by Larry Kane
In later years, Paul offered compliments to Stuart. In 2001, in an article published in Beatlefan magazine, Paul said, in a 1964 quote referring to guitar talent, that “Stuart . . . was a great bass man.” George Harrison, back in Liverpool after the first disastrous trip to Hamburg, pleaded with Stuart to come back to Liverpool and pick up where he left off, on the bass guitar.
If there truly was a shortage of talent, the fans never complained, especially when Stu sang “Love Me Tender.”
But musical issues aside, Stuart Sutcliffe was the all-time male best friend of John Lennon. Stuart and John were hard to separate—their conversations about life and love, anxiety, promise, and fear of failure would last for hours. They both loved art as well as music.
Stuart’s artistic acumen rubbed off on John in more ways than one. Yoko Ono smiles warmly when she talks about John’s recollections of Stu Sutcliffe. In some ways, she tells this author, it was Stu’s influence as an artist that led John to her.
IN THE EARLY DAYS I THINK HE REALLY HAD A VERY DEEP KIND OF EXCHANGE AND GOT A LOT OUT OF STU SUTCLIFFE. . . . HE SAID THAT STU WAS SOMEBODY THAT HE REALLY CARED FOR . . . HE WAS INTO STU. HE WAS KIND OF FEELING THAT ARTISTIC KIND OF THING FOR STU, AND THEN HE HAD TO BE A ROCKER. SO YOU KNOW, IN SOME WAYS HE WAS THINKING, “OH YEAH, WELL YOU KNOW, ACTUALLY, I’M AN ARTIST,” OR WHATEVER. YOU KNOW, IN HIS SOUL HE WAS THINKING HE WAS DOING SOMETHING THAT WAS NOT AS CLASSY AS WHAT HE SHOULD, HE COULD BE DOING, YOU KNOW. SO THEN, YOU KNOW, HE CAME TO THE GALLERY AND I’M DOING AN ART SHOW. . . . IT WAS LIKE A BIT LIKE THAT.
When asked if Stu may have played a subconscious role in John’s attraction to Yoko, she replies, “Well, Stu was an artist, I was an artist, you know? There’s a bit of a connection there.”
Stuart Sutcliffe in his art and heart was anti-establishment. He titillated John and inspired him to become a better artist, and in return, John heated up the fire against all forms of authority. Eventually the respect turned to mutual and deep affection and love. They told each other the truth, sometimes painfully. And Pauline Sutcliffe witnessed it up close.
I THINK THEY BOTH ABSOLUTELY LOVED ONE ANOTHER FOR VERY OBVIOUS REASONS, YOU KNOW, AND WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT SAME-SEX RELATIONSHIPS NOW—MORE ABOUT THAT LATER. WE’RE TALKING ABOUT INTIMACY BETWEEN MEN. STUART WAS THE PERSONIFICATION OF EVERYTHING JOHN WANTED TO BE, AND JOHN WAS THE PERSONIFICATION OF THAT PART OF MY BROTHER THAT HE WAS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH. MY BROTHER WAS A VERY, VERY SOPHISTICATED ANARCHIST AS A PAINTER. HE HAD ANTI-AUTHORITY ISSUES THAT CAME OUT IN THE MOST EFFECTIBLE WAY—LIKE WHEN HE WAS TOLD THAT ART STUDENTS CAN ONLY PRODUCE WORK FROM THIRTY-BY-SIXTEEN-INCH CANVASES, HE WOULD PAINT ON SIX-FEET-BY-FIVE-FEET CANVASES. THAT’S A FORM OF ANARCHIST. THAT’S NOT GOING WITH THE RULES. IT’S CLEAR FROM THE MANUSCRIPT THAT I’VE SHOWN YOU BEFORE [STUART’S PERSONAL WRITINGS ABOUT JOHN] THAT HE ALSO FOUND JOHN’S WAY OF EXPRESSING HIS ANARCHY, UH, WORRYING, PUZZLING, NOT PARTICULARLY ACCEPTABLE, AND WHEN YOU READ ON IN IT, YOU CAN SEE THAT HE’S TRYING TO CHANNEL HIM INTO USING HIS CREATIVE ENERGY IN A CREATIVE WAY RATHER THAN A DESTRUCTIVE WAY.
The destruction of Stuart Sutcliffe is still one of the greatest mysteries in the history of the boys. And the exact reason for his physical demise remains one of the great controversies in the life of John Lennon.
