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Thanks from the photographer

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From reading the autograph, I think it is safe to say that Linda McCartney took this photograph.

It's a Hard Day's Night at the National

How it feels to watch a Beatles concert

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So I have been digging through a lot of Teen magazines from 1966-67, looking for any bits of information about the Beatles concert in St. Louis.   And I found this writing in Teen Screen about what it is like to see the Beatles in concert.   When I first read it, I thought it was some strange poetry and didn't give it much of a thought.    Then I read the next issue of Teen Screen and in the editorial section, fans were writing in raving about this story.   Saying how the writer perfectly captured what it was like to see the Beatles in concert.    So I gave it another read, this time with an open mind and while I still found it to be a bit silly, I could picture the girl in the audience and her feelings and thoughts while at a Beatles concert.    And in some aspects they parallel how I felt seeing Paul in concert.   That whole feeling of disbelief that he is there....walking around, singing the songs that have been part of your life.     And so maybe, if you read this and look past of the silly parts, you too can feel what a Beatle fan might have felt between 1963-1966 seeing the Beatles in concert.




How it Feels to watch a Beatle Concert:  an extremely unusual but rather Haunting Thing
By Garret North
Teen Screen Magazine
October 1966

It begins the day you stop just hoping.  They day you will let yourself believe you are finally going to see The Beatles.  Not on a page (Permanent paper smiles).  On a stage. (Moving. Breathing).  When you know this for sure, something new begins…

Then that something begins to tighten.  Like a spring.  It winds slowly, slowly while you wait for the utterly impossible.  At first you think you can’t wait any longer.  Then you know you can’t.  Then you don’t have to because you find yourself walking into the place where it will happen.  You look at the ticket.  But you can’t see it.  You find your seat and try to chatter with good friends whose names suddenly escape you.  You’re like a drum (taut).  Like a cobra (coiled).  And you sit for one hundred years.   You’re lucky, though.  You have to look back to see the maze of faces.  You’re near the stage.  But that’s not so lucky.  It’s empty.  It always been be.  You’re asleep, dreaming.  Or awake, wishing.  The Beatles?  Ridiculous.  They don’t exist.  They’re flat things on an album cover.   Without sides and backs.  Just faces (more faces).  They’re not going to be on that stage any more than they are somewhere behind it.  Going through motions as humans as your own.   Looking in a mirror?  Coughing?  Laughing?  Lighting a cigarette?  Using the bath?  No. (Of course not).  Pictures don’t do any of those things.  Suddenly the lights dim.  There are people on the sage (moving, breathing), Is it them?  No. (Of course not).  An emcee, then a group.  Music blares.  You try to listen.  You can’t.  Something keeps washing over you (in waves).  Thousands of tiny needles jab at all your skin.  The music stops.  You try to applaud.  Your arms won’t work. 

I’m sorry….I’m sorry.  You think those words again and again as the parade of others never seem to stop.  You’re very good.  You’re looking fine.  I’ve bought your records.  But go away (hurry).  Get off the stage (run).  They don’t hear you.  They stay and stay.  Then you know.  You know it just before it happens.  Is it time?  Is it?  Yes, it is (I tell you).  The lights go down, all the way down.  The audience stops squirming and goes breathless.  Emcees multiply in a pool of light (very bright).  Then they say it in several voices.  The words you thought you’d never hear.   “And here they are--- THE BEATLES!”  And there they are.
For a split second , your eyes scrape them just to be sure.  Then several thousand voices roar about love (a kind of welcome).   Yours is one of them.  They answer.   They smile and gesture and straighten guitar straps across strong backs. (They do have them).  Not pictures.  People.  Real enough to touch.  So real you have to.  Your hands reach out but it’s too far.  They are talking to each other.  You strain to hear.  You can’t, so your hands come back.  They cover your ears to shut out everyone’s love but your own.  Soon they’re reedy.  You can tell form fingers poised, prepared to skin knowingly over strings and reach steal to talk.  Then the spring inside you winds a final round.  You want to scream for it to stop (too tight).  But before you can, the spring breaks at the sound of the first chord.  A crash of music.  A collision of you and them as you meet each other half way. 

It’s easier then.   You can think again.  You can hear them better.  They give you music.  Well-worn songs.  Warm familiar  words.  Not coming from a record.  Coming from mouths (lips) and hearts (pounding).   Melodies that are memories as well because they have been the background music of your life.  You can see them better, too. 
 John.  His feet planted defiantly.  Moving with and to his sound.  Peering at you.  Daring you to think he doesn’t know what you’re thinking.  Cool, confident, almost brusque.  But holding a guitar as gently as a lover.
George.  Keeping time with a long, tight-clad leg.  Genius at work (and play).  Straight forward intensity tempered by a quick and crooked grin.  A lean, hard shoulder to press your face against in dreams.

