Brush With a Beatle

WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN

In the late ’60s I was in a band called Soft White Underbelly. We were under contract to Elektra Records and were working on our first album. In June of 1968 we got an extended gig at Steve Paul's famous club in Midtown Manhattan, The Scene. On one of the nights we were playing (June 18, I think) Jimi Hendrix walked in with an entourage and listened to our set. It was not the first time he had seen us play, but it was exciting playing for a music icon.

Toward the end of our set, Ringo walked in with his entourage and took a seat next to Hendrix. After we played, house manager Teddy Sladus came up and said that Hendrix wanted to jam with Ringo and Jeremy Steig (a popular flute player). I went over to Ringo and said, “Hi, Ringo. I'd be honored if you want to play on my drum kit tonight.” He said, “Hello and thank you.” A few minutes later backstage the house manager told me Hendrix was just going to jam with the flute player.

After it was over, Teddy said that the reason Ringo didn't want to jam with Hendrix was because my kit was so crappy and that I needed to get new drums. As soon as the advance form Elektra came in I got a new kit and gave my old drums to my sister-in-law.

In the book The Beatles: Day-by-Day, I read that the real reason Ringo didn't jam with Hendrix was that he was hung over from a party at Stephen Stills’ house the night before. I still have that kit that I bought for Ringo, though. As a matter of fact, I played it on every Blue Oyster Cult studio recording.

In 1970 I went to Apple Records to pursue a recording contract for my band back in Seattle. I was 18 and had been headed to Ireland for a three-month gig, but unfortunately the owner passed away. The plan was to gig for three months and then play/record in Europe. Desperate, I boldly went to Apple. I can vividly remember the room when I entered. The carpet was typical ’70s high-pile red and the receptionist wore a chiffon/gown-like dress with a “shag” hairstyle. Her desk was all Formica-like and green. In the middle-front of the desk was a Granny Smith apple with the inscription “A is for apple.”

I approached the receptionist and made up something like, “I have an appointment to see Mr. Harrison.” She calmly replied, “See that gentleman over there.” Excitedly, I confronted what turned out to be a photographer. He politely told me, “I had been given a ruddy steer,” and asked that I wait while he finished his work.

At that moment, Ringo Starr pulled up in a Bentley with Marianne Faithfull. The photographer took several shots of the two, shook Ringo's hand and then turned back to me. He explained the Beatles were taking on protégés, each with their own guidance. He then gave me a card for Chrysalis Studios and said he had a friend there—who ended up being George Martin.

I went there and got an audience with a scout. He had me pull out and load one of the tapes I brought from Seattle. The tape played backwards. In fact, all the tapes did the same thing. We had recorded at a TV station and apparently they had wound the tapes backwards. The scout said, “I’m sorry, but nothing you have works on my machine. We just finished producing Procol Harum and for our second act, we wanted a group with your type of configuration (flute/sax/vocals, keys, guitar, bass and drums), and rock with a jazz flare. I was devastated, but after months passed, realized I had made the best “cold call” sale of my life.

The group that succeeded Procol Harum was Jethro Tull. We would not have met up to that standard/quality of a group.
—A. Dunn

BRUSHES ON TWO CONTINENTS

I have two Beatles stories:

1. I'm from Australia, and in the ’80s, Paul McCartney did a tour there with Wings. He announced that he would only do one afternoon of press, so all of the Australian press turned up for this one afternoon. Naturally, there was a huge amount of competition amongst the press and technical crews to be invited. So a national TV company called an outsider instead of favoring one of its own crews—a local cameraman [with whom] I’d done a bit of freelance sound work. He called me, and I thus found myself sitting in a room with Paul McCartney (there were four of us there) for nearly half an hour, chatting on and off camera. And yes, he said that Sgt. Pepper was really done with just two 4-track machines synched together! He was very friendly and open.

2. While sitting in the French embassy in London queuing to get a Visa, Ringo Starr walked through the room, but not quickly enough to avoid my out-stretched hand, which he shook.
—Peter Crosbie

OFFICE VISIT

I spent more than a decade working at the legendary Cherokee Studios [in Los Angeles] owned by the Robb brothers. Dee Robb, the eldest brother, had engineered Ringo Starr's Stop and Smell the Roses album [in 1981], and Ringo occasionally stopped by to visit Dee.

One day I went up to Dee's office to discuss a technical issue, and found myself face to face with Ringo. “Chucky, I'd Like you to meet Richie,” Dee said in his gravelly voice. I excused myself after the introduction and attempted to leave, but Dee told me to have a seat. I spent the next 90 minutes in conversation with Dee and Ringo.

Ringo was charming and a quick wit. At one point I asked him if I could bum a cigarette (specifically so I could keep the butt as a souvenir). Ringo obliged and handed one over, but I suspected he knew my reason for asking. Later I heard an interview where he said people were always trying to get cigarettes as souvenirs.

A few years later my friend Scott G. engineered an album for Ringo produced by Mark Hudson. When the album was completed, Ringo had 10 Beatles bass drum heads specially made and signed them. He presented Scott with one of them, which hangs on the wall to this day. Now that's a souvenir!
—Chas Ferry
Rock Talk Inc.

ENCOUNTER AT ALTAMONT

At [the Altamont Speedway Free Festival on December 6, 1969], I did encounter Sir Paul and Charlie Watts as they stumbled through the crowd, trying not to step on people, making their way from the helicopter to the stage.

Funny thing is, I have never heard another single report of Paul's presence at the event...not a one.

At the time, I thought it odd that nobody really noticed him, even though he was wearing what appeared to be an ordinary pea coat adorned only with a sergeant's chevron emblem on the shoulder. Everyone was noticing Charlie, in his shiny purple and silver-yoked (cowboy-style) shirt—and nobody seemed to notice Paul.

Anyway, we shared one, and both were thankful when I offered the J that someone had just passed to me. I gave it to Charlie; he thanked me, hit it and passed it to Paul, who attempted to pass it back to me after hitting it. I told him to keep it, and I remember he said, “Thank you. Thank you, brother.”

I think they both really did appreciate it; there was a dark and hostile vibe in the air. If I remember right, somebody had already punched Jagger in the face when he got off the helicopter.

What a day…or should I say three; I spent two nights there—before and after the show. There was no getting in or out.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…it was most definitely the ’60s.
—jones
Curator Emeritus
Pantano del Norte Flounderation for the Who Manatees
C-Side Records
Blind Watchdog Productions
House of Blue Lights Recording Studios Ltd.