Meeting more Good Guys

 

Interview with Long John Wade (1965)

 Interview with Long John Wade

Beatles Unlimited (Local Beatles Fan newsletter)

February 1965 - Volume 1 No 1

    Hey Beatles fans! Here's an interview with the only radio personality to make the entire American tour with the Beatles, Long John Wade of WDRC Hartford, Connecticut.

 Q: Which Beatles struck you as being the most quiet? 

A: The quietest?  George.

 Q: Will you please describe the Beatles in your own words?

 A:  John's loud. Ringo's more or less quiet --usually sits in the background, except when he opens his mouth; it's usually something funny. George is quiet. Period. He doesn't laugh as much as the rest. Paul is the friendliest. He seems to be the most amiable. You know, not necessarily that the others are not friendly. He just outwardly acts like that. 

Q:  Did you attend all the press conferences?

 A:  Yes.

 Q: Could you tell us offhand which was the most interesting one? 

A: Well, there was an interesting one in Canada because in Vancouver, they televised the whole thing live. They had TV cameras all set up there, so that was interesting. The first ones were the most interesting because they asked all the questions. Then they got boring after a while because the same questions were asked over and over. The New York press conferences were exciting because there were more people there, and it was a bigger room and a bigger hotel. And of course, they all had the TV cameras set up there, but still the same questions.

 Q: How many others besides yourself were with the official Beatles troupe?

 A: Mainly entertainers, which included the Righteous Brothers, the Exciters, and one of the Exciters' mothers, who acted as a chaperone because one of the Exciters is under 18, and Jackie DeShannon. I think the plane averaged 38. This included the hostesses, the representative from the airline, Kappy Ditson, who arranged all our accommodations-- our travel arrangements, limousines, and whatnot. As far as radio or press people, there were five from England, all from newspapers, of course. One of them was a photographer, and then there were two freelance photographers who joined us in Las Vegas. One of them was Ron Joy, who I became very friendly with.

Q: Did you take any pictures yourself? Did you bring a camera?

 A:  I took some, but I had tape recorders and everything else with me. That was a mistake because I took them to too many places. That was bad because the Beatles don't like to see a microphone around. They're very wary of that sort of thing.

 Q:  Did having two Johns confuse matters any? That is John Lennon and yourself?

 A: Well, there were little funny things like I'd say "Hi, John", and he'd say "Hi, John." I'd say "How are you John?" and he'd say "Fine John." It'd go back and forth like that, and so on. 

Q:  What did they call you, Long John or John Wade? 

A. The Whisperer mainly. 

Q:  Oh, why was that?

 A:  Well, because I was always whispering in people's ears, you know, the interviews were going on and the microphones were on, and I didn't want to be heard, so I'd whisper, and somebody -- Ringo, usually--- would go, "Pssssssst, psssssst, pssssst.  Here's Whisperer Wade. Psssssst Pssssst!" And then near the end of the trip in Kansas City, when Paul autographed that picture of me he drew, he signed it "John Fixer Wade."

 Q: Why was that?

 A:  Well, for other reasons that I won't explain. 

Q:  Did you see the Beatles in between the shows backstage? 

A:  Yeah. Did you hear my tape of Paul doing opera in the shower? That was just fooling around between shows.

 Q:  How did they dress usually? When they weren't in the public eye that is. 

A:  Well, not sloppily, but casual. Ringo wore these big 16th-century puffed-sleeve shirts, very billowy and loose. And John would wear a turtleneck, usually black, sometimes a light color, with a sports jacket over it. He bought a red-and-white striped shirt one time. It was pretty loud.

 Q: Do they like American styles, or would they rather wear English clothes? 

A:  Well, they're not too conservative.

 Q. How did they compare in height to you? (Long John is well over six feet.)

 A:  Oh, short, a lot shorter than you'd imagine, except John.

 Q. Really?

 A: Oh yeah, they're about five foot seven or five foot eight. Really very short. Ringo is shorter than you are.

 Q. He is?

 A:  Stand up........... Well, he's about your height.

 Q. I thought John was about five foot 11 or six foot. They seem so tall.

 A:  That's with their boots on. They're really very short. You'd be surprised.

 Q:  Have you read John's book In His Own Write? 

A:  Yeah, parts of it, but you've got to stick with it and really think about it. It's better, of course, if you know, in the past, what he's reflecting upon. 

