I Want to Hold Your Hand? (1978)

Paul and John  entering the Warwick in 1965

 I Want to Hold Your Hand? 

By Susan Maier

With a Little Help From My Friends

July 1978

    I guess the reason I like the movie I Want to Hold Your Hand so much was how those girls tried to get to the Beatles by infiltrating their hotel. Back in August 1965, when the Beatles came to New York for their concert at Shea, my friends and I thought the surefire way to meet them would be to get into their hotel. There were three of us: my friends Phyllis, Fran, and me. 

    First, we tried to make reservations at the hotel. We even got a guy to call up for us to make it sound more businesslike. But there was a convention in town taking up any spare rooms. We hung around the hotel, sitting in the lobby the day before the big arrival of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. One newspaper reporter talked to us and bragged about how he had been upstairs to see the rooms that the Beatles would occupy. We begged him to get us in the next day, but he just laughed and said that he wasn't getting his own daughter in. 

    We met a man who had a steady room at the Warwick, but wouldn't be using it the next day. We offered him some ridiculous sum of money, which we didn't have, to use the room. But of course, he turned us down. The next day, the newspaper mentioned: "three little girls who offered money for the use of a room". They made the money offered even more ridiculous than what we had said!

     It all looked bleak and hopeless. Then we met this guy outside the hotel who told us that there was a mayoral campaign going on in the hotel on the fourth floor, and they were looking for volunteers. We marched on up to the fourth floor, and sure enough, they took us with open arms. We couldn't believe it! They had us addressing envelopes and  pasting articles in scrapbooks. Before we left for the day, they gave us ID passes and special buttons to wear, so we could get past the police barricades the next day. They told us that the Beatles would be arriving tomorrow, as if we didn't already know that.

     Needless to say, none of us slept very well that night. The next morning, after the important decision of what to wear, we set out for the hotel. When we got there, there were crowds of girls already waiting, and police barricades set up two blocks away. We had our special buttons on and flashed our passes at the suspicious-looking police, and walked into the hotel. Oh, what a feeling to walk right into the lobby of the Beatles Hotel with all those girls waiting outside. We thought nothing but nothing could go wrong. 

    We were put to work addressing envelopes again. Luckily, Phyllis had brought a small transistor radio, which we managed to listen to, so we would know what was going on. Every once in a while, screams would fill the air from the street below, and we had all to do from flying out of our seats. All of a sudden, there was such a commotion from below that even the people around us started running to the windows to see what was happening. We ran with them, and from the open windows we could see down to the hotel entrance very clearly. A Rolls-Royce had drawn up, and four figures were being ushered into the hotel. I couldn't see their faces; just four heads of long hair. We were ecstatic!  We went back to addressing envelopes until we could think of the next move to make. Who could work now? 

    There were a few other girls working there who had the same idea as us, but they didn't hide their purpose as well as we did. Then over the radio came the news that the four guys that had just arrived at the Warwick Hotel in a Rolls were imposters. They were a group called the Teddy Boys. We were sick. This meant that the Beatles were still on their way from the airport, and we didn't know what to do next. Fran decided to walk down to the lobby and see if anything was happening. She was very quickly chased back upstairs. Meanwhile, Phyllis and I had gotten friendly with one of the elevator operators, and he took us up to the penthouse where the Beatles were to stay.  He opened the doors and we just stood there stunned. We didn't get out of the elevator. I'll never know why. He couldn't stay at that floor for more than a minute because they could tell in the lobby what floor he was stopped at and he wasn't supposed to be there. So he took us back down to the fourth floor. First chance down the drain.

     Next, we met up with this other girl who told us to follow her. She led us around and around. I don't think she knew where she was going. We went down some back stairs and right into a room with long tables set up and cartons of Coke stacked up. We didn't realize until later that we had walked right through what was probably the press conference room. We could have hidden under the tables because they had long white tablecloths over them. We could have waited to see what would have happened. I can just imagine us being found under the table at the Beatles' feet. So much for our second chance.

     Anyway, there was this nice older woman back on the campaign floor, and we got to talking. She led us on a stairway, and at the bottom there was a young policeman standing in front of a bank of elevators. As best we understood it, the Beatles were to come through there into their press conference. The cop said we couldn't stay there, but the woman persuaded him to let us stay. We swore that we wouldn't come off the steps. He was really very nice and said okay, but to stay seated. We thought that finally our luck was coming through. Well, out of nowhere, this nasty man came down the stairs and told us that if we were still there when he returned, he would call the police. He left, and yes, you guessed it. So did we. Looking back, I'll never understand why we didn't just stay there. Maybe he never came back, and if he did, what could he have really done to us?

