A House Hippie on Tour

 

Richard Dilello is someone that I have always found to be an interesting person in the Beatles history.   Besides his book (which I have always had a difficult time reading) and his mid-1970s Beatles convention appearances, Richard has basically disappeared from The Beatles world.   This interview was conducted in 1976.  

A House Hippie On Tour

And Interview by Evert Vermeer/Erik M. Bakker

(Beatles) Unlimited

September / October 1976

 

During the Seattle FWCBF Convention, we made acquaintance with Richard Dilello, writer of the book The Longest Cocktail Party, on the cover of which he is referred to as “Former house hippie” of Apple.

BU:  The burning question arises, what is a house hippie?

RD:  My function with Apple was in the press – and publication office.  I was originally hired to take care of the press-cuttings on the Beatles and the other Apple recording artists.  Then my function extended to other things, to keep the tea-cups filled, to keep the drink cabinet filled and to roll marijuana cigarettes and more of those tasks.

BU:  How did you come to Apple?  Did you know anyone in the Beatles business before?

RD:  Yes, I did.  I knew The Beatles publicity officer, Derek Taylor.  And I went to him in the summer of 1968, saying “Derek, I need a job and I would like to stay in England very much and can you help me? So Derek said “I will try” and he did.  He went ahead and he got me working.  He gave me a salary job.

BU:  Did you like The Beatles music at that time?

RD:  Yes, I love The Beatles very much and I was a very big fan of theirs and I still am.

BU:  Yesterday you mentioned Jimmie Nichol in your lecture.  What do you know about him?

RD:  What I mentioned about him was that the Beatles always asked him how he was and how things were going and his reply was “It’s getting better, yes, I’ve got to admit, it’s getting better, yes, it’s getting better all the time.”  And that line became a very famous song.  I don’t know what became of Jimmie, though.

BU:  Whenever The Beatles were in their offices, what did they do?

RD:  They would have conferences, John and Yoko mostly did a lot of talking with the press.  They would review their financial status and take care of their social life and see about paying bills and that kid of things.

BU:  Did all The Beatles have their own officers?

RD:  Yes, each Beatle had his own office for a while.

BU:  What was your opinion about Allen Klein?

RD:  I did not like Allen Klein very much.  I didn’t think he would make a good business manager for them. I thought he was a dishonest person and it would seem to be that a lot of people agreed with that.  I remember George Harrison saying to me once that he thought Klein was the greatest and was really going to open things up for the Beatles and the terrible things people said about him was just not true. 

BU:  some of the wives of The Beatles used to pop around.

RD:  Very infrequently, at least Maureen Starr and Patti Harrison stayed out of the limelight.  We know about Yoko and Linda, they loved to be photographed and loved to be seen and they were not at all shy and retiring.

BU:  What about Badfinger?

RD:  They have broken up.  Joey Molland has a group called Natural Gas and Tom Evans also has his own group.  As you know, Pete Ham died.  He was in a depressed state of mind, not really because of the last unsuccessful tour of the States, as you say here.  IT was more due to the fact that they had made so much money and were ripped off by their managers.

BU:  How was your reaction on Mal Evans’ death?

RD:  I was only momentarily shocked.  It just seemed a very bizarre and sad kind of thing to happen, and totally unnecessary.  I could not understand how a 40-year-old man could become so depressed over circumstances which I would consider to be inconsequential and too unimportant to allow your life to be ruined I mean, it was nice to work for The Beatles but to have your whole life affected by that afterward, have your whole vision so limited of what the world is.  There is more to like than The Beatles and that whole scene.  I remember somebody asking Mal Evans about Pete Ham’s death at a Beatles Convention last year in New York and Mal said “I can’t understand why anybody should want to kill himself.”  I wanted to ask him how he could say something to unfeeling, as it was Mal who took Badfinger to Apple and had so much influence on them.  Two months later Mal was dead, more or less by a sort of suicide as well.

BU:  Did you know any of The Beatles reactions?

RD:  No one attended the memorial services and I didn’t see anybody’s reaction in any paper.  They probably just said, “That’s too bad.” 