Q. Do they quote from it at all? 

A. No.

Welcoming Back the Beatles

 

The Thrill of a Lifetime (written in 1976 about 1964 tour)

 

The Thrill of a Lifetime

By Jack Thomas

The Boston Globe

June 2, 1976

    In every life, there are moments of extraordinary pleasure that we cherish above all others. Those few vivid seconds when life seems perfect, and we are lost in a special memory that not even time can tarnish. The Beatles sang sweetly about such moments. "There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed, some for better, some forever, some are gone, and some remain."

     Paul McCartney's recent visit to Boston recalled such a moment in the life of an Auburndale teenager who was driven to ecstasy 12 years ago when she kissed Paul McCartney. It is still the happiest moment of her life. 

    The city was excited on September 11, 1964, because the Beatles were giving their first concert in Boston. Those were happier days. We were still recovering from the shock of John Kennedy's assassination, but the agony of the Vietnam War, the trauma of the race riots, and the murders of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King were still in the future. 

    Tickets for the concert had long been sold, and dozens of teenage girls had written to the Globe for help in obtaining tickets. The Globe obtained a ticket and signed me to take 14-year-old Debbie Chase to the concert to write about her experience. The Beatles held a press conference early in the evening at the Madison Hotel, and security was exceptionally tight. Indeed, they made a point that teenage girls were to be excluded, but we were able to fast-talk our way into the press conference with the promise that Debbie would stand quietly and inconspicuously at the back of the room.

     That was naive of me. I should have known that the kind of girl who wore her hair long and loose because McCartney liked it that way would never stand quietly and inconspicuously at the back of the room, no matter how sternly I admonished her. Surely enough, midway through the press conference, when I wasn't looking, she stepped over the television cables and headed for the front of the room, where the four Beatles sat behind a table.

     "God", I thought, "we're both going to be thrown out on our ears, and the story will fall apart." But before the security guards could stop her, she was standing in the bright lights between George Harrison and Paul McCartney. Her eyes were wide, her face was flushed, and her hands were shaking.

     McCartney turned, offered his hand graciously, and said, "I'm pleased to meet you." He must have felt the coldness of her hand and realized she was shaking because he touched her arm assuringly and said, "Hey, you'll be all right then." With the television cameras whirling and me scribbling madly in my notebook, she leaned down slowly and kissed him on his right cheek. There were about 40 reporters and photographers in the room, and they watched silently, choosing not to interrupt a tender moment. 

    When she arrived at her seat in Boston Garden, a preliminary rock group was singing. Debbie sat down and screamed as loudly as she could, "I just kissed Paul McCartney!" That threw two sections on the south side of the lower level of Boston Garden into a dither. Dozens of teenage girls yelled, leaped in the air, pounded their chairs, and lunged at Debbie to touch her. It took two plainclothes Boston police officers and a state trooper to restore order. 

    Debbie sent a thank-you letter a few days later. "You have made my fondest dream come true," she wrote, "and I don't know how I will ever be able to repay you. At school on Monday, the kids came up to me and congratulated me, and either shook my hand, so they could say they shook the hand that shook the hand of Paul and George, or they kissed my lips, so they could say they kissed the lips that kissed Paul McCartney. I can hardly stand to hear one of their songs or see a picture of them, because I get this really weird feeling inside, and I almost start crying for no reason at all. "

    The incident happened a long time ago, as the Beatles said, "Yesterday, when all our troubles seemed so far away." Today, Debbie Chase is 26, single, living in Cambridge, happy, in love, and working as a box office manager for a rock music promoter. 

    "How long ago was that?" She asked yesterday. "Wow, 12 years ago. Well, I still love the Beatles, but it's not nearly the way it was. No one could have been more excited than I was that night. I was really shaking. If it happened today, it wouldn't be the same. I had laryngitis from telling that story, over and over.  "You know, that was the happiest moment of my life," she said, "and it probably always will be."

The WABC All-American Award

 

A normal scene backstage before a Beatles concert

Photo taken by Paul McCartney 

 

Ringo doesn't like Paul messing with those drums

 

George, Ringo and Roy

 

Ringo and George with Roy Gerber, who worked with General Artists Corporation during the 1964 tour. 