Paul.  So alive you know he will never be old.  Loving you back with a laugh, a wave, a wink.  The fresh-scrubbed cheeky innocence of a boy.  Hair like dark smoke at the crest of a volcano where the fires of a man burn.

Ringo.  A flash of flying sticks and swinging hair.   Completely at home behind a set of drums.  Not so much at home behind a microphone.  Too gentle for that.  The dear man from Dingle.  Tapping out a rhythm that has become the heartbeat of our generation. 

There.  All of them.  Then gone.  All of them.  All of you, too.   It seems that way as they make their famous bow while the screaming begs them to stay (please).  It seems that way when you stare at an empty stage and walk away on someone else’s legs.  But it isn’t that way at all (my friend).  You find this out soon.  All of you is not gone.  There’s more of you instead.  And you can never pass the place where a dream came true without wanting to say thank you.  That something new which began because of them.  Part of it was excitement.  A balloon of anticipation that was destined to burst (and it did).  But part of it was something there are no words for.  Something very quiet and private that made you new, too.  And that part never ends.  It never ends.

It was 50 years ago today: Ringo's tonsils removed

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Yes it was 50 years ago today that Ringo Starr had his tonsils removed and in 1964 this was top news for Beatle fans around the world.    So I thought I would include some photos and news stories from the week that Ringo was in the hospital having his tonsils taken out. 



Ringo Loses Tonsils
Ringo Starr, the Beatles' drummer, had his tonsils removed today in London.   A hospital spokesman said his condition was satisfactory.  Hundreds of fans of the 24  year old mophead telephoned a special number for news of their favorite and heard the news via the recoded voice of Anne Collingham, and employee of the Beatles' manager.  Ringo expects to be in the hospital about 10 days, he said.  He took with him red pajamas, a pink toothbrush, 20 long-playing records, a pack of playing cards and a science-fiction novel.  "One thing is certain," he said, "Nobody is getting my tonsils as a souvenir.  Believe me, I'm going to have them burned. "  When he entered the hospital last night, someone asked Ringo whether the three other members of the "Liverpool string quartet" would be visiting him.  He scoffed:  "Are you kidding?  I'm not married to them..."  Meanwhile, out in Dayton, Ohio, Carole Glauner, a nurse and Mrs. Judy Tardiff, a doctor's assistant, both in their "early 20's" sent Ringo a medal with purple ribbon, it proudly proclaims:  "Medal for bravery:  My tonsils are out."  The girls' doctor employer gives similar medals to children to cheer them up after a tonsillectomy.






 Beatles tell Ringo He sounds "Funny"

London-December 5
The other Beatles visited Ringo Starr in the hospital today and one of them found that Ringo's voice had changed slightly since his tonsils were removed Wednesday.

Starr, 24, drummer of the singing group clutched his throat and said, "It hurts when I laugh."

Beatle George Harrison quipped "You do talk a bit funny."  Ringo's nasal tones were said to be a little clearer now than before the surgery.





Ringo Released
London- December 10
Beatle Ringo Starr left a London hospital today, to the shrieks of 50 adoring girls.  Eight days ago, he had his tonsils removed, then burned to frustrate souvenir hunters.



Tonsil duty

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Fans were on such high alert in early December 1964 when Ringo got his tonsils taken out that the Beatles offical fan club started up a hotline for fans to call to hear a recording about how Ringo is doing after the surgery.   The fan club employees and members worked nonstop to answer calls and sift through the get well cards and gifts for Ringo.   

Paul in his Dungarees

A sea of photographers await

The Long and Winding road

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These photos were taken by Jorie Gracen at the same event that is talked about in this story




The Long and Winding Road
By Maureen Lowry (Beatles Fans Unite fan club)

It took place back in ’95.  Paul and wife, Linda were here in Chicago to promote Linda’s second veggie book.  They would be having a reception at a restaurant downtown.  A friend of mine, who works for a local radio station, called to say that he was positive he could get a couple of passes to get in and meet the couple.

Not believing this could all be true, I went about my business and tried not to think about any more about it.  I had to go out to a bridal shower the same day we were to meet Paul.

My friend still wasn’t sure that morning if we would still be able to go.  I told him I wouldn’t be home, but to contact my husband if he heard any more.  I went to the bridal shower which was miles away from home.  I heard nothing from my husband, so I figured it was over; we wouldn’t go.
As I arrived home later, my husband said that my friend had called and we would be going.
It was all as if I were in a dream.  I did everything so nonchalantly, as if I do it every day.

