Was John gay? A question mark has been set against his sexuality. As noted, Pauline Sutcliffe has suggested John had a love affair of sorts with her brother, Stuart; while John’s school friend Pete Shotton has affirmed that John told him he’d had sexual contact with Brian Epstein in Spain. Shotton says John told him Brian had made a pass at him on holiday, John’s response being to drop his trousers and invite his manager to ‘stick it up me fucking arse then’. Brian said this wasn’t quite what he had in mind, so John masturbated him. This is only relevant in as much as what stock Paul McCartney puts in such stories about his best friend and, on balance, he rejects suggestions John was homosexual, not least because he and John spent countless nights together in hotels on the road, ‘and there was never any hint that he was gay’. Certainly the suggestion has never been made about McCartney himself.
SHE LOVES YOU
John behaved loutishly at Paul’s 21st, but considering the pressure the Beatles were under it is hardly surprising they let off steam occasionally. The next day the boys had to be back in London to appear on BBC radio, and hardly a day passed during the months ahead without a radio or television broadcast, personal appearance, recording session or concert. They worked like dogs and as they did so the Beatles refined their image. Paul was instrumental in this as in so many of the changes the band went through. Just before Christmas the Beatles visited Dougie Millings, a Soho tailor who dressed many celebrities, and McCartney worked with him on designs for new stage suits. ‘Between my father and Paul McCartney, they started sketching, and the idea of the round-neck suit came into being,’ comments Gordon Millings. This was a twist on a Pierre Cardin design, a distinctive suit with braided edges, bell cuffs and pearl buttons. Worn over shirt and tie, the suits were very light, suitable for stage work, and became an important part of the Beatles’ look.
Some of the gigs the Beatles were performing during their now rapid rise to the top assume greater significance in retrospect, such as when they played the Plaza Ballroom, Old Hill, on Friday 5 July 1963, on a bill with Denny and the Diplomats. The front man, genial brummie Denny Laine, helped Paul form Wings in the 1970s. Then, in early August, the Beatles played their last show at the Cavern, two and a half years after they first got up on the stage that Paul’s Uncle Harry had built. Their following had grown considerably during that time, boys and girls queuing down Mathew Street to get into the club for their last appearances.9 ‘To see people like that, with their hur like that, it was looking at Martians, like looking at something from another planet,’ recalls schoolboy fan Willy Russell, who became a notable playwright and associate of Paul’s in later years. ‘You just knew the world had changed.’ As ever, though, it was the girls who were most affected by the Beatles, and there was a sense of bereavement after they played their final show at the club. ‘The best time really to me was the Beatles before they became famous,’ says Frieda Kelly, Cavern-goer turned NEMS employee, where she was now mailing signed photos of the boys to fans across the UK, thus working, ironically, to distance the boys from original fans like herself. ‘We wanted them to become famous, but as soon as they became famous you knew you’d lost them, lost the good side of them, the close contact.’
John and Paul wrote their next hit on the road, inspired by a Bobby Rydell number, ‘Forget Him’. Paul: ‘I’d planned an “answering” song where a couple of us would sing “She loves you …” and the other one answers, “Yeah, yeah.” We decided that that was a crumby idea as it was, but at least then we had the idea for a song called “She Loves You”.’ The single had the energy, directness and undercurrent of sex that characterises the Beatles’ early hits, the lyric referring to a triangular relationship in which a young man is telling a male friend about a girl who loves him. The refrain was banal - ‘Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!’ - but John and Paul’s harmonising was irresistible. George Martin was initially doubtful about the song ending on a sixth, an interval in the harmony, which sounded like a musical cliché to his experienced ears.
I loved it but when they ended the phrase on a sixth, as they do with the harmonies, it was a bit like Glenn Miller, and I said [to myself], I wonder if they are doing the right thing here. ‘Isn’t this a bit unhip, laddeys?’ They looked at me as though I was mad. And Paul said, ‘It’s great! It’s great!’ I said, ‘I’ve heard it so many times before.’ He said, ‘We haven’t, and nobody else our age has either!’ So they stuck with it.
Paul was right. Released at the end of August, ‘She Loves You’ went directly to number one.
