Fab Four FAQ: Everything Left to Know About the Beatles ... and More!

Copyright © 2007 by Stuart Shea and Robert Rodriguez

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without written permission, except by a newspaper or magazine reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review.

Published in 2007 by Hal Leonard Books

An Imprint of Hal Leonard Corporation

19 West 21st Street, New York, NY 10010

All memorabilia in this book are from the private collections of the authors unless otherwise noted.

Book design by Snow Creative Services

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Shea, Stuart.

Fab Four FAQ: everything left to know about the Beatles—and more! / by Stuart Shea and Robert Rodriguez.

p. cm.

ISBN-13: 978-1-4234-2138-2

ISBN-10: 1-4234-2138-8

1. Beatles—Miscellanea. I. Rodriguez, Robert, 1961– II. Title. III. Title: Fab Four frequently asked questions.

ML421.B4S25 2007

782.42166092’2--dc22

[B]

2007019752

www.halleonard.com

This book is respectfully dedicated to Arthur Hegewisch, who, in 1962, invented the Close and Play phonograph.

Contents

Foreword by Chris Hillman

Introduction: The Sea of Time

In the Beginning: Some History

1: When I Was a Boy: The Beatles’ 1950s Roots

2: In the Town Where I Was Born: The Liverpool of Beatle Legend

3: Then There Was Music: The Road to Fabdom

Yes, I’m Gonna Be a Star: Beatlemania

4: Off to the Jukebox Man: The Beatles’ Record Labels

5: Move Over Once: Ten Acts Knocked from the #1 Spot by the Beatles

6: I Read the News Today, Oh Boy: Grabbing the Headlines

7: We All Want to Change Your Head: The Beatles in Politics

8: We Hope You Have Enjoyed the Show: Ten Immortal Performances

9: I Saw the Photograph: Ten Notable Beatles Photo Sessions

10: There Are Places I Remember: The Beatles’ London

11: I Saw a Film Today: Cinematic Achievements of the Beatles

12: You’re Telling All Those Lies: Commonly Believed Myths

13: Will You Read My Book?: The Essential Beatle Bookshelf

Listen to the Music Playing in Your Head: The Recordings

14: It’s a Clean Machine: Ten Beatles Instruments

15: Every Sound There Is: What Was That, Anyway?

16: No One (I Think) Is in My Tree: Recording Innovations

17: If I Knew What I Was Missing: Some Recording Variations

18: Half of What’s Wrong: Ten Mistakes That Slipped onto the Vinyl

19: There’s Nobody There: Solo Performances Within a Group Context

20: Oh, Rock On, Anybody: Ten Recordings Featuring Musical Role-switching

21: All Right, George!: The Quiet One’s Shining Guitar Moments

22: Way Beyond Compare: The Cute One Can Play, Too!

23: I Got Blisters on My Fingers: The New Guy Shows George Martin What For!

24: Oh, Look Out!: The Witty One, When He Still Believed

25: Help Me If You Can: Outsiders on the Inside

26: I Can Be Handy: The Beatles in Service of Their Label

27: Do You Need Anybody?: Assistance Rendered

28: I Believe in Yesterday: Ten Beatles Moldy Goldies

29: Try Thinking More: The Original Titles of Beatles Songs

30: Please Lock Me Away: Unreleased, Until…

31: Don’t Keep Me Waiting: A List of Releases We’d Like to See

32: What You Make for Us to Take: Ten Records That Directly Influenced the Beatles

33: No One’s Frightened of Playing It: Ten Beatles Singles That Never Were (Until Done by Others)

34: That Is Confusing Things: Ten Odd Covers of Beatles Songs

35: The World Is Treating Me Bad: Ten Contemporary Songs About the Beatles

There’s People Standing ’Round: Friends and Acquaintances

36: Through Thick and Thin: The Beatles’ Business Entourage

37: All These Friends…: The Beatles’ Posse

38: …And Lovers: Wives, Girlfriends, and One-Night Stands

39: All the Children Sing: Beatle Kids

40: However Big You Think You Are: Various Celebrity-Beatle Connections

41: It Won’t Be the Same Now That I’m with You: Other Acts Produced by George Martin

42: So Let Me Introduce to You: Beatle Protégés at Apple

43: The Movie’s Gonna Make Me a Big Star: Cinematic Fellow Travelers

44: The Only Difference Is You’re Down There: Ten Acts that Opened for the Beatles

45: I’d Rather See You Dead: A Rogue’s Gallery

46: Life Is Very Short: Among the Dead

It’s Getting Very Near the End: Twilight of the Gods

47: Half of What I Say Is Meaningless: Unexplained Beatle Trivia

48: Well, Well, Well, You’re Feeling Fine!: The Fab Medicine Cabinet

49: Here’s Another Clue for You All: Ten Reasons Why Paul Must’ve Been Dead!

50: And in the End: The Countdown to History

Afterword by Jackie Lomax

Selected Bibliography

Foreword by Chris Hillman

Sunday night, February 9, 1964.

It was just a little over two months since that tragic Friday morning in Dallas, Texas.

But a great healing wind blew through America, for this was the night we all met the Beatles, live, on the Ed Sullivan Show.

Full of fire, the Beatles lit up our lives with an energy and hope we all thought that we had lost forever.

I remember that night so well. I was in Los Angeles, visiting my mom, and though I had heard about this new rock-and-roll band from England, I really hadn’t given them too much attention…that is, until I heard the first note of I Want to Hold Your Hand.