 

 

This interview was made on Sunday, July 18, 1976.  Seeing that we “borrowed” some of his photographs for the Apple Story in our last issue, Richard had not given us permission to use them as yet.  We will hear from his attorney as soon as he has found one.

After Richard “left” Apple, he wrote his book which took him 4 months from December 26, 1970, to April 1971.  At the moment he lives in L.A. and he is a photographer, especially for record sleeves. 

BU would like to thank Richard very much for the opportunity to write and publish this interview.

 

 

 

The Longest Cocktail Party-- a book review

I have been reading a lot of comments about the book The Longest Cocktail Party by Richard DiLello as being one of the best Beatles books out there.  I had read the book twice before:  once in the 1980s and once 10-15 years ago.   So I wondered if the famous book about what was going on at Apple Offices written by the "House Hippie"  was still a good book after all of these years?    


Richard DiLello worked for Apple from 1968-1970 as the "House Hippie," which was a real job at Apple Records.  He wasn't just a guy who hung around the offices and smoked pot all day long, but he worked for Apple.  His main job was one that I would do just about anything to have--he worked for Derek Taylor in the press office.  His responsibility was to go through the newspapers and clip all of the articles about the Beatles and file them.  He also worked with Apple recording artists, White Trash, and was a photographer.  

Richard's book was one of the first from a Beatles "insider" who told the truth about what went on at Apple and didn't really hold back.  Written in 1972,  Richard's memories were still fresh.   He told of a place that had a party atmosphere every day.  People were drinking alcohol and smoking pot while working in the offices. 3 Savile Row was filled with a cast of characters such as members of the Hell's Angels and their group of cronies, a family known as "Emily's family" that walked around naked and hoped to get John Lennon to go to Fiji with them, a guy that would sit cross-legged on top of the file cabinets,  a guy that thought he was Hitler and a guy who came in every day with poetry he had written among others.  The phone rang off the hook and people were constantly coming in and out, which was why many, many things were stolen out of the offices.  Everything from typewriters to aluminum on the roof to alcohol and anything else.  The folks who actually worked for Apple loved the Beatles so much.   They would do just about anything for the Fab 4 and worshiped them and everything they did.

I found this book to be more enjoyable while I read it this time around than I had in the past.  I think the reason why I liked it more was because some of the "minor" characters in the book have since written their stories.  People like Chris O'Dell, Kevin Harrington, and Denis O'Dell were mentioned in the book, but having now read their books, it helps bring a complete picture of Apple Offices in the late 1960s.  I liked that the book was fun and light-hearted.  The chapters are short and easy to read.   The stories were told with humor and admiration for the Beatles.

Do you know what annoys me about this book?  The same thing that has annoyed me about it the other times I read it.  I HATE how Richard DiLello refers to himself in the 3rd person throughout the entire book.  "The House Hippie" said such and such, or "The House Hippie" did this and that.  What is that about?  Does he always speak about himself in 3rd person?  Is he Elmo from Sesame Street?   I mean, this is his story about his experience.  Likewise, he talks of Derek Taylor as "the Press Officer" as if he didn't have a name.  I also didn't like that there is a lot of dialog and you aren't always sure who is saying what.  

But yes, this book is a must-have on every Beatle fans' bookshelf. If you have never read it, you need to get a copy and read it today. And if it has been a while, it is well worth taking a second look.

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/48J2HfB

At home in 1970

Photo by Richard Dilello 

One of John's favorite sweaters

Photo by Richard Dilello

More than just the house hippie

When you hear of the name "Richard Dilello" in the world of the Beatles you think of the "house hippie" that hung around Apple in 1969.   He even wrote an entire book about being the house hippie.   He appeared at Beatle conventions in the mid 1970's to talk to fans about it.   However, he also took a lot of photographs of the Beatles and I have been slowly discovering what a great photographer he really was.   For example, he took this shot of John and Yoko, which is really good.   It isn't ever day that you see a photo of Yoko from 1970 and she is smiling.    

