Beatles' Junior Press Conference was Fantastic (1966)

Beatles Junior Press Conference Was Fantastic

By Sylvie Reice

The Spokesman-Review

September 11, 1966

    The girls were screaming and squealing inside the hotel room where the Beatles were holding their first press conference for teens. The national press reporters and cameramen were waiting in an adjoining room to hear the conference over loudspeakers. I left them and stationed myself unobtrusively outside the door of the conference room.

     Girls were still coming in, nervously showing their credentials to the policeman at the door. One girl got hysterical when the officer questioned her pass, "But it's just like that, girls'!" She cried and burst into tears before they could even assure her that it was okay. The screaming continued just before they closed the door. 

    Another reporter and I begged and cajoled, and finally were allowed to slip into the back of the room. When I entered, I was amazed to realize that despite the screams, the Beatles hadn't even arrived! There were 150 girls present and about three boys. 50% of them were members of the Beatles USA fan club. The other 50% had been selected randomly by WYCA deejay Gary Stevens who had greeted the girls, (12,000 teens had written in for these passes.) 

    "Now this is an honor, girls," Tony Barrow, the Beatles' press representative, was saying, "And we know you're going to prove you can be well behaved." He was perspiring. He looked nervous, as did all the adults in the room wondering what the girls would do when the Beatles appeared. Beside me, a policeman whispered, "Boy, oh boy, this is nuts."

     When the boys finally came out, there was a rush of screams, camera flashes, girls stood up on their chairs. "If you don't quiet down," Mr. Barrow said, "we'll have to stop." Pandemonium continued, but then the Beatles themselves spoke. "Keep quiet," said John. "Why don't you quiet down?" said Paul. "Thank you for keeping quiet," said George, and suddenly they kept quiet. In fact, they behaved wonderfully the rest of the session, expressing their unique love in many marvelous ways. 

    One girl didn't take her eyes off a set of binoculars, though she was only 30 feet away from the Beatles!  Another had tears running quietly down her face the whole time. Two girls in front of me were all dressed up with little white fur capes. When the mike roved among the girls, one said, "I want to welcome you back to America." She said it so formally and sweetly; it was touching. Another asked Paul, "How is your tooth?" He smiled. "It's fine, thank you." "Are you going to marry Jane Asher, Paul?" Screams at the sound of her name. "Probably," he said. Happy congratulatory applause followed.

     These girls really do love the boys. "Do you like the Beatles cartoon?" Answer: "Not really, but it's fun." "John, are you writing a new book?" Answer: "I have about 20 pages." Small applause. 

    "Do you like English girls better than American girl?" Answer: "No, girls are the same everywhere." "Who decides which of you will take the lead in a song?" John: "Whoever knows the words." The Beatles are smiling now and loosening up. "Do you know a girl named Patricia Slater?" Paul muses.    "S-u-r-e."  Everyone knows he's kidding. They laugh.

     "Don't you ever find your real self getting lost in the Beatles group self?" Answer: "No, we don't really work at a Beatles image." Girl:  "I want to wish John a happy anniversary." John smiles, "Thank you," and everybody applauds. 

    There's love in the room coming from these girls. You can feel the goodwill and the sweetness. The Beatles feel it too. They're smiling, and they joke around more than they did with the professional press. "John, who cut your hair?" Answer: "George."  "Did you buy a 12-string guitar in Hoboken?" Answer: "Where's that?" Mr. Barrow interrupts to say, "There's time for only one more question". Anguish sounds through the room, and the wells as the boys disappear through a side door in the stage.

     The girls mill around, smiling, talking, flushed happily. "It was fantastic," a girl said to me. "Fantastic." Her eyes shone. "Were they like you expected or different?" I asked Robin Burkowitz of Brooklyn. "It's amazing. They were exactly the same. I mean, you expect them to wear wild clothes, and they did, and to act friendly, and they did. I mean, it was even better than what I expected."

A group of girls, all presidents of Beatles fan clubs in Queens Village, Long Island, gathered around me:

Barbara Fox and Martha Cohen, and Susan Mullery and Elaine Stileman, "I still don't believe it happened," Robin said. The Beatles were more mature than she expected. The girls too. "The girls acted marvelous. I was so pleased."

    

     Elaine didn't want to leave. "Don't you want to ask us more?" she said, but the policeman was trying to disperse the crowd. As I left, they were still staying, saying "It was fantastic. I can't believe it."

