I went up to London and dropped in half a dozen copies to producers Paul Walters for the legendary deejay Terry Wogan, Roger Bowman for Sarah Kennedy, and a few others. I followed it up the next day with a fax saying simply that I’d dropped some records off yesterday that I thought they might like to hear. The following day, Paul Walters faxed me and said it was wonderful. “We’re playing it tomorrow.” The next day Terry Wogan played it and while he was playing it, for the first time he read to himself the little release sheet and realized Eva was dead. He was both stunned and shocked and I think, quite emotional. His on-air emotional reaction was so sincere that people took notice.
From there Eva started to take off. I had known that given one break the audience would be with her, simply because her voice touches you and her story says so much about personal tragedy. The things that are important in life that can just disappear in a moment and that we should cherish. The message is: stop for a moment and listen to a thing of beauty. Listen to her singing Sting’s “Fields of Gold.” It says it all. It makes you tingle. It not only makes the hairs on your arms or on the back of your neck stand up, but it puts you right there in those fields and tells you about a time and a place and a love. To be able to do that with a voice and a song is no small thing. To me, this is what it’s all about, like listening to Paul do Buddy Holly’s “True Love Ways.”
Eva didn’t take off when she did the songs initially because she didn’t come in a package, didn’t come wrapped in a big bow like Celine Dion or a singer like that. Promoting records is a business where you see the potential or the angle and know how to place it, but many people don’t want to work at it, or think about it too hard, whatever you do. They just take what the big companies give them. Pop music can be great fun, but sometimes it can also throw up a great artist, sometimes by accident. Sometimes it comes with a combination of things that move you, make you feel alive or perhaps gives you emotions that you thought you didn’t have anymore.
Eva’s “fault” was that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed as a folk singer, or rhythm and blues or a diva or whatever. She just wanted to sing some of the songs that she liked. Mick Fleetwood loved her voice. He said that when she covered a song it was like hearing it again for the first time. She played at his club, Fleetwood’s, in Washington, D.C. Atlantic Records came down and she did a showcase for them, but Mick said they just didn’t get it. She did a couple of others there too but she didn’t get taken up and Eva told Mick philosophically, “If they don’t want me as I am, then I don’t want to be with them.”
He said that if he did have a soul, and he hoped he did, Eva touched it with her voice. I didn’t push her as this fantastic voice from the other side, or exploit the fact that she was ignored while she was alive. But, human nature being what it is I’m sure some people found that compulsive. It is very poignant, after all. Within months, Songbird had achieved triple platinum status. With four more Eva Cassidy albums waiting in the wings for Hot Records to release in Europe, I attended MIDEM and sold it worldwide.
Recently I read that “Yesterday” is now the most recorded song ever, with over three thousand versions. Eva recorded one of them. It was a beautiful performance, one Paul fell in love with. We were both sad when we considered this wonderful voice would never again make music. Paul and I discussed making a duet—“Eva and McCartney sing ‘Yesterday’.” It was a seductive idea. We’d have to go into the studio and he would have to add his vocals to Eva’s, but it wouldn’t have been difficult.
I got very excited about it—we both did—but sadly it didn’t happen. It wasn’t anything to do with Eva or Paul, but with legal issues. Sometimes, dreams and great ideas fade away and you just have to accept it. Just like I accept that, all things being equal, and that all things must pass, there are probably more yesterdays in me now than tomorrows. Still, doing this book has put it in some perspective.
At least I do have tomorrows. I’m still here, John and George and Linda, Maureen, and Eppy are gone, as are many others. I miss them, but along with a lot of fond, funny, and Fab Four memories, I have a wife and family and that makes me a very lucky man. Looking back, it still seems pretty amazing that so much happened. At the time, it didn’t seem that it was an era that influenced so many things and so many people. We had no idea at all that the Beatles and those roller-coaster years were at the heart of a “Cultural Revolution.” They were just four lads from Liverpool and yet, they changed the world. I feel honored and very grateful that I was a part of it.
So, here’s to yesterday, and tomorrow. Cheers!
epilogue
The last time I saw George was in the winter of 1998. I was walking down from South Kensington tube on my way to the Genesis–Phil Collins office to discuss some promotion with their manager, Tony Smith. George was coming toward me in his overcoat, long scarf thrown around his neck, frowning slightly. He saw me almost as if he’d suddenly woken from a dream, or deep thoughts.
“Hel-lo!” A two-note hello. A high one, a lower one with a tail to it. And there’s a big smile. He grabs me, gives me a big hug and says, “Where you going?”
It was the same question I’d asked him that night long ago on the bus when we were kids.
