Racing in Canada

 

June 18, 2000 - Montreal, Canada 

Harrison Suffers Energy Crisis

 

Harrison Suffers Energy Crisis in Pumping New Time Religion

By Bill Mann

The Gazette (Montreal,Canada)

December 9, 1974

    George Harrison, the first ex-Beatle to tour North America, was at the Forum for two shows yesterday. The afternoon show drew 14,000, while last night's presentation was a sell-out.

     Harrison's shows were framed in the most impressive and tasteful stage setting I've seen at the Forum in a long while. The lighting was superb. The sound unusually crisp for the big arena. It was unusual in other ways too. 

    It combined rock with soul and also an interlude for Indian spiritual tunes. On one hand, one applauds Harrison for sticking to his spiritual convictions in these days of ubiquitous cynicism. Representing serious Indian classical music with a touch of pop in front of a rock-oriented audience seems to be self-defeating. It smacks of self-indulgence.

  While the Indian part of the set obviously lacked its key catalyst and sitar extraordinaire, Ravi Shankar (taken ill in Chicago four days ago but able to rejoin the tour in a few days in Boston.) Nonetheless, it had its moments, notably the great percussive byplay between the redoubtable Alla Pakha on tabla and TV Gopalkrishnan on mridangam (a horizontal conga). The hit British 45, "I Missing You," sung by Ravi's sister-in-law, Lakshmi Shankar, was lovely. But all in all, the Indian set lacked punch, much like Harrison's world-weary vocals all night.

     Ask anyone who was there at either show Sunday night what the highlight of the performance was and I'll bet  the answer will be almost unanimous: Billy Preston's three numbers, which added a badly needed energy rush to the proceedings. 

    Nonetheless, Harrison's quiet spirituality added an aura of class and style to the show. The shows are dedicated to Sri Krsna, whose logo and lights adorned both sides of the stage. The backup group Tom Scott's LA Express was great in a backup role, but when Scott did his one solo number, the show suffered. Scott's sax is cheesy and bland, and neither he nor his group should ever be out front. This world is full of good rock musicians who do not know how to entertain or create anything original, and Scott is a perfect example of this.

     For me, the highlight was Preston's soul stepping on his hit single "Out of Space", and anyone lively enough to get George Harrison to dance along gotta have something going for him. Harrison started with his lovely Beatles tune "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and followed up with "Something" off of the last recorded Beatle LP,  Abbey Road. With Harrison adding a touch of Krishna consciousness to the lyrics by changing the line to, "will our love grow. I hope so." Instead of, "I don't know."

     Another high point was Harrison's new single, and, not coincidentally, his new record label, Dark Horde [sic], a pleasant, acoustic piece along the lines of "Here Comes the Sun", the latter written in Eric Clapton's garden one sunny British afternoon. It concludes with these words in the chorus. "I'm a dark horse running on a dark race course."

     And that is indicative of Harrison's slightly in the dark perception of his audience. While some burned incense, most still shouted for rock and roll.  Harrison and fellow spiritualist Eric Clapton both have suffered in their historic tours this year from lack of energy.

     I love Harrison for trying to turn the masses on to a special consciousness. But I'm also distressed that he has almost certainly forgotten how important a little rock and roll energy can be to any show, and he, like Clapton and Carlos Santana, is far too serious these days. Once again, I must ask, is this energy loss reversible, or is this the shape of things to come? Harrison has always been pretty much ahead of his time. And if he's right this time, then the 70s will be remembered in rock as the age of the great nod-off. More importantly, as far as his Indian and spiritual statements go, I think Harrison is well-intentioned, but evangelism has always turned more people off than on.

Recording Give Peace a Chance

 

Paul has arrived

 

Gather around the drum kiddies

September 8, 1964 - Montreal

50 Years of Giving Peace a Chance

photo from the collection of  Sara Schmidt 

On May 31, 1969 John Lennon and friends recorded the song "Give Peace a Chance" in a hotel room in Montreal.    50 years later and we STILL need to give peace a chance.    The chorus of John's song has been sung in countless protests and rallies around the globe over the past 50 years.   As long as people are wanting peace,  it will keep being played and sung everywhere -- just like John Lennon wanted.

