There was great uproar in the office. Everyone was hugging each other and being very tactile for those days. There was lots of cheering and back-slapping. And when it all died down a bit, there was a voice from the back of the line, right at the end of the narrow little office, from the guy at the end of the row who said, ‘Well, I think we’re going to make it as a group. I certainly hope we make it as a group, but I’ll tell you what – if we don’t, I’m gonna be a star.’ That was from Mr McCartney.
That first contract was effective from 1 February 1962 for a five-year period, but the Beatles and Brian were each able to give the other three months’ notice if things went wrong. Brian was on 10 per cent of the Beatles’ income up to £1,500 a year each. Once their individual earnings went over £1,500, Brian’s percentage increased to 15 per cent. I don’t think there has ever been anyone in the history of pop music who’s had a fairer contract than the Beatles. Brian’s percentage went up to 25 per cent in later contracts.
But even then they were so unbelievably lucky that Brian found them when he did. Brian set up a totally new form of management. In those days, if you were a young group then your manager or agent just said, ‘Right, you’re playing at Swindon tonight, Edinburgh tomorrow …’ and so on. If the members of the group had no money for petrol or hotel rooms, then that was tough and very much their problem. ‘Just be there’ was the instruction.
Brian set up a system which every bill they incurred came back to the office and we paid it. They always had money in their pockets, and a wage to live on. This was always deducted. We controlled all the money and managed it for them.
Brian also had a vision of how the Beatles were going to take over the world. From day one, he knew what he wanted to achieve and it was so much that at first he dared not even tell them.
Not that Brian was shy of being a hard task-master. He had a very clear idea of how he wanted the Beatles to look and behave and it was not at all like the way we had first watched them perform in The Cavern just a few weeks earlier. He pledged his determination to deliver them the recording contract which they all knew was vital to turning their regional success into national and international stardom.
And he didn’t pull any punches when he told the Beatles how things were going to be in the future. Like a teacher laying down the law to his most unruly pupils, Brian said they had to stop behaving like a bunch of amateurs and transform themselves into professional musicians and entertainers.
He said, ‘I want you all to make yourselves a lot smarter in appearance. On stage, there must be no drinking, no smoking, no chewing gum, and especially no swearing. The audience is not there to talk to you so don’t chat to the pretty girls while you’re on stage. Be punctual. If you’re scheduled to arrive at a certain time, make sure you arrive when you are meant to. Remember that you are professionals now, with a reputation to keep up.’
I would hand Brian’s directives to the boys and they were always neatly typed on top-quality paper with Brian’s initials printed elegantly on the top. John was particularly impressed. He said, ‘Brian put all our instructions down on paper and it made it all seem real. We were in a daydream ’til he came along.’
Brian was very businesslike. He knew the Beatles were in financial trouble even though they were then earning the princely sum of £3 15s each per Cavern session. This was higher than the normal rate because they were such a draw but it was an awful long way from the champagne lifestyle. Brian told them there and then that they would never play for less than £15 a night and he pledged to renegotiate their lunchtime Cavern rates. He kept that promise very quickly and they went up to £10. This was good money in 1961. Brian further impressed the shell-shocked foursome by quickly discovering the extents of their debts from a fellow shopkeeper and instantly wiped them out.
Brian found out from Bernard Michaelson, manager of Frank Hessy’s music shop across the road from NEMS, that the Beatles owed an alarming £200 on various hire-purchase agreements. He paid off the debt straight away with a personal cheque which bought John Lennon the ownership of his prized Hofner Club 40 guitar, George Harrison his Futurama guitar, and paid off the remains of Paul McCartney’s payments on amplifiers. It was a simple but stunningly convincing act that instantly established a bond between Brian and the Beatles.