It hit a nerve inside me that ultimately changed my whole life forever.

Paul became my bass teacher, John my singer/songwriter coach, George my guitar teacher, and Ringo made it all swing with a smile.

What an incredible time! I observed, I learned, I was swept away into a world I never knew existed.

Eventually, I did get to meet and hang out with the Beatles…although I was so shy back then I was sort of in the shadows, watching David Crosby and Roger McGuinn jockey for position to win the Beatles’ favor. Meanwhile, Michael Clarke, Gene Clark, and I were sort of in observation mode.

But I was there!

Chris Hillman

May 2007

An original member of the Byrds, Chris Hillman played bass and sang on seven of their albums and wrote many classic songs, including So You Want to Be a Rock & Roll Star, Have You Seen Her Face, and Time Between. Since his time with the Byrds, he’s also played in several other legendary ensembles, including the Flying Burrito Brothers, Manassas, and the enormously successful Desert Rose Band. He is a highly rated mandolin player, guitarist, and singer/songwriter, as well as one of rock’s most admired bassists. Please check in with what Chris is up to at www.chrishillman.com.

Introduction: The Sea of Time

Don’t let anyone fool you. A book is as much a process of discovery for the writer as it is for the reader. And we discovered plenty of new things about the Fab Four as we wrote this book—some facts that others knew, some previously little-known spins on history, and some concepts we formulated that we hadn’t considered before.

Our goal was to write a book for Beatles fans that told them some things they didn’t know, and to further illuminate and interpret things they did know. Of course, the most fanatical of Beatle-ologists may know most, or all, of what’s in here—one thing you discover as you go about your business in the world is that there’s always someone who knows more about a given subject than you do.

But this book celebrates the fact that there’s still so much to know about the Beatles, so many facts to tease out, so much interpretation yet to come. The Beatles, with their effect on pop culture, politics, fashion, the entertainment business—and, of course, the structure of rock and roll—are one of those phenomena through which one can examine the entire spectrum of the 1960s. And the fact that their rise coincided with the advent of color television, more affordable color photography, and new techniques in film and audio recording makes the evidence brighter, splashier, more vivid to us today in a way that vintage black-and-white film of the equally revolutionary Elvis Presley is not.

One can look at Beatles history in so many ways: for example, the way they affected the future of recorded music through their production tricks, new instruments, complicated arrangements, and the like. Or through their competition on the pop charts. Or through the prism of live performances, their films, their wives, girlfriends, and children. How did they grow and change through their experiences, their work, their lives?

The Beatles existed as four human beings, and as a popular phenomenon. They made the news; they changed society. They expanded the borders of what a pop group could stand for—which not everyone necessarily thinks is a good idea. They suffered tragedies, gained unimaginable triumphs.

And how fascinating it is to explore how the group unfolded. The Beatles’ narrative takes in equal parts talent, drive, luck, and divine (!) providence, existing in a hermetically sealed time and space called the 1960s, one that the Beatles, as much as anyone else, helped move from grainy black-and-white to blinding color.

But despite time’s fleeting nature—and surely the one great lesson of the ’60s is that all things must pass away—the promise, optimism, and positive energy of the Beatles continue to penetrate the circles of music, culture, and social history. Through a concrete body of musical work, this energy captivates new fans every year even though (or perhaps because) we know how painfully the Beatles’ story ended. Their story combines perfectly the innocence of a time and the hard-won experience of its youth…a time of poets in the marketplace, popular musicians aspiring to higher things, and a total lack of a road map.

Because all of this was a first. The Beatles set the entire template for rock and roll bands as we know them—for an attempt at band democracies, for giving the drummer a song, for a cute one and a quiet one and one who would say the right thing and one who would say the wrong thing.

Despite all the words already written about the Beatles, there were still new things we wanted to read, old things we wanted to better understand, classic things we wanted interpreted. But we also wanted to see a book aimed at the general reader that gave real, interesting history and analysis about the Beatles. Many Beatles books are either ridiculously simple or ridiculously complicated. We wanted to bring the knowledge in an entertaining and provocative way. We hope we succeeded at giving you a raft with which to sail down the Sea of Time.

Do You Want to Know a Secret?

The need for a book like this became clear when we realized that there is still information out there, truly critical for those who like the Beatles, that not that many people know. And we realized how much we didn’t know…until we started digging around, learning more, listening more, and listening differently, and really thinking, in various ways we hadn’t previously, about the Beatles and their music.

For example…how weird is it that very early pressings of mono copies of Revolver had a different version of the album’s last song?

Yes, the mix of Tomorrow Never Knows heard on those select few early-on mono British pressings is completely different from any other version; it’s more in-your-face, because the volume is higher, less reverberation has been added, and sound effects fade in and out at different places and levels.

Yet who, besides some bootleggers who have put this version out on unauthorized CDs, even knows about this? Why wasn’t this alternate mix on Anthology 2? Why hasn’t it been released as a twelve-inch dance single, for God’s sake? (DJs play Tomorrow Never Knows at clubs anyway, and John’s groundbreaking psychedelic epic fits in with techno and house as well as it does with 1966 rock.)

The point is not that we’re brilliant for telling you this…but that there is still a lot left to learn, explain, interpret, discuss about the Beatles. And if you’re crazy about the band, you’ll know that it’s worth it.

Another example?

