Beverley and Paul July 1967

 One of the first things I posted on this site in 2009 was the "Lost Little Girl" story.   The "Lost Girl Tapes" were a Beatles bootleg of a recording a fan named Leslie Samuels made in July 1967 when she went to Cavendish and Kinfauns with a tape recorder and spoke with Paul and George.   

I was obsessed with those recordings.  I couldn't believe that a fan could go onto the property of a Beatle house and talk to them.  I was amazed that Jane Asher served Leslie and her friend lemonade while Paul chatted away with them.   I listened to that Cd over and over again and even made a transcript of the recording.    

Toward the end of the Paul section, you hear a 4th female voice.   You hear Leslie ask the girl for her name, and she says, "Beverley."   She asks how she got there, and Beverley says, "My Grandmother."   Then you can tell that Paul and Beverley leave and then Paul returns to say goodbye to Leslie and her friend.  

So, for at least 15 years, I have wondered, "Who was Beverley? Why was she there that day? Was she a fan?"    I came across a photograph of a girl in pigtails that looked to have been taken on the same day Leslie met Paul.  I knew the girl was far too young to be Leslie or her friend (plus, she didn't look like either of them).  Was she Beverley?   The photo had more questions than answers.

Thanks to Guus at the Solo Beatles Forum -- I now know who Beverely is and why she was on the Lost Girl Tapes!  Thank you so much Guus for solving a mystery.  

Beverley  Sayers was Paul's housekeeper at the time, Mrs. Mill's granddaughter who came to London to visit relatives and stayed at Paul's house in July 1967.   She IS the girl in the photograph and she was at Cavendish when Leslie made her unforgettable trip.

Here is the news story from Herald-News from Passaic, New Jersey which was originally published on August 7, 1967.

Paul and Beverely Sayers 

Lions Head Lass Spends Week in Beatles Home 

Written by Bea Klacsmann 

Beverley Sayers, 11-year-old daughter of Audrey and Charles Sayers, 16 Claremont Terrace, Lions Head Lake, is the Envy of Beatle fans all over the world, for she not only met their idol, Paul McCartney, but actually stayed at his London home for an entire week. 

Beverley is the granddaughter of Mrs Lillian Mills (her mother's mother), who for the last six months has served as housekeeper for the bachelor member of The Beatles, who resides in a 29-room mansion in St John's Woods, London. 

Paul presented his small admirer with several presents, including five pounds in English money to do some shopping, many small gifts of dolls and the like, several autographs, and one of his latest recordings,  "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."   Beverley admits, however, that she liked their earlier recordings more, and this is a "little far out." 

The youngster, who was born in England, has just returned from a five-week visit to relatives and the London suburbs. She traveled on the plane with a family friend, Alan Hayes of Pompton Lakes, and alternately visited relatives: the Brian Mills and Peter Mills families of Ashford, Middlesex, the Leslie Flowers of Stanwell, and the Raymond Coleys of London. 

Beverley's first disappointment was when she took a whole roll of pictures of Paul and the family pets: "Martha," the English sheepdog, and "Thisbey," the cat and her three kittens. Something was wrong with the camera, and the pictures didn't turn out. However, Paul came to her rescue and had pictures taken of his young visitor with himself and his family. 

The young girl had already become used to the mod fashions of London, for her English relatives were right in style with their miniskirts and bright colors. According to Beverley, "Only the old people of London dress like we do here; all of the young people are in mod-style dress. The family attended a wedding where the groom wore a red shirt with orange flowers, bell-bottom trousers and sandals. I saw many of the young men with shoulder length hair tied with a ribbon in a ponytail and most have long droopy mustaches." 

McCartney, when he went out on an evening date, according to Beverley, wore a bright green velvet button-up jacket with bright orange velvet bellbottom slacks. One of his Hobbies is painting in the garden, but instead of scenes or portraits, Paul uses tubes of bright colored paint and pastels to draw geometric designs on his shirts ... no pictures, just different colored lines, dots, x's and squares. 

"His shoes he also paints and bright colors, and when he goes out he wears sunglasses with one purple and one yellow lens," she said. 

On the pictures with Beverley he is barechested and wearing light baby blue bell-bottom trousers with brightly colored designs of children playing all sorts of games. 

Beverley said there are at least 20 girls, ranging from 14 to 24 years old, who are always on the street outside the house. 

Mrs Mills has become a celebrity in her own right and receives her own fan letters and gifts as McCartney's housekeeper. 

Beverley reported that McCartney's home consists of four floors with two kitchens, one on the main and one on the second floor. There is a winding staircase and an enormous ballroom that Paul uses as his rec room, two TVs, a built-in record player and movie screen, and all sorts of recording devices. It was here that Paul showed Beverley home movies of himself and the other Beatles. 