“Into Genesis, to see Phil,” I said.
He told me he was on his way to the Apple offices, which were just around the corner. He said, “After you’ve finished here, come round and have a drink.”
“Lovely,” I said. Well, my meeting went on much longer than I expected, as they do sometimes, and when I finally got to Apple, George had left a message saying he had to go. I had a drink with Neil Aspinall, but it was all a bit sad because Derek Taylor had just died of lung cancer, and George had just been diagnosed with it. We sipped our drinks and sat in silence, memories chasing through our minds. It seemed that one minute I was young, the next, we were confronting our mortality.
Some days are like that. You remember being in the back of an old van bombing down the road late for a gig. There’s Neil and Mal up front and four Beatles in the back practicing the weird harmony at the end of “She Loves You,” where George has to hit a sixth on the last “yeah”. And John says, “Fookin’ George Martin says he doesn’t reckon it. Can you believe it? He says it sounds old fashioned. Well, bollocks to him is what I say. If it sounds good, we’ll fookin’ do it.”
George laughed so much in the back of the van that when they came to record it everybody was sure he’d remember what John said and screw it up. But he hit the note spot on. The memory of that day, and so many others like it, brought tears to my eyes.
The first time I saw George, he was just a kid, running into our house in Liverpool to play. Fifty years on, the last time I saw him, he was walking away, down a road. John, Paul, George and Ringo. How I loved them. It was, as George said about John, “All those years ago.”
Tony Bramwell
Devon, January 11, 2004
Six pages from my first address book in Liverpool and then London, featuring Brian Epstein, George, John, Paul (at the Ashers’ home on Wimpole Street), and Ringo. Note how my writing changed from its schoolboy neatness back in the Liverpool days to more of a scrawl as I grew older and we moved down south, where so much was happening. John’s Kenwood address is of particular interest. It contains the cryptic “Mr Pilgrim,” which was the secret code name to which he answered.
That’s me with John, just before a show in Wolverhampton, autumn of 1963. There aren’t many photos of John wearing glasses in those early days. CREDIT: Leslie Bryce. Used by permission of Sean O’Mahony.
Me … taken by a Top of the Pops photographer, Harry Goodwin, in a little studio at the BBC when I was there in 1965 with the Beatles. CREDIT: H. Goodwin
Director Franco Zefferelli, in white turtleneck, discussing Apple financing for Romeo and Juliet in the reception room at Abbey Road with John and Paul. Many directors looking for the Beatles’ involvement in movie projects, including Jean Luc Goddard, used to drop in and sit under the EMI dog. Godda
rd hung around for months and in the end asked the Stones to do “Sympathy for the Devil” instead. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
This is me with Pattie Harrison and Tony King, standing around in hippie kaftans at the “All You Need Is Love” session. At the time Tony worked for the Stones. He enjoyed himself with us so much this day he came to work for Apple, then for John. Currently, he is Mick Jagger’s assistant. CREDIT: Rex USA
That’s me in the middle, in a sandwich board, at the “All You Need Is Love” session. It seemed a bright idea to put “Love” in different languages—English, Russian, French and Spanish. You can just see Paul, George and Ringo in the background in front of all the flowers. CREDIT: Rex USA
Again, at the “All You Need Is Love” session. I always feel a bit nostalgic when I look at this because it was the last-ever photograph taken of Brian, on June 25, 1967. He died eight weeks later, on August 27. He looks happy and relaxed here, appearing for once without a tie, in an open-neck shirt and a custom-made black velvet blazer with silk braid trim. Peter Brown (and, for some reason, a toy duck) are behind Brian. Getting in the mood, I’m wearing a necklace of hippie Krishna bells. CREDIT: Rex USA
The “All You Need Is Love” performance was filmed during the Sgt. Pepper sessions. That’s me leaning forward and listening intently to Paul at the piano. He’s in a very colorful hand-painted shirt that has the words from the single on the back. Ringo, seated to the right, is wearing a velvet suit. CREDIT: Rex USA
I thought it would make a good photo to line up the Beatles against a wall with Stan Gortikov, head of Capitol Records, in the middle. This was in the penthouse suite at the Royal Lancaster Hotel during the launch of the White Album. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I took this photo of Paul in a poolside bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel, June 1968, when he and Linda first got together. Paul has just had a swim and he is sitting in his swimsuit, playing and singing “Blackbird.” CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
John and a bit of Yoko, in a comfortable position, lying on the floor recording “Revolution,” which was all about peace. There were never any drugs or alcohol at Beatles sessions—note the vast quantity of teacups all over the floor! CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Twiggy, absorbed, watching Paul and George recording at Abbey Road. In this photograph taken by me, she looks very small and waiflike. She was always around, one of the very few people allowed in to watch the Beatles at work. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell Archive. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Paul, looking very dandy in a striped blazer, talks to Al Brodax, head of King Features and producer of the Yellow Submarine cartoon film. I snapped this at Abbey Road while they discussed the music for the film. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