Did you know that there are 78-rpm Beatles records?

Yes, 78-rpm records, the only kinds of records available commercially for much of the twentieth century, which went out of fashion in America and England by the mid-1950s with the advent of the 45 and the rise of the album…but in other parts of the world, 78-rpm records were still printed into the 1960s. For example, in India, several Beatles titles were pressed in the ten-inch 78 format.

And what about the different versions of She’s Leaving Home on the mono and stereo versions of Sgt. Pepper? The mixes of the song aren’t different, but the speed of the recording is. The version currently available on compact disc—the only one commercially available, in fact, since mono albums went out of print in the late 1960s—is at the correct speed, somewhere between E and E-flat. The mono mix, however, was intentionally sped up, most likely to make Paul’s lead vocal sound more youthful, and rests in the key of F. Hard to tell why one version was faster than the other, but this was 1967.

And guess what: research by writer Steve Turner indicates the song was written about a real-life girl, Melanie Coe, whose adventure about running away from home was on the front pages of the Daily Mirror. And, amazingly, Paul McCartney had met her before—judging her to be the winner of a lip-synch miming contest to Brenda Lee’s Let’s Jump the Broomstick on an early 1964 appearance on the television program Ready Steady Go!

Finally, another little bit of trivia: on the photos accompanying the Sgt. Pepper’s release, two Beatles are shown sporting their MBE’s (George and Paul), while Ringo and John are wearing a cluster of medals. It is long assumed that, five years earlier, when drummer Pete Best was handed his walking papers, that the break was complete and irrevocable. Not so. In 1967, John called up Pete’s mother, Mona, and asked to borrow the medals belonging to her father, Major Tom Shaw, who’d been awarded them for service in the Bengal Lancers during the Second Anglo-Afghan War back in the late nineteetth century. John had seen them many a time at the Best home during the band’s dates at the Casbah. He remembered them, and Mona happily complied.

These little tidbits are known to many Beatles fans, but not all…and we offer them as a bonus to those people who actually go to the trouble of reading book introductions.

P.S. I Love You

This book is, in a way, our love letter to the Beatles, an attempt to thank them for all the pleasure they’ve given.

But we have others—many others—to acknowledge as well. One thing we’ve both realized is how big a role music, Beatles music in particular, has played in our family lives—and what a good thing that’s been.

Stu would like to thank the following:

Starting at the top, I wish to honor my darling wife, lifemate, and partner in crime, Cecilia, with whom I’ve enjoyed everything Beatle virtually from the day we met. I still want to hold your hand, after all these years. Thank you for being the sunshine, the moon, the everything. I love you, yeah, yeah, yeah!

Thanks also to Agustin and Carolina Garibay for raising Cecilia, and for blessing the world with her siblings, Adrian, Maria, and Liz.

My angelic nephew Marco Garibay, at age five, proudly declared one night as Please Please Me played, "That’s my kind of music." Meanwhile, his younger sister Carolina’s first viewing of Help! proved she’s been raised well; during the film, in a scene when the Fabs are enjoying cigarettes, she turned and asked her older brother with righteous indignation, "Why are they smoking?"

Mark Caro and Bob Purse have shared the Fabs’ music with me for more than three decades. I love both of you guys dearly. Thank you for being such great friends.

Other friends who’ve shared this music with me include the Fiendish Thingies (Sheila, Shannon, Kathy, Carroll, Jimmy, Suz, Lynn, Karen, Pam, Annette, Craig, Naughty Sam, Sheri, Laura, and Cherrie), Rick and Rita, Carlos, Ted, Phillip, Jennifer, Lisa, Helen, the CBO, Dan, Bubs, James R., Clark Besch, Paul Hippensteel, Kristie, Jonathan, Doug Tonks, Scotts Bennett and Smoller, Eric Colin, Dan and Carole, Dog, Joe, Amy, DD, Terri, Mary D., MLD, and all at RAS. I have been blessed by your friendship. Bouquets also to the Hungerdungers: Lou, Jim, James, Pat, and Gordon. Your support means a lot. And to Leigh…many thanks.

Buzzy Linhart, thanks for just being you. Mark and Carol Lapidos, thanks for throwing the Fest for Beatles Fans!

And I happily thank Marion Claire Smith Shea-Light and John S. Shea II for introducing their sons to the Beatles in the late 1960s. And to my brothers John and Tom, a personal note: the few times we’ve sung three-part harmony to Beatles music are among the happiest moments of my life.

Rob’s turn:

The true measure of the things we love is the pleasure realized when we share them with people dear to us. Strangely, it has been my good fortune in this life to be surrounded with a good many people whose introduction to the Beatles came through me. Right place at the right time, I guess.

First in my heart is my wife, Kathryn. Not only did I have the exquisite joy of introducing the Beatles’ music and story to her, but I had the added satisfaction of watching the ripples spread outward as she passed it along to her folk (most notably to Amii, but to Val and Bill Holcomb as well). Darling, I love you.

Zane and Zoe Rodriguez are no less precious. For all of the sacrifice that comes with being a parent, there is reward a thousandfold when the lives that you have brought into being show their delight in the environment you’ve provided them, and throw it back to you.

One example would be little Zane, sitting in his car seat at the age of one, singing, Know, know, know… and Love, love, love… along with the Beatles’ BBC rendition of the Teddy Bears’ hit To Know Him is to Love Him.