A Delray Beach Woman's Rock n Roll Journey (2019)

 

A Delray Beach Woman's Rock n Roll Journey with the Zombies and the Beatles

By Larry Aydlette

The Palm Beach Post

March 20, 2019

Link to original full article 

February 1964. "The Ed Sullivan Show." America melts down at the sight of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. And when the Beatles go on tour, King is determined to see them. But she's crushed: they're not coming anywhere near her hometown of Grand Forks, North Dakota.

Fortunately, King has a mother every teenager dreams about. She promises to take Nancy and her 18-year-old sister anywhere the moptops are playing. The closest date turns out to be in Vancouver, British Columbia on Aug. 22. Nancy immediately springs into action, writing the Beatles' record company in Los Angeles and getting the band's North American itinerary, including their stay at the Edgewater Inn in Seattle, Washington, for a show the day before.

Mom promptly books them into the same hotel. (These Kings did not mess around.) In the lobby, Nancy overhears men with British accents. She chats them up. One is a reporter for the Liverpool Echo named -- and we're not kidding -- George Harrison.

He calls the Beatles' manager Brian Epstein and vouches for King. After the Seattle show, only one girl can go up to "meet the boys," so her older sister Carolyn relents (which is a pretty good IOU for a sibling to possess).

And so...

"Brian answered the door and Paul was behind him."

For about 30 minutes, it was King, the Beatles, Epstein and the Liverpool reporter in a hospitality suite. She talked mostly to Paul McCartney and George Harrison, "who couldn't have been nicer. John (Lennon) totally ignored me. Paul eventually took me over and introduced me to John, who made some comment about the black hills of Dakota."

Ringo Starr came out from a shower and "he showed me all the rings on his fingers and where he got them." McCartney offered her a cigarette. She declined. They all signed her paperback copy of a novel based on "A Hard Day's Night." She told Paul her favorite Beatles song was "Do You Want to Know A Secret?" He modestly admitted the lyrics were pretty good.

The band discussed a recent prediction from horoscope queen Jeane Dixon that the Beatles' plane would crash on tour. "I remember John saying, 'When your time comes, there's nothing you can do about it,'" King said. "He was philosophical."

And then it was over. King returned to her room -- and burst into tears. What was she going to do with the rest of her life now?

"I was up crying all night, saying, 'I can't believe my dream came true.'"

The next morning, a puffy-eyed King had her picture taken with Epstein. The Vancouver concert was "anticlimactic," she remembered. "They were a little speck on the field, you couldn't hear them, the girls were screaming so loud."

But back home, she was an instant celebrity, Grand Forks' lone link to Beatlemania. The local paper wrote about her. She was invited to gab about George's eye color and Paul's hair on air. And she soon had a gig interviewing British Invasion bands for her hometown radio station.

Press conference from a different angle

 

Golf outing

Photo taken by Curt Gunther

 

Mama Beatle Says Lives Threatened (1980)

 'Mama Beatle' Says Lives Threatened

By Roger Kaye

Fort- Worth Star Telegram

December 9, 1980 

    "John Lennon and the Beatles lived in fear for their lives during their 1964 and '65 tours of North America,  and especially, were fearful of making a 1964 stopover in Dallas", says Ruby Hickman. As an executive with the airline that provided the charter plane for those tours, Ms Hickman of Fort Worth accompanied Lennon, Paul McCartney, Ringo Sara, and George Harrison on those tours, and she vividly recalls the concern the four Beatles had for their safety. 

    The slaying of Lennon in New York Monday night painfully reminded Ms. Hickman of those tumultuous mid-60s days when death threats, bomb scares, and other threats of harm seemingly awaited the Beatles wherever they went.

    But never were the Beatles more concerned than when they went to Dallas to play a show at what was then known as Dallas Memorial Stadium. "We went to Dallas less than a year after President Kennedy had been killed. There, with all the threats they had gotten everywhere else, which made them literally live in fear of their own lives, they were frightened. 

    "They were frightened the whole tour about going into Dallas", Ms. Hickman said. The Texas trip wasn't without incident. Along with the usual bomb threat, one overzealous Beatle fan managed to jump on Ringo Starr in a hotel elevator, pulling out a big chunk of his hair and bloodying his scalp.