Meeting John, Yoko and Kyoko and how it cost me a friend

A few days back I posted a story about Gail Renard, author of the book Give me a Chance and how she spent time with John and Yoko in Montreal at the Bed-in.    She was not there alone, and so here is the other side of the story by her companion, Thomas Schurmacher.     

This story can be found in the Montreal Gazette.   I am posting it here for historical and educational purposes since things often disappear from online newspaper sites.   


(all photos from Thomas Schurmacher)

Meeting John, Yoko and Kyoko and how it cost me a friend
By Thomas Schurmacher
May 27, 2019

When the Beatles came to Montreal in 1964, the date they chose for their matinée and evening concerts at the Montreal Forum coincided with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. Needless to say I did not even have to ask my father if I could go; I knew it was totally out of the question. Besides, tickets were selling for the outrageously high price of $5.50. Not being able to see them live was a huge disappointment as I was such a dedicated Beatles fan. (I was beside myself when the upstart Dave Clark Five momentarily pushed the Fab Four out of number one spot on the Top 40.)

But five years later, I saw another chance to see at least one Beatle in person. One sticky, hot afternoon in late May 1969, I heard CFOX radio deejay Charles P. Rodney Chandler mention that John Lennon and Yoko Ono and her six-year-old daughter Kyoko were holed up in town having a Bed-In for Peace at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel. Wow! A Beatle in Montreal?  I never particularly liked Lennon’s long hair and I confess he was only my third favourite Beatle, but hey, he was a Beatle nonetheless. It would be fun to go downtown even to catch a glimpse of him, so I called my good friend Lilian to join me. She turned me down because she was too busy doing biology homework. Then I called my Northmount High classmate Gail. I was impressed with her because she used to write letters to the TV studios in California asking for the autographs of people like Carol Burnett and Tommy Smothers. We had worked together writing and even sold a couple of comedy scripts to the CBC radio show Funny You Should Say That.

Gail patiently explained to me there was no point in going downtown as we would never get anywhere near the guy. She predicted a scene with thousands of crazed fans held back by dozens of well-armed security guards. Undaunted, I insisted we give it a shot. I told her I had already gone to the trouble of forging a fake press pass and I even had a set of coloured crayons for Yoko’s daughter Kyoko.

“What do we do if we can’t get in?” Gail was still not convinced.

“We come home, but at least we can say we tried.”

It took me a full 15 minutes of waxing enthusiastic about what a magnificent addition a John Lennon autograph would be to her collection before Gail finally relented and agreed to come along.

We met on the 124 bus heading south on Victoria Ave. We transferred to the now-defunct 65 bus on Queen Mary Rd. and then it was just a brisk five-block walk to the Queen E.

Gail’s power to peer into the future was nil; I was the one who had it pegged. Not a single teenager in front of the hotel. Not one! Gail had been convinced that the lobby would be mobbed. Wrong again … not a single kid there either.

We made it to the bank of elevators and still not a teenybopper in sight.  No security guards. No one so much as gave us a second glance. Since we had heard on the radio that our prey was on the 17th floor, Gail — the amateur — wanted to push the 17 button. I   brushed her hand aside and pushed 18.  I am no fool. Two kids getting off on the bed-in floor? That would be too obvious even to the most dim-witted security guard.

Gail, Kyoko and  Thomas 

The two of us got off on the 18th floor and took the stairs down to the 17th. We peered to the left. Nothing. We peered to the right and noticed some commotion near Room 1742 which had some empty room service trays outside.

We rushed over and knocked on the door; two things happened simultaneously. One — a tall lumbering security guard appeared out of nowhere and had his hand on the back of my collar; and two — the door opened. Standing in the doorway were Yoko and her daughter, who looked like her “mini-me.”

