Beatles Are People Just Like You and I
By Karen Christianson
The Albert Lea Tribune
September 2, 1965
Part 3 of 3
Before the end of the last number, Chris and I ran to her car. As we neared the gate where it was parked, a small green and white laundry truck sped past, followed by a limousine. We later learned that the Beatles were in the laundry truck and that a Minneapolis band had been used as a decoy in the limousine. Ringo sat in the front seat of the truck wearing a laundry cap, and the others were hidden in the back.
The fans would not believe that the Beatles had left the stadium, and they pounded on the gate until they broke through. The security police quickly shoved them back, telling them that The Beatles were gone.
Chris and I waited for Mr. Glass, and when he finally appeared, He was accompanied by Don Short and Chris Hutchins, two men closely associated with the Beatles who work for the London Daily Mirror. Mr. Hutchins wore his hair rather long, and as we drove through the gates, fans jumped on the car, pounded the windows, and pulled wildly at the locked doors with cries of "Ringo's in there. I know he is!""I can see him!" We were all terrified. With horns blaring to clear the way before us, we drove through the mob and left the stadium.
From there, we slowly made our way in heavy traffic to the Lemmington Motor Hotel, where the Beatles had taken the entire fifth floor for themselves and their entourage. After telling the security police that we were with the Beatles' party. Mr. Short and Mr. Hutchins asked us to wait in the lobby until they could arrange for us to meet the Beatles.
We waited for several hours, then they appeared and motioned us into the elevator, which took us to the fifth floor. Security Officer at the elevator was shown Mr. Short and Mr. Hutchins credentials, and was told that we were with the Beatles' party. He let us pass. We walked to the end of the long corridor.
We were admitted into room 550 and, on shaking legs, we stood face to face with John, Paul, George, and Ringo. They were sprawled casually across the two double beds, watching a James Stewart Western on television.
I uttered a rather weak "Hello." They all looked up, grinned, and John said, "Hello, come in and sit down if you can find a place." Louise Harrison Caldwell, Georgia's older sister, was sitting in the only chair. So Chris and I sat at the end of Ringo's bed with Ringo's feet between us.
John and Ringo were dressed in matching sweatshirts. Paul badly needed a shave, and George's hair was quite untidy. Other than that, all the Beatles impressed me as being much better looking in person than in their pictures. They have fair complexions, no blemishes, and are slightly built. Paul has the darkest brown hair of the four, and George has the thickest British accent.
I asked Ringo if he liked to watch television. And he answered, "Yeah, I do." Then, I asked him if he liked American television programs. He said, "Yeah, I really like those westerns, you know." Incidentally, the Beatles' next movie is going to be a Western.
Paul asked us if we would each like one of his British cigarettes as a souvenir. It is a rare brand manufactured in South Africa. Of course, we said, "Yes." Paul impressed me as being the most polite Beatle. George asked us if we were hungry. Neither of us had eaten all day, so we gladly accepted the sandwiches and orange juice they gave us.
Once, I went to the window to look down at the crowd of patient fans five stories below. Immediately, they began to scream, "There's a Beatle. It's John.""No, it's George.""Oh, it's Paul. Paul!" I quickly withdrew my head.
We watched more television and chatted until a security officer asked us to leave so that the Beatles could rest up for their trip to Portland, Oregon. Chris and I said goodbye to the Beatles and reluctantly left the room.
My impression of them has changed slightly. There are four very nice, polite young men, but I now realize that the Beatles are real people, just like everyone else. They are neither Gods nor idols. Any fascination with them that I had before I met them is now completely gone. I no longer consider myself a true fan. I still enjoy their music, but I consider myself only a casual observer of their phenomenal career.
At times, the experience of meeting them seems unreal, like a faraway dream, but it was not a dream that I met, touched, and talked to the fabulous Beatles; it was very, very real.