George at the Happiest place on Earth

I just love this photo of George and Eric Idle along with apparently with some fans  Derek Taylor's wife and kids and Richard Diello at Disneyland in 1977!    I guess Derek Taylor took the photo since it is from a book I want but will never own, Fifty Years Adrift.  From what I understand, George, Peter Sellers, Ravi Shankar and Eric all went to Disneyland.  What a sight that must have been!  They are in Fantasyland near the carousel. 

Apple Scruffs

From the Longest Cocktail Party by Richard DiLello

The House Hippie saw them standing in quiet knots of two and threes all through that first Wigmore Street summer and thought to himself, "They'll go away when the weather gets bad." He was wrong.

After seeing them day after day for month after month he started looking at them. He noticed a handful of faces that were permanent pavement fixtures. When he went to deliver a parcel to Paul McCartney's house they would be there. When he had to go to Abbey Road they were there. When a shorter journey was involved to Trident Studios where one of them might be working they were there.

They would be standing by the cast-iron white picket fence outside Number 3 when he went in at ten and some nights leaving at eight they would still be there. The faces would remind him that he had seen them at least half a dozen times that day as he had exited on a half of dozen separate missions.

There are Beatle fans and there are Beatles fans; that much he knew. It was becoming clearer to The House Hippie that these girls were not just any old Beatle fans. They were always positioned on opposite sides of the steps when the obvious, one-day-wonder fans from America and Europe were out in force for an unimpressive two-hour vigil. They retained an aloofness from these hysterical screamers that bordered on supreme dignity.

It never mattered what the weather was doing. They stood there and allowed the rain to soak them and the wind to cut through their young-girl clothes. At last it dawned on him. He knew they would be there longer than anyone else; after everyone else had left, they would still be there.

Apple Christmas Party 1968

Since it is Christmas Eve, I thought I would post the story of the Apple Christmas Party as published in Beatle fan turned employee, Richard DiLello's book 'The Longest Cocktail Party'. The photos came from that book as well.

Not only was there going to be a conjurer, a Yuletide tree, acres of food and oceans of drink, but John and Yoko agreed to dress up as Father and Mother Christmas and hand out presents to all the children. The crowing glory of the elaborate, stand-up buffet dinner was a 43 pound turkey billed by the supplying butchers as the Largest Turkey in Great Britain.

December 23. Preparations had begun at nine that morning. The children's party was scheduled for 2:30 in Peter Brown's office. At six o'clock the adults' version of the children's party would being in Neil's office. By 11 o'clock the Press Office was filled to overload the Christmas-season glut of good time Charlies on their record company to record company marathon sprint for alcohol, inside talk and free LP's. Of all the record companies in London, Apple was number one on the list for abandoned cordiality and excessive generosity.

By 11:30 the Black Room was swollen to standing room only proportions with hashish smokers puffing their brains out while the front office catered to the scotch and Coke brigade. By noon all pretense had been dropped and the hash heads were indistinguishable from the juicers. The telephones that refused to quit were barely audible above the record player turned to three-quarter volume.

By three o'clock Peter Brown's office was a scene of unparalleled frenzy as more than a hundred children screamed and smashed their way through a mountain of ice cream, cake and sausage rolls, impatiently clamoring to be entertained by the ventriloquist and conjuror they had been promised.

At last Ernest Castro and April, entertainers to the Queen and Duke of Cornwall and the late Sir Winston Churchill, made their entrance. The roar of recognition form a hundred pint-sized Frankensteins just have been honeyed music to their ears. In the greatest tradition of English garden party entertainers, they lanced into their live wire routine of silvered voice projections, sleight of hand wonders and barnyard beast imitations. The eardrum-shattering squeals of delights from the youngsters did not decrease one decibel the entire length of their performance. They closed the show with a sizzling rendition of Lettuce Leaf Hop.

John and Yoko in full Christmas drag were waiting for them in the Press Office when the show let out. Mary Hopkin had joined them to lend an additional two paws to the distribution of gifts. Unrattled by the greedy stampede for toys, John Lennon stood calmly in the middle of the room, deadpan, muttering through the false beard on top of his own beard, "Ho, ho, ho."