Another would be baby Zoe, a nearly a one-year-old herself (four years later), bopping along to the strains of the newly-released Beatles’ Love album. It is my hope that my children’s earliest memories of Beatles music will be inextricably intertwined with feelings of well-being, comfort, and love.

(In fact, Beatles music has literally been a part of their lives since each emerged from the womb: Zane to the sound of Here Comes The Sun, Zoe to George’s I’d Have You Anytime. Okay, technically, that last one isn’t a Beatles tune, but if things had broken differently, it could have been!) Kids: Love is all, Love is you.

I have been equally blessed with a family that has shared my pursuits with responses ranging from tolerance to equal fervor. My sister Zanny really ran with the whole thing, as did (to varying degrees of enthusiasm) Missy, Amy, and Russ. Big brother Rick unwittingly laid the seeds for collecting, with his intriguing collection of 45s that contained both orange-and-yellow swirl labels and ones sporting green Apples—sliced and unsliced. My love to you all.

But full credit for shaping my most fortunate life must go to Richard and Shirley Rodriguez. Each contributed mightily in complementary ways to the richness of my early surroundings, providing a home full of music and books while nurturing curiosity—no small accomplishment. My thanks, eternal gratitude, and love.

Further thanks to Doug Brooks, who was there (and knew it)! Also to David J. Hogan and Jim Slate for their well-attuned Jacque eyes, and the rest of the PIL ACQ gang, plus Rebecky. A toast to The Ring: Sharon, Philip, Kim, Kathy, Rob and Shannon, Maria, Lauren, and Sharon. Trolls forever!

Thanks to Chicago’s very own Bob Stroud, Dick Biondi, and Terri Hemmert.

Our special thanks to Jackie Lomax and Chris Hillman.

Also to Frank Daniels and Mitch McGeary: you guys are lifesavers!

And Craig would like to thank Suzy and Joe would love to thank Debbie.

And thanx, Dogbro.

Robert Rodriguez and Stuart Shea have been friends for more than fifteen years, playing together in bands, hanging out, sharing Indian buffet, and, now, cowriting this book. It’s been a joy, and we hope it’s the first of many collaborations.

The two of us wish to thank John Cerullo of Hal Leonard for taking a chance on this book! Belinda Yong, Carol Flannery, Sarah Gallogly, Jenna Young, and Mary Vandenberg, and the sales and production staffs at Hal Leonard and Amadeus, also deserve our heartfelt appreciation.

S: Peace, love, and thanks, brother.

R: And to you, too.

Finally, thanks to the Beatles and to all who sail with them.

In the Beginning: Some History

The nucleus of the Quarry Men is seen here in mid-1958. This bootleg release depicts the core around which a succession of transient members orbited.

1

When I Was a Boy: The Beatles’ 1950s Roots

While the phenomenon that was the Beatles didn’t arrive until the 1960s were in full bloom, the roots of future fabdom lay in the previous decade. The series of occurrences that added up to a cultural tsunami unfolded this way:

Lonnie Donegan Kicks Off the Skiffle Craze in England, January 1956

Born Anthony Donegan in Glasgow, this itinerant musician had been playing in Chris Barber’s Jazz Band since the early 1950s. While Barber’s band was essentially an instrumental outfit, Donegan (renamed Lonnie in honor of the bluesman Lonnie Johnson) often performed American folk, country, and blues chestnuts between sets, sometimes accompanied by a washboard for rhythm.

When the group recorded an album in late 1955, Barber asked Donegan to sing a couple of his between-sets tunes to round out the release. Rock Island Line, an old Leadbelly warhorse, was released as a single from the LP. Credited to Lonnie Donegan and His Skiffle Group, the song amazed everyone by rocketing up the charts. Even more astounding was the song’s performance in America, where it went Top 20. Overnight, Donegan was a sensation, a Brit presenting a unique hybrid of American styles.

Skiffle was a term for party that Donegan claimed to have copped from an American record sleeve. Like punk twenty years later, the music—devoid of pretension or artifice—represented a triumph of spirit and energy over virtuosity. Suddenly stardom didn’t seem beyond reach; anyone with a cheap guitar or household objects (a washboard, a tea chest, a washtub) could make music.

The standard repertoire tended to be happy and fun rather than depressing or overtly bluesy. As Donegan’s follow-ups began charting (Lost John, Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor, My Old Man’s a Dustman), an entire generation of young kids was inspired to take up instruments. Literally to a man, everyone who was anyone during the ’60s British Invasion credited Donegan’s music with giving him a direction.

At this churchyard summer celebration, the roots of Beatlemania were planted.

Paul McCartney Attends a Lonnie Donegan Show, November 11, 1956

Among those feeling the influence was fourteen-year-old Liverpudlian James Paul McCartney. The son of an ex-bandleader, the bright but conservative adolescent was still feeling around for a creative outlet when skiffle hit. Until then, his musical bent had leaned more toward the trumpet, an appealing instrument that had the drawback of prohibiting singing (so long as he played it with his mouth).

Coinciding with the arrival of Elvis and rock and roll, the rise of skiffle portended guitar as the next step, suggesting a path at a time when Paul was most susceptible. He attended a Donegan show one Sunday, a week to the day after he had buried his mother. The two events are not unrelated; as his brother Michael would say years later, You lose your parent but you gain a guitar.