     "But there were murders and bomb threats everywhere we went," Ms Hickman added. "It was particularly frightening in Houston in 1965 when we couldn't get out of the airplane on the runway. A mob overpowered the police and packed symmetrically around the plane, from which no one was able to exit." The Beatles finally managed to escape in a catering truck, but Ms. Hickman recalls that the truck was bombarded by rocks, bottles, and shoes. "The Beatles lay flat on the floor through the whole thing," She said. "What they went through is impossible to describe, but they aroused emotions ranging from adulation to murder."

     As a result of what they witnessed a decade and a half ago, Ms Hickman, who was dubbed as the "Mama Beatle" by the media in 1964, wasn't that surprised to hear about Monday's tragedy in New York. "I'm still in a state of shock. I'm stunned, but it's almost something I expected and dreaded, although these years, because of the way I saw them live in fear," she said.  "And it wasn't just the Beatles, it was everybody on those tours. We all feared something might happen because all of the crackpots in the world at the time."

    "It was hard for me to understand why anybody would want to kill them, but professional security people emphasized to me over and over that there were people out there who would do in just do it, just to gain notoriety. And now it has happened."

     The Beatles' final performance was at San Francisco's Candlestick Park on August 29, 1966. In retrospect, Ms Hickman wonders how the Beatles managed to tour as long as they did. "There were just 1000s and 1000s of people. Wherever they went, they were prisoners of their adulation, and the moms would become hysterical. Someone easily could have been hit by rocks and hurt seriously. We had to sneak them around in ambulances, armored trucks, and any other way we could in order to protect them. It was such an unreal life, and I really admire Lennon for stepping away from it all and breaking the group up in 1970."

Stolen Glasses

 

Traveling with the Beatles (1964)

This story takes place in 1964 but the only photo I could find of Jim Stagg with the Beatles was from Memphis in 1966.

 Traveling with the Beatles

By Jim Stagg

Flip magazine 1964

Reprinted in With a Little Help From My Friends July 1982

     "Jim, how would you like to spend the next few weeks traveling with the Beatles?"  The speaker was Ken Draper, Program Director at KYW radio, and my immediate boss. Sitting across the room from him was Penny Bascom, the station's General Manager. Both are smiling, but I knew this was no joke. The last time I had seen those smiles was the day I was asked how I would like to walk 40 miles from downtown Akron, Ohio, to Cleveland to raise money for the March of Dimes. I still have a few tender spots on my feet to remind me that that was no joke.

     Before I could answer, Ken went on, "We've decided to send you on The Beatles American tour as a correspondent for The Group W (Westinghouse Broadcast that is) Stations.  Better do some shopping, you'll be leaving next week."  I now nodded, rather weakly, mumbled some historic words, like, "Why not?" and headed for the telephone to tell my wife, Valene, the news.

     As I left the room, the crazy thought kept running through my mind that there were probably 30,000,000  kids in the United States who would give anything to be in my shoes right now, and that I would be glad to give those shoes to any Cinderella who could fit into them.

     I had met the Beatles less than two months before, when I had flown to London with the winner of a KYW radio contest. The trip had lasted four days. One hour of that time had been spent with the Beatles. It had been one of the most hectic hours of my life as some 60 people pushed and shoved in a room the size of a rather small living room to get close enough for pictures and interviews with the Fab Four. 

    Paul McCartney and John Lennon had made special efforts to provide our contest winners and me with an interview and to accept some special gifts from their Cleveland fans. But we were never able to break through the crush of people to get within 10 feet of Ringo Starr and George Harrison, until their efficient press manager Derek Taylor literally shoved us into an adjoining room for pictures and brief introductions. I kept thinking at the time that I'd hate to have to go through this wild turmoil every day, and now I was about to do just that for a whole month. 

    The next week whizzed by in a blur of activity, shopping, packing, accepting messages from my listeners, to be delivered, I hoped, to the Beatles. Then I was on a jet headed for San Francisco. Somewhere on another jet headed in the same direction were four young Englishmen named John, George, Paul, and Ringo. I arrived in the Bay City well before the British party, and was on hand for the tumultuous welcome at the airport. It was a wild scene, and I caught only a fleeting glimpse of the guys with the hair in their eyes before they were whisked off to their hotel, leaving 1000s of screaming, hysterical fans behind. I climbed into the press corps limousine and sped back to the hotel to begin the busiest, most hectic, and most memorable month of my life.