As their fourth single rode high in the charts the Beatles grabbed another quick holiday, Paul and Jane travelling to Greece with Ritchie and his Liverpool girlfriend, Maureen Cox. Around the same time, John finally took Cynthia on honeymoon, to Paris. Photographs from the Greek vacation show Paul and Jane, and Ritchie and Mo, behaving much as any young couple abroad might, having a laugh, getting sunburnt, snogging in the back seat of a tour coach wearing silly Greek hats. With Jane, a trip to Greece had to involve culture, so after they booked into the Acropole Palace in Athens the foursome trooped up to the Parthenon. ‘I remember going around the Parthenon three times - I think to keep Jane happy - and it was really tiring,’ grumbled Ringo.
When they returned to the UK, the Beatles started to live in London full time, all four men initially sharing a flat in Green St, Mayfair,10 within walking distance of the night clubs, restaurants and pubs of Soho and the West End. Jane Asher’s house in Wimpole Street and the EMI studios were a short cab ride away. Paul soon got to know his way around Central London, often walking and using the bus and underground. If he avoided places where fans knew to congregate, and kept moving, he found that he could get about without limousines or bodyguards, though he had access to a chauffeur-driven car when he needed it.
One of the addresses Paul visited regularly was Brian’s new office in Monmouth Street, Covent Garden. NEMS Enterprises had grown like Topsy in the wake of the Beatles’ breakthrough as Brian signed up a roster of other Liverpool artists that included Gerry and the Pacemakers, Cilla Black and Billy J. Kramer, plus lesser names such as Tommy Quickly, a young telephone engineer who’d caught the impresario’s eye. Rather like Larry Parnes, Epstein sometimes picked his boy clients by their looks. Still, he achieved a remarkable success rate. When Gerry and the Pacemakers released the Beatles’ reject ‘How Do You Do It?’ in March 1963, it went to number one, as did the Pacemakers’ next two singles. Brian was also in the fortunate position of being able to offer Lennon-McCartney compositions to his artists, some of whom (Cilla and Kramer notably) recorded them with George Martin for Parlophone, which was a neat arrangement. Black, Kramer and Quickly all released Lennon-McCartney songs in 1963, Kramer achieving number one with ‘Bad to Me’. Paul was delighted. ‘John and I were a songwriting team and what songwriting teams did in those days was wrote for everyone - unless you couldn’t come up with something, or wanted to keep a song for yourself and it was a bit too good to give away,’ he later told Mark Lewisohn. ‘John and I would get together, “Oh, we gotta write one for Billy J., OK” [sings “Bad to Me”] … we just knocked them out.’ Perhaps the most interesting of these Lennon and McCartney song gifts was to a new band named the Rolling Stones.
After picking up an award at the Variety Club of Great Britain luncheon at the Savoy Hotel on 10 September 1963, John and Paul found themselves mooching around the music shops on Charing Cross Road. As they did so they bumped into Andrew Loog Oldham, a young hustler who’d worked briefly in the PR department at NEMS before meeting a bunch of youthful blues aficionados who went by the name of the Rollin’ Stones. Loog Oldham quit Epstein’s employment to manage the group, altering their name to the Rolling Stones.
The Stones were of an age with the Beatles, both bands led by clever, ex-grammar school boys infatuated with American music. ‘Although it was not exactly the same thing, partly because we were more blues-orientated, there was an awful lot of crossover,’ drummer Charlie Watts observes. ‘We could all meet aroun
d Little Richard and Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran and Carl Perkins.’ The musicians met while the Stones were still obscure, and became friends, Paul forming a particularly close and enduring association with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.11 It was thanks to George Harrison putting in a good word for the Stones that the London-based band got their record deal with Decca. Their début single, a cover of Chuck Berry’s ‘Come On’, reached number 21 in the summer of 1963.