According to Beverley, McCartney drives a dark green Mustang with black bucket seats. However, he also owns an antique Model T Ford which he is having refurbished and painted in various bright colors. 

Beverley was sorry not to have meant the other Beatles. She just missed Ringo Starr whose car was pulling up to the gate as she was leaving for her return to the United States. 

The Sayers family came to this country from England when Beverley was two and they resided at Lions Head Lake for the past 7 years. Beverley, who is entering the 6th grade at Schuyler-Colfax Junior High School in the fall has two sisters, Laurie,4, and Jane,1.

Mourning Brian

 Brian Epstein died on August 27, 1967, and on August 28, it was big news around the world.  Fans gathered at his home in London to pay their respects and mourn together. 

Paul's Haircut Shocks the Barber

 

This is a newspaper article from 1981 about a barber that unexpectedly cut Paul and James' hair. 

Paul's Haircut Shocks the Barber

By Geoff Garvey

Old-style barber, Jack Turner nearly dropped his clippers when a customer demanded a short back and sides. 

For sitting in the chair was the owner of one of the world's most famous heads of hair - Paul McCartney. 

Jack, 59, said at his shop at St. Lenord's-on-sea, not far from McCartney's Sussex home. "I told him that I was not going to give the king of The Beatles a short back and sides.  Even when his wife Linda asked I still refuse.  In the end, we settled for a trim."

Afterwards, Linda sat in the chair with 4-year old son Jamie {sic} on her lap so that he could have his hair cut as well.

Jack said, "I asked Paul why he hadn't gone to a top salon.  

He said, "I don't want that.  I want a traditional hairdresser.  I don't want fuss or bother."

McCartney had waited his turn behind five other customers in the traditional salon.

Jack said, "He was absolutely charming and people were chatting to him. He was very down to earth."

McCartney, who is reported to earn £25 million a year, paid Jack £2.00 and a tip.  "We don't talk about that, do we,"  said Jack. 

A member of Paul's staff said of his visit to Jack's Barber Shop "I'm not surprised.  He likes to be treated as an ordinary person."  

How Can You Get to Know a Girl With 50 Big Cops in Your Room?

 

This is a newspaper article that I found in a scrapbook.  I writer of this article is not known and I also do not know what newspaper it came from. 

How Can You Get To Know a Girl With 50 Big Cops In Your Room?

"If we went down and sang 'I Want to Hold Your Hand,' to that mob of girls down there, we'd probably get our hands torn off."

"Ring you are, mate." said Ringo Starr, the drummer, who looks somewhat like a Buddist idol and wears a worried frown more often than he wears a smile. 

"But it might be nice to shake off our guards and get out and meet them all.  One by one of course.  

"I try not to think about the girls," said Ringo.

"I take my mind off them by reading lots of science fiction.  It's my great kick.  

"Sometimes I think we've created a more frightening monster than anything I about in my books.

"We're captives of our own creation -- The Beatles, but we can take it -- we're young. 

I asked them what kind of girl they'd like to date if they had the opportunity.  

Lead guitarist, George Harrison answered, "We like girls with longer hair than ours -- so we can tell the difference."

"Seriously, though," said Harrison, "we're just like anyone else.  We like parties and a bit of fun.  Trouble is, we can't have fun like normal people."

"We tried to get into the Peppermint Lounge.  Lots of twisting down there, but we couldn't do anything.  Everybody surrounded us in one large circle.  So the only thing left for us to do is sit around a big fire at home with our slippers on and watch television.   Once in a while, we even have a pillow fight.  What a life!"

"Don't get us wrong.  We like the screaming fans."

"We'd be dead worried if the girls weren't around.  But sometimes we wish we could get back to the kind of thing we were doing a year ago -- just playing some of the small places around our homes, and having a quiet, date after the show."

"It's only a passing mood, though.  Most of the time we've been living on top of the world.  We love our fans and we'll always have time for them.  They've all been marvelous to us. 

"If it was possible, we'd meet them all."

John Lennon -- the married Beatle interrupted:  "Look, if the four of us ever regretted our personal lives being so restricted, we'd pack the job in -- that means quit!"

Ringo reminded Lennon that he had a wife, therefore no girl problems. 

"Yes, but it's terrible when I'm away from her, though," Lennon said.

"She's here with me now, but usually we're apart and we have to talk by telephone. 

"But the voices don't sound the same.  It's too distant.  I don't like to talk about my private life.  I'd like to keep it separate from this business.

"I want my wife to lead a normal life and not be pestered day and night just because she's married to one of the Beatles.  She never gets jealous about the fans. 