     By this time, the people running the campaign headquarters were wise to our real motives for working there. They told us they needed our badges back because they were issuing new ones with a different design for the next day. Of course, that was it. We were finished. Without badges, we couldn't get back into the hotel anymore. And to think, the three of us put in more work there than the other people running the thing. That guy who was running for mayor lost anyway. I just wish that our experiences in the Warwick Hotel had had a happy ending.  But you know, I wouldn't have missed it for the world, even the way it was. As the newspaper pointed out, there were eight teenage girls working as volunteers, but it wouldn't do them any good. There were just four floors closer to the Beatles than the girls on the street, and I, for one am, glad that I was one of those eight girls.

The Diary of a Beatle Chambermaid (1965)

 The Diary of a (Beatles) Chambermaid

By Theo Wilson

Daily News

August 15, 1965

On Friday night, I turned down the Beatles' beds and tidied up the rooms in the Warwick hotel, falling over George Harrison's black leather boots, which he wasn't wearing at the time, and spilling a bottle of 7-Up over the living room rug. “Don't mind it, Love”, said Paul McCartney.  Then I walked in on Ringo Starr hunched over a phone in another bedroom, “Shut the door, you leave, please, Love.”  And bumped into John Lennon with my arms full of linens.

 On Saturday morning, early, with the Beatles sound asleep in their bedrooms of the Governor's Suite of the hotel’s entire 33rd floor, I was back cleaning up the gorgeous crimson, gold, black and white living room, dining room and bar after the party they threw until 3:30 am and oh my aching back.  Kids, those Beatles do throw a party, yeah, yeah, yeah.

 Bless those billion-dollar boys. They may be prisoners of their Beatlemanic fans, but they know how to pass their time locked in.  What a morning after in that living room. They called in some of their friends, like the Impressions, and with their portable stereo, knocked out rock and roll.  With everything to drink, from Bucha to Scotch, with fried chicken wrapped in tin foil and telegrams and flowers and gifts, that living room was a chambermaid's nightmare.

 Five girls tried to crash the party and nearly made it. They climbed three flights in a building under construction next to the Warwick, wiggled through a 16-inch air shaft into the hotel, and got thrown out. The guards earned their money.

How did I get into the Beatles suite?  I swear on my chambermaid's outfit that it is a secret I'll take to the grave, which I feel is imminent after this Hard Day's Night. Anyway, before they got into town, Friday, I was there with news photographer George Madsen. The suite has a big double bedroom off the living room. Ringo and Paul slept there. Two other double rooms and a single George and John had their own rooms.  In the elegant dining room, which they didn't use, was a marble top table, chairs with crimson seats and frames of gold metallic bamboo.  Big black patent leather chairs in the living room, scarlet upholstered settees, marvelous views of the city--- the works.

 Friday night, about 8 pm, with my arms loaded with towels, I went with chambermaid Esther  Latorres to turn down beds and clean up. Esther is a stunning brunette, gently poured into a fitted black and white maid's uniform. She's been with the hotel three years. All Esther knew about me was that I was a new girl on the job. I was still wearing the day uniform, pink and white and rumpled, hanging around my ankles and baggy around the chest and waist. All I contributed to our duet was making Esther look lovelier. We went through the cops and guards. They kidded around with Esther, who just smiled big at them and knocked at Lennon's door. “It's the maid, “said Esther.  “What can I do for you, love?” “We want to clean up”, said Esther.  John asked us to come back after a while, then into George's room, where I fell over his boots because I was gawking at his red and white TWA Flight bag.  On the bag in big white letters was ‘George Harrison MBE’, meaning Member of the Order of the British Empire and honor Queen Elizabeth recently conferred on the boys.  George is neat. His gray suit was carefully hung on a chair.

 Then, into the big living room, George and Paul, in turtleneck sweaters and tight dark pants, were in there. Paul was sitting on one of the big red settees with a young girl with straight hair, and it was obvious they had just met, and it was sort of a business meeting.  Opposite them, on the other big settee, was George, reading papers and magazines. Four framed gold records for Beatles XI leaned against the wall, and the radio was blasting.