     Several hours later, the first of the now-famed Beatles' American press conferences began. The Beatles were ushered into an unbelievably crowded room, amid the glare of television lights and the popping of flashbulbs. As a member of The Beatles' official press corps, I was seated immediately next to the spot where the boys were to stand for their interview. As they walked in, I noted they looked terribly tired. They had gone through a 15-hour plane trip, the wild reception at the airport, and another equally boisterous reception at the hotel. So I could understand the haggard faces I saw before me. Yet, I couldn't help thinking there were a month of plane trips and pushing and shoving receptions ahead of them, and wondering how in the world they would ever get through it all.

     My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a pleasant English-accented voice saying, " I met you in London." It was Paul McCartney. To say I was astonished would be an understatement. This handsome young Englishman, who had spent perhaps 20 minutes chatting with me in a crowded London office seven weeks previously, and as one of the most idolized performers in the history of show business, meets hundreds of people daily, could possibly remember me. It was almost unbelievable. In my astonishment, I was able only to nod and say, "How was the trip?" "Rugged." He answered, flashing a weary but famous smile. 

    It was an auspicious beginning to the tour, but in the next couple of days, it began to appear as though it was going to be the only highlight. The Beatles were tired and besieged by fans went up to their rooms. I saw them only at press conferences and at their concerts. It wasn't until we reached Las Vegas three days later that I had an opportunity to chat on a non-professional basis with the boys for the first time, and then only for a few moments when Paul and Ringo dropped into Derek Taylor's room, where I was trying to get the hang of a camera I had borrowed for the trip. Paul said he was looking for a camera, adding somewhat mournfully that he had already lost four on tours. "Yeah, I want to get me a camera too," Ringo chimed in. This led to some rather disparaging remarks about Ringo's picture-taking abilities. 

    I was to learn, as the trip progressed, that the gentle, friendly drummer is the target of much of the friendly needling that goes on among the group. Often, when interviewers and friends of friends invade the not always closely guarded dressing quarters of the quartet in the last turbulent and nervous moments before a concert, John, Paul, and George managed to become suddenly preoccupied with a variety of final preparations, leaving Ringo at the mercy of the hordes. Ringo gamely carried on, never refusing an interview. Afterwards, he would rush through his own last-minute preparations, while his fellow Beatles would wonder loudly why he was never ready on time.

     After the Las Vegas concert, I learned that Ringo had slipped down to the gambling tables to risk a bob or two. It was the first of several times on the tour that he was to leave the all-important safety of his guarded room to see some of the American sites he had read so much about. In one Midwestern city, he was to spend the after-concert hours in the company of an off-duty policeman. He had begun viewing the sites with grateful awe, testing the food of American restaurants and ending his private tour sipping coffee in the living room of the policeman's home, much to the delight of his host's family.

     Some 48 hours after Las Vegas, I was to learn part of the reason for Ringo's particularly keen interest in America. We were on a plane from Vancouver to Los Angeles, the first long flight of the American tour, and the Beatles, nervous and shy, ventured forth from their private compartment to mingle with the press corps. For the first time, Ringo slid into the seat next to me, and we began to talk about his plans for the future. He talked about the possibility of some day settling in America, and of a business venture he had hopes of investing in here. And suddenly he interrupted himself, "Oh, I better not tell you. You'll put it on the air." "Not unless you want me to, Ringo," I said. Ringo looked at me in an odd way, almost as though he were seeing me for the first time. Magically, the whole tone of our conversation seemed to change. It was no longer a celebrity talking to a reporter. Now it was two recent acquaintances getting to know each other. I knew then that I had been accepted.

     Elsewhere on the plane, the atmosphere was beginning to lighten.  Jackie DeShannon, the lovely songstress who immediately preceded the Beatles on stage in their nightly concert, started leading the press corps in a group sing-along. The entourage was in the middle of a current rhythm and blues hit when John and Paul came down the aisle to join the group. They raised their famous voices in song, not our song, but a boisterous rendition of "Hello Dolly." For some reason, now no longer clear, it seemed hilarious at the moment; it was the end of the air of reserve that, until that moment, had separated the Beatles from the unfamiliar American press corps with whom they were to live for still another three weeks. It was also the end of any organized singing efforts on the part of the talented newsmen. Henceforth on the trip, whenever voices joined in choral efforts, Lennon would burst into "Hello Dolly," and mass hysteria would prevail. 