Stuart’s problems began on the night of January 30, 1961. The group was playing at Latham Hall, Seaforth, Liverpool, when a group of toughs attacked Stuart as he helped load equipment in the rear of the hall. He was kicked and punched so hard in the stomach and head that he was covered with blood before Pete Best arrived to battle the roughnecks, with John Lennon soon joining in. It was not uncommon for the boys to face the wrath of so-called Teddy Boys, the slick blue-collar street boys who made it their business to threaten artists and performers, especially the good-looking ones who vied for the attention of the girls. This beating was especially brutal, but the only real casualty was John, who broke a finger The impact on Stuart’s long-term health is really unknown.
A few months later, another beating would allegedly come at the hands and feet of the man he respected most. It was a late night in Hamburg during the band’s second visit to Germany. John was extremely frustrated by demands by George and Paul that Stuart leave the group. He was also pressured by Stuart’s obsession with Astrid and his disenchantment with performing. That night, Stuart told John he would leave the band and study art, a mission he would begin in July. In a drunken rage, John Lennon beat Stuart Sutcliffe to a pulp, punching and flagging at him and kicking him repeatedly in the head. As Stuart lay there in pain, Paul McCartney tried in vain to break it up, but did manage to get him home, even as John ran from the scene. The description of the beating was relayed from Stuart to his sister Pauline, who notes that doctors say Stuart’s death was caused by an indentation in his skull, the result of a trauma like a punch or a kick.
Paul’s attempt to save him seemed to work, at least for a while. But in time, the headaches increased, and he suffered greatly.
Conflicts abound over the events leading to his death, and the uncertainty remains today. Some historians, such as Bill Harry, insist that Stuart’s injuries resulted from a fall down the steps of Astrid’s house.
Harry believes that there was no such beating. “John Lennon never beat up Stuart Sutcliffe or had a fight with him,” Harry insists. Others say the Teddy Boys’ beating was a key factor, while some believe John’s beating contributed as well. But whatever the cause, the loss of Stuart was, in truth, less impactful to the others musically than artistically. The exception was John, who never quite got over it.
Stuart’s death cast a brief pall over the Beatles’ rise to fame. He died on April 10, 1962, the victim of a brain hemorrhage. The Beatles did not learn of his death until Astrid met them at the airport as they arrived on April 13 for their triumphant third visit to Hamburg.
Although the Beatles praised Stuart in Hunter Davies’s biography of them in 1968, it would take decades for the potential causes of his death to surface. The story, so many years later, remains a mystery. But it also took decades for people to understand the real story of his impact on the group’s success: a lesson in raw sex appeal, a progressive, forward-looking perspective of life in the moment, the talent of a gifted artist, and a stylistic personality that accented modernism. He is, in this corner, a most underrated influence on their overall success. Like his dramatic oil on canvas that has infatuated the contemporary art world, Stuart’s influence on the future stars was emphatic.
I never met the man, but scores of people I spoke with on the Liverpool scene did. Like Astrid Kirchherr, they fell in love with his quiet grace and boyish charisma.
His death may have also left behind an unsolved mystery in the remaining eighteen years of John Lennon’s life.
Like others, researcher and author Ron Ellis wonders what impact Stuart’s death had on John in his remaining years.
“It may be something John Lennon regretted for the rest of his life, not that he struck the blows that killed, but that he thought he might have.”
Whatever the real cause of his physical demise, the young and beautiful Stuart Sutcliffe left behind treasures of art, and a real living legacy. Like others after him, he gave the Beatles a sense of knowledge about the world around them, especially the forms of art, and the dimensions of extra-modern fashion, that Brian Epstein added to their look later on in his historic makeover.
In 1961, though, still in their jeans and leather jackets, they carried on in Hamburg, where other influences were ever present, and unlikely friends provided bountiful gifts.
CHAPTER TEN
HAMBURG PART 2—“LOVE ME DO”
“Sometimes they had loose tongue. I was so strict . . . that’s why Lennon, the leader, called me a ‘Nazi bastard.’”
—Horst Fascher, the Beatles’ friend and protector
“‘Love Me Do,’ Larry, wasn’t the best song we ever wrote.
But it really put us out front.”
—Paul
McCartney, to the author, three years after the song was recorded
WITH THE EXCEPTION OF GEORGE HARRISON’S ATTEMPTS TO CARE FOR JOHN’S GRIEF, THE BEATLES, as a group, filed away Stuart’s death as they continued their Hamburg journeys.
The boys were fresh and invigorated when—already well known in Britain—they were greeted as celebrities upon arrival back in Hamburg for a third visit, this time at the Star Club, in April 1962, primarily because of the guile and energy of Horst Fascher.