"She loves them, in fact.  She's received lots of presents from our fans for herself and for our son.

"She knew what it would be like when she married me.  My wife is very understanding about it."

Ringo looked up from his cup of tea.  He looked sad.  "I'm not really miserable," he said.  "It's just my face.  I really feel amazed about the whole business, the success and all.  Don't ask me to explain it because I can't.

"Everybody wants to investigate us, get inside us, try to understand what makes a Beatle tick.  We've even been questioned by psychiatrists. I couldn't answer them because I never was able to understand the questions.  Long word, y'know."

Ringo -- so named because he wears as many as six rings on his fingers -- p[osed as a strong man, flexing his muscles and gritting his teeth.

"See!  We're quite normal.  If the girls were here right now, I'd be torn to bits."

"Everyone would get a bit of Ringo for a souvenir."

They all laughed.  "Tell him about the haircuts," Ringo said to George Harrison.

"The haircuts were a complete accident," said Harrison with a smile.  "I was in a swimming pool in Hamburg, West Germany, a year or so ago.  I didn't have a brush or comb and by the time it dried, my hair looked just like it does now.  We decided we'd all wear our hair the same way.  It caught on -- a real fluke."

"The whole thing's a fluke," said Lennon.  

"We'll fizzle out one day.  It's inevitable.  But it will have been a lot of fun."

"We hope to make enough money before that happens to be able to buy New York and England.  Then we'll tow them both behind a big boat down to the equator.  It's nice and warm down there, and very far away.

"I'm sure even the people who don't like us now would love us then."

"And" chorused the other three, "we'd be able to date the native girls." 

If you Must Throw Things....Throw Kisses

 

I hope you all have been enjoying the newspaper series from 1964 known as "The Beatles by the Beatles."  I think they are really funny.   Here is the last part -- George. 

The Mad, Mad Beatles certainly enjoy being knockouts, that is, slightly more than sensational, because of the lucre, etc., but, as one of them, George Harrison, observes today, they don't like being knocked out by such tokens of esteem as a barrage of apples.  The Mops hope that they are pelted -- with kisses only.  Such are some of the thoughts of the shaggy-maned quartet in today's concluding articles. 

You know, at first, I thought it was going to be a bit tough writing an article.  Well, I don't reckon myself to be a literary genius.  But having seen the load of old rubbish the other three wrote, I think this is going to be dead easy.

That drawing of me shown here was worth waiting for, wasn't I?  Well, I mean, you don't often see me like that.  (there is a cartoon drawing of George holding a guitar and pointing)

On the stage, I usually show just the top of my head.   It's not that I'm ashamed of my looks.  It's sheer self-defense.   

Ringo mentioned it in his pieces, but I'd like to say again that we would all be knocked out if the fans would stop throwing things on the stage.  If they don't we're likely to be knocked out literally.  Some time ago an apple hit me right in the eye, and I had a shiner for a week afterward. 

It's not really very hilarious.  So please don't throw things -- or, if you must throw them on John's side of the stage.  His head's tougher and a bigger target as well, come to think of it.  But seriously, please stop bombarding us.  It could be dangerous.  But if you have to throw something -- just throw kisses!

Apart from this one, hazard, life with the Beatles is really fab.  I can't think of anything I'd rather do than what I'm doing now.  It certainly beats being an apprentice electrician.  Touring, of course, is tough on you physically.  Sometimes you feel dead beat and you just don't feel like going out to face an audience. But once you get on the stage, the tiredness vanishes and everything is great. 

How could anybody be unmoved with a couple of thousand fans clamouring and screaming?  Sometimes it's a job to hear ourselves play -- and I'm sure lots of people in the audience never hear more than a few notes. 

John tells them to "Shurrup!" every so often -- for the sake of quiet ones in the theater -- but we don't really mind the screaming.  The kids have paid their money, and they're entitled to do what they want. 

You see, the press has built us up a lot and, as we get bigger, and fans think we're getting farther away from them.  So they scream.  Some people say it's sexual, but we don't do anything on the stage to invite that sort of response.  

Anyway, I can understand how the kids feel because I used to be the same way when I watched Eddie Cochran.  You know, if you dig somebody like mad on records and then you finally get a chance to see him in person, it sends shivers through you.

I don't know if that's what we do to our fans, but I know we send shivers through a few non-fans who think all Beatles should be crushed.  I don't mean people who don't like our music.  That's fair enough.  We don't like theirs.   But it's people who condemn us personally, people who dismiss us as a lot of clogs without knowing anything about us.  And people who reckon our success is money for old rope. 

What we do may not be brilliant, it may not even be particularly hard work.  But hardheaded promoters don't' pay small fortunes to people who can't draw the crowds.  

