When They Were Boys (41 page)

Freda Kelly, Epstein's secretary, was just “totally blown away.”

She recalls, “All of a sudden the success that we saw at the Cavern was right there. . . . I mean . . . number one in Merseyside. How could you top that? Unfortunately, the people in London didn't get it. Yet. I'm sure they were thinking, ‘Who cares about those simpleton fans in Liverpool.' They didn't realize how perceptive and brilliant we were in discovering talent.”

Years later, John Lennon, joining me for a 1975 charity radio marathon in Philadelphia, shared some stories of 1962, and an audition from hell. When the poll was published, Epstein and the Beatles were waiting for the answer on an audition for Decca Records, an important milestone that you will soon experience. In retrospect, John understood that, at the time, the London musical geniuses were biased.

“The Decca thing was rubbish, although we thought we did well. There was bias against Liverpool. But in the meantime, we were doing quite well everywhere and at the Tower Ballroom, and then . . .
Mersey Beat
proclaims us number one. That was the best press we ever got, even better than you, Larry [makes a funny face].”

Bill Harry remembers the edition and the poll results. “In reality, all the groups were happy to be on the list, but there were jealousies, a lot of that. There might still be today, but the poll was fair, considering all the discrepancies that Virginia and I discovered.”

Here are the printed results from the poll:

                  
1. The Beatles

                  
2. Gerry and the Pacemakers

                  
3. The Remo Four

                  
4. Rory Storm and the Hurricanes

                  
5. Johnny Sandon and the Searchers

                  
6. Kingsize Taylor and the Dominoes

                  
7. The Big Three

                  
8. The Strangers

                  
9. Faron and the Flamingos

                  
10. The Four Jays

                  
11. Ian and the Zodiacs

                  
12. The Undertakers

                  
13. Earl Preston and the TTs

                  
14. Mark Peters and the Cyclones

                  
15. Karl Terry and the Cruisers

                  
16. Derry and the Seniors

                  
17. Steve and the Syndicate

                  
18. Dee Fenton and the Silhouettes

                  
19. Billy J. Kramer and the Coasters

                  
20. Dale Roberts and the Jaywalkers

In all fairness, Billy J. Kramer, soon to be a star, was just beginning, but Kingsize Taylor and the raucous Big Three were doing quite well, along with Rory, Ringo, and company, and of course, Gerry and his Pacemakers. In a twist of irony, these groups, as you will learn soon in the chapter “Bands on the Run,” contributed mightily to the boys' success.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TOWER OF POWER

“Yes, I hold the record for largest attendance in England in 1961: Tower Theater in New Brighton—Operation Big Beat. That is where and when Beatlemania began.”

—Sam Leach

I
F
A
LLAN
W
ILLIAMS WAS THE MAN WHO GAVE AWAY THE
B
EATLES
,
then Sam Leach was definitely the man who had the Beatles taken from him. Right up to the present day, Leach has never lost his love for the boys, and it all traces back to a night of nights, in New Brighton, England. The date was November 10, 1961.

New Brighton is a resort on the Wirral Peninsula; its beaches are charming, with a view of the Irish Sea. And its Tower Ballroom was a huge venue.

“It was massive, like a cinema or two mansions pushed together,” recalls Leach. “Larry, when I thought of putting the Beatles there—and remember, it was the fall of 1961—my friends thought I was crazy. Maybe I was.”

The Tower Ballroom, in various formations, lasted from its opening in 1900 until 1969, when a fire ended its run. Its demise was soon followed by the breakup of the Beatles.

Leach was having a very good year in 1961. In March he helped open a place called the Iron Door Club, a stone's throw from the Cavern. On March 11, a concert featuring Gerry and the Pacemakers, Kingsize Taylor, and the Big Three drew over 1,800 people into the early morning hours. Around the corner, the Cavern had just fifty people.