Brian spelled out to the Beatles that they must look the part as well as act it, and took them over to Birkenhead to a tailor to be measured for their new suits. The mohair suits cost £40 each, which Brian paid, of course. I can well remember the wide-eyed acceptance that greeted that particular instruction. Subsequently, the Beatles have suggested that they did not totally go along with Brian on wearing suits. John sneered years later that he felt that he was selling out. My memories of the Beatles’ reaction is rather different. They were so fed up of failing to get noticed and failing to make it to the top that if Brian had said he wanted them to climb to the top of the Liver Building and jump down into a bucket of custard they would have said, ‘Where’s the bucket?’ It didn’t take them long to realise that Brian was right, and that he knew what he was doing.
Brian never tried to interfere with their music. It was all to do with their presentation, their behaviour and their image. Brian embarked on a total clean-up job on the four boys. Haircuts followed the suits and complete new wardrobes of shirts, ties, shoes, everything followed. Brian asked them face-to-face if they had any objections to his plans and there wasn’t even a murmur of dissent. Just as Brian believed in the Beatles, it was clear from the very start that the Beatles believed in Brian.
We took the famous ferry across the Mersey and Brian and I must have looked like a couple of plain-clothes policemen escorting four dangerous criminals. Brian and I got to know the four of them a little better. With the business of the contract out of the way, we were all on the same side now. John was clearly the strongest character among them, but the four of them seemed to communicate in a language almost of their own which was bound up with jokes, sarcasm and the blackest of humour. But, gradually, as the ferry made its way across, I even began to understand a little of what they were talking about.
I realised that just because they looked scruffy and aimless they were not to be dismissed easily. When we disembarked, we had a 15-minute walk to Brian’s tailor and the boys were all excited at the thought of getting their first made-to-measure suits. Brian went straight into a huddle with Beno Dorn, the little Jewish tailor who was clearly an old friend. The boys gazed open-mouthed at the up-market establishment. I think their experience of tailoring up until then was a quick glance in Burton’s window. Brian quickly had it all sorted out. The boys were to be kitted out in smart, dark-blue suits, a very different look from their usual black leather.
It was a great day out as the boys enjoyed being the centre of attention. The only downside to the day came when we got back to the shop and Brian discovered that none of the record companies he had contacted had called him back. Clearly, selling a new group to the record companies was going to be quite different from selling records to the public.
The following day it was haircuts and the beginning of the creation of the famous mop tops. Brian and I took the boys to Horne Brothers who then had a reputation as very classy hairdressers. Their long hair was trimmed and styled into a much more clean-cut image. They were becoming just the sort of boys every girl would soon be screaming her head off for. Much to their relief, the hair was still left reasonably long but the greasy untamed look was definitely a thing of the past. John grinned that his Aunt Mimi would think he had turned over a completely new leaf: ‘It seems almost a shame to give her too many false hopes.’
The haircuts were followed by a morning in Liverpool’s top men’s outfitters and they returned each proudly clutching parcels of new clothes. They were like kids at Christmas as they rushed to open their new presents. Each of them had bright new shirts and ties, which were certainly a novelty and took some getting used to. Everything was carefully selected with Brian’s eye for style
and colour. I think he enjoyed the shopping trip more than any of us.
This was a special time to be around the Beatles. They were bright and funny and so full of life you wished you could bottle their energy. I’m not saying they knew they were going to make it, but there was a kind of inner confidence about them that you could never quite put your finger on. For them, something of the pressure of getting the success they all craved had slipped on to Brian’s shoulders so they seemed to relax under the new Epstein regime.
4
THE RECORD
The Beatles were still very respectful and polite but there was a real friendship building here. But they were proud northern lads and there were moments when they wanted to discuss things with their sophisticated new manager man to man. I remember one night in the Tower Ballroom, New Brighton, when the six of us were having a drink. Brian had been to the bar and I had bought the second round. Suddenly, I felt a tap on the knee under the table. It was John indicating to me that he was embarrassed to find that he hadn’t the price of a round on him and yet he anxiously wanted to stand his round. I slipped him a £1 note under the table and instantly heard John grandly asking Brian if he felt like another.