At the moment most kids seem to dig the Beatles.  Maybe this time next year we'll be on the way down.  That'll be a shame because we like popularity and the money.

But we're not going to turn up our toes and die if we're chased out of the charts by some group with the Leighton Buzzard sound or something. 

If we were only in this business for the money, we wouldn't have lasted so long when we were getting 2 pounds a night. 

But, of course, it's fab having so much money.  It's great to see an overcoat worth 25 pounds and be able to go in and buy it cash down.  A couple of years ago I would have had to save up for a couple of weeks and buy one for 8 pounds. 

It would be nice to have more time to spend the money we're now getting -- to have more time to ourselves.  But on the other hand, we're not entirely prisoners of our own popularity. Not so long ago Ringo and I walked around Soho quite freely.  We were spotted, of course, but we weren't mobbed.  And in the evening I took a girl friend to a quiet pub in London. 

Here again, people recognized me, but they left me alone.  They were mostly adults, of course.  But, even so, teenagers only get frenzied if they are in large groups.  in ones and twos, they're more subdued.  

I don't really miss the privacy of being unknown very much.  But what I do miss is driving.  Nowadays we are driven everywhere.  I'd love to own a racing car -- not necessarily to race it myself -- but just to be in on the racing scene. 

Another ambition of mine is to own a big house somewhere where it's red hot for most of the year.  The house would be by a big lake or by the sea so that I could swim and water ski.

As for musical ambitions.  Well, of course, I'd like to hear John sing in tune.  And I'd also like to become a really good guitar player.  I paid two pounds for my first guitar and practically ruined my fingers on it.  I picked up ideas from guitar tutors and from other guitarists, but I'm still a long way from being as good as I'd like to be. 

When I was in the Canary Isles a Spanish guitarist taught me a Segovia piece.  It was marvelous.  And I'd love to be able to play Spanish guitar -- you know, where it sounds like eight people playing at once. 

Since then I've been trying to find a really good Spanish guitar.  I've got about four guitars at the moment.  and the best one is worth about 250 pounds.  But I don't get enough time to practice.  And, when I do, I find myself playing the same old thing. 

But more than a Spanish guitar, I'd like a steady girlfriend.  You know, it's a bit of a drag when you've got a day off and no one to go out with.  I like all sorts of girls, so long as they know what's going on fashionwise and as long as they're not absolute clogs.  You know, soft.  They don't have to be intellectual.  Just with it, you know. 

But, really, when people ask me, what my ambitions are, I can't give a direct answer.  Things happen so fast.  I year or so ago my ambition was to make a record -- not necessarily a hit record but any old record.  I just wanted someone to let us into a recording studio for an hour or so.  

Today?  I don't' know.  I'd be knocked out if things just carried on as they are now.  Apple excepted, of course. 

The Day Beatle George bumped into P.C. Gardner

I have been looking through an old scrapbook from 1970-1972 full of Beatles news clippings.   There is this story about George and some legal issues he had while driving in January 1971.  I had never heard about this before and thought I'd share the stories with all of you.


The Day Beatle George bumped into P.C. Gardner
Adella Lithman
The Daily Express
January 26, 1971

Beatle George Harrison ignored the hammering on the roof of his car.  He thought it must be one of his fans.  But in fact, it was a policeman trying to draw his attention to the fact that he had caused a traffic jam in the centre of London. 

After that, it was alleged yesterday at Wells Street magistrates' court, Harrison drove three times at the constable.

Harrison pleaded guilty to driving without reasonable consideration.

Mr. Michael Holmes, for the prosecution, said that Harrison was driving in Orchard Street near Selfridge's store, on September 3 last year, when he advanced into a "yellow box" and caused a traffic jam.

When Constable Stephen Gardner spoke to him about this Harrison began to slowly move forward.  "The officer walked alongside the car and told Harrison to pull over.  But the car continued forward and the constable went in front of it and indicated him to stop.  But he was bumped on the knee.  Three times he signaled him to stop and three times he got bumped."

Constable Gardner then stood in front of the car and refused to move.   Defending Harrison, who did not appear in court, Mr. Martin Polden explained, "the policeman was standing on the traffic island trying to draw his attention by hammering on the roof.  Being a Beatle, he is often subjecte to this treatment by fans and did not realize it was a policeman."

Magistrate Mr. I. McLean asked, "Despite what one reads in the newspaper, I suppose he is still a person of considerable means?"   Mr. Polden agreed. 

The case was adjourned until February 23 so that Harrison, who lost his driving license while moving to his new home at Henley-on-Thames can produce a duplicate.



