CLIVE EPSTEIN (1936–1988)
Brian’s younger brother, who took over as chairman of Brian’s NEMS Enterprises on Brian’s death in 1967, thus having a responsibility for the Beatles and many other groups and enterprises. Until then, he’d been looking after the family furniture and electrical business in Liverpool. He found himself having to deal with all the Apple drama and Allan Klein.
He died in 1988, aged 51, suffering a heart attack during a skiing holiday with his wife.
Queenie Epstein, born 1914, was the mother of Brian and Clive. I had to deal with her when Brian died and she in theory inherited my book contract. She insisted that Brian was not gay and that no mention should be made of incidents that happened in Liverpool earlier in Brian’s life. She died in 1996 outliving both her sons.
DICK JAMES (1920–1986)
Publisher of the Beatles music through the company Northern Songs in which he, Brian Epstein and the Beatles had shares. The Beatles had the minority stake and when the company was sold by James — and then resold again — they never managed to get their hands on the ownership of their own songs. At present the songs are in the hands of Sony and Michael Jackson. To this day, this greatly upsets Paul.
Dick James had been a singer of fairly crummy ballads before getting into music publishing. For decades it had been the system to have the sheet music of popular songs printed and sold, and the publishers therefore had great power. The Beatles didn’t resent this at first, but later did.
However, they seemed to quite like Dick as a person, teasing and mocking him whenever he turned up at Abbey Road. On his arrival, they used to sing in a silly voice, ‘Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen,’ from the song that had been a hit for Dick back in the 1950s. He knew he’d been very lucky to have made such a killing with the Beatles — and went on to become a multi-millionaire, publishing music for Elton John and others. He died in 1986, aged 65.
MAHARISHI (1917–2008)
Maharishi Mahesh Yogi became the Beatles’ spiritual advisor in 1967 and 1968 and for a while had some influence over them and on their music. Many other hippy celebrities of the Sixties were attracted to his message of peace and love allied with meditation.
In their 1967 meeting at Bangor, he gave each of the Beatles, so they told me, a special secret word or sound which they had to repeat while meditating to achieve peace and tranquillity, and which might perhaps move them on to levitation; but they didn’t quite manage that. The Beatles went out to India for three months of further study under the Maharishi. Ringo came back early, not liking the food.
John later repudiated the Maharishi, suggesting he was too interested in money and in some of the prettier girls in their entourage. John mocked him in his song lyric, ‘Sexy Sadie… you made a fool of everyone.’
However, the publicity boost given to the Maharishi by the Beatles hardly diminished when they lost faith and interest. He established a worldwide philosophy and system of transcendental meditation — TM — with schools and colleges and thousands of followers, long after the Beatles connection had been forgotten. George retained his interest in Indian spiritualism and meditated to the end of his life. Maharishi died in 2008, aged 91.
THE QUARRYMEN (1956–1959)
Most of the Quarrymen are very much still alive, but they died in one sense when the group’s name was changed and the Beatles were created. While the Beatles went on into history, the other original members of the Quarrymen had long gone from the scenes and were left as mere footnotes. So they disappear from our story after the early chapters.
But what happened to them afterwards? What did each of them do with the rest of their lives?
Pete Shotton (born 1941) was John’s best friend at secondary school, equally in trouble, did no work, messed around. Despite Pete having no interest in music, John persuaded him to join his little skiffle group, the Quarrymen, when he formed it some time in 1956. Pete was given a washboard to rub, just to be in the band, be John’s friend.
Rod Davis, born 1941, was also at Quarry Bank High School, but he could actually play an instrument, the banjo. He was also clever, later head boy, and the only one of the original Quarrymen to go on to university — Trinity College, Cambridge.
Eric Griffiths, born 1940, was also at Quarry Bank and he and John learned the guitar together. Or tried to.
Len Garry, born 1942, was at the Liverpool Institute (Paul’s school) and came in after the person on tea chest never turned up for rehearsals.
Colin Hanton, born in 1938 and therefore a bit older, was the only one who had not gone to grammar school. He had already started work as an apprentice upholsterer, but was persuaded to join the Quarrymen when they were desperate for a drummer.
These five, plus John, were playing at Woolton Parish Church that day, 6 July 1957, when John first met Paul. Paul joined the group, then George. By mid 1957, by which time they had produced their first amateur record, all these five original members had left the group and gone their own separate ways.
Pete — surprisingly, considering his poor school record and behaviour — became a police cadet. Unlike the others, he did stay in contact with John.
In 1967, while doing the book, I met Pete, got his memories, and was there when John arranged for him to have £20,000 for the purchase of a shop. Pete seemed an affable, amusing bloke, but I didn’t see him making a success of a shop, or anything really. I said to John it was a waste of money, he’d never get it back. John said he didn’t care, that Pete would have done the same for him if the roles had been reversed and Pete had turned out the wealthy one.
I never knew what happened to Pete’s shop, or what became of any of the other Quarrymen, until 1998 when I happened to be in Cuba working on a book about the Caribbean. I chanced to arrive in the middle of the Third International Beatles Conference. Somehow, I’d completely missed the first two.
On the plane I’d met Pete Nash, the noted Beatles expert, who talked me into giving a little lecture. On the same bill, it announced that the Quarrymen were going to appear. I thought it must be a Cuban lookalike group — but no, it was the five original Quarrymen, now late middle-aged gents approaching their sixties like me.
In 1997, never having met each other for 40 years, they had been invited to the Cavern’s 40th birthday party. They got on stage, but only pretended to play as they’d drunk too much. They enjoyed it so much that afterwards they decided to get out their old instruments, see if they could still play together. They reformed and ever since have been travelling round the world and playing at Beatles events — but only part-time, still carrying on with their own jobs and own lives. All had got married and had children.
To my amazement, Pete had become a multi-millionaire. He’d made a success of that first shop, a little supermarket, and paid John back his money. Later he had gone on to open a chain of steak restaurants, Fatty Arbuckle, which he had recently sold for a large sum. He was now based mainly in Dublin and was doing a bit of leisurely property investment, moving round the world, enjoying himself.
He had continued to be in touch with John and had worked with him for a while in the late Sixties, pre-Yoko, as his PA, and then later at Apple. He went back to concentrating on his own businesses when John moved to the USA with Yoko.
Meanwhile Rod, having finished Cambridge, had for a time been on the dole, then had led overland adventures, before becoming a lecturer in tourism.
After leaving school, Eric had gone to sea as a merchant navy officer for eight years, then did odd jobs till joining the Civil Service. He rose to be Head of Planning and Production for the Scottish Prison Service, based in Edinburgh. He then retired from the civil service and had his own small chain of dry cleaners.