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| the smart beatle... |
This is John Lennon. I think I must have had a happy contented childhood, because I don't remember anything special about it. There were no waves of sorrow, or of joy. I don't recall ever feeling desperately sad or unusually happy. I suppose this is as it should be. I think I lived a life of uninterrupted calm.
Unfortunately, that calm was suddenly shattered when my Mother died before my fourteenth birthday. Only those who have experienced such a tragedy can imagine how awful it is. I don't like talking about it because it's too great a sorrow to be publicised, but I hope all of you who have two parents living, will appreciate them.
After Mum died I went to live with Aunt Mimi. She's the greatest, bless her heart. We have a little house, with frilly curtains at the windows, and an old apple tree in the front garden. When I'm away from home, I think about Aunt Mimi and her frilly curtains and her apple tree, and I realise I'm fortunate, because though Mum was taken away from me I was given something very precious in return.
Growing up in Liverpool isn't much different from growing up in any other pat of the country. Life there is a bit tougher than in the south, because jobs are sometimes hard to find. It isn't a beautiful city architecturally, but it's got great atmosphere. The huge grey buildings that merge with the River Mersey; the cobbled streets; the unsightly tracks which used to carry the old trams, the countless jazz cellars beneath the warehouses around the dockland. If you are in the heart of heart of Liverpool very late at night, you might hear a girl singing, with a group of fellows harmonising for her, as they make their way through the narrow streets between the high buildings, to the coffee stall down by The Pierhead.
The Pierhead is where the boats come from in from Birkenhead and Tyneside, and where the tramps and the teenagers, the young and the old, meet in the early hours of the morning. Some of the old people have no homes to go to, and no one to care about them; the young, having good homes and people who care perhaps a little too much, stay out in search of independence. If you stay around long enough someone will be sure to start singing, and the others will join in, and you'll wonder if they really are just an unknown group, because they sing so well. So many people in Liverpool sing, and all ages from the tramps who have given up hope, to the kids who are full of it, are pop crazy. That's Merseyside for you.
I went to school at Dovedale Primary, and Quarry Bank Grammar. Reading writing and 'rithmetic over, I went on to the Liverpool College of Art. Art was always my best subject at school. I failed miserably at maths and Science, and wasn't to hot in history. According to my school reports I could have done better if I'd tried harder, and I wish now that I had. I think go to school too young. At 14 or 15 I couldn't have cared less whether Richard II and Bolingbroke were having a burn-up, or how many square X's I'd need to solve my algebra problem. I cared about music and girls, and saving up for a packet of fags.
The State give you ten to twelve years in which to learn in comparitive luxury, with long holidays in between. Once you leave school you have to resort to evening classes after a long day at work, or postal courses which cost a lot of money.
When I was at Dovedale, I knew
George Harrison but only by sight, because of our age difference
of nearly three years, which is a lot when you're as young as we
were.
Later George went on to Liverpool
Institute and I went to Quarry Bank. It was several years later
that we got really keen on music, and Paul and I started teaching
ourselves the guitar. After school each night we'd rush through
our tea, and then meet, and practise our act. When we felt we
were good enough we went for an audition, calling ourselves The
Nurk Twins.
"Very good," the agent
said after our performance, "I'll book you for a show in
Reading."
"Great," we yelled,going
potty with joy. We sang several songs in that show and a small
proportion of Reading went mad on us.
It was then we started dreaming of
a future in show business. Before that we hadn't dared to think
about one. Unfotunately though, the Nurk Twins didn't altogether
catch on, and we felt we'd do better in a larger group rather
than as a duo. So we started and finished several groups until we
got one together that had the beginnings of a new sound.
By then George had joined us, and
so had a pal of ours who is now dead, called Stuart Sutcliffe. We
began to do well as semi-pros. Then one day our big break came
with an offer to appear at The Star Club, in Hamburg. This is a
kind of super-Cavern, where just about everyone who is anyone on
the Liverpool scene has played at some time or another. On our
first visit there George became very interested in the Frauleins,
and learned to speak their language in a fantastically quick
time. I think by the way Paul's eyes kept flashing, he too liked
the German girls, but me, I had different ideas. My girl was at
home in Liverpool. I'd met her one day, and we'd suddenly fallen
in love. A little while later we were married. I love her. As I'm
away such a lot, she lives with Aunt Mimi. I'd like to tell you
more about her, but I've this old-fashioned idea that marriage is
a private thing too precious to be publicly discussed. So forgive
me and understand.
Just because I am married doesn't
mean that the other three are about to pop the question. In fact
any of you who are wondering about this can relax. So far there
is no great opposition to you, and I'll let you know if I hear
any news on the contrary.
As I was saying, we appeared at
the Star Club three times. The secind time, another group was on
the same bill, and we were all very taken with the style of their
drummer. He had a special feel for his rhythm, and was the
greatest drummer we'd ever seen perform.
We didn't get to talk to him
during that show, and it wasn't until a few months after, back in
Liverpool, that we actually met him. After our first visit to
Hamburg we came home without Stuart Sutcliffe, because he had
decided to stay in Germany permanently. It was a sad blow to us
when we heard of his sudden death.
When we were in Germany we thought
up the title Beatles, but the Germans couldn't pronounce it, so
they called they called us Beat Boys, and it wasn't until we tied
up with Ringo that we officially joined the ranks of the creepy
crawlies.
Right now I'm going to crawl into
bed. It's been a long hard day, full of throbbing drums, and
shrill guitars, and strained vocal cords, and screaming girls,
and as usual I've loved every minute of it. >
More to come in the future!