Brush With a Beatle

BEEF AND BEATLES

As someone who’s been writing about music for nearly 40 years, I’ve interviewed many musicians who count The Beatles’ first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show as a watershed event in their life; maybe even the signal event that got them into music. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see The Beatles on Sullivan. I was 10 years old at the time and had been raised watching The Ed Sullivan Show every Sunday night, but at the beginning of January 1964 my family moved from the suburbs of New York to Rome, Italy, after my father had been named bureau chief for Time magazine. So, come February, I heard about the sensation The Beatles had created in America, and I saw pictures of screaming fans in the plethora of magazines my father brought home from the office every day. I ran into friends at the Overseas School of Rome, where I was a fourth grader, who already owned singles by the band, and I dutifully went down to a record shop and bought a couple of Italian Parlophone singles—“She Loves You” was my favorite. I can still picture walking the streets of Rome singing that tune in my head.

Anyway, in April of 1964, my parents, my 13-year-old brother and I went on a vacation to London. I had been born in London in 1953 (my dad had been the London bureau chief for United Press), but I’d only lived there six months as a baby, and this was my first time going back. I got to see all the classic London sights, of course, as well as the home I’d lived in as a baby. In the pictures from that trip in our family photo albums, my brother and I are wearing jackets and ties for some reason. I have no idea why, but I look kind of elegantly dorky. We stayed at the London Hilton; seems like we always stayed at Hiltons.

One afternoon while we were in London, we went to Harrods, the famous department store, and it was there that I bought my first Beatles album, Please, Please Me. (I was shocked when I went back to America on vacation that summer and my friends’ first Beatles album was something called Meet the Beatles, with different songs!) I didn’t get to play Please, Please Me until I got back to Rome, but it was still very cool to have that album in hand, purchased in England! That night, the whole family went to dinner at a restaurant called The Carleton Tower, which was on the top floor of, I presume, the Carleton Hotel. The restaurant was famous for its prime rib, a family favorite of ours. Shortly after being seated, we noticed there was quite a commotion on the other side of the restaurant—lots of hubbub and finger pointing and staring. What the…? Yes, it was true: Two of the Beatles, dressed nattily in suits, were sitting in a booth with their “birds,” laughing away, looking very much like you’d expect the “lads” to look out on the town. Well, my brother and I got very excited, of course, and could barely concentrate on our prime rib and Yorkshire pudding. So you can imagine the thrill we felt when the maitre d’ suddenly came over and informed us, and other kids who were in the restaurant, that we could file by the Holy Table one time! Yikes! So we did, slowly padding by the Mop-tops-and-dates, as they laughed and carried on and, no doubt, made cheeky observations about the sorry lot invading their privacy. Actually, they probably didn’t care. This was mild compared to what no doubt awaited them downstairs outside the building!

I regret to say that to this day I don’t recall which of the two Beatles I saw; to be honest, I’m not sure by that point I really even knew them apart. But it was a tremendously exciting moment nonetheless! No doubt I would’ve become a Beatle fan for life without this magical semi-encounter (hell, my never-completed Master’s journalism thesis was even on “The Beatles and the Press”), but that night is still etched into my memory as a wonderful moment in a very innocent time. And I still love The Beatles (as do my teenage kids)!
—Blair Jackson
Senior Editor, Mix

BACKSTAGE WITH RINGO

I am sure Ringo is the Beatle most folks have met due to his pretty frequent touring through the years. I was fortunate enough to have Ringo play at the theater I was working at in 2000. His band for this tour included Jack Bruce and Dave Edmonds.

I made sure I was backstage at the top of the show so I could be in his presence. I ended up standing with Ringo, Jack Bruce, Dave Edmonds and Barbara Bach (woo-hoo!) just before they were introduced to go onstage. Ringo was pretty animated and obviously psyched to do a show and said to no one in particular that he never knew exactly what he should do after he ran out onstage when he was introduced. Dave Edmonds, with a complete deadpan delivery, looked at him and said: "Well, you should just…act naturally.” We all had a good laugh. Ringo and the band were introduced and he ran onstage and certainly acted just like Ringo. It was pretty damn wonderful and a moment I will never forget.
—Tom Painter

JOHN LENNON, GEORGE HARRISON AND ME

This is a long story, so bear with me. Back in the day, my sister worked for ABCKO Records in New York City. ABCKO managed John, George and Ringo, and all things Apple that did not pertain to McCartney. Being such a Beatle freak, I would come up all the time hoping for a glimpse. It was after the breakup but I thought I might get lucky and see one of the three.

