art is always awesome. 

The last concert in front of a paying audience

 August 29, 1966 - Candlestick Park in San Francisco, California

When Joan met the Beatles

This was taken from an interview Joan Baez gave to Rolling Stone magazine in 1983

I traveled with the Beatles for four days on one tour and, uh, ended up with John at one point, but we certainly did not have anything...I mean, it was  wild times.  This was their first or second trip to the States -- the second I think.   I was performing in Red Rocks, above Denver, and they were on the next night, so I stayed over.   There I was in this room full of hundreds of people, all scrambling around trying to figure out how they could get to their dressing room, and somebody came up and said, 'The Beatles would like to meet you."  and I just instantly went to jelly.   I got to their door, trying to think of something clever to say and finally just put out my hand and one by one they introduced themselves.   Now, they had been on the cover of every single newspaper for months, and they're going, "Hullo, I'm George" and "Muh name's Ringo."  I said, "Yes, I know."   They were terribly funny and terribly sweet, and they invited me to stay on the road for their last three or four concerts.  My tour was over, so I went with them -- as I think anybody would have.  You know, packed everything and whoopty-do, off we went.  I saw all the inner workings:  how you climb into  Volkswagen buses and then send the limousine out to be beaten to death by loving fans.   All those things.  I was fascinated.   Then we ended up in this great big mansion in Los Angeles that somebody had given them.  But big as it was, there wasn't really enough master bedrooms for everybody.  and poor John was the one who had invited this little Mexican waif along -- I don't know what the hell they thought of me; they thought I was Florence Nightingale because I used to tend to the wounded at their concerts.  Anyway, so here we are in the mansion in Los Angeles, and we've run out of bedrooms, and they've sent their people out to bring in groupies so they can pick who they're gonna, you know, hang out with.  And these poor girls, just sitting downstairs waiting to see whether they're gonna be picked by somebody -- they don't talk, they don't even knit.  They just sit there in these little outfits that they've worked on for months waiting for this thing to happen.  And eventually a Beatle will come by and pick one of them and, you know, drag her off to his lair.  There was also a hotshot local somebody.  I didn't figure out exactly what she was, but she looked like a professional prostitute.  Anyhow, John was stuck, having invited me and then not having anywhere to put me.  So he offered me his room; it had a bed in it the size of a small swimming pool.  I said, "Well, John, don't worry, I'm not fussy about these things, you just come in and use the other side of the bed when you are tired."   I didn't want him to feel pressured, 'cause I figured they must feel pressured to perform all the time.  So I went to sleep, and he came in, in the middle of the night.  And I think he felt compelled - "Well, I've asked her and she is a star and oh dear..."  and he started coming on to me, very unenthusiastically.   I said, "John, you know, I'm probably as tried as you are, and I don't want you to feel you have to perform on my behalf."  And he says (adopting Liverpudlian accent), "Oh, luvly!  I mean, what a relief!  Because you see, well, you might say I've already been fooked downstairs."   So we had a good laugh and went to sleep. 

Rock n Roll Music

Joan Baez and Wendy Hanson---Brian Epstein should have been standing in that empty spot....

Catering for Doodles

The catering for the Candlestick Park show was by Simpson's catering.     I purchased two blurry photographs of the Beatles backstage eating their meal from the daughter of the caterer.    I believe these photos might have been hanging up in the shop.  There are no surviving negatives and these are the only known copies.  

Photo copyright held by Sara Schmidt (do not copy)

Photo copyright held by Sara Schmidt (do not copy)

Here is another photo where you can see what the guys had to eat.  I am pretty sure Paul is posing with the Simpson catering folks.

Much was said about the Beatles doodling on the tablecloth with pens that were given to them by fans.   The newspaper even wrote about it.   Simpson's displayed the autographed table cloth that was full of Beatle doodles and low and behold, it was stolen shortly after they were on displayed.   Here are some photos of the guys doodling.

Beatles:  Case of Missing Doodles

A white linen tablecloth enhanced by Beatle doodles was stolen yesterday from the display window of Simpson’s catering service.  The theft of the priceless relic was discovered by Simpson’s co-owner Joe Vilardi, at about 10 a.m.  Vilardi said another employee had observed the cloth resting peacefully  in the window as late as 8:30a.m.  But when Vilardi appeared at the 926 Clement street office to “check on some phone calls,” the big 12-foot-wide window had been shattered and the linen purloined.

Simpson’s obtained the table cloth on the night of the Beatles’ appearance at Candlestick Park August 29. It was the same cloth on which the four Englishmen devoured prime rib of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, stuffed baked potato, salad, relish and French pastry. 

Sprinkled among the gravy stains and pudding droppings were doodles of almost psychedelic persuasion, drawn by Beatles in a moment of contemplation before their concert in the infield.

John Lennon, according to Vilardi, had sketched “an interesting sort of Japanese sunset in yellow crayon.”  Paul McCartney had drawn faces in the abstract.  There were other less impressive drawings on the cloth – presumably the work of other Beatles and, perhaps, of their dinner gust, folk singer-pacifist, Joan Baez.

Simpson’s first had the great Britons autograph their creation, then the caterers whisked the table cloth back to headquarters, where, for the past six days, it has served as an invaluable lure.  Crowds of young and old alike have flocked to the store, Vilardi said.  “Some of those excited little gals wanted to touch it or take pictures,” his co-owner said.  But there were no threats of theft.  

Although the cloth was not for sale, Vilardi said he received offers for it ranging as high as $300.   Simpson’s had been warned by “the cop on the beat” that the sight of such an invaluable property behind glass might  prove too tempting for some fanatic.  But said Vilardi, “I never gave it any serious thought.”  He realizes now that he underestimated the value of his merchandise.  “I can readily see that somebody wanted it rather badly,” Vilardi said weakly yesterday.  “Imagine taking it in broad daylight.”  

Backstage with the lads at Candlestick Park

A day at the pool

These photos are owned by Gina Smith 

August 26-27, 1966 the Beatles spent some well needed rest at a home in Los Angeles where they spent time with pool---the type that you swim in and the type you play.  

Flying the Friendly Skies in 1965

Thanks to Bruno!