During a visit to Liverpool, the sometime bouncer, club manager, and rock enthusiast convinced Brian Epstein, now the Beatles’ manager, that the Star Club would be the most famous club in Hamburg. “The Enforcer”—the man who had shielded them and protected them when they escaped Bruno Koschmider on the first trip—was waiting with open arms, not to mention rules.
Horst Fascher was now the boss at the Star Club, an arrangement that had sent him to Liverpool to make the deal with Epstein, one of his big contributions as part of the “Fearsome Foursome,” coming up in the next chapter. Sitting in his home today, not far from the Reeperbahn, Fascher, proud of his friendship with the boys, shows me the picture of the Fabs at the Star Club, and remembers the mood as he brought them to the Star.
“They still were not confident and wild. I had been given a chance to run a club that booked a thousand people a night, so I told them, ‘No drunken musicians on stage.’ I told them, ‘Don’t go on the stage with street clothing; I want you not drunk. . . . ’ Sometimes they had loose tongue. I was so strict . . . that’s why Lennon, the leader, called me a ‘Nazi bastard,’” Fascher recalls, laughing.
He may laugh now, though at the time the slur hurt a little. But Fascher had a thick skin. He never told John that his parents had helped hide some German Jews in Hamburg during the war. His attitude was, as he says now, “Keep the boys happy, to a point.”
But today, as yesterday, he is fascinated about the dynamics of the group, how much better they were on stage in their return to Hamburg in 1962. Remember, this was the same Horst Fascher who had wrangled John and a young woman off of their transformed love sofa, a toilet seat, on their first visit to Hamburg. He loved John, even his brashness.
IT WAS JOHN. HE HAD THE BIGGEST MOUTH. WHEN JOHN SAID SOMETHING, PAUL ALWAYS AGREED. HE NEVER SPOKE AGAINST JOHN WHEN WE WERE THERE . . . MAYBE LATER ON WHEN THEY WERE BY THEMSELVES; I DON’T KNOW. NEVER IN FRONT. NEVER ARGUMENTS BETWEEN THEM ABOUT HAVING DECISIONS MADE. GEORGE WAS A YOUNG GUY, HE HAD NO MEANING AT THAT TIME. SHY. [HE] WAS A GREAT PLAYER . . . HAD LITTLE TO SAY. PETE, THE DRUMMER, HAD NOTHING TO SAY. IT WAS ALL JOHN. BUT PETE WAS THE MOST-LIKED GUY IN THE BAND. HE WAS SO GOOD-LOOKING, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. THE GIRLS REALLY LIKED HIM, ALTHOUGH HE NEVER HAD MUCH TO SAY.
So, from Horst Fascher we get more confirmation that Paul McCartney laid low in 1962 and even later, in 1963, when the band members were sleeping in beds and not close to the aroma of toilets. But we also get a glimpse of Paul’s constant need to be writing, to be creative, and to seek validation for his work.
Paul was eager for a man like Fascher to listen to a new creation. With deep respect and affection for the former boxer and big music fan, Paul approached Fascher one night.
ONE DAY PAUL CAME TO ME AND ASKED ME, “HORST, WE WROTE A NEW SONG. DO YOU MIND TO LISTEN TO IT?” BECAUSE THEY GAVE VERY MUCH OF MY POSITION. THEY WERE ASKING, “WAS THE SHOW GOOD?” THEN I WAS SAYING, “I LIKE YOUR SHOW, GUYS. GOOD. FANTASTIC.” I SAID, “YES, I DON’T MIND TO LISTEN TO IT,” AND PAUL TOOK HIS ACOUSTIC GUITAR AND SAT DOWN ON A BACKSTAGE CHAIR SOMEWHERE AND WAS PLAYING “LOVE, LOVE ME DO.” . . . I INTERRUPTED HIM BEFORE THE SONG WAS FINISHED AND SAID, “PAUL, IT’S BETTER YOU STAY TO ROCK ’N’ ROLL; I DON’T LIKE THAT.” AND HE WAS DISAPPOINTED. I SAW HIS FACE, NEVER AGAIN LIKE THAT. IS IT POSSIBLE THE HORST SAYS THAT? IT WAS ALL TOO SOFT.
Paul looked devastated. He graciously thanked Fascher and thankfully didn’t take the advice to stay with the raw rock ’n’ roll that the Enforcer loved.
Paul was disappointed, but he and Lennon decided to bring “Love Me Do” to a recording studio at some point anyway. It was a decision they would never regret.
“‘Love Me Do,’ Larry, wasn’t the best song we ever wrote. But it really put us out front,” Paul told me on the 1965 Beatles tour.
“Out front” was an understatement.