George Harrison drove at me claims PC
By Graeme McLagan
January 26, 1971

Beatle George Harrison drove his Mercedes car three times at a policeman on point duty who signaled him to stop, a court was told yesterday. The policeman was hit on the knee,  but not hurt.

He just stood firmly in front of the car and refused to move, said Mr. Michael Holmes, prosecuting at London's Wells Street Court.

Harrison, of Savile Row, Westminster, pleaded guilty through his solicitor to driving without reasonable consideration in the West End in September.

No evidence was offered against him on other summonses alleging careless driving, failing to stop for a policeman and driving into a road traffic box without the exit being clear.

Mr. Holmes said Harrison drove the Mercedes into a busy road junction at Wigmore Street and blocked other traffic. 

PC Stephan Gardner spoke to him and was told, "I see no box."

Harrison then drove his car forward and PC Gardner walked alongside and asked him to drive to the off-side of the road.   The Beatle refused twice, so PC Gardner walked forward and stood in front of the car.   Mr. Holmes said, "Harrison advanced his car slowly and steadily and it hit the officer's knee.  Again Harrison drove into him while the officer had his hand raised.  Then Harrison drove against the officer a third time.  The officer was not hurt but a bit shaken."

Other police arrived at the scene and spent 15 minutes trying to get Harrison's name and address said, Mr. Holmes.

He was heavily bearded but eventually, PC Gardner recognized who he was.  Harrison's solicitor, Mr. Martin Polden said Harrison did not mean to hurt PC Gardner and was a "very mild-mannered man."

The sentence was postponed until February 23 because the magistrate, Mr. Iain McLean was told Harrison could not find his driving license.

Harrison's "My Sweet Lord" is No 1 in Britain in the New Musical Express pop charts, No 1 in America and No. 1 in Australia.


Driving Ban on Beatle George
February 23, 1971

Beatle George Harrison was banned from driving for a month and fined 35 (pounds) today for a driving "miscalculation which developed into a misunderstanding and ended in a misdemeanor." That was how the incident in which he slowly drove his Mercedes three times against the legs of a policeman in West London was described by his solicitor to Wells Street Magistrate, Mr. Ian McLean.


Harrison, of Kinfauns, Esher, Surrey, pleaded guilty and was ordered to pay 15 (pounds) costs.  His lawyer, Mr. Martin Polden said he would appeal against the driving ban.

Harrison, who was not in court, pleaded guilty to driving without reasonable consideration.  Mr. Polden said Harrison had been trapped in a traffic box at a Wigmore Street junction.  Although moving slowly, he had driven three times into the legs of a police officer, who banged on the roof of the car to try to stop him.

Harrison's miscalculation was in not stopping immediately but trying to pull to the near side before doing so.  Until he saw the officer in front of the car, he did not know he had committed an offense.

His car radio was on and he could not hear the officer shouting.

Mr. Polden added, "He took the whole business unpassively rather than arrogantly."

The magistrate, Mr. McLean said, "In my view, the most effective way of dealing with cases of this sort, whoever the driver may be, is by means of a short comparatively sharp disqualification."


Ban on Harrison
By Guy Rais
February 24, 1971

George Harrison, 27, one of the Beatles, was disqualified from driving for a month and fined 35 at Wells Street magistrates' court, London, yesterday for driving without reasonable consideration in the West End last September.   Mr. Iain McLean, the Magistrate, said: "In my view, the most effective way of dealing with cases of this sort, whoever the driver may be is by means of a short, comparatively sharp disqualification."

Harrison, who did not appear, was ordered to pay 15 costs and had his license endorsed.   His solicitor, Mr. Martin Polden, gave notice of appeal against disqualification. 

Harrison of Savile Row, pleaded guilty when the case was first heard four weeks ago and the magistrate postponed sentence because Harrison was said to have "lost his driving licence."

The prosecution had stated then that Harrison drove his car on to the busy junction of Wigmore Street and Orchard Street blocking traffic.  When stopped by the Pc, Stephen Gardner he drove the car forward with the constable walking alongside and twice refused a requestion to drive to the offside of the road.

Pc Gardner walked forward and stood in front of the car and Harrison advanced the car slowly and it hit the officer's knee.  He drove against the officer three times.

Police spent 15 minutes trying to get his name and address, but Harrison, who was heavily bearded, was finally recognized.  Mr. Polden told the magistrate yesterday that Harrison was trapped in the boxed area.  He was driving his wife's Mercedes, and drove slowly forward.

He heard a hammering on the car roof.  "Mr. Harrison's lot has been to find people hammering on the roof of his car and he did not associate it initially with police action."

The policeman believed the driver was taking no notice of his signal.  Harrison had the car radio on and did not hear the officer speak to him.   When the policeman ran in front of the car Harrison realized for the first time he was being requested to stop "for reasons quite obscure to him."