My main job in the next few weeks was covering up for Brian. He would be holed up in Brown’s Hotel in London on a desperate round of calling in every record company contact he had, just to clinch the all-important first recording contract. He just pounded the pavement, determined to get someone to listen.
Brian was a big noise in Liverpool, but he wasn’t so important down in London. It took a lot of time and it took him away from the shop. Harry would come in two or three times a week in search of Brian, who naturally neglected to tell his father that he was going to be down in London trying to get a start for the Beatles.
As it turned out, signing the Beatles was the easy bit. Getting a record company interested was much more difficult. There were more than 300 rock groups in Liverpool in the early 1960s. All of them wanted a recording contract.
In those days their work-rate was absolutely amazing. They did so many gigs that when I hear today’s pop stars complaining of exhaustion I have to laugh. The very day Brian and I first saw the boys they were following their lunchtime gig at The Cavern with their last ever appearance in the shabby ballroom of Litherland Town Hall. They already worked incredibly hard and Brian was keen to keep up the pace. He loved the fact that they were hungry for success.
All sorts of characters emerged in the time that followed. Allan Williams has made a reputation from his association with the Beatles ever since the ’50s by describing himself as the man who gave the Beatles away. However, he was never their manager. They never had a manager before Brian Epstein. Williams organised sending them to Germany for their first few tours before Brian came on the scene. Brian went to see Williams before signing them, just to see if he could learn anything. Williams told Brian not to touch them with a fucking bargepole and I remember Brian winced rather when he recounted that remark to me.
They were just exciting and fun to be with, and Brian really believed in them. Brian was a volatile, inspirational character. He took everything personally and he wanted everything to be the best. If he spotted slacking or messing around among any of his staff he just lost his temper. He didn’t mean to and he knew it was wrong. But he just felt everything more strongly than anyone else I’ve ever known.
The Beatles were sure of one thing about their new manager – he knew how to sell records. NEMS had by then expanded to nine Liverpool record shops boasting a total stock of more than half a million records. The shops were humming with customers. Since he was so efficient at shifting records the Beatles assumed it was only a matter of time before he had a recording deal lined up for them.
Brian thought so, too. He believed in the Beatles right from the very start. It was so obvious to him that they had the talent and the potential to go right to the top.
Brian was never in the slightest doubt that Beatles records would sell in enormous quantities. He thought that if he came up with a group as good as the Beatles, then record companies would be queuing to sign them up to make records. But it was not as easy as that. Because he had conquered the retail side of the record business, he thought he was ready to take the reins as a top pop manager. But Brian’s early efforts to get the Beatles a recording contract were a disaster.
Brian was meticulous about everything. Once he had dictated the detailed memos about behaviour, he had calls put in to six of his best contacts in assorted record companies. Brian was not at all put out that not one of them was instantly available and had his secretary leave messages to call him back. At that stage, he thought landing a recording contract was going to be easy. He was content to ring everyone and take the best deal offered. But the next day, Brian’s elegant aura of confidence was slightly disturbed to hear that none of his contacts had returned his calls.
I recall a sharp intake of breath and Brian saying that he would have to home in on one company. ‘I’ll start at the top,’ he smiled and rang EMI Records who then described themselves, with some justification, as ‘the greatest recording organisation in the world’. As the boss of NEMS, Brian made an appointment to see Ron White who was then EMI marketing director in London. He opened the conversation by asking for additional discounts to be given for very large sales. White politely refused. Both men knew full well that EMI did not give discounts.
Then Brian revealed the real reason behind his visit. Would Ron White mind listening to a record Brian happened to have with him? This was a reversal of their usual trade but White could hardly refuse the charming Liverpool businessman. The marketing director of EMI then heard Tony Sheridan’s raucous rendition of ‘My Bonnie’ with deafeningly enthusiastic backing from the Beat Brothers, a.k.a. the Beatles. Brian explained patiently that White should ignore Sheridan and concentrate on the support group. Brian even showed the executive a picture of the Beatles, resplendent in their original leathers, to show him what they looked like.