The afternoon Andrew Loog Oldham bumped into John and Paul on Charing Cross Road his band were in a jazz club on nearby Great Newport Street trying to work out what should be their next single. ‘I explained I had nothing to record for the Stones’ next single,’ Loog Oldham recalls of his chance meeting with Lennon and McCartney. ‘They smiled at me and each other, told me not to worry and our three pairs of Cuban heels turned smartly back towards the basement rehearsal.’ So it was that John and Paul gave the Stones what proved to be their breakthrough second single, ‘I Wanna Be Your Man’, teaching the band the chords that afternoon. ‘They ran through it for us and Paul, being left-handed, amazed me by playing my bass backwards,’ Bill Wyman noted. The record went to number 12, from which point the Stones were in the ascendant, becoming almost as popular as the Beatles themselves. Although it is often assumed the two bands were deadly rivals, their friendship actually strengthened as they became more famous. ‘They were all living that same sort of life so when they did see each other, socially, they would be some of the few individuals that they could actually sit and be completely normal with, because they were sharing the same experience,’ notes record producer Glyn Johns, who worked with both bands in the Sixties. ‘Mick Jagger wasn’t sitting with Paul McCartney because he was Paul McCartney.’
STARTIME
By now the Beatles were a youth sensation in Britain. Every teenager who listened to the radio knew about this exciting new band, which had achieved three smash-hit singles and had a number one album. The Beatles were a major concert draw; lionised on Merseyside; supported by a large and well-organised fan club, their activities chronicled in the music press and a new dedicated monthly fanzine, The Beatles Book. Yet the national newspapers based in and around London’s Fleet Street all but ignored the band, notwithstanding the fact that the fight at Paul’s 21st birthday party had made a short piece in the Daily Mirror. There was less entertainment news in the papers in those days, anyway, and most show business writers considered home-grown pop groups of less interest than American stars. Derek Taylor, show business correspondent for the Daily Express in the North, felt differently. Taylor managed to review a Beatles concert in Manchester for his paper, on the basis of regional interest, and followed up with a profile of Brian Epstein, the beginning of a long and important association with the band. Taylor’s interest was almost unique so far as the national print media was concerned until Sunday 13 October 1963, when the Beatles appeared on Sunday Night at the London Palladium.
The Palladium, a big old music hall on Argyll Street, near London’s Oxford Circus, was considered the most prestigious venue in British light entertainment. A variety show was broadcast live from the theatre every Sunday night on national television, and acts from around the world made it their ambition to top the bill. ‘Only the biggest acts in the world did Sunday Night at the Palladium. That was the ultimate career high. Lots of them would come over from America,’ explains the show’s presenter Bruce Forsyth, adding that when an invitation was extended to the Beatles to top the bill in 1963 it was the sign that ‘they really had arrived’. Forsyth and his producer Val Parnell went to see the Beatles in concert in advance, and were troubled by the racket their fans made. It was customary for artists who topped the bill at Sunday Night at the London Palladium to talk to Forsyth on the show. If Beatles fans got tickets, nobody would be able to hear a word that was said.
So I hit on the idea of them doing a conversation all with idiot boards that were facing the audience. Paul would rush on and say, just written on the board, ‘It’s great to be here tonight.’ Then John would rush on from the other side, ‘Yes, what a lovely audience.’ They did a whole conversation [like that] because they couldn’t be heard if they’d spoken.
The fact the Beatles were topping the bill at this very important show made national newspaper editors pay full attention to the group for the first time, sending writers along to meet the Beatles at rehearsals. ‘At the end of each song they bowed to an imaginary audience,’ Godfrey Winn reported for the Daily Sketch. ‘George [Harrison] went through the introduction a dozen times. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are very pleased to be here at the Palladium.” The Palladium, the Palladium, they shouted out, screaming like their own fans …’ On the night, the Beatles performed briefly at the start of the programme, and again at the end, to a raucous reception from their fans, whom John mocked with his horrible spastic routine and half-jokingly told to ‘Shut up!’, which only made them laugh and scream more. Finally the boys joined Forsyth on the revolving stage, waving goodbye to the audience in the theatre, and the wider TV audience, to the tune of ‘Startime’, as every edition of the show concluded. Forsyth: ‘That night we could have gone round 50 times and those young fans would have kept screaming.’
Sundays are typically quiet news days, editors struggling to find enough good stories to fill Monday’s papers. On just such a quiet Sunday in October 1963 editors were only too happy to seize upon the Beatles’ success at the Palladium, and the extravagant behaviour of their fans, and blow it up into front-page news. The next morning’s papers thereby presented the Beatles as the stars of a new youth phenomenon, one that was not seen by journalists as dangerous and unpleasant, like the recent Teddy Boy cult which was associated with violence and vandalism, but that was approved of as part of mainstream family entertainment.