He decided to pull in to the near side and started to turn not realising he was being discourteous.  "He should have stopped, but it stemmed from a misunderstanding.  That is why he pleaded guilty."

"Mr. Harrison's nature is such that the arrogant level of driving does not really enter into it.  As far as a man in his position can have, he has a sense of humility.  He is not capable of deliberately driving into a police officer, causing him to hurt.  He took the whole business impassively rather than arrogantly."

Referring to Harrison's fifth week at the top of the hit parade with his song "My Sweet Lord.," Mr. Polden said, "the song is aptly named because he does have a sense of religious feeling."

He asked the magistrate not to ban Harrison from driving.  "This started as a miscalculation, developed into a misunderstanding and now before you as a misdemeanor.  He made a mistake which he will not repeat."

After disqualification was announced, Mr. Polden requested that it should be suspended pending an appeal.  Mr. McLean agreed that he had the power to lift the ban until an appeal and said he would consider this when the letters of appeal were available.

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.

330 Girls Scream Goodbye

George Harrison ducks into chartered plane at Midway Airport as the other Beatles wave a last good-by to their fans Saturday (Sun-Times photo)

300 Girls Scream Good-By, but Beatles Can't Hear
By Thomas Day
Chicago Sun-Times

The Beatles brightened up an otherwise overcast day for 300 girls Saturday with a brief appearance at Midway Airport.

But the mop-headed four were kept at least 100 yards from the clutches of all but a handful of admirers as they boarded a chartered plane for Minneapolis.

Even the screams of the youngsters, drowned out by the roar of the warmup of the four-engine turboprop jet, were kept from the singers. 

About 50 of the girls showed up for the leave-taking as early as 10am.

Police apparently used a policy of divide and rule to help keep the girls in check.  Officers were stationed at the main and south terminals of the airport, thus drawing crowds to both places.

Nearly all the fans, many with cameras and a few carrying binoculars, scrambled to the main terminal when the plane taxied there about 1 1/2 hours before the 3 pm departure.

The arrival of Tim Hudson shortly after 2 pm brought screams of frenzy from many of the girls.  Hudson, a disk jockey for Station KCBQ in San Diego, California, sports a haircut like those that adorn Ringo Starr, George Harrison, John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

When Hudson stepped from one of the two station wagons carrying disk jockeys, reporters and supporting acts for the Beatles.  Hudson was apparently indistinguishable from the Liverpool entertainers to the eyes of admirers.

The Beatles arrived from the O'Hare - Sahara Inn, 3939 Mannheim, Schiller Park, moments before departure time.  They rode in one of two chartered 1965 Cadillacs.

The singers stepped from the auto, which was driven to within a few yards of the plane.  They waved and posed for pictures, then disappeared into the 92-seat aircraft. 

Only a favored few -- several children and friends of airline representatives, for example, got near enough for a touch. 

On Friday afternoon and night, the singing idols had performed to shrieking, adoring audiences at Comiskey Park.  Twenty-one of the 55,000 persons who attended couldn't stand it and were treated at the park's first aid station for hysteria and fainting.

An Oak Lawn teenager took a more objective look at the singers while waiting for them to arrive at Midway Saturday.  "It's best they only come once a year,"  she said.  "Otherwise we'd get tired of them." 

Chinese-American boy views the Beatles

This is a news story taken from the Jersey Journal on September 2, 1964.   Written by Fred Chu

How does a Chinese-American boy feel about the Beatles?  Here is the answer from Fred Chu, a 19 year old Princeton University student:

That I am of Chinese decent might make one imagine that I could never enjoy a performance of the Beatles if my parents objected.

Of course this thought assumes that Chinese children always adhere to the commands of their parents.  I don't want to appear disrespectful, but I must admit that when it comes to music, my range of appreciation differs from my father's.

Actually, my father while suggesting that rock n roll is pretty awful, will also express annoyance with "long hair music" in the next breath.   (This may confuse those people who associate long pigtails with the older generation Chinese).

Hence, my father's musical taste is hard to classify.   I don't see any difference in music as long as it satisfies me. True, rock n roll cannot equal Chinese music in delicate tonal combinations, but what music equals the hypnotic beat of rock n roll -- especially that produced by Ringo Starr?

Really I cannot be accused of being a rock n roll fanatic.  I only enjoy it when my mood calls for excitement and movement. What better way to be awaken from the humdrum of life's slow pace than with a quicken rock n roll beat.

My belief that Beatle music is  not bad was confirmed when I met the Beatles in person at a backstage press conference and saw their show in Atlantic City.