“I am so sorry, madame, I don’t know how these two managed to get up here, but not to worry. I will throw them out right now.”

While this exchange was taking place, little Kyoko was eyeing the shiny box of crayons I had in my hand. She took the bait just in time.

“Can I have the crayons?”

“Not if we are being thrown out!” I said. Gail looked sheepish and said nothing.

Yoko — ever the peace lover — decided to chime in.

“No one will be thrown out. These are our friends. Please come in.”

We were not in the suite 30 seconds when she invited us to meet her husband. “Would you like to meet John? He is in the next room.”

We remained glued to the spot. Meet John? Meet a Beatle? A real Beatle? Did this woman know what she was saying? We both nodded and said yes at the same time. We met John Lennon, we talked to him — no one asked us to leave so we stayed. Not just for the day. For the entire week, they were here. I ordered Pouilly Fuissé white wine for Tommy Smothers; I saw visitors like Petula Clark, Timothy Leary, Dick Gregory and Li’l Abner cartoonist Al Capp.

It was great fun hanging out with all these notables, but the reason we were invited to stay was because I started to feel sorry for little Kyoko cooped up in a hotel room. She looked so sad. I knew she was the exact same age as my kid sister, Cynthia, and I mentioned this to Yoko.

“Perhaps we can take her to my house so she could play with my sister.”

Yoko thought this was a capital idea and off we went with Kyoko in hand. They did not ask us for ID; they did not take our phone numbers. They did not even know our names.

We stayed for an entire week as her unofficial babysitters. Gail and I would go to the hotel room to pick up Kyoko in the morning and bring her back in the evening. We went for lunch at my house. Mom served us chocolate milk and we played in the park across the street. No security … nothing. One afternoon, we took her on a calèche ride at Beaver Lake and I asked Kyoko to tell us about Uncle Paul. Gail told me to shut up or Kyoko would tell her mom about us asking personal questions and we would be turfed as babysitters.

When John and Yoko left town, one of their minions paid us $150 for babysitting and we were given an autographed album each; I was given an autographed picture. Gail departed with the handwritten lyrics to Give Peace a Chance, which had been left on the wineglass-strewn table after John, Yoko and a few dozen hangers-on had recorded the song in the hotel suite.

We left and that was that.  Gail moved to England where she carved out an impressive career writing for British television, writing some film scripts and winning a few BAFTA awards.

The two of us would keep in touch and meet whenever she came home to Montreal to see her parents. When I was in London, I stayed at her beautiful home in Putney.  One evening, we had dinner with her guests who just happened to be Mr. and Mrs. John Cleese. I have no recollection of our conversation. I only recall Gail telling me to behave myself and refrain from making any jokes about her.

Fast forward to 39 years later when something happened that ended our friendship …

In the spring of 2008, the kicker item on the CJAD noon hour radio newscast was the announcement that the handwritten lyrics to Give Peace a Chance were about to be sold at auction in London. I chatted about the sale with my program director.

“My luck. Gail and I spent an entire week together with John and Yoko at the Montreal Bed-In. She has the lyrics in Lennon’s handwriting and I have a glossy photo with a faded autograph. Oh well.”

“You know what? You are a sucker. You should sue her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are a radio talk-show host. If you are not going to sue her, you should at least do a show on the subject and ask callers if you deserve a share of the proceeds. I guarantee you most of them will say yes. For heaven’s sake, if not for you, she would never have met the man.”

I did do a show about it and my boss was right about the caller reaction.

Later that afternoon, Gail and I chatted live on air. She said that after the lyrics were sold, not only would she treat me to a cappuccino, but she would even buy me a piece of cake as well. That was just fine with me. That is, until I made the mistake of having dinner with my friend Richard, a hard-nosed lawyer in the music industry.

“You should sue her, you know.”

“I don’t want to sue her. I got a photo — she got the lyrics. That’s life.”