At the time, the Beatles were contracted to Polydor. But the contract was in German and Brian and I could not understand it. White offered to get it translated and agreed to take the record to EMI’s artists and repertoire (A&R) people for their professional opinion. Brian came back to Liverpool full of optimism. But he was very naïve then. We all were. EMI listened to Brian Epstein because NEMS was a very good customer of theirs. But they were not remotely interested in Mr Epstein’s questionable ability as a talent spotter. We’ll get back to you.
Brian was so full of enthusiasm for the Beatles that he was not about to put all his eggs in one basket. He also contacted a couple of guys at Decca he knew well and arranged a meeting in London ‘to discuss discounts’ with Colin Borland, assistant to marketing chief Beecher Stevens. Brian surprised the man from Decca by quickly dismissing the subject of discounts and asking for a recording deal for the Beatles. Brian’s enthusiasm was bubbling over and he backed it with the offer that if Decca recorded the Beatles then NEMS would order 5,000 copies. This was an enormous order. Plenty of singles never sold anything like that number. Brian played Borland and his boss Stevens the ‘My Bonnie’ record and pleaded with them to listen to the support group. Brian’s belief and commitment impressed the two men from Decca enough for them to call Dick Rowe, head of A&R, who agreed, after another London meeting, to send his young assistant Mike Smith up to The Cavern to judge the Beatles for himself.
Brian was absolutely delighted. It was really something to get a London record company executive up from London. But Brian still pushed EMI as well. He wrote telling Ron White how disappointed he was not to have heard anything and warning him that Decca’s man was heading north. I remember Brian noted, ‘These four boys, who are superb instrumentalists, also produce some exciting and pulsating vocals. They play mostly their own compositions and one of the boys has written a song which I really believe to be the hottest material since “Living Doll”.’
But White had received an emphatic
thumbs down from three of EMI’s four house producers and the fourth was away on holiday. So he wrote back to Brian saying, ‘We feel we have sufficient groups of this type at the present time under contract and that it would not be advisable for us to sign any further contracts of this nature at present.’
Brian was devastated. He felt totally frustrated, but at least now he could pin his hopes on the visit of Mike Smith. It was 13 December 1961, and Brian took Smith to dinner before they went to The Cavern where the man from London was very impressed. Brian breathed an enormous sigh of relief when Smith raved about what he saw and heard and invited the Beatles down to London for an audition on New Year’s Day 1962.
He wanted his boss Dick Rowe to see the group before he took the plunge and signed them up, but Brian was in seventh heaven. Surely now they were on their way.
There were some euphoric celebrations as we shared the good news around. I remember a session in a pub with John and he kept saying over and over again, ‘We’re on our way. Now we’re on our way.’ This had all happened so fast that it instantly cemented the relationship between the Beatles and Brian. They had been working themselves hard for years, playing endless hours in Hamburg and around Liverpool and they had never been within a sniff of a London audition. Now they were on their way.
Brian travelled down by train to London for the big day while the Beatles were driven down by their friend and ‘road manager’ Neil Aspinall who hired a larger van especially for the occasion. The journey took an epic ten hours as this particular band on the run got hopelessly lost in the snow somewhere near Wolverhampton. The boys were booked into 27s-a-night rooms at the Royal Hotel in Woburn Place but they were quickly traumatised by London prices. In a restaurant in the Charing Cross Road, they were astonished to discover that even the soup cost 6s and walked out. Brian prudently stayed overnight with his Aunt Frida and Uncle Berrel in Ingram Avenue, Hampstead, but he met up with his young protégés for a scotch and Coke which he had quickly learned was the Beatles’ favourite drink.
With the Beatles Page 3