To reassure parent, these fellows put on a fine. wholesome show for teenagers. And for the interview they were nattily dressed in black, velvet trimmed no collar suits.

After bouncing in front of the room and waving and calling "Hi everybody!" in their familiar "A Hard Day's night" fashion, they settled down for pictures and questions. 

Here are some of the questions they were asked:

"What do you intend to do for the next few years?"  Said George with a slight grin, "We never plan -- it all happens." 

"What do each of you miss from your former way of living?"  Paul answered, "Going on buses." Said George "Having nothing to do."  John missed school and Ringo missed going to the movies.

"When will you make your next movie?" they were asked. They told us it was planned for February of next year (I guess these fellows do plan).

"How many rings do you have Ringo?" He answered "about 100" and he said he hardly has enough fingers for all of them.

Chantez a bit if you know les mots

Chantez a bit if you know les mots

By Chris Charlesworth

John did it in Toronto and on the streets of New York.  George and Ringo chose Madison Square Gardens but Paul picked on a sleepy French village to get back to the people with his first publicized live debut since 1966.

“Chantez a bit if you know les mots,” said Paul, but very few of the lucky French kids seemed to know the words to “Maybe I’m Amazed.”

Maybe the 200 French fans who witnessed Mccartney’s return to the public platform were too amazed to sing for it was quite amazing to see the man who did so much for British pop music on stage once more.

Four sleeping hippies, two overworked roadies and an old man sweeping up with a broom were all that remained after the concert at Chateauvallon near Touton on Sunday evening.

It was the first time since 1966 that any Beatle had set out on the road in an open setting flanked by rocks and towered over by a small castle on a hillside, the man who wrote some of the most perennial songs of the sixties got up and played some funky rock n roll, aided and abetted by Wings.

Wings, are Paul’s substitute for Rikki and the Redstreaks, the fictitious group Paul wanted the Beatles to play as when Beatlemania reached the proportions and touring had to stop.

It seems as though now he never really wanted the fame that came with being a Beatle; but all he really wanted to do was to come on stage and play something to somebody, no matter what or where.  The intricate recording techniques and musical innovations that the Beatles employed in their latter-day phase are a million light years away from Wings.

The crowd who flocked to airports, concerts and everywhere their majesties the Beatles trod won’t trouble Wings.  Only a fraction of them will probably buy their records and curiosity is doubtless their main draw.  A new rock generation has arrived since the Liverpool-beat and they just may not remember how the four mop-heads from the town changed everything in 1963.

But it is despite what happened then, and not because of it, that McCartney is on the road again.

Wings is a little different from most bands on the road today --- pretty funky, pa problems and generating a feeling they’re enjoying what they’re doing.  Their biggest problem, perhaps, is that one of their members just happens to be one of the biggest superstars of the past decade.

On stage, Paul has changed little from the Beatles days.  His hair is cropped shot, but he still stands slightly kneed, his backside shaking and his face forced against the mike as if he was licking an ice-cream cone.

He shakes his hips but the kids don’t scream anymore.  His voice, whether screaming or singing, is everything it always has been, and his very presence commands a respect – even in France – few others could hope to receive.

And at the same time there’s no doubt that he’s thoroughly enjoying himself.  It was difficult to realize that the man on this platform wrote songs which are whistled across the world.  One poster – there may have been more but I never saw them – advertised his presence and most of the tickets were sold on the door.  A few outlaws climbed over a hill to get a free show from a distance.

The 2,000 who payed were enthusiastic but undiscriminating.  McCartney was on stage and he warranted applause, no matter what he did.  His main failing seemed to be a complete inability to speak French and only the English present knew what he was talking about for most of the time.  He attempted to rectify this during the second half of the show and his attempts were greeted warmly.

Wings’ material is a mixture of the “Ram” and “Wildlife” album, songs from their next album and few gems like “Maybe I’m Amazed” and Denny Laine’s “Say you don’t mind.”

The latter two songs were the highlights of the act.  Despite problems with the amplification, McCartney sat at the piano and gave us a lesson on how to sing the single Faces’ have made world-famous.  It’s probably the best song he’s written since his partnership with Lennon officially ended and he knows it, too.

Henry McCullough takes the lead solo which all the punch of Ronnie Lane’s version and McCartney’s keyboard tricks were tremendous. 

“Say you Don’t mind” gave Denny Laine a chance to use the falsetto voice we haven’t heard since the early days of the Moody Blues.  You can’t beat a man at his own song.

Paul swops his bass for six strings for certain numbers but it’s McCullough who supplies most of the lead guitar.

Denny Laine is what used to be known as rhythm guitarist, helping out on the vocal on just about every song.  Linda vamps at the keyboard like Graham Nash and chirps in with vocals here and there.  Unfortunately, her voice lacks both depth and power, a fact which McCartney must know all too well.