“You don’t think you’re going to regret this later on? This whole amazing adventure was your idea in the first place and you are the one left out in the cold.”

“I will not regret it, Richard. Had I been meant to be the owner of the lyrics, I would have them. I don’t. Gail does. End of story.”

And so it went for the entire duration of the meal … until we got to the sorbet.

“This is such an obvious case of unjust enrichment. Both of you were babysitting Kyoko, right? Do you think that John and Yoko would have wanted her reward to be so much more valuable than yours? Of course not … I feel strongly about this; I am ready to handle this case for you pro bono. You don’t have to pay me a cent. I just think it is so grossly unfair.”

Against my better judgment, and owing in part to a double dry vodka martini with olives, I reluctantly agreed to have him look into it further.

Richard called officials at Christie’s auction house and told them the story. They listened intently and asked if I had any plans to contest the sale.

“Absolutely not. I will not claim the lyrics belong to me. While it is possible I may have some moral claim to part of the proceeds, I certainly have no legal claim. I also have no intention of preventing Gail from selling what belongs to her.”

Richard did not give up. After the lyrics were sold at auction to an unknown buyer for some 420,000 pounds or more than $800,000 Canadian, Richard wanted to ask the auction house to put a lien on the proceeds until we came to some kind of compromise. He was absolutely convinced that I was being ripped off.

“Richard, I am sure Gail is convinced she is entitled to 100 percent of the proceeds.”

“Why? I mean you were partners in the entire escapade. I did some research and saw both your names listed as the writers of the Beatles Monthly magazine bed-In article, Eight Days with John and Yoko.”

“Nonetheless, Richard, I am telling you to let it go. Leave it alone.”

After Gail sold the lyrics, she turned the whole incident into a second career. She wrote an entire book on our special week with not a single mention of me. Is that fair? That is for her to figure out.

There was a very important lesson for me to learn from all this — I made a mistake because I did not follow my original instincts to let it be. As a result, I have lost a longtime good pal. Gail even unfriended me on Facebook. But I do own a signed glossy photo with a small doodle by John Lennon. I also have the satisfaction that I managed to avoid a war over Give Peace a Chance.

Stand on the bed for peace

Live in Canada

A quick concert in Montreal

Sweaty Paul

In Bed with John and Yoko

I found this interview in a scrapbook.  Sadly whoever owned it, super-glued the pages into the book and some of the interview was on the back of the page, so it is not the complete interview. 

FYI:  This interview is a bit rated R.


In Bed With John and Yoko (or who beat the Beatles off?)
By Jim Buckley

A funny thing happened to me on my way to Montreal last month.  It took me two hours to get through Customs, and then, even though I had $500 in my pocket, got permission to stay for only 24 hours.  What happened was my brother opened his big mouth and mentioned that we were from SCREW and were up there to interview John Lennon.   He apparently forgot that Lennon spent 7 hours at Customs and only got a ten-day visa!  Well, we did manage to get through but not before David's big mouth was covered and he was forced to suck the dick of the Customs Lieutenant.  I was spared the view of this disgusting act since they retired to a private office together. 

Even then we got one day, so I wonder what you gotta do for TEN days?

Getting by the diddyboppers in the lobby of the Queen Elizabeth Hotel was the last major obstacle to the Fab Four (as John Lennon would say).  The Camera Crew from WNEW-TV, Metro Media, who were up there were doing their thing for a Friday night Special.  When I first entered the Lennon & Ono (oh yeah?) Suite, there was a rush to see who would shake my hand first.  Yoko Ono won the bout and I was completely taken aback by her charm and beauty, notwithstanding the fact that she fell in love with me at first sight.   And there was John Lennon at my feet with a bucket of water.  He wanted to wash my feet with his hair!  I kindly reminded him that I was wearing shoes, but that if he could find some bootlick, I'd be delighted to accommodate myself to a spit shine.   I finally got to meet Derek and shook hands, which was difficult what with Beatle John snapping his rag below (to the tune of "If I fell in love with you).