We arrived at the restaurant, were let in, and were given tastes of Linda’s food.  I was still extremely calm.  Suddenly, off in the corner, I saw camera’s flashing.  All my dreams came true as “he” entered the room with Linda.  And for the first time in my life, he was only a few steps away!  Immediate tears came to my eyes, but not wanting Paul to think I was a “lunatic”, I held back the emotions.
He stood almost directly in front of us, and began receiving his guests.  As we waited to walk up to him, I was talking to my friend, but could “feel” that someone was looking right at me!  I glanced over to Paul, and found this—it was HE who was looking directly at me!  Our eyes met, and he winked at smiled and nodded his head.  Wow, he noticed me!

It was now our turn to meet him.  I stood right at his left side, while my friend, who had met him before started talking to him.  I just stood there, trying my best to take in everything about him, all the while “shaking in my boots!”

Suddenly , I heard my friend say, “Paul, I want you to meet my friend, Maureen.”

He looked right at me, held out his hand, and I shook it.  Then I told him about our fan club, “Beatles Fans Unite” and he said, “Hey, that’s cool!”  I also mentioned to him that I am an artist, and he asked what kind of art I enjoy doing. 

Though my favorite art is drawing the Beatles, I didn’t want to bring up “that” name, not knowing if he would appreciate it or not, so I dumbfoundly just said, “Uh, I like drawing, YOU!”

He laughed so hard and once again responded with “cool!”  I then proceeded to ask him if he would mind autographing a photo of himself that I had brought along.  He very kindly agreed, and added that he was happy to have met me. 

I actually believe that my “blunder” about my drawing made him feel at ease and gave him a  bit of a laugh.

We stayed a bit longer, and I just couldn’t stop watching his every move.  I didn’t get the opportunity to actually meet Linda, as they were moving things along too fast, but she seemed so sweet and some who had met her agreed that she was a very friendly lady.

Paul was wonderful, friendly, funny and very handsome!   It is a time I will forever cherish!

When I arrived home later, I began to tell my husband and children all that had happened, but as I did, all the pent up emotions came flowing.  I broke down and cried, but they were tears of extreme happiness!!

Now each time I see the photo with his signature, I am reminded of my dream come true.

On the way to Rishikesh

Cringe worthy in Germany

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No offense to our German friends, but every time I hear any of the press conferences from the 1966 German tour it makes me cringe.   The questions were just awful and the Beatles were obviously pretty fed up with the silly questioning by that time.   John looks particularly annoyed in these photos.

Copenhagen Beatlemania

McCartney's good side

Vintage Venus and Mars review

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This past month Paul re-released two classic Wings albums:  Venus and Mars and Speed of Sound.   I was extremely lucky for once in my life and I won both of these album through a contest at the Fab 4 Free For All.   I really got into Wings in the past 10 years and I never owned these albums, although I have been familiar with all of the songs on them.    I just had never heard them packed as an album.    I have been enjoying them, but I especially like Venus and Mars.     I found this review from a fanzine written in 1975, when Venus and Mars was first released and I thought it was really interesting to read.   The perspective in 1975 was quite different than today and I thought it was worth a read.









McCartney’s Interplanetary Nonsequitur:  Venus & Mars
By Jim Bollinger
The New Beatles Fan club
Vol II #6

Paul McCartney has spent the last year or so reforming his band which ran out on him, and has also been doing some running of his own, all over the US of A.  During this time, he rode the waves of the success caused by his platinum LP, Band on the Run, and only turned out one new bit of music in all of 1974, and that was only a two-sided single. 

Although “Junior’s Farm” did moderately well on the record chart, it was generally overlooked, and overshadowed by hits from two of Paul’s former partners.  I personally felt “Sally G,” the single’s B-side, held out some promise for Paul and his clipped Wings; the lyrics held together well and the Country & Western format showcased wife Linda’s whining voice rather well.
Anyway, that single seemed to indicate that Paul’s latest musical bent was more toward Roy Clark than the Beatles.  This is mainly what I expected from Venus and Mars.  What I got, however, is an entirely different mater.

Venus and Mars is a slick package of music which shows that Paul did more in New Orleans than clown in the Mardi Gras and watch the Super Bowl.  In fact, and surprisingly so, this entire album is thick withi the New Orleans jazz-rock.  And the performance of the reborn Wings is perhaps the most delightful aspect of this new LP.

Venus and Mars is perhaps the prettiest sounding album by any of the one-time Fab Four since Side Two of Abbey Road.  Of course, this hasn’t the impact or sterling quality to come really close to Abbey Road, but the comparison may still be considered valid. 

McCartney, in an attempt to duplicate the successful semi-concept of his last LP, appears to be kicking a dead horse in trying to conjure a concept out of nothingness; the result is the poorest song on the album, the title cut.  And then Paul has the temerity to compound this crime by inserting a reprise of this filler on Side Two (where it does, however, sound a little better).  