    Perhaps it wasn't the same hysteria which rose from the floors of American auditoriums throughout the land when John and his three cohorts would break into "Twist and Shout", but it had the same effects on the reporters. The Beatles' stay in Los Angeles was a memorable one, filled with visits from Hollywood stars, some of whom came out of sheer curiosity to see the biggest names in show business today. Some to worship with the same starlight in their eyes that I had seen on 1000s of teenage faces.

     Marring the state, however, was the group's now-famous visit to the Los Angeles nightclub. I joined John, George, Ringo, and several of the reporters on that visit, and saw a hope for an evening of fun and relaxation turn into a shambles as a group of supposed adult patrons of the club mobbed The Beatles. Photographers, apparently, were tipped off to the visit by the manager who had promised complete secrecy, and they continuously flashed their bulbs in the Beatles' faces despite the boys ' pleas, to please stop.

    Finally, the normally placid George Harrison picked up a glass with the remaining three ice cubes and tossed the cubes in the general direction of one particularly pesky photographer. With that, we left just 20 minutes after arriving.  Blaring headlines describe the nightclub battle the next morning, and several papers predominantly displayed a picture of George Harrison throwing a drink at the troublesome cameraman. Some of the pictures had obviously been retouched to show liquid coming from a glass, which I can testify was empty. 

    The Beatles, for the first time since I had joined the tour, displayed a flash of anger, which, to my knowledge, appeared again only on two occasions, both connected with what the English lads felt was unjust treatment by the American police. The Los Angeles nightclub episode ended the Beatles' public ventures on their American tour. From that day on, they never left their hotel rooms as a group, except to travel to their concerts or to their waiting plane. It was a bitter pill for them to swallow. They had honestly looked forward to the opportunity of meeting and mingling with the American public.

     As the tour progressed eastward and security measures tightened, city by city, I began to realize more fully the loneliness of the existence of these four young men. The Beatles had become literally prisoners of love, trapped behind the locked doors of their hotel rooms by the idolatry of their fans. On more than one occasion, as the trip continued, I received a call in my hotel room from one of the quartet with a variation of the message, "Jim, we have no one to talk to up here. Why don't you come up for a game of Monopoly or cards?" The first of these calls came after a particularly successful concert. The boys were tired, but not too happy with the results of the concert to sleep; monopoly was the order of the day. The game began at 3am and continued until 730 that morning. For John, the game was a war. He rolled the dice as though $1,000 were riding on each throw, yelling and hoping with glee when his marker landed on a desirable property, sinking to the depths of despair when he was caught on someone else's railroad. Fines and assessments were placed on the center of the board to be taken by the lucky one who landed on free parking. And when George collected an unusually big pot in this manner, John spent a good portion of the next 15 minutes complaining about the luck of that bloody singer. 

    More memorable than Monopoly games were the rare occasions when the group was able to take advantage of a private swimming pool, which some of the hotels along the tour were able to offer. When these opportunities presented themselves, the Beatles disported themselves like four kids on their first visit to an old swimming hole, bouncing in and out of the water like four inflated toys. Watching John race towards the pool with wild war whoops or Ringo holding his ample nose as he leaped in feet first, one would never guess that here were four young men who, just hours before, had been the object of the hysterical outpouring of love by 1000s of teenagers and the subject of concern of half the police force in the particular city they were visiting.

     As the tour progressed and my friendship with The Beatles deepened, I realized more each day how very human each of these Liverpool lads was. Paul, filled with nervous energy, would pace the aisles of our chartered plane like a caged lion eager to get to the next city. The pacing stopped when he could rustle up a good poker game, after which it became a problem to pry him loose for the inevitable mad dash from the airport to the hotel. John, the accepted leader of the group, would sit and talk with me for hours about the merits of show business, English comedians, and offbeat authors. Literate, fluent, and highly intelligent, he is a young man who knows where he is going and, in less than two years, has earned enough money to be reasonably sure that he can point his wagon where he wishes. George, the man's man of the group, despite his slender, almost fragile build, loved to talk about anything and everything, especially music and money. Gate receipts and record distribution were his meat, and he was the group's authority on these topics. He was also the most serious musician of the four, the most musically talented of the group, and the only one still formally studying music. And then there was Ringo, friendly, outgoing, never too busy for an interview or just a few moments of plain gab. I don't ever recall seeing him walk down the aisle of our plane without saying hello to everyone who was awake, even though we had been in each other's company consistently for weeks twice during the criss-crossing journey of America.