 

Demonstrating

 September 10, 1966

30 Years later those towers were gone

 September 12, 2001 

Can He --- And $50 Million -- Reunite the Beatles? (1976)

 

Can He -- and $50 Million -- Reunite the Beatles?

By John Scanlon

Gloucester County Times

September 12, 1976

    The demise of the Beatles in 1970 ended a string of hit records that had kept Alan Amron on a musical high for seven years. He immediately started going into withdrawal. Amron, a Long Island, New York resident who lists his occupation as an inventor, lived and died with each rumor of a Beatles reunion. 

    He was a walking almanac of Beatles facts who spent his time listening to old Beatles records. Then, in May, a light bulb went "poof" in Alan Amron's head. "As an inventor," he reasoned, "I don't want to live and die. I want to live, do something for mankind, and then die."

     So on May 31, 1976, Amron walked into the offices of the Village Voice, a weekly New York newspaper, and paid $800 for a big advertisement. The ad announced the birth of the International Committee to Reunite the Beatles, and a part of that ad, which also appeared in Rolling Stone magazine, explains what Amron's brainstorm is all about. 

    "Sure, promoters can offer lots of money, but we, unified, can offer more money and support. There are countless millions of us, the people who love the Beatles, and just $1 contribution from every fan will help us in our effort to reunite the Beatles." Countless millions of people means that Amron stands to gather countless 1000s of dollars. The local reaction is that Amron has invented a ploy to exploit John, Paul, George, and Ringo, leading their fans down the long, winding road that leads to his door.

     Such a suggestion makes him bristle. "It's all legitimate," he says. He vows that he's not getting a salary. His 35 volunteers, who have been dispatched around the world and urge fans to send money to Amron's Long Island office, are unpaid. 

    He claims that by June 1977, Amron hopes to give the Beatles a $50 million check. If the campaign fails, he intends to donate the money to cancer research or to charities in other countries from where donations originated. "The reason I picked June 1977," Amron explained, "is because it's the 10th anniversary of the Sgt. Pepper album."

     Amron is offering the Beatles instant prosperity. In return, he just wants something for posterity. He'd even settle for a one-night stand, a two-hour concert at a site of their choice, as long as it's televised for the world to see and filmed so future generations can see the reunion of the century. He says, "You're talking about billions to be made, not for me, for them. Think about it: albums, movies, ticket sales. They can have the rights to everything. People ask me if I think they're worth it. Darn right, I think they're worth it," he says.

     Amron hasn't discussed the campaign with any of the Beatles or their agents. About four weeks ago, he thought it would be nice to get a statement from one of the musicians, just to see what the reaction might be to his fund drive. He gathered some publicity material, hopped in his car, and drove to John Lennon's New York City apartment. 

    John was at the curb opening the door of his limousine, and Amron, you might say, suffered a bad case of lockjaw, a disease commonly caused by hero worship. "I gave him the kit and didn't say a word," Amron said, becoming unnerved again at the thought. "I mean, I was so freaked out at seeing him, you know, John Lennon right there, and I was, oh, he looked, it was so unbelievable. For five seconds, we just stared at each other. I smiled, gave him the kit, and left."

     Since then, Amram has called Lennon's office. An agent told him the former Beatle was aware of the widely publicized campaign, but was not ready to make a statement. "I think the chances of a reunion are very good," Amron declared. "I think the Beatles have decided not to say anything yet and are just watching us very closely to see what happens."

    Meanwhile, the mailman keeps dumping stacks of checks and money orders on Amron's desk. Contributions have streamed in from Germany, from Belgium, the Turks went to see the Beatles reunited, and so do the Australians. Not to mention the folks in London, San Francisco, and a brandious university professor who contributed $200. 

    Amron has been receiving about $500 a day since last week. He plans to check with his accountant to find out how much has been raised during the three-month campaign. Based on an average day of receipts, it seems like a half million dollars might be in the fund, meaning that he has a short amount of time to raise a large amount of money. Amran isn't worried. He is planning a week of Beatles nostalgia, one in New York, probably at Madison Square Garden, and the other at a yet-undetermined site in California. He figures they'll be big money raisers. "It would be phenomenal to get the Beatles back together, you know. I've idolized them from the moment I saw them on Ed Sullivan," Amron said. Yes, it would be something.

Happy Birthday James!

 

James McCartney is 49 years old on Saturday!  Wishing him a very happy birthday.   Look at little James here playing with a toy dinosaur!  Ahhhhh!  