Doubtless seeking inspiration, Paul caught a glimpse that evening of what stardom looked like in the flesh. The workaholic tendencies that would define his career years were established when the grieving boy channeled his loss into a musical obsession, taking the instrument everywhere, including the bath and the toilet. At night, he would listen to radio under the covers, learning the words to songs and later attempting to figure out the chords on his instrument. Vague stirrings were now given form as the innately musical lad was at last finding his way.

The Cavern Club Opens in Liverpool, January 16, 1957

Alan Sytner, the son of a Liverpool physician, was a jazz fanatic and entrepreneur. Already the owner of two jazz venues in the city, he wanted the third to be something special.

Traveling to Paris for inspiration led him to discover clubs in the jazz district that were actually built in caves. No doubt his finely tuned ears appreciated the way the acoustics affected the sound. Upon his return, knowing that no actual caves were available, he scoured the city looking for the next best thing.

Over on Mathew Street (more of an alley by American standards), he found just the site: a storage cellar, belonging to a fruit warehouse, that had been used as a bomb shelter during the war. With its distinctive arches, long vaults, and damp, dank atmosphere, it promised grand possibilities.

Named after Le Caveau in Paris, the Cavern opened for business headlined by the Merseysippi Jazz Band. Homegrown rock and roll (or Beat music as it was known locally) was strictly verboten. It would take new ownership, and writing on the wall, for the situation to change four years later.

The Quarry Men Are Formed, March 1957

Sixteen-year-old John Lennon was a natural leader. While clearly gifted in a witty, artistic way, he caused much exasperation in his school instructors; it seemed that this exceptionally bright youth was more interested in provoking people and playing the fool than in getting down to academic business.

A habitual risk taker, he was surrounded by a group of like-minded subversives who probably possessed less daring than he—but every leader needs followers. Rock and roll entered his life full force, first with Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock, then with Elvis.

With skiffle’s arrival, young John suddenly knew what he wanted. Instinctively seeking entry into a forbidden world, he cajoled his caretaker, Aunt Mimi (his mother’s sister, Mary Smith), into springing for a secondhand guitar. Frowning on rebellion but keen to please her beloved nephew, she acquiesced. The keys to the kingdom were now in his hand.

Though not terribly musically inclined, John’s fellows were also eager to get on the skiffle bandwagon. Initial lineups were somewhat nebulous, but the classic grouping included Eric Griffiths and Len Garry on guitar and bass respectively. Classmate Rod Davis had managed to get his hands on a real banjo, so he was in. Another fellow student, Colin Hanton, acquired a real drum kit, so he was definitely in. John’s best friend, Pete Shotton, completely devoid of musical ability, was assigned the washboard.

As it happened, John’s mother, Julia Lennon, had a bit of a musical background. Delighted to be a source of inspiration to her son, she taught him what she knew: the fingerings to banjo chords. (It would take some time for John to be completely de-programmed from using the wrong chord shapes.)

The ensemble would initially call themselves the Black Jacks, after the black jeans they favored, but found more relevant inspiration from their school song at Quarry Bank High School, which contained the line, Quarry men, strong before our birth. John found the words sardonically irresistible.

John and Paul Meet, July 6, 1957

With four months of experience, the group’s opportunities to perform were limited mostly to parties and church halls. But in early summer, they somehow finagled an invitation to perform twice at what for them would have been a prestigious event: the annual Summer Garden Fête sponsored by Saint Peter’s Church in Woolton.

During the afternoon, the group performed outdoors on a makeshift stage. Among the onlookers was a schoolmate of John’s named Ivan Vaughan. He’d brought along his musically inclined mate, Paul McCartney, to witness the Quarry Men’s performance. Already fancying himself an old hand at performing, Paul was unimpressed by most of what he saw.

What did raise his eyebrows was the group’s frontman. Although clearly playing ridiculous chords and unburdened by knowledge of the actual words to the songs he sang, John was striking in his ability to make up his own lyrics, apparently on the spot. Also, this guy was an undeniably dynamic performer.

There would be some time to kill before the band set up in the church hall for the evening’s performance, and Ivan was keen to introduce his friend Paul to John. In the interim, Paul rode his bike home to retrieve his guitar (strung left-handed, as ordinary guitars were useless to him) while John got his hands on some alcohol and partook.

When the actual meeting came, the two youths remained outwardly unmoved by each other. But Paul saw that he had something to contribute to this band. Unlike any of its members, for example, he knew how to tune a guitar. (The Quarry Men had been in the practice of paying someone to do the tuning.)

He also knew the actual words to rock-and-roll songs, and, to John at least, seemed to possess a bottomless repertoire of material. What John saw was someone who could reinforce his own rock-and-roll aspirations within the band. (The other members tended more toward pure skiffle or folk. Playing rock had the tendency to limit their venues.) Also, Paul obviously had some useful know-how: after wowing John with a performance of Eddie Cochran’s Twenty Flight Rock, he obligingly wrote down the words.

John’s dilemma was whether to admit someone into the group who might challenge his authority. Dominance was easy with fellows so demonstrably beneath him in talent; was strengthening the group worth diminishing his supremacy? He mulled it over for a couple of days, then sent emissary Ivan back to Paul with the word: Fancy joining me group? A musical force had been ignited.

The Quarry Men (Minus Paul) Debut at the Cavern Club, August 7, 1957

Paul’s acquiescence definitely improved the Quarry Men’s possibilities, but tangible forward movement would have to wait, as Paul was committed to a two-month stint at scout’s camp over summer. Nonetheless, the boys got a foot in the door at the wildly successful Cavern Club.