     It was necessary for me to leave the Beatles party for short periods to fulfill commitments in Cleveland. On each occasion, Art Schreiber, KYW, radio news director, took over my assignment of covering the tour for the Group W stations. On the first occasion, his acceptance by the Beatles was gracious and genuine. Primarily, they told him because they knew if he and I worked for the same station, that he must be all right. Needless to say, I was flattered, particularly when I recall the invisible wall of uncertainty that separated the group from the American press corps when the tour began.

     My second and final leave-taking occurred when the tour reached Cleveland, the fourth-to-last stop. The Beatles, who had been relatively spirited through much of the tour, were becoming tired and homesick as their long journey neared the end. The wild pace of the tour became even wilder for me back at my home base, and my last goodbyes were said backstage just prior to the boy's appearance at Cleveland Public Hall. They were brief, but sincere, and as I bid goodbye to Art Schreiber, who was taking over again for me. 

     I felt a twinge of envy at missing those last few days of the never-to-be-forgotten American tour. Art, of course, needed no further introductions. He, too, had become a Beatle buddy, and he was with the Fab Four as they boarded the plane in New York for their eagerly awaited voyage home. As they stood on the ramp with dozens of microphones recording their farewells, The Beatles last words before disappearing into the cabin rang out and clear to the puzzlement of many they were "So long Art." Art played that farewell tape back to me when he returned to Cleveland, and I will never forget it, because just before the tape ended, as the Beatles obviously ducked out of the microphone's range, the unmistakable voice of Ringo Starr came floating over the noise of the crowd. "Hey, Art," he bellowed, "say goodbye to Jim." I knew then that I would never have any doubt about my answer if anyone were ever to say again to me, "Jim, how would you like to spend the next few weeks traveling with the Beatles?" 

Lovely guys

 

What Do the Beatles Like to Eat? (1964)

 

What Do the Beatles Like to Eat?

By Clemintine Paddleford

New York Herald-Tribune

September 4, 1964

They say cornflakes and Peter, 27 years with the Delmonico Hotel and head of room service, couldn't understand that queer order. It was four o'clock in the afternoon, who would want cornflakes? Certainly not the raving up Beatle boys. 

    What else did they order? Peter was confused, "Eggs, I think. But they speak a foreign language." He did know they ordered Carr's water biscuits. The kitchen conferred, and it was decided the Beatles wanted a platter of hors d'oeuvres to serve with Carr's water biscuits. A beautiful, tremendous tray was arranged with all the wonderful things one can afford with an income running into the millions a year.

     There was a foie gras from Strasburg, caviar from Iran, smoked salmon from Scotland, Maine's fine lobster,  and eggs a la Russe, of course. Chef Richez who only speaks French, gave the tray an approved nod. He was pleased. Everyone was pleased, but not the troubadours. 

    The tray came back. The Beatles wanted cornflakes, four individual packages each, two quarts of orange juice, one dozen three-minute cooked eggs, no toast but Carr's water biscuits, not coffee, but pots and pots of tea. Four o'clock is breakfast time in the Beatle world. They are night birds and sleep during the day.

     It was the exact moment when the Beatles' breakfast trays were coming down the service elevator that John L Webber, the banquet manager, discovered eight  teenagers hiding nearby, ready to make a raid on the dishes. Imagine owning an egg cup into which a Beatle had dipped a spoon. Guards intercepted.

     John Francis Isard, General Manager of the Delmonio, said, "It's simply uncanny the way those kids know what's going up or coming down." At the moment, he feels there is some extra-sensory perception at work. "How did those screaming youngsters know the Beatles ertr having breakfast at four o'clock?" It's the same amazing direct communication the singers on the stage make with the audience.

     The press conference followed breakfast, and two hours later, the boys were on their way to the Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. They carried along a jar of Bovril, which is a strong British beef extract, which needs only boiling water to reconstitute into a throat-soothing, nerve-easing drink good for anything, for anybody. This is the drink of the Beatles before public appearances. 

    It was here in New York City, on their last visit, that The Beatles discovered the wonders of the Jewish delicatessen. They mean corned beef, pastrami, roast beef, tongue, chopped liver, smoked sturgeon, and Jewish salami. The platter gets garnishments of jumbo olives, dill pickles, pickled peppers, coleslaw, potato salad, tomatoes, and lettuce. There are cheeses, too.