After we got to know each other a little better John and Yoko supplied us all with pajamas and me, Dave, Sandy, Judy, Derek, John, and Yoko crawled into bed.  It was a night to remember.  What follows is the account of that memorable evening, recorded by Sony (how's that for a plug for the old country, Yoko?) 

Jim:  Well,  now that we have all gathered unto you, let's ask the first question, which will be -  What was your first sex experience?

John:  Well, the first one I can remember was in school, a junior school and me and a few lads.

Jim:  How old were you?

John:  Oh, probably around six, you know.  I don't remember anything before that really, I mean I supposed your first sex experience is fiddlin' with yourself, but the first of my big episode was a little girl up in entry and we had her knickers down and some guy came along you know, and she ran away.  She was about 4 years old.  All the other guys got caught but me (heh, heh), so that's why I remember it so well.  We were just lookin' and before that, I can't really remember anything.

Jim:  What about after that?  You know, when you were a bit older?

John:  Oh well, when I was about 12, my major experience was the man in the pictures with his mac.  I'd learned from me cousin that you stick pins in him, she was a girl, you see, so she knew all about it, and she told me about stickin' pins, but I didn't have a pin so I punched him, but I was undecided, I was quite excited.  I was halfy-halfy.  I was petrified, as well, I kept telling the mates next to me, "Hey this guy's got his hand up (I still had short trousers), and they would say, "ah, it's just you blabbin' your mouth off again," you know, nobody believed me.  It was all too Mickey Mouse.  That's as far as we go, after 12 we're in danger.  Fuck for peace, folks, fuck for peace.  (Censor's note:   In case anyone is wondering if John Lennon was actually cussing, he pronounces fuck as foock, so as long as he's on this side of the Atlantic he's alright). 

Jim:  How about you, Yoko, what was your first sex experience?

John:  come on Yoko, tell the folks out there about your first sex experience.  And what age was it?

John:  Tell us about the doctor!

Yoko:  O.K.  When I was 9 years old I was in the country evacuating because of the war (The second World War) and all my family was in Tokyo or in Europe, and I was the only one left there staying with my brother and a couple of maids or something.  Well, I got sick and the doctor came and he was coming every day and then at one point he said, "Why don't you close your eyes?"  So I closed my eyes and he started to sort of like say, "Well, does this hurt" and he was pushing my tummy and all that, just like a doctor does, you know.  I kept telling him no, it doesn't hurt but his hand just went going down and he was saying, "does this hurt?"  And I thought well, this is a doctor and I should respect him being the situation and all that.  And then when his hands went down so far, he started to kiss me or something.  And then I opened my eyes and he had kissed me.

John:  On the face, folks!  His hand was in the way.

Yoko:  So I opened my eyes and he said, "you're beautiful, you're beautiful" or something like that.  And I was just sort of stunned, you know.  And he said, "Oh your dear doctor didn't do anything, did he?  He was just examining you, wasn't he?"  So I said, yes, hew as doing that.  He sort of pretended I supposed, I don't know.  IW as so scared and frozen.  And so I think he was sort of turned off by that all and got scared, or something, so he decided to smoke a cigarette and tried to be very cool about it and said, "When are your parents coming back to Tokyo?  Oh, that's right, they were in Europe."  Just small talk and then he finally left.  The minute he left (because that was the first time anybody had ever kissed me...it was a very uncomfortable sort of feeling.  This is in Japan and there isn't any sort of habit of kissing each other unless you're lovers).  I immediately ran to the basin and started to vomit, spit, wash my mouth with soap and all that, I was crying all over and everything.

Jim:  Did you understand what you were doing?

Yoko:  No, no.  I didn't understand at all.  I just felt it was all terribly evil.  The poor doctor was just saying "you're beautiful, you're beautiful," and was very excited, and all that, so maybe he wasn't all that evil.  I don't know, but at that time I thought he was the most evil man in existence.

Jim:  How old were you when you had your first experience with a man, say around your own age?