Party for Denny's New Single

 September 9, 1976

Not Your Average Millionaires (1981)

The McCartney family in 1981 

 

Not Your Average Millionaires

By David Lewin

The Toronto Star

September 6, 1981

    Mr. and Mrs. Paul McCartney are a nice average couple with rather more than average achievements. They have four kids, three houses, and enough money in the bank to buy and sell your average millionaire 40 times over.

     At 39, McCartney is worth, to be precise, $40 million, and another couple of million rolls in like the sea every year.  Mr. McCartney writes songs. He is the most successful music maker in history. 100 million LPs sold. 100 million singles. Mrs. McCartney takes photographs, is a key member of her husband's group Wings, and makes cartoon films. She is also a mother, bringing up a family of young children who will inherit the vast family fortune.

     Paul and Linda McCartney are both aware of the problems that such an inheritance can bring. Their children are aged between 18 and three and a half. The youngest is a boy, James Louis. The other three are girls: Heather, 18, from Linda's first marriage; Mary, 11; and Stella, 9. The children have one bedroom, but not each, just between them in the four-room cottage on the farm in Sussex, which is their main home. 

    Paul McCartney said, "We may have to build a third bedroom now because our youngest is a boy, but we have deliberately kept them in one room because I want a close family, just as I had when I was growing up in Liverpool. I don't want a mansion where I have to telephone from the East Wing to make an appointment to see my kids in the West Wing. 

    "Of course, they are going to get a lot of money, but Linda and I are trying as much as possible to make their growing up an ordinary one. We don't have a chauffeur, and I drive my youngest kids to the local primary school. We don't send them to be privately educated, and they get 50 cents pocket money a week, just about enough to buy a packet of crisps.

     "When people come and visit us in the country, they tend to drive past our cottage the first time because they're looking for a bigger house. They think ours must belong to the gardener. The children go out visiting sometimes and come home and say,  'Daddy, our friend's parents must be rich. You should see how big a house they have got.'"

     The McCartney approach to money is typified by a recent trip they made to the south of France. They flew to Nice as tourists. Then they chartered a private jet to get back in time to have dinner with the family. "Money should make you free," said Linda McCartney. "So we don't waste it, but we use it when it is necessary."

     Linda McCartney was wearing a white jacket, a pair of faded blue jeans and yellow socks; her millions self-evidently don't go on clothes. "The jacket I got free from a film I appeared in," she said. "The socks are the most expensive item. They cost $2. The jeans cost less. They aren't designer-made."

     Paul McCartney wore a gray jacket, gray socks, and white trousers; he would be the despair of any boutique owner.

     I asked him whether having so much money blunted ambition. He thought for a moment and said, "Probably. Well, really, the answer has to be 'Yes, it does.' When we started, the Beatles used to say, 'Let's write a house,' then we'd say 'Let's write a car,' and finally it was 'Let's write a swimming pool.' But when you have got your houses and your cars and your swimming pool, there isn't much else to write. For me, music is a hobby, as the actress said to the bishop. 

    "I like it, so I'll go on doing it. If I stopped, I'd do woodwork. My goals now? Oh, happiness, the kids, stuff like that."

     Whatever happens, the royalties from his music will keep right on rolling in. "But we have no trust fund for the children," said Linda McCartney. "That would put too much pressure on them. Of course, they have expectations, but the important thing is for them to get their value structure right and not use the money as a crutch. It is difficult, but it can be done if we keep things as ordinary as possible."

     The McCartneys are different in temperament. Linda McCartney said, "We are opposites in fact. I am not intellectual. Paul is. I am the calming influence. In fact, I'm rather dull, falling asleep sometimes right after supper.  Paul stimulates me. I wait. He moves.

     "Of course, we have rows because at first, when we were married, I had an identity problem. Paul's life was the Beatles, and when they broke up, I had to make a new life for myself in England."

     Paul said, "There were moments when our marriage might not have worked. I'm not the charming Paul of my public image, and if someone knocks something I have written, which I think should be a masterpiece, I can be shattered."

     How do they resolve their fights? "In bed," said Paul. His wife hit him. Then she said, "My domain is the house. I don't mean doing the housework, but having it my way at home. Paul's domain is his work. Super stardom doesn't turn me on. Really, I'm very ordinary. I hope that doesn't hold Paul back. I want the marriage to last."

     It has for 12 years, the longest of any of the Beatles. Paul McCartney looked at his wife and said, "I can see us both growing old gracefully, but Linda won't be alone. I'll be around, and with her too."

Actors on the set

 September 10-11, 1966  

Toronto P.C.

 

Smooch