     When it comes to serious eating, The Beatles favor beef above everything else. They laud our noble roast beef, all crisp and crackly in its brown succulents. Broiled, three inch steaks are divine and a novelty. England is no longer an island of beef, flesh surrounded by a warm Gulf Stream of gravy.

     Ringo claims, "I'm hung up on hamburgers." He likes them thick, crisp on the outside, juicy and pink inside. All four of them are mad about Hero sandwiches. Paul McCartney has a yen for grilled cheese sandwiches. John Lennon and George Harrison usually wait until someone else orders, then say, "I'll have that too."

    Crisps they enjoy with soft drinks, usually Cola. No wine, no 'arf and 'arf, no alcohol, and they never order sweets.

     The Beatles have yet to eat in an American restaurant. They dine in their suite, so their eating experiences are entirely big hotel. Certain things have been brought in for trials, such as Hero sandwiches. Everywhere they go, menus are studied carefully, but usually they stick to what they know, beef or the greatest Jewish delicatessen.

     At the Delmonico, they immediately spotted Beef Wellington, which is listed daily on the cold buffet. The lads marveled. They didn't know it was made outside England. "And beef and kidney pie is that too known in the United States?"

     That classic English team of fish and chips, they haven't had here, and are dubious in the first place. They explain, "we don't like your fish". They should go to some of our top fish restaurants. These fellows know little about good food. They have had no opportunity in their short fling into the world to develop special tastes. 

    We ask what home foods they miss most when away from home. "Nothing" was the answer. They just enjoy what the day brings. That may seem a jaded attitude. It is not. It is in the spirit of taking life in both hands and enjoying the best of it.

Paul smiles; George talks

 

Dallas presser

 

Fan Behind him

 

Beatles Fan Wrangles Press Conference Bid (1964)

 

Beatles Fan Wrangles Press Conference Bid

By Mary Ann Maybry

East Oregonian

September 9, 1964

    "I saw the Beatles!"  Mary Ann Mabry, a Pendleton high school senior, wiggled her way to the front row of the Beatles' press conference in Vancouver, BC, recently. Her passport to what would be a teenager's heaven was an alleged letter from a newspaper editor, which cited her as an aspiring young journalist from a high school newspaper in Cincinnati, Ohio, who had been sent to cover the press conference. The letter, plus perseverance and a lot of luck, got her past secretaries, guards, and press officials and into the smoke-filled room where the English mop heads gathered. After the conference, Mary Ann wrangled a seat in the front row for the concert. The following is her impression of the events that occurred.

     Uncontrollable mob hysteria. These are the words that really describe the Beatles concerts in Seattle and Vancouver. The girls seem emotionally unstable. Most of them were over 15 years old.

     While waiting for the Beatles in the tiny press conference room at the Pacific National Exhibition stadium, one could sense an electric excitement in the air as they entered. Ringo was directly before me, then John, George, and Paul.

     Ringo was quite small and slender with medium brown hair, blue eyes, and white teeth. He wore a small blue and white checked sports coat. John wore a multicolored striped jacket with a sweater underneath. He is well built, tallish with a full face, light brown hair, and brown eyes that squint when he speaks. George is tall and slender with dark brown hair and eyes, and was dressed in dark colors. Paul was by far the most handsome, with black hair that waves and curls, hazel eyes, and a darling smile. 

    It is generally believed that Paul is conceited. On the contrary, he is perhaps the friendliest. All are witty in speech and manner. For example:

     Reporter: Why was your plane from Seattle late?

    George:  Because the pilot didn't have a little green stamp on his passport. 

    John: Also, we had to be deloused.

     Paul told me a lengthy story about the reception in Liverpool, and Ringo and I bantered back and forth concerning his rings and fans. The whole conference lasted about 45 minutes. 

    As they got up to leave, I got Ringo's autograph and followed him to their dressing room, where I waited outside for about 10 minutes, watching for the door to open and close. Then they came out in a rush, but Paul stopped, winked, and said hi. 

    As I stood next to the stage, I spoke with the Beatles' manager and joked with the Righteous Brothers about the surging crowd, which was no joke.

     As they played, Ringo smiled down at me several times. As I watched them bounce the drum, laugh, and sing, I wondered if it was really happening to me.