Well, one day I hit the jackpot. I went in on a Sunday and a bunch of us went up to John and Yoko’s place. They had a whole floor. I wish I remembered the hotel but it was quite a while ago and I was so excited I could have been in another country and not known it. Anyway, we were up there to put acorns in envelopes to be mailed to world leaders as a peace effort. It was a trip writing names of these famous people on envelopes. When I first got there they told us to wait in a room, where I see a guitar case. Being a player I had to open it. Well, it was the Epiphone Casino! The one with the paint stripped off that John used in the Let It Be film. I freaked out and immediately played every Beatle tune I could think of. The axe was in terrible shape. Absolutely filthy! When you played a chord and took your hands off the neck, your hands were black with dirt, as if the strings had never been changed. Filthy strings are extremely dead sounding. That kind of explains his guitar sound now that I think of it.

I actually could have walked off with the guitar as nobody was watching, but being the honest type I have always been, I could not. What I did do was take his pick and leave mine in its place. I can imagine him the next day in some sort of chemically enhanced state going to play the guitar and being puzzled by the tiny Fender jazz pick I favored in those days. I still have his pick and it’s a Rotosound pick—a bit oversized, and white. In my new video, youtube.com/watch?v=ggaCXHIbqTw, I actually used it for some of the shots. I also took one of his cigarettes but my mom discovered that at some point, and fearing it was something worse than tobacco threw it out! I considered taking his bong that was right there with the guitar, but having this stubborn honest streak in me, that was not going to happen.

We happily spent the rest of the afternoon in a room with John and Yoko stuffing acorns into envelopes. I wanted to say something to him so badly—tell him I played, etc.—but knew it would not be cool and would endanger my sister's job. It was a great day.

Later that month I also got to actually talk to George, but that did not go well at all.

There were a lot of perks with my sister’s job. She would pretty much come home everyday and throw a stack of new LPs to me, all kinds of Apple paraphernalia (T-shirts, etc.). Wish I had saved it all! One of the best things was access to events—[Harrison’s 1971] Concert for Bangladesh, for one. I was in the 13th row and it was great!

Well, one night I went with my sister to the premier of a new Apple movie called Blind Man featuring Ringo in a supporting role. As you may have gathered, it was not exactly Gone With The Wind. In any event, there was a brief intermission halfway through and being that it was the late ’70s, I went out to the lobby for a ciggie. I sit down and I'm flicking my cigarette ashes in the ashtray. About 4 inches away, sharing the ashtray, was another hand with a cigarette. I look up and it’s George, about 5 or 6 inches from my face, dressed pretty similar to the Abbey Road cover. Direct eye-to-eye contact. I immediately freak out and my mouth is hanging open. I can't speak, can't do anything. At this point I notice the look in his eyes has changed from, “Hmm, I wonder who this longhair is? Maybe an interesting character, a musician?” to “Oh no! Not again.” He had a look that reflected that this type of thing happened a lot to him. I'm still pretty much frozen and he says to me in the gentlest, most accommodating voice, “Can I help you with something? Can I make this easier for you? What can I do?” With all the thousands of things welling up in me that I wanted to say, like “Thanks for the music;” “I play the guitar and write music because of The Beatles;” “I know I’m real young, but I play really good and would like you to hear me;” etc. All these thoughts are welling up and I can’t manage a sound, much less even close my mouth.

At this point, I am totally embarrassed, so all I can manage to do is scramble to my feet and run away. In the process I slam face-first right into Leon Russell! This was all too much for me and I found my sister and told her I had to leave.

The thing that struck me was how wonderful George was—how soft-spoken and genuinely concerned he was, not to mention the look of world-weariness on his face. He looked like a man who had been photographed too many times, been to too many of these openings, seen too many kids stare at him with their mouths frozen open—the whole thing, right there on his face. At least that was my take on it. He had a very spiritual vibe to him.

So it was my second big chance to talk to a Beatle, after seeing Lennon, and I blew it. But in retrospect I think my experience was a great one, as I got to see the measure of the man—a great, caring guy. There are many other famous musicians who would not be half as nice in that situation.
—Vinnie Zummo
Former guitarist with Joe Jackson

IN QUEEN MARY'S ROSE GARDEN WITH PAUL

My girlfriend and I were walking along an internal road within Regents Park in London in November 1999. I was on a semester-abroad program through James Madison University, and my girlfriend from the U.S. was visiting for her fall break.