Owner Sytner had sought to expand his club’s clientele by offering lunchtime sessions, bringing in the student crowd during nondrinking hours. Since few young people were jazz aficionados, skiffle would be the draw.

It is not recorded how well the group went over on this occasion. What is known is that John would bait the crowd at other venues by dropping beat numbers into the set, raising the ire of some of his bandmates—not because they hated the music but because they feared for their personal safety from outraged patrons. As Rod Davis recalled, it was like playing heavy metal for a New Romantic crowd.

John further inflamed the situation by pretending notes passed up to the stage from the club manager demanding they knock off the bloody rock! were actually requests, allowing him to steer the band in any direction he fancied.

By 1959, Alan Sytner had sold his club to Ray McFall, an accountant who hated beat music. But falling revenues and increased competition from other clubs forced the bitter pill of rock and roll on him. Initially turned over to beat one night a week, then two, then at lunchtime as well, by 1961 the club gained a second life as the jazz attractions thinned out.

The Beatles would debut in March of 1961, essentially becoming the house band between Hamburg stints. The increased demands on their schedule in the wake of recording success would at last force them to bow out in August 1963 (following the release of their fourth single, She Loves You) after nearly three hundred performances.

The Quarry Men Record That’ll Be the Day, Summer 1958

The ever-evolving Quarry Men lineup at last acquired some stability with the addition of a promising lead guitarist. Though more than two years John’s junior, fifteen-year-old George Harrison, a protégé of Paul’s, had undeniable chops.

John’s initial reservations were overcome by George’s ability to pull off the tricky instrumental Raunchy, as well as by his Aunt Mimi’s utter contempt for the youth’s lower-class coarseness.

The new addition brought the band a quantum leap forward in terms of musicality and support. The former came with young George’s almost masochistic drive to master his instrument, and the latter with the unconditional encouragement the boys got from Mrs. Harrison, one of the few adults around who got it.

Filled with renewed confidence (as well as nourishment from her kitchen), the band ventured boldly into a makeshift recording studio in Liverpool to stake their claim to vinyl greatness. The Quarry Men pooled their resources and, for less than a pound apiece, cut a shellac disc featuring Buddy Holly’s hit from the previous September on one side and a composition of their own on the flip.

Their rendition of Day features John on lead vocals, with creative vocal support from Paul and George. The lead guitar work is suitably impressive, but the percussion is virtually nonexistent. (Paul at this point still contributed second guitar. He would not assume full-time bass duties for another three years.)

The flip side is an interesting study in group dynamics. In Spite of All the Danger, an Elvis/Everly Brothers–inspired ballad, would be the only song in the Beatles’ canon credited to McCartney-Harrison. Curiously, it too features lead vocals from John!

During the Beatles years, a song’s authorship could be divined, with rare exceptions, by who sang lead. At this time, the Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership had yet to gel. Though Paul was already writing on his own, George had not yet been frozen out of the process. He and John would pen an instrumental in 1961 (Cry for a Shadow), but once the primary team was established, it would be a long time before George found encouragement from his bandmates to write, and only then capriciously. (During the post-Anthology thaw in relations, Paul often speculated about the possibility of writing with his former mate. The by-then terminally ill George would respond, Why now?)

As evidence of their burgeoning professional aspirations, by 1958, the Quarry Men were prepared to hand out their business card to would-be employers.

Julia Lennon Is Killed, July 15, 1958

Though living comfortably with his aunt, John’s relations with his own parents were somewhat unconventional. When the two fell out, he became separated from both. At age five, having spent a glorious holiday with his long-at-sea father, John was literally placed between his parents and asked to choose whom he would live with. He chose his father—but at the sight of his mother walking away in tears, the young boy’s heart immediately melted, and he reversed his decision.

Recognizing the limitations that her free-spirited life would offer, and desiring stability for the boy, Julia quickly ensconced him with her sister and brother-in-law. As a result, John would enjoy the most materially well-off upbringing of all the future Beatles, growing up in a strict but loving environment.

By adolescence, his bohemian, fun-loving mother had resurfaced as a force in his life. The two shared a great love of nonconformity and challenging the status quo at every turn. She encouraged his rebellion and influenced his comedic tastes. His only formal musical education, limited though it was, came at her knee.

Having re-established a relationship with his mother at this key stage of his emotional development would have lasting effects on John, his band, and by extension popular culture. Years later he would sing, I’ve got a chip on my shoulder that’s bigger than my feet. The roots of that anger can certainly be traced in part to the traumatic events of July 15, 1958.

On that summer evening, Julia had paid her son a visit, as she’d recently been in the habit of doing. Upon leaving, she had to walk up the block, then cross the street to reach the bus stop. A blind turn occurs near where she crossed. She apparently never saw a speeding car driven by a drunken, off-duty policeman. John heard nothing; it was not until police showed up at the door that he realized he’d once again lost his mother, this time forever.

Richard Starkey Debuts with Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, March 25, 1959

As an only child raised by a single mother, eighteen-year-old Ritchie had already seen more than his share of squalor. Growing up in Dingle, one of Liverpool’s toughest neighborhoods, the boy had suffered inordinate health problems, requiring constant hospitalization throughout his childhood.