The Beatles played the Iron Door later in the month, but on that early March night, the Iron Door changed history. The owner of the Cavern, Ray McFall, took the cue. The Cavern began allowing rock 'n' roll bands at night, and would become legendary. Without that decision, the Beatles' temporary home would have given way to other venues, and Mathew Street would have lost its luster.

Leach loved themed events. He called the big Iron Door concert “Rock Around the Clock.”

A little later in the year, the excited showman began “Operation Big Beat,” a big show held at the Tower. But the ballroom's operators had no interest in the Beatles—in fact, they didn't even know them. Leach recalls,

L
ARRY
, I
WENT THERE AND SPOKE TO THE OWNER, WHO HAD NEVER HEARD OF THE
B
EATLES AND DIDN'T WANT TO HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THEM AT FIRST
. H
E SAID
, “I
T'LL NEVER WORK,” BUT
I
CONVINCED HIM TO GIVE THEM A TRY, AND BY THE TIME
I
LEFT, WE HAD A DATE
. W
HEN
I
WAS LEAVING
, I
ASKED HIM WHAT THE RECORD ATTENDANCE WAS AT THE
T
OWER
. H
E SAID SOME NUMBER LIKE 1,000
. I
TOLD HIM WE WOULD BEAT THAT
. H
E THOUGHT THAT WAS A RIOT, AND HE WAS LAUGHING AS HE WENT DOWN THE STAIRS
. T
EN DAYS LATER
, I
WENT BACK WITH THE TICKETS AND THE POSTERS
. H
E WAS VERY EXCITED AND WAS SHOUTING AT ME
, “S
AM, THE PHONE HASN'T STOPPED RINGING
! W
E KNEW IT WOULD BE SUCCESSFUL
! W
E KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!” WE GOT A RECORD 4,100 PEOPLE IN ATTENDANCE ON
N
OVEMBER 10, 1961—AND IT WAS FOGGY
.

It was, until that point, the largest crowd for a rock 'n' roll extravaganza in England. Even some of the ivory-tower record producers in London were stunned when they heard the news.

In Hamburg, a proud Stuart Sutcliffe received a note from George Harrison, the most efficient letter-writer in the group.

George wrote, “Sam has done it again, he's got 6 bands, 11 bars, 4,000 people. No doubt next week he'll have 20,000 for us.” Stuart, engrossed in his art studies and very much in love, was proud of his boys. He wrote back, thrilled.

A little-known fact in the modern era is that of the swift work that John, Paul, George, and Pete pulled off as performers and roadies, as it were. Bill Harry recalls their speed and agility: “Virginia and I were at the very first [Tower event] organized by Sam Leach. The Beatles took the stage at 8 p.m., then rushed to Knotty Ash Village Hall [another, smaller concert] and then returned to the Tower for their second appearance at 11 p.m. There were
around 3,000 people in attendance, one of the largest groups of youngsters for a gig on Merseyside, as most of the venues only had a capacity for hundreds.”

On the 1966 Beatles tour of North America, a wry and happy George Harrison told me, “That town hall [Litherland] was really special, you know, but when thousands of people showed up at this Tower Ballroom, once again, you know, it kept us going. We needed something to keep us going.”

The Tower was the Beatles' venue of choice for big crowds through 1961 and early 1962. They played there, at Epstein's direction, with major American acts, the most memorable being Little Richard.

The Tower is the place that Paul McCartney brought Joe Ankrah, leader of the Chants, the most promising black group in Liverpool, to the dressing room. Joe met his idol, Little Richard, who had just broken the color barrier at the Adelphi Hotel by staying there. Paul invited Ankrah and his group to the Cavern, where the Beatles backed them up. The result, remembers Ankrah, was electric.

“We, the Chants, went to the Cavern for the first time. Paul was so gracious, but it was John who lost control during the jam session, and started jumping on the piano.”

The session had affected the Beatles as much as the Chants. They were listening to the doo-wop sound that had so inspired them in their mid-teenage years. And it all began in 1962 at the Tower Ballroom, where the Beatles, surrounded by postwar racial and religious bigotry, went against the grain and gave a black group a break, even as they were pursuing their own dream.