It was early afternoon on a Tuesday, and the huge park was basically empty. As we walked toward Queen Mary’s Rose Garden, a midnight blue Mercedes limo with tinted windows and blacked-out hardware pulled up and parked at the curb ahead of us. Then a smaller car (I don’t remember the make) pulled up behind it. A man in a two-piece suit with no tie got out of the Mercedes carrying a little girl (maybe 3 years old) on his shoulder. He was wearing some powder and a little rouge makeup on his cheeks, and seeing his face was a surreal experience. I couldn't place it at first; it was a face I knew so well, and had grown up associating with my favorite band and rock iconography for my whole life, but I had always seen this face in print or on the TV screen—never in person. Because of this, it took my brain a few seconds to realize who it was: Paul McCartney.

As he walked from the Mercedes to the smaller car, I said, “I love your music.” He said “thank you” as he got into the car and both vehicles drove away. My girlfriend and I were stunned and in shock as we ate our sandwiches in the rose garden. We were in complete disbelief, and were thrilled to have had such a randomly awesome thing happen.
—Ryan Sayward

SIR GEORGE MARTIN, THE FIFTH BEATLE

I met the “fifth Beatle,” producer George Martin, after he gave the keynote address at an AES convention several years ago. After his address, I joined an eager throng of audio professionals gathering to worship at the foot of the music-industry icon and fawn over his inspirational productions. I finally had my chance to introduce myself to Martin and gushed, “Hi, George. My name is Michael Cooper. I'm a recording engineer, producer, studio owner and contributing editor for Mix and Electronic Musician magazines. Your work with The Beatles is the reason why I’m in the recording industry today.” Casting a look of mock concern back at me, Martin dryly replied, “Well then, I suppose that makes me responsible, doesn't it?”
—Michael Cooper
Michael Cooper Recording

JOHN AND GEORGE IN NEW YORK CITY

The day before John Lennon was killed, I was lunching in a window seat at an Upper West Side sushi restaurant and discussing with a colleague how John Lennon lived close by. As I was pointing out the direction he lived in, John and Yoko were crossing the street and approaching. Picking my jaw up from the ground, I went to get up and say something—anything—and before I got a chance to, John and Yoko passed the window, smiled a knowing smile and kept walking past me.

I couldn’t contain my excitement but I couldn’t move either, and missed the moment of saying a quick hello. So, “almost met” is more like it.

But I did meet George Harrison at a VH1 taping of an interview with Ravi Shankar. He was most gracious discussing guitars on the side of the set with me until the friend I brought along decided to ask George to come to the studio that night and play on his forthcoming independent album. George graciously declined as he was leaving back to England that evening.

This was George’s last TV appearance, which was really a Ravi Shankar appearance in which the interviewer smartly engaged George to talk about Ravi.
—Al Irizarry

FLEW INTO MIAMI BEACH

I don’t know if this qualifies, but I was working at one of my customer’s house and got around to looking at pictures in the hallway. I said, “That looks like Ringo Starr, that looks like Paul McCartney,” etc. It seems that when The Beatles played in Miami they stayed at my customer’s house when she was probably 6 or 7 years old. They brought the band to her house in a fruit truck. I always thought that was pretty good. Anyway, I hope you get a laugh out of this.
—Homer

SIR PAUL'S MIAMI SOUNDCHECK

As a freelance TV soundman, I get calls from networks worldwide, and was lucky enough to answer the phone for a British network covering Pau McCartney’s 2006 U.S. tour. The tour started in Miami, and that’s where I mostly work.

We were cautioned while setting up that we should treat our subject with some reverence and not get too familiar; in short, give him the star treatment. I’d gotten the same admonishments a few months earlier with Sting, and it turned out to be bullshit then, too (he was thrilled to sign my 1979 tour ticket).

Anyway, the man enters the room, as warm, friendly, and accessible as you could hope, chatting up everyone in the place. I [miked] him up for two interviews, different hosts for different shows. Interview one went okay, but then I noticed that his mic cable had gotten tugged, so moved in to correct the placement. “I'm on to you,” he said. “You just like to touch me.” I said “Well, other than myself, I never get to touch any left-handed bassists.”

So we discussed the curse of left-handedness, my 1966 lefty P-bass, and his choice of the Hofner violin bass back in the day. Turns out that his dad didn’t want him spending too much money on the music thing, knowing that it hardly ever pans out, so the Hofner was a relatively thrifty choice. He said his current touring axe was the most accurately fretted, perfectly intonated Hofner ever built, which I’m guessing took it well out of the economy class. We sat through part of the soundcheck, and he played it every bit as well as it deserved.
—Robert Shaw