 I was emptying ashtrays, spilling the 7-Up, and listening to Miss Long Hair tell Paul how the Beach Boys were real fans of his. Just then, there was a recording of the Beach Boys, and George said, “You're missing the intro, Paul.”  Paul listened and said,” Great, great.”  Miss Long Hair kept talking.

Paul looked up at me and asked,” Are you Mrs. Lennon?”  This is the chambermaid who was assigned to them beginning Saturday.  “No, she's British,” I told Paul.  Somehow it came out with an English accent, to my surprise and  his.  “Where are you from then?” asked Paul.  “New York,” I told him, this time, it sounded southern.

 Miss. Long Hair started in again, and I joined Esther in the bedroom. Ringo, looking agonized, was on the phone. He politely waited while I puttered around. Esther had done everything, then asked us to close the door. Lennon, also in slacks and a turtleneck, came into the room and sat a while. We finished straightening up, and then we went one floor below where the Beatles' manager and entourage were busy in their rooms.

 More cleaning up, some more kidding with the guards. “When do you get off, sweets? “ They asked Esther, after one look at me in my sad sack costume. Esther charmingly told them, “At midnight, when my husband picks me up.”

 Saturday morning, I stayed with Anne Lennon, another shapely brunette, long enough to clean up that living room, leaving when the Beatles finally got up for breakfast. One hour with Anne was enough.  We picked up broken glass, chicken under the sofa, a torn-up telegrams (I love you. Call me and I love you, waved to me), wheeled out glasses, piled up the record albums, washed the ashtrays, swept the floor of the bar and scrubbed it while I rearranged the furniture and waited for the boys to wake up so we could vacuum.

 The boys overslept, and their manager had to scream and yell outside the doors to get them moving. “Come back later, girls,” the manager said, as the breakfast trays came in, orange juice, corn flakes, milk, eggs, sausage, toast, tea.

I took off for other duties. I decided to get out before I had to do any more hard labor. My last thought was of the Beatles. “Tell the boys to watch where they walk if they're barefoot,” I told their manager. “We picked up a lot of it, but there might still be some broken glass around.”  “God bless you, Love,” said the manager.

Hoping for a hotel sighting

 

Junior Press Conference

 

I think that if the Beatles had toured in 1967, they would have had more "Junior" press conferences with their fan club members present.   I think they truly enjoyed this one in 1966. 

Talking to W-A-Beatles-C

 

Warwick press conference

 August 22, 1966 - New York City 

At the Warwick

 

August 22, 1966

There they go!

 

Any Questions?

Junior Press conference Wanted!

I am wanting to talk to anyone that attended the Beatles press conference at the Warwick Hotel on August 22, 1966.    I am looking for memories of those in attendance and any correspondence that allowed you into the press conference and any photographs from this event that can be published in a book.

Please please help me!

If you're happy and you know it pat your head.

photo scanned from Sara Schmidt's collection 

Their day off

August 22, 1966 was labeled as a "day off" for the Beatles, but it really wasn't a day off at all.   They had two press conferences scheduled on this day.   The first was a regular press conference for the press and the second one was a new idea that the Beatles came up with along with one of the New York radio stations.    They decided to have what was called a "Junior" press conference after the regular one.    150 fans (50 from a contest with the radio station and 100 picked from the New York fan club) were invited to come and ask the Beatles questions.     Things were a little wild and there was some screaming, but overall the Beatles enjoyed the atmosphere of the Junior press conference and a chance to talk to their fans.    A few fans asked questions like "do you know so and so??"  But most asked pretty good questions that the press folks wouldn't have thought of.


And do you know what Brian Epstein did on this day 50 years ago?  Yes, he was at the press conference, but he also was on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson!    I found this out when I was doing research for my book.    Brian was interviewed all by himself and as far as we know, no audio, video or even photographs exist.     We wouldn't have even know that this happened if it wasn't for a major Brian Epstein fan that wrote about it in her diary!  


Since the Beatles wore the same thing during both press conferences, it is impossible to tell from which part of the press conference the photos are from.

Fans crowd around the Warwick

Among the fans that were around the Warwick hoping to see the Beatles 50 years ago today includes Bonnie with her wonderful "Sprout of a new generation" painting of Paul McCartney.    

The Warwick

The Beatles stayed at the Warwick Hotel in New York City while they were there.    As usual, fans were outside of the hotel, trying to see the Beatles.   It does look  like some of the fans were having a fun time dancing.