John and a sombre Yoko at Abbey Road. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Paul, smiling up at the control booth, listens happily to a playback at Abbey Road. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell Archive. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Thumbs up for Lesley Cavendish as he cuts George’s hair at Apple Hairdressing in the Kings Road. It was a nice little salon run by Lesley, but after it was discovered by fans he would pop into our offices and we’d all line up for a trim. I wish I’d photographed that! CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I took this study in concentration of George Martin, “lord of all he surveys” at Abbey Road, during the making of the White Album as he works out a piece at the piano while surrounded by Beatles. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I always loved this photo of George in a flowered shirt and striped pants. I took it in August 1968, at the time of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” because I thought he looked a bit serene. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I snapped this unusual high-powered board meeting in the Apple boardroom at 3 Savile Row before any furniture was moved in. Amongst the various bodies are John, Yoko, Paul, Francie Schwartz, Neil Aspinall, Derek Taylor, Mal Evans, Peter Brown and Magic Alex Mardas. I think we were planning how to spend about £2 million in as short a time as possible! CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I took this during our Catalina trip, summer of 1968. Paul is on the right and Linda is second from left. At top left is Ron Kass. The director Mike Nichols is below Ron, facing the camera. And that’s the film producer Billy Graham holding the videocam. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Linda, Paul and Ivan Vaughan enjoying the sun and the sea on the Catalina trip. Ivan, who was Paul’s old schoolfriend from Liverpool, had brought Paul and John together. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Falling in Love during the Summer of Love, 1968. I took this on Mike Nichols’s yacht while we were sailing to Catalina. Paul and Linda have a quiet moment in the cabin with Mike’s wife. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Mary Hopkin and Paul sit on a bench seat in front of the mixing desk and listen to a playback of “Those Were the Days”—which launched Mary’s career. Twiggy discovered Mary on Opportunity Knocks and recommended her to Paul. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
Paul with the manager of the GPO Tower restaurant—then the highest building in London—which was run by Butlins. I’m behind them. We went along to have lunch to check it out as a venue for the launch party for Mary Hopkin. This was in the days before terrorists, when the restaurant still revolved. CREDIT: Andrew Mulligan, Tower Photographer. Used by permission of Butlins.
In the revolving restaurant at the top of the Post Office Tower in London, with Jack Oliver, Paul, the manager of the restaurant, Mal Evans and me. CREDIT: Andrew Mulligan, Tower Photographer. Used by permission of Butlins.
Shooting the video for “Hey Jude” at Twickenham Studios, Wednesday, September 4, 1968. We went out into the streets to round up an audience of about three hundred. It was shown the following Sunday on David Frost, in the U.K., and the next month on the Smothers Brothers Show, in the U.S. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I also took this atmospheric photograph of Ringo, John, Paul and George at Twickenham Studios while making the video for “Hey Jude,” the song Paul wrote for Julian Lennon after John and Cynthia split up. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I snapped Paul and George just doodling on two pianos as Peter Asher leans against the bar in the penthouse suite of the Lancaster Gate Hotel. We had flown EMI executives in from around the world to launch the White Album in 1969, and the pianos just happened to be there. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I took this study of Ringo at Abbey Road, quietly composing at the piano. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
I caught Paul unawares in an introspective mood at Abbey Road, 1969. He’s wearing a Shetland wool sweater and is miles away. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
A candid shot I took of Paul and Linda, stoned and happy at a party to launch a Wings tour at the Hammersmith Odeon, 1974. That’s Neil Aspinall to the right, who still runs Apple. I promoted all of Wings’ records. CREDIT: Tony Bramwell. Used by permission of London Features International Ltd.
This is a typical business discussion at Apple, with everyone smoking their heads off around a table in the main office. From left is George Harrison, Peter Asher, me, John Frewin (a director of EMI), Jack Oliver (squ
atting on the floor), Yoko, John, Ron Kass (on a bad profile day), and the back of Neil Aspinall’s head (on a bad hair day). We were discussing a John-Yoko record, probably Unfinished Music No. 2. I’m not sure what George was doing there, because the other three Beatles usually showed little interest in John and Yoko’s flights of fancy! CREDIT: Tom Hanley/Camera Press/Retna Ltd.
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