Yoko:  All right, I just reveal to you the age that I had my first sexual experience, and then you'll understand that I really shouldn't be talking about it.  It was like 24!  That's how old I was.

(At this juncture I had to keep the crowd from overflowing onto the bed gushing forth inanities like "What!  24!!!!"  It was hard to believe, even for the evil and whoresome SCREW crew).

John:  Next question!

Jim:  What's the most disgusting thing you can think of?

John:  I don't know, I mean what's the most disgusting thing you can think of?

Yoko:  Hypocrisy

(Missing page)

Yoko: No, never

Jim:  Were you Catholic?

Yoko:  No, but something almost as strict and puritanical.  There was a little in school...

John:  We spent a whole team leading up to worms making it, and I think they copped out before we got to it.  We'd been waiting for it all the time!  But we never got to it.

Jim:  Worms don't make it, do they?

John:  Well, they do at our school.

Jim:  All they do is shit.  I thought.  Eat at one end and it comes out the other.

John:  No, they sort of wrap themselves up in it.

Sandra:  Aren't they male and female?

John:  Well, maybe they eat themselves, but we had a whole term and never got to the end.  It just sort of ended and we never got to the bit we'd been waiting for.  We all had these questions like, "Isn't it a bit like us?"  We were 14 and 15 by the time we got to that.

Jim:  Did your parents tell you anything?  After you got out of school, what did you do?

Yoko:  I came to the U.S.

Jim:  Oh yeah?

Yoko:  Yes.  I lived in the Village for three years.

Jim:  And you didn't make it with anybody in New York?

John:  Yeah, that's what we don't want to talk about!

Jim:  But I thought you didn't make it until you were 24?

John:  No, she was in Sarah Lawrence school for a long time.  They go out with Harvard doctors up there.

David:  Are you familiar with Yayoi Kusama?

Yoko: Oh yes, of course.

David:  From what I understand she went one way and you went another when you both reached a certain point.

Judy:  We thought you looked like Yayoi from your picture, but close up you're much prettier.

Yoko: Thank you.  She is a very established painter.

(Page missing)

Jim:  What about girls?  What did you think girls had?  Did you know they were different?

John: Oh sure.  I mean cause I was 5 or 7 when I was caught in the entry, or whatever it was.

(Now we're busy capturing history, recording the precious moments while John and Yoko eat away)

Jim: Do you still want to get into the United States?

John:  Sure, I want to see Nixon, to give him an acorn.

Jim:  It seems to me that these aren't the questions SCREW readers want to know about.  Am I a failure at interviewing?

John:  As long as you make me popular, I don't mind.

Jim: The first thing we'll do is move your name up on the masthead.

John:  Thank you.  Keep it moving each week, and if you'll just add Yoko, I'll be most honored.

Sandra:  The mothers of America will never love you anyway.

Jim:  Eventually, the front page of SCREW will read "John Lennon and Yoko Ono present:  SCREW"  How's that?

John:  Thank you very much.  No matter what happens I know that, as a journalist, you'll uphold the very finest traditions of journalism.

Jim:  You know it.  Speaking of knowing it, when did you first hear of SCREW?

John:  I heard about it for months, and then one of our guys came back from New York with it, but by then I'd left.  So it was like that, I'd been hearing about it for some time.  Humor is your greatest weapon.

David:  We've found that if you treat something humorously it goes over much easier and sinks deeper, sex notwithstanding.

John: Yeah, that's the way we're doing our gig.  That is, to do it with a laugh.

Sandra:  If you take yourself too seriously, you don't make it.

John:  We think the whole scene's too serious, that's why SCREW is good.

Jim: Thanks, that's why we're doing SCREW

John:  The whole movement is all a load of intellectual shit.  And all them "Hippie-aware" people are just a gang of snobs.

Jim:  I was once Managing Editor of a paper called the New York Free Press and the main problem with it was it took itself so serious.  If I wanted to say that this cop was kind to children, I'd probably get censored.