Formal education was the first casualty of his periodic illnesses; after losing so much class time, there could be no catching up. The children’s ward, however, where he was a regular, provided rudimentary band instruction. The opportunity to learn an instrument proved a worthy diversion; here the youth discovered a love of percussion. With few prospects other than life on the dole, music gave him something to look forward to.

School career finished by age thirteen, young Ritchie worked as a messenger and apprentice engineer. Seeking greener pastures, he filled his head with visions of an idyllic life in the Old West and dreamed of emigrating to America. The Houston Chamber of Commerce responded to his query with a stack of paperwork that proved too daunting.

But by now his stepfather had gathered enough funds from his relatives to gift the happy-go-lucky lad with a secondhand set, and Ritchie soon found his services behind a drum kit in demand. He worked his way up through the skiffle circuit until joining forces with an outfit fronted by one Alan Caldwell.

Formerly of a group called the Texans, Caldwell now called himself Rory Storm and his backing band the Hurricanes. With their common love of all things Western and American, it proved a good fit. Now going pro, the young drummer also acquired a stage name: befitting his cowboy culture fixation and love of hand jewelry, he became Ringo Starr.

The Quarry Men Re-form at the Casbah Club, August 29, 1959

In the months following Julia Lennon’s death, the Quarry Men fell on hard times. Bookings dried up as the skiffle craze seemed to play itself out. In early 1959, drummer Colin Hanton quit after a drunken free-for-all following a gig. Even the ever-steadfast George began making time with another group, the Les Stewart Quartet. For all intents and purposes, the Quarry Men no longer existed as a performing entity.

During this fallow period, the Lennon-McCartney musical partnership formally began. John and Paul would eventually fill a schoolboy’s notebook with songs, most of which the Beatles would never play. A rare handful would eventually make the cut, resurrected in the absence of stronger material. Among these were One After 909, I Call Your Name, I’ll Follow the Sun, and Love Me Do.

Fate conspired to bring the core band back together. Mona Best, wife of boxing promoter Johnny Best, had recently decided to open up a juice bar with live entertainment in the cellar of her home in West Derby. With help from son Peter, an aspiring drummer, and some friends, the Casbah was set to open on that Saturday night with the Les Stewart Quartet.

That very day, a violent fight broke out between the band’s frontman and bassist Ken Brown. The quartet in disarray, Brown was frantic not to lose the job and incur Mona’s wrath. He asked George if he knew anyone who might want to fill in. John and Paul were contacted and jumped at the chance to get a gig.

That night, the Quarry Men were reconstituted and given a residency that would last for seven weeks. Following a dispute with Brown over money, John, Paul, and George withdrew from the booking, only returning to the Casbah in August 1960 as the Silver Beatles.

2

In the Town Where I Was Born: The Liverpool of Beatle Legend

To truly appreciate the achievement that was the Beatles’ success story, one has to know two things: first, compared to life in these United States, English society was (and remains, to a lesser degree) very class-structured. Whatever level of society you were born into, you could expect to remain there for the rest of your life. Not for the Brits is the American Dream mythology of upward mobility, the truth of which is less important than the fact that it is widely believed.

Second, the greater U.K. perception of Liverpool in the early 1960s was roughly akin to how Americans think of, say, Port Arthur, Texas. The ’pool was Hicksville writ large, a stagnant backwater utterly bereft of sophistication and culture. Outsiders mocked the local accent, while the different Liverpool neighborhoods, in a strange sort of caste system, mocked each other’s pronunciation in turn.

Against this setting, one must therefore appreciate the odds against achieving any sort of national renown, much less worldwide stardom. But, like everyone, the Beatles had to start somewhere. The following ten locales (all popular tourist attractions today) take the reader back to where they once belonged.

Mendips, 251 Menlove Avenue

Once the Beatles became established in public consciousness, the legend of their rise to success from the slums took hold; yet only Ringo really came from a background depressed enough to qualify as squalor. John, on the other hand—working class hero nonsense notwithstanding—enjoyed the most prosperous upbringing of any of the Fabs.

Following his mother Julia’s understandable (given her bohemian lifestyle) decision to forego raising her son, John, aged five, was brought to Mendips to live. Middle-class custom of the day mandated the naming of one’s home, and the owners previous to John’s Aunt Mary (a.k.a. Mimi) and Uncle George Smith named their well-appointed house after the Mendip Hills of Somerset, England.

Julia, as well as Paul and eventually George Harrison, whose lower-strata crudity earned Mimi’s disdain, were all frequent visitors at Mendips. Though the group never rehearsed at this house, many a song later recorded by the Fabs would be written here, either by John alone or with Paul.

George and Mimi were otherwise childless, so John was raised as an only child (though he had three half-sisters through Julia and, eventually, two half-brothers through his father). After George died, Mimi took in boarders at Mendips to supplement the household income.

The house’s location in Liverpool’s Woolton placed it close to Brian Epstein’s family home as well as a pair of sites that became well known to Fab aficionados in coming years: St. Peter’s Church and the Strawberry Field orphanage.

Though Mendips was still considered home, in 1960 John moved in with Stuart Sutcliffe for a spell at Gambier Terrace, a communal residence near the art college both attended. Following his 1963 wedding to Cynthia Powell, John left Mimi’s home for good. Two years later, he purchased a home for her in Dorset.

Though years later the National Trust inexplicably declined to purchase the house for preservation (despite having bought Paul’s childhood home), Yoko Ono bought the property and donated it to the state. After full restoration to its 1950s splendor, it opened to the public in 2003.