From the reception lounge to the Press Office the party goers lined the walls and the landings, filling the building with roof-lifting talk, blue smoke and the rumble of several hundred churning, empty stomachs. The Largest Turkey in Great Britain was locked safely behind the kitchen door away from an increasingly restless crowd. The kitchen counter and sideboard were barely holding up under the weight of a thousand assorted hor oeuvres, platters of cold meat and jellied fish, salads, cakes, bowls of fruit and boiled sweets, biscuits and cheese lined the floor.

John and Yoko, freed from the burden of their costumes, sat on the Press Office floor surrounded by Emily's family (the family of homeless hippies that had taken residency at Apple). The Press Officer hovered nearby, glass in hand, cigarette in mouth, hoping that his employer would not be Beatled unmercifully on this day of all days. The noise level in the room was more suitable for lip reading than conversational audibility.

It took only three seconds for this atmosphere of intense gaiety to turn radically and almost irrevocably sour. Frisco Pete (one of the Hell's Angels George had "invited"), elbows pumping him energetically through the crowd, covered the length of the room in for enormous strides. HE poised menacingly over the slight figures of John and Yoko.

"What the f$%* is goin' on in this place?!?!" he screamed at them. The room dropped into a clammy, itchy silence. No one moved.

"WE wanna eat! What's all this sh$# about havin' to wait until seven?!?"

Mavis' husband, Alan, gallantly interrupted Frisco Pete with a request for a little consideration for the situation. His efforts were rewarded with a single closed-fish punch, carefully measured by a man who knew full well the power of his own strength. The room darkened. Frisco Pete returned his attention to John Lennon.

"You got more f$--in' food in that kitchen than there are people and it's all locked up and those two f$%!in broads upstairs tell me I've gotta wait until 7:00 just like everybody else! There's a forty-three pound turkey in that kitchen and I want some of it now!!!"

John Lennon, at this moment in his life a squeamish vegetarian, looked up at the frightening figure of Frisco Pete in total bewilderment. He knew nothing of the release schedule on the Largest Turkey in Great Britain. The Press Officer turned to the House Hippie and told him to fetch Peter Brown without any further delay. With relief he found him outside in the hall talking to Ron Kass. "Peter, you'd better come inside right away" and the House Hippie pulled him by the arm, fearing the loss of precious seconds.

"I don't know where those f#%!in' heads of yours are but where I come from when we got food we feed people, not starve them!" Peter Brown glimpsed in two blinks what was happening. The House Hippie gulped and closed his eyes as Peter walked calmly up to the San Francisco chapter of the Hell's Angels Motorcycle Club. Tapping him lightly on the shoulder, Peter Brown moved between John Lennon and Frisco Pete just as a fresh flow of verbal punches was about to begin. An audible intake of breaths circled the room.

"Now listen, Pete, we have every intention of feeding you and I apologize for the delay but I was hoping you could appreciate that the kitchen staff have been working since 9:00 and they've been under considerable pressure. We're waiting for the caterers to finish laying the tables and it shouldn't take more than another ten minutes and then we can all go downstairs and gorge ourselves to death but please, I beg you, be patient."

That did it! An up-front answer to an up-front question. Frisco Pete shook his head once, turned and left the room. In the course of 60 seconds Peter Brown had become the hero of the Battle for the Largest Turkey in Great Britain.

When the door to Neil's office was thrown open ten minutes later everyone could see it was going to be a sumptuous feast. The massive catering tables buckling to support food and drink ran the length of three walls Frisco Pete was the firs tot reach the main table where the Largest Turkey in Great Britain sat. Before the waiter had a chance to work up his best carving voice to say, "And would you like white or dark meat, sir?" Pete grabbed a firm hold on the poor dead bird's body and without any further ceremony ripped the turkey's left leg from its torso. IT easily weighed four pounds and more closely resembled a caveman's hunting club than a turkey leg. The hordes were right behind him in full force. By midnight there was nothing left but the washing up. It was a very fine party, just as the Press Officer said it would be.