The second song on the album kicks off what seems like a string of very subtle McCartney-style (remember RAM?) references to his ex-partners and their various relationships.  “Rock Show” contains some glaringly obvious references to George Harrison (“Come on, get your wig on straight; we can’t be late”;  “he looks a lot like a guy I knew way back when” “with the Philly (as opposed to L.A. perhaps) band,”  etc.), with a few possible remarks about David Bowie, too.  It is, however, a pretty fair rocker with a section that sounds lifted from Lennon’s old “Hey Bulldog.”

“Magneto and Titanium Man” may be a cleverly-disguised retort to accusations that Linda has ruined his music:  “and then it occurred to me/You couldn’t be bad…/You were the law.”  IN any case, it’s too self-consciously silly to be serious about its silliness.  Completing this string of ambiguous songs is the albums concluding medley “Treat her Gently/Lonely Old People”  Note the first two verse:  “Treat her gently/Treat her kind/She doesn’t even know her own mind/Treat her simply/Take it slow/Make it easy/And let her know/You’ll never find another way.”  That’s Paul McCartney advice to the lovelorn if I ever heard any.  But who’s the lovelorn?  John Lennon? Since the song was most likely written before the Lennons’ reunion, anything is possible.  Then examine the second part of the song”  “Here we sit/ Out of breath/ and nobody asked us to play.”  This may be construed by some as referring to Paul and John and the fate of the Beatles, due largely to the nebulous lyrics and the presence of a guitar complete with that teardrop sound straight off Lennon’s #9 Dream.

In other songs, the aforementioned New Orleans influence is unmistakable.  “Letting Go” is fine and funky, with one shortcoming – Linda’s background vocals come through a little too clearly.  Paul and Wings’ latest hit single, the slick “Listen to what the man said,” is a song with which even Rolling Stone could find no fault.  Other New Orleans-influenced songs with a nice sound are:  “Medicine Jar,” my personal favorite, penned by the cut’s lead singer, new Wings guitarist, Jimmy McCulloch.  It’s a refreshing song; spunky and well-played, with lyrics that can stand well with most McCartney compositions.  Then there’s “Spirits of Ancient Egypt,” which starts out well, dripped with Jim Stafford-type swamp mystery before its effect is destroyed by that silly bridge about Egypt and Rome.

Other influences evident on the album are historical.  On “You Gave me the Answer,”  McCartney hails back to his White Album days in a cut very reminiscent of “Honey Pie,” with traces of “When I’m 64” thrown in for good measure.  Another is “Call me Back Again,” a fine take-off of Rhythm & Blues which sounds hauntingly like Lennon’s “Yer Blues.”

McCartney is not yet, however, quite up to par he set with the Beatles, especially lyrically.  The words accompanying the ofttimes splendid music are usually anything but intelligent, and a few may be considered among the worst Paul has yet produced.  Some of them are so close to the “moon-June-spoon” school of writing (of which McCartney is Crown Prince) that it borders on absurdity:  “Any time, any day/ You can hear the people say/ That love is blind, well, I don’t know/ but I say love is kind.”  Really!

And there’s Paul’s subject matter: who is this man we are or are not supposed to listen to?  What do Venus & Mars have to do with a sports arena or a cathedral?   Why would Lucifer shine, looking like snow in a Broadway show?  And how do Egyptian and roman spirits get into a love song about now?  Those are but a few of the many unanswered questions the alert listeners poses after monitoring Venus and Mars.

With Venus and Mars, Paul McCartney’s music is finally beginning to assume direction and dimension.  At last, he seems to have settled into a sonance he likes enough to cultivate.  (Wings is given full credit for its work on the album, and shine through on Denny Laine’s guitar-work, with fine performance by the rest, too).  Of course, with this new turn of events, McCartney may alienate some of his accustomed audience, but at least he has enough guts to try, anyway.

Venus and Mars is a nice album –even a good album.  It’s narrower in scope than Band on the run, and in several other ways doesn’t measure up to that coup; but it is slicker and glossier than its predecessor and succeeds in an entirely different manner.   McCartney has followed up the greatest solo success reasonably well with this album.  His weaknesses still glare through the glossiness, but it has gotten to the point where one simply allows for them and enjoys the music.  Besides, it’s possible that the “Crossroads” with Paul ends the album may have more significance than its muzak-filler appearance would indicate.

Gray hairs showing

Kinfauns walk (prepaint)


PC in HK

The Yellow Sub girl

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Our good friend, "Since 1963" sent in this great photo of an old girlfriend and one of my favorite Yellow Submarine posters!    Thanks for thinking of MTBFR!    I love it!

BB-C ya

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All photos belong to Graeme Leonard and are here with permission


Friend of this blog, Graeme Leonard, sent in these photos that he took of Paul McCartney at the BBC in London in December of 1985.   I really love them!   Look at that yellow sweater!   And the top one is funny.   Thank you Graeme!!!

Clay in Color

Bridge Work

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