The McCartney Residence, 20 Forthlin Road

In 1956, the McCartney family—Jim, wife Mary, and sons Paul and Michael—moved into this council house in Liverpool’s Allerton district. Not long after moving in, Mary took ill with cancer and died. Jim mitigated the sadness that threatened to engulf the family with steadfast care for his sons. Music became the preferred escape from their heartache, as sing-alongs around the family’s upright piano (purchased at North End Music Store, or NEMS, from the father of the Beatles’ future manager) filled their evenings.

Though his background as a bandleader certainly made the elder McCartney receptive to his son’s growing interest, he believed music should take second place to Paul’s school responsibilities. But the teen would frequently "sag off’ his classes to make time for songwriting sessions with John at the house on Forthlin Road while Jim was away at work.

Unimaginative in design, but built with large rooms for maximum functionality, the McCartney residence typified the council, or public, housing that had sprung up all over England after the war, replacing destroyed homes while clearing slums. The housing council imposed strict limitations on residents regarding décor and maintenance, as the homes were intended as temporary residences, pending improvements in the occupants’ fortunes.

But on Jim’s cotton salesman salary, chances for upward mobility were remote. Paul would live at Forthlin Road until moving to London in 1964. Meanwhile Michael, later a famous musician in his own right (as Mike McGear) in the Scaffold, began honing a talent for photography while in his teens. It is through his photographs that Beatle fans would one day gain insight into the Quarry Men’s formative years.

The Harrison Residence, 12 Arnold Grove

The McCartney digs on Forthlin were positively palatial compared with the crowded Harrison home where George was born on February 24 (not 25, as many sources report), 1943. A classic two up, two down (referring to the number of rooms per floor), the Wavertree home’s six residents (Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, sister Louise, brothers Harry, Peter, and George) shared an outdoor toilet, a tiny cookstove, and a coal-burning fire for heat. Though living conditions were abysmal by almost any standard, the Harrisons were a tight-knit, loving family.

George’s parents, Harold and Louise, had moved to the house after their 1930 wedding. Nearly twenty years later, the Harrisons moved to much more appropriate housing located at 25 Uptown Green in Speke. It was there in 1958 that the Quarry Men functioned as the wedding band for brother Harry’s nuptials. The Harrisons resided at the Speke address until 1962, just as George was on the cusp of fame.

The Arnold Grove residence is still in existence and still draws the interest of tourists, though apparently its current occupant finds the attention most unwelcome. The National Trust has so far not seen fit to designate either property a landmark.

The Starkey Residence, 9 Madryn Street

Of all the Beatle childhood neighborhoods, the Dingle, where Richard Starkey Jr. entered the world on July 7, 1940, takes top prize for being the most unsavory and dangerous.

Born past his due date, Ritchie would endure shaky health for most of his childhood. At the age of three, his parents split up, with his mother, Elsie, leaving young Ritchie in the care of his paternal grandparents while she worked. The two eventually moved to a two up, two down at 10 Admiral Grove. Here, a neighbor girl named Marie Maguire home-schooled the education-deprived boy.

In time, Elsie married again, to Londoner Harry Graves. The three would live at Admiral Grove until 1963, when the Beatles broke big. (George and Ringo then shared a flat in London before buying their first homes.) A mere twenty yards from their doorstep was a local pub, the site of many an evening’s socializing. The Empress, as it was called, years later graced the cover of Ringo’s first solo album, Sentimental Journey.

As for Madryn Street, Ringo’s birthplace was the subject of much spirited debate throughout 2005 and 2006. City planners came under fire for announcing their intent to raze the home, along with thousands of others, in an attempt to clear the way for new development. As fans around the world protested the move, Ringo himself weighed in, questioning the wisdom of displacing families unable to afford better for themselves.

Strawberry Field Children’s Home

A foretaste of the Sgt. Pepper’s album came with the February 1967 release of the double A-side single Penny Lane / Strawberry Fields Forever. John and Paul’s differing perspectives of their Liverpool background sparked this remarkable pair of tunes. While the latter chose (unsurprisingly) a rather literal invocation of childhood vignettes for Penny Lane, John simply tapped the rich imagery evoked by the name of a familiar locale from his past and built upon it.

The Salvation Army orphanage located just around the corner from Mendips occupied a picturesque Victorian mansion. Opened in 1936, the home hosted an annual carnival, where John and his friends, when not partaking in the festivities, sold bottles of lemonade for a penny apiece.

This idyllic milieu manifested itself in 1966 when John, alone in Spain for the filming of How I Won the War, added an s to the name and created one of the best loved compositions in the Beatles’ catalog (though, it must be noted, it was also the group’s first single since Love Me Do to stall short of the number one slot on the charts, blocked by, of all things, crooner Engelbert Humperdinck’s Release Me).

Naturally, the record’s success gave Liverpool an added attraction for traveling Beatle tourists. Most were satisfied to be photographed in front of the ornate red gates denoting the famous name. The decrepit old manor was razed in 1977, replaced by a nondescript structure dubbed John Lennon Hall.

With the demise of the Casbah Coffee Club in 1962, the Cavern became the place to catch the city’s hottest bands. Lunchtimes, evenings, and weekends, the club was always jumping.

Photo by Max Scheler/Redferns

In 1984, the orphanage came perilously close to being shuttered, but an eleventh-hour