John:  Right!  That's where it's at.  Like the Underground in England is so serious.  The International Times is so serious.  The International Times is so serious they won't' even review our records.  Because we made it.  We "sold out" and it's a real laugh.  Now they're talking about changing it and talking about Gandalf and fuckin' Alice in Wonderland.  The Hobbits.

(A couple of people come in and offer everyone bread.  We all accept and Lennon and Yoko involve themselves in eating).

John:  Notice how spontaneous I am?

Jim:  You chew nicely.

John:  But you missed the main bite.

Jim:  No. I've had the tape recorder going all the time, I have every historic mouthful.

John:  I guess it's not often you get a chance like this.

Jim:  You bet.  What's it like to live in a glass bowl?

John:  You get used to it.  We're all in bowls, aren't we?

Jim:  Some of my best friends are in a fruit bowl.

Sandra:  Didn't you know, life was just a bowl of cherries?

John:  You're all mad!

Jim:  Are you guys ever planning to get together again and do something?

John:  I've tried to get them all on the road, but Ringo doesn't want to, so....  I'm not that mad about it, but I'm interested in going out.  So I'm just doing a few gigs with Yoko.

Jim:  There have been insidious rumors abounding in the United States about you guys.  I'm not sure whether I should bring it up or not.

John:  Rumors about the Beatles?

Jim:  Yeah, the rumor is that all the Beatles sleep on the same bed, and it's a round bed.

John:   That's false.  We have different beds every night.


Jim:  We've been trying to squelch that rumor for a long time anyway.

John:  It's just not true.  The Beatles never made it together.

David:  You've just dispelled the American Dream.

John:  Oh, no!

Jim:  It's true.  Everyone thinks you've made it.

John:  Well, ok then, we made it.  But we didn't.

Jim:  Which is your favorite Beatle?

John:  Oh, I don't know.  John's kinda cool, yeah.  I guess I'd pick John.

Jim:  Have you gotten out of bed at all these past few days?

John:  Just to shit and pee.

Jim:  You got that, SCREW readers?  Get close to the mike.

John: Yes, we got out of bed one day and we just SHAT!

Jim:  This is going to be hard to take.  A lot of little girls are going to be very disappointed to find out that a Beatle shits.


John:  I used to wonder about the Queen.

David:  Have you ever heard a girl fart?

John:  I never did hear one.   They were trained at birth.

David:  That's a myth.  I've heard them fart.

John:  Another myth gone.

Jim:  Come on you guys, here lies this invalid, chained to his bed and you sit there calmly breaking up age-old myths in front of his very nose.

John:  Yeah, you telling me all this dirt.  I've come over here and all I get is this crap.

Jim:  You should be ashamed of yourself.

David:  Why did you come to Montreal?

John: Because they wouldn't let me in the States.

David: But you could've gotten in?

(Last page missing)

standing in bed

1969 in Canada

John tells it like it is

Interviewed in his pajamas

Pressing on through Canada

Talking in our beds for a week

Fans and memories of Montreal

Concert Memories

I was at the Beatles concert, but being 12 at that time, my parents insisted I (and my girlfriend) attend the afternoon performance. I don't remember any opening acts, just the Beatles walking on stage and singing. We (being young pre-teenage girls) shrieked our little hearts out and barely heard any real music. But I do remember being at that concert - the only time they ever performed in Montreal.
 

I do have a memory of listening to the Dave Boxer radio show (what station? not sure) and in the days leading up to the concert, he was attempting to persuade the young potential attendees to "be a clapper, not a screamer." Don't think anybody paid any attention. – Wendy W. 

All I remember hearing was a lot of screaming.   I wasn’t screaming, but the girl next to me was not only shrieking, but was also pulling her hair out. It was pure pandemonium. What I also remember was the Beatles come marching out with their black suits. They just went through their set and did very little talking to the audience. But they didn’t hit a wrong note throughout. --  Barry L.