It was brought home demonstratively during Linda’s main number, a new reggae song called “Seaside Lady” which bore a marked resemblance to “Ob La Di Ob La Da.”  When Paul announced his mike wasn’t working properly, an American in the audience yelled back “Give it to your missus then.”  Right on.

On drums, Denny Seiwell is a tower of strength and with McCartney as bass player, the rhythm section of Wings could become one of the best around.  McCartney has received little credit for his bass work but some of his runs and ability to thump along to either rock rhythm or the more complex reggae numbers put him in the Jack Bruce class.

Other numbers in their repertoire included a country version of “Blue Moon of Kentucky” the amazingly banal “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and the title track from their last album which McCartney sang with all the emotion of someone who really cares about what is happening to our wild life.

McCullough had an opportunity to throw out some Clapton-style blues in a new number “Henry’s Blues” which developed into a jam session with Paul playing a bit of lead guitar.

The whole show is backed by a movie screen and films of countryside birds flying, astronauts landing on the moon and waves crashing against rocks are shown throughout the second part of the act.  They also have their own lighting system to pick out the individual soloists and a whole lotta brand new gear.

On stage they wear identical black suits with glitter on the lapels – a hark back to the days when Paul and Lennon disagreed over Beatle-stage attire.

In charge of the tour is now bearded John Morris, former manager of the Rainbow, who has put the itinerary together remarkably quickly but who has a million problems a night as a result. “We lost one plane and three cars today but the show started on time,” he proudly told me.

When the concert ended, the usual volatile Continental audience filtered away remarkably quietly when it became apparent Paul had left. 

Beatles "Break Up" Fete By NY Deejays

Beatles 'Break Up' Fete By N.Y. Deejays
New York (UPI)

Local disc jockeys officially met the Beatles last night and gave the mop-haired British singers a boisterous reception rivaling the one they received from the city's teenagers.  They screamed.  They yelled.  They pushed each other out of the way to get a closer look at the rock n roll quartet.

The ruckus took place in the Baroque Room of the once sedate Plaza Hotel, and the record company which sponsored the press reception placed four private detectives on the door to make sure no unauthorized person slipped past.

The authorized persons were more than enough.

All was relatively quiet for the first hour of the reception as the 150 disc jockeys' press agents and pretty girls -- whose presence was never satisfactorily explained -- stood around sipping drinks.

Then the young heroes arrived, and pandemonium broke out.

"It's Ringo!"  shoulded an elegantly dressed blonde making a beeline for the door.  A moment later she, Beatles drummer Ringo Starr and the rest of the Beatles were engulfed in a wave of enthusiasts.

Disc jockeys thrust microphones under the noses of the Beatles, pretty girls cuddled them and were cuddled in return and the officials of the record company bellowed vainly about the hubbub, "Let's have a little order, please."

During the outbreak of Beatlemania, a young woman kept shouting for "Popsie,"  who seemed to be a photographer -- but "Popsie" never showed up.  Even if he had, he never would have been able to get through the crowd.

Of course we know that "Popsie" was there taking photographs, as the signature on this photo (and many others) show. 

It was the latest chaotic reception given to the British visitors, who earlier in the day played meet the press.

The news conference was held at their headquarters in the Plaza, a hotel which may never recover from the experience of having The Beatles as their guests.

Missing were the teenage Beatlemanaiacs.   Sub-freezing temperatures, a driving snow and classroom commitments kept the group's adoring fans away from the hotel for the first time since the Beatles arrived here last Friday.  Scores of policemen, stamping their feet to keep warm, had nothing to do.

Inside the hotel all was confusion.  The Beatles were presented with two golden records- one for their million-seller single, "I Want to Hold Your Hand," and the second for the best-selling album, "Meet the Beatles."

Newsmen, photographers, television and radio technicians and press agents got in each others' way as Alan Livingston, president of Capitol Records, tried four times to make the presentation.

Other opinions expressed by The Beatles, who visited Twist palace (The Peppermint Lounge) and motored through Greenwich Village Sunday night:

• Teenagers here are "noisier" than in England.
• "We're not very sexy... our manager is the sexy one,"  John Lennon (Manager Brian Epstein blushed)
• Greenwich Village, the city's Bohemian community, "Looks like Disneyland."  (This opinion despite the fact that they have not visited the Los Angeles amusement park).
• They have not been invited to the White House by President Johnson but "we wouldn't mind meeting the President's daughters."
• They don't mind girls throwing themselves at the limousine which carries them about New York.  "It's not our car," Ringo noted.
• New York city, as a whole, is "absolutely fab."