“In Hamburg we clicked. At the Cavern we clicked. But if you want to know when we knew we’d arrived,” John Lennon told me, “it was getting in the charts with ‘Love Me Do.’ That was the one. It gave us somewhere to go.”
“Love Me Do,” released on October 5, 1962, was the Beatles’ first single. It carried with it some unusual history. It reached number seventeen in Great Britain. It fared better in the United States later, where it was a number-one hit in the glory year of 1964. But in 1962, it was the song that kick-started the Beatles. And most of it was penned in Liverpool and Hamburg.
While Fascher interacted with Paul, his relationship with John was much more intense, filled with moments of laughter and friction, but also trust.
“Yes. He played the leader for me; in my face he was the leader,” Fascher explains. “That’s why he recorded his record in ’62 live at the Star Club, which was recorded by Kingsize Taylor and our stage manager, Adrian Barber. I was singing on that record. You know that?
“After we recorded it, we would go back to the Beatles, the three of us, and ask them, ‘What can we do with the tape?’ John was saying, ‘Go ahead, you do what you want.’ So I made a record out of it.”
The recording of the Beatles playing “Love Me Do” live at the Star Club was done on a low-fidelity home tape recorder. Ted “Kingsize” Taylor, one of England’s giants of rock ’n’ roll, recorded several other Beatles’ performances around that time, but it would take him fifteen years to get past legal issues and release the recordings as a double album in 1977, with the title Live! at the Star-Club in Hamburg, Germany; 1962.
It is coincidental that Taylor, who was swept away by Epstein and the Beatles, would have recorded their early performances in Hamburg. Did he know then that, fifty years later, the musical pundits would compare the groups side by side?
Curiously, remembering their first trip to Hamburg and Fascher’s gravitating toward them, protecting them at the Star Club, they constantly asked for reinforcement—but not just physically. Even though Paul and the others rejected Fascher’s critique of “Love Me Do,” they also always wanted to know if he liked their show, and the music. He was a wonderful muse to the group, a man who never allowed his affection to stand in the way of his honesty.
In fact, Fascher was not afraid to give his opinion, and he may have been one of the influences, along with Klaus Voorman, to encourage the Beatles to abandon their skiffle roots.
“When they played at the Indra in those first concerts, everything they did was a mix. They played too much ‘scrammel’ music,” Fascher says.
“Scrammel?” I ask.
“Yes. Scrammel. Skiffle. They thought Lonnie Donegan was Elvis. All that washboard stuff. Yes, they liked Lonnie Donegan. Lonnie Donegan was like Elvis in America. Every English boy that bought a guitar followed Lonnie Donegan. Then he came to Hamburg, and I had already heard some rock ’n’ roll bands like Derry [and the Seniors], Tony [Sheridan], and things like that. I was saying, after listening to five, six, seven songs of them, this is too much washboard.”
The Liverpool days of washboards and banjos and antique drum sets, with the Quarrymen, so innocent-looking staring sheepishly at a crowd of kids, were over. The halls were getting bigger in Merseyside, thanks to promoters like Brian Kelly and Sam Leach, and the first months of Brian Epstein’s reign. And once again, the boys seemed to grow with bigger crowds. They worked the long, grueling hours, but like any artist, the more they played, the more they accelerated their growth process.
Allan Williams believes that Hamburg, at all levels, was a finishing school for the Beatles.
“Oh, yes. Hamburg was thei
r schooling for the future,” Williams says. “You used to work seven nights a week, and the playing time was between six and eight hours a night. You ask a group now to play six hours and they can’t even play an hour. Groups still say to me, ‘How do you become a Beatle?’ I said, ‘Go to Hamburg, go work in a club for six or seven nights a week, and see how you last.’”
If the Kaiserkeller was a rude awakening for the Beatles, the work at the Top Ten and Star Club were the real finishing schools that Allan Williams is talking about. Changes in dress and professionalism did not come quickly in Hamburg.
The boys returned to Hamburg later in 1962, this time with Ringo Starr on the drums. The new drummer’s arrival was another major element, for better or worse—at first, most definitely, for worse, with the drummer still adapting to life without his old band, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes.
But even the promising Beatles needed help along the way.
So in between the first visit to Hamburg in 1960 and the fourth visit in 1962, there was a cavalcade of friends who left their imprint on the Beatles in many unusual and striking ways—some with art and style, and another, as you already know, with fists. Their individual stories, and how they relate to the boys, are almost as interesting as the ascent of the tough and untested boys from Liverpool.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE FEARSOME FOURSOME
“Larry, so it is one day and I passed a club, and it was an American group, and I listened and it [was] really good, even though, at the time, I didn’t understand the words.”