The Daily Sketch devoted two inside pages to an interview with the band. ‘Good morning. Did you watch the Beatles on television in the Sunday Night at the London Palladium show?’ Godfrey Winn asked his readers conversationally, going on to report that 12 million Britons had, and he was ready to reveal what these ‘new kings of pop’ were really like. The Evening News similarly reported on the ‘Sweet Sound of Success’, noting in a thumbnail portrait of Paul McCartney that he was ‘a head in the clouds dreamer who lives for nothing but music’. Paul’s egoism and personal ambition had not yet been detected, though the British press would never be keen to portray Macca, as they came to call him fondly, as anything other than a decent bloke touched by genius. Paul enjoyed good press from day one.
The Beatles’ appearance at the Palladium also signalled a change in the way British newspapers covered the entertainment industry. ‘Suddenly the golden years of Hollywood seemed to come to an abrupt end when the music era came in with the Beatles’ music and the Rolling Stones - all the old film stars of Hollywood seemed to be of no more importance any more,’ notes the Mirror’s Don Short, one of a coterie of Fleet Street reporters who documented the Beatles’ exploits over the next few years, becoming close to the band in the process, especially Paul who cultivated writers who could help them. As an example of how accommodating he could be, Paul once picked up Don personally at the Mirror building in Holborn and drove him to a West End club to interview his dad; another time Paul and George came round to the Short household for dinner and Paul sang a lullaby to the journalist’s six-year-old daughter. As time went by, Paul learned to manipulate his press contacts, feeding them stories that would benefit him personally, but making himself scarce when it was not to his advantage to talk. ‘If it wasn’t going to be helpful to Paul, he wouldn’t surface,’ notes Short.
It wasn’t only the popular press that had become closely interested in the Beatles. At the end of 1963 William Mann, music critic with The Times, wrote a serious appraisal of the Beatles’ music that still stands as one of the most highfalutin but perspicacious articles about the band ever published. ‘The outstanding English composers of 1963 must seem to have been John Lennon and Paul McCartney,’ Ma
nn began his seminal piece, going on to explain that he was not interested in the showbiz antics of the band and their hysterical followers, but in their music, which he found fresh and authentically English.
For several decades, in fact since the decline of the music hall, England has taken her popular songs from the United States, either directly or by mimicry. But the songs of Lennon and McCartney are distinctly indigenous in character, the most imaginative and inventive examples of a style that has been developing on Merseyside …
It was when the writer came to analyse the songs in academic language that he lost some of his readers, ‘the major tonic sevenths and ninths built into their tunes, and the flat submediant key switches …’ Yet Mann was clearly right when he praised ‘the discreet, sometimes subtle varieties of instrumentation’ on the Beatles’ records, and noted that their stylised vocals had not tipped over into cliché, concluding: ‘They have brought a distinctive and exhilarating flavour to a genre of music that was in danger of ceasing to be music at all.’
With the national press, tabloid and broadsheet, finally paying full attention to the Beatles, the band became a nationwide phenomenon in late 1963. The term Beatlemania started appearing in newspapers in late October, as journalists documented the hysterical fan reaction to the group’s appearances. ‘This Beatlemania’ was a headline in the Daily Mail on Monday 21 October, over a feature article by Vincent Mulchrone, asking ‘Would you let your daughter marry a Beatle?’ The same day the Sketch ran a profile of Ringo Starr under the heading ‘Beatles Mania!’ When the boys returned to Britain on 30 October 1963 from a brief Swedish expedition, hordes of fans screamed welcome at London’s Heathrow Airport. By chance, the American television compère Ed Sullivan was passing through the airport that day, shopping for talent for his Ed Sullivan Show. Show business legend has it that, seeing hundreds of girls holding up signs for Beatles, Sullivan assumed this was an eccentric, and eccentrically spelt, British animal act. When Sullivan was put right, he saw a booking opportunity: ‘I decided that the Beatles would be a great attraction for our TV show.’
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