The Tower was a turning point, but just around the corner, and after a few more dazzling concerts at the Tower, the boys got a break, a Valentine in the press, thanks to Bill Harry and his girlfriend, Virginia Sowry, in the form of the controversial readers' poll ranking Merseyside bands.

The other acts on that November 10, 1961, concert at the Tower Ballroom included, among others, Bill J. Kramer, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, Gerry and the Pacemakers, the Remo Four, and Faron and the Flamingos—all of whom appeared below the Beatles in the
Mersey Beat
poll, another fortunate “moment” during the still-uncertain story of the boys.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BOB WOOLER—“CAN YOU DIG IT?”

“Wooler explains in florid terms how the Beatles had become the toast of the rock scene by resurrect[ing] original-style rock 'n' roll music.”

—Dr. Michael Brocken, Beatles historian

“I looked out of a window and saw Bob Wooler staggering about with blood all over his face. He was saying, ‘Get Brian Epstein.'”

—Eyewitness to the beating

B
USY, AGGRESSIVE, CHARMING, AND DEVOTED
—
even once bloodied by the one Beatle he loved the most—Bob Wooler had an unusual title, traced back to the early days of nightclubs. The first time I heard it spoken out loud was with Paul McCartney, when I talked to him about the Cavern many years ago: “We had a compere at the club. His name was Bob Wooler, you see, and he was quite instrumental in helping us, and . . . I might add, quite a few people.”

Wooler, as compere, was a person who wore several hats: deejay, stage master, king of the club, host, and overall hometown booster for Liverpool. He also had another career, as a music writer, which paralleled the enthusiasm and encouragement by fellow history-making pen pal Bill Harry. And what Wooler did for the Beatles in print was memorable for the kids of Liverpool, who followed his every word.

What was he like? Billy Kinsley, the Beatles' contemporary who performed at the tender age of fourteen, speaks of Wooler in the modern day with a deep sense of endearing respect:

B
OB
W
OOLER WAS VERY GENEROUS, A MENTOR TO ALL OF US
. H
E WAS A MUCH OLDER MAN, MIDDLE-AGED MAN AT THE TIME
. H
E HAD A WONDERFUL VOICE, SMOOTH AND BELIEVABLE
. H
E NEVER MADE A LOT OF MONEY, BUT HE HAD A LOT OF TIME TO GIVE TO ALL THE HOPEFULS, LIKE ME, AND
G
ERRY, AND OF COURSE, THE
B
EATLES
.

H
E WAS A SMALL GUY WITH A BIG VOICE
. I'
LL TELL YOU, HE GOT SUCH A JOY OVER TALKING UP THE BANDS ALL OVER THE PLACE
. I
THINK WHEN
E
PSTEIN SAW THE
B
EATLES BEING INTRODUCED BY
B
OB, HE WAS DETERMINED TO USE
B
OB TO DO AS MANY GIGS AS POSSIBLE
. B
OB HAD A WONDERFUL PRESENCE
.

In the Britain of the early sixties, local radio outlets with star deejays did not exist. In his time, Wooler was as close to a local announcer or host “star” as you would find. He loved creating monikers for the music stars of the day, including the people who helped make them stars. Well-dressed to the hilt, Wooler would develop snazzy names. For Brian Epstein, he coined the name “Nemporer,” including the letters “NEM” to highlight Epstein's NEMS record store that became famous in its time. He called his friend Bill Harry “the Boswell of Beat.” It was that friendship, a mutual appreciation, that led to a magnificent gift for the young Beatles.

There is no question, after years of research, that Wooler, Harry, and Epstein's close friend Joe Flannery played a vital role in Epstein's actual first look at the boys. There is also no doubt, says Liverpool Hope University professor Michael Brocken, that the combination of Harry's
Mersey Beat
and Wooler's surprising writing style sparked the Beatles' local comeback after the grim finish to the first Hamburg trip in December 1960.