This wasn’t such a strange decision as it might appear. It was typical of him to suddenly change his mind. He often walked out of his own parties in the middle, parties which he’d spent weeks preparing. As far as Brian was concerned, the weekend in Sussex was going to be boring, after looking forward to it for so long. London seemed the only place to find some excitement.
‘I walked with him to the car,’ says Peter Brown. ‘I said he was soft going back to London at this time. He said I hadn’t to worry. He’d be all right. He was slightly drunk, with the big meal, but nothing much. He said don’t worry. He’d be back in the morning before I was up.’
Not long after Brian left, a party of visitors did arrive by cab from London, in answer to one of his calls. But it was too late, he’d gone, though Peter Brown half thought Brian had gone for a drive round the local countryside and would soon return. But at 12.30, when he hadn’t, Geoffrey started ringing Chapel Street, to see if he’d arrived. Antonio answered the telephone. He and his wife Maria were Brian’s Spanish butler and housekeeper at Chapel Street. Antonio said Brian had returned. He buzzed Brian’s intercom in his bedroom to say Mr Ellis was on the phone, but he got no reply. Geoffrey and Peter weren’t worried. They were satisfied Brian had arrived safely and was now, presumably, asleep.
Peter Brown and Geoffrey Ellis rose late the next morning, Saturday, in Sussex. Brian hadn’t reappeared, but they didn’t really expect him to. They didn’t bother to ring him, assuming he was still sleeping. But Brian himself rang Peter about five o’clock on the Saturday afternoon.
‘He was very apologetic for not having come back in the morning, as he’d said he would. He said he’d been sleeping all day and was still feeling drowsy. I said he’d better not drive back. If he got the train down to Lewes I’d meet him there. He agreed that was best, but he was still too dopey to start off. He was always drowsy when he woke up after taking sleeping pills. He said he’d ring back later, when he felt more like it, so I’d know when he was starting off. That was how we left it.’ But Brian didn’t ring back.
By Sunday lunchtime at Chapel Street, as Brian hadn’t woken, Antonio and his wife Maria began to get worried. It wasn’t unusual for him to be still sleeping at lunchtime, but he hadn’t been out of his bedroom, as far as they knew, since he’d returned from Sussex on Friday evening. His Bentley stayed in the same position all weekend — they specially noticed it. They also never heard him moving about, apart from breakfast on Saturday until tea time, when he’d rung Peter. They say they would have done, if he’d got up or gone out after that.
At 12.30 they tried to ring Peter Brown at Sussex to tell him their worries, but he was out at the pub. So they rang Joanne at her home in Edgware.
‘Maria spoke to me and sounded very worried. She said Brian had been in his bedroom for so long, which was very unusual. I was very worried. I phoned Peter but couldn’t get him. So I rang Alistair Taylor and told him. I said I was driving across to Brian’s and I’d meet him there. I tried to contact Brian’s doctor, but he was in Spain, then I got my car out.’
Peter and Geoffrey got back from the pub just before two o’clock to find the housekeeper had several messages for them.
‘I rang Chapel Street,’ says Peter, ‘and spoke to Antonio, who told me they were all very worried about Brian. He said Joanne and Alistair were on their way across. I told him there was nothing at all to worry about. I assumed Brian must have gone out on Saturday night and was sleeping late. I said they were all just panicking. I told him to stop Alistair coming if he could.’
Joanne arrived at Chapel Street. She found Antonio and Maria still very agitated, despite Peter’s reassurances. She rang Peter. He told her there was still no need to panic, but perhaps she should ring his, Peter’s, doctor and get him to come round, just in case.
When the doctor came, she rang Peter to say they were forcing the door. Peter stayed on the telephone, waiting to hear what happened.
‘The doctor and I went in,’ says Joanne. ‘The room was dark and I saw Brian, lying on the bed. He was on his side with his back to us. The doctor pushed me out of the room. I came out and told Maria and Antonio that it was all right, Brian was just asleep.
‘Then the doctor came out, all white and shaken, and said Brian was dead. He went to pick up Peter’s phone to tell him.’
‘He couldn’t get any words out,’ said Peter. ‘So I knew what had happened.’
Peter and Geoffrey immediately contacted the Beatles in Bangor, where they were staying with Maharishi. In an hour from the body being found, the Daily Express was ringing to ask if it was true that Brian Epstein was dead. They were told it wasn’t true.
The next day it was on the front page of every paper. The Times obituary was across three columns at the top of the page. The man in the street seemed to think it was suicide. It is always comforting for those who have never had wealth, fame or power to believe that those who have are, of course, not really happy.
Brian Epstein could be very happy and he could be very unhappy. His unhappiness hadn’t been caused by the Beatles or even by success. His unhappiness was part of an illness, an illness that dated back many years.
‘In Liverpool, he always had depressions,’ says Peter Brown. ‘Not as bad or as long as later, but they were there, long before the Beatles came along.’
The causes and origins of his mental state at the time of his death had been with him throughout his life. But it was during the year leading up to his death, in August 1967, that many things came to a head.
‘When he was in a depressed state,’ says Joanne, ‘it would just take a little thing to finally knock him out. There was once when he was trying to contact Nat Weiss, who was over in London from New York. He went round to the Grosvenor House Hotel to see him, but couldn’t find him. He came back furious and started ringing the hotel. For some reason I gave him the wrong number — I gave him MAY 6363 instead of GRO 6363. So he was getting nowhere. When I discovered my mistake, he was terribly angry.’
Peter Brown says one of the troubles was that Brian was a perfectionist. If anything went wrong, or people interfered or spoiled perfect plans, it could throw him completely. He was so meticulous, exact and organized himself. Those early memos to the Beatles, telling them which ballroom to be at and not to swear on stage, were models of efficiency.
As NEMS grew larger and Brian had to delegate, more things were bound to be not to his liking — especially as he had the habit of appointing people out of a sudden feeling, rather than because of their knowledge and experience. But he always tried to keep his main artists to himself. He was completely possessive about the Beatles, and even disliked secretaries becoming too familiar with them. It was only in the last few months before his death that he let Peter Brown, his personal assistant, have any personal dealing with them.
Since early 1967 he had given up most of the daily responsibility for the running of NEMS, apart from the Beatles. He brought in Robert Stigwood, an Australian, to be co-managing director. It was he who ran NEMS from day to day, along with the other directors, Vic Lewis, Bernard Lee, Geoffrey Ellis and his brother Clive Epstein.
The withdrawal from NEMS came not long after the Beatles stopped touring. Apart from the Saville theatre, which was never a success financially, nothing took the place in his affections of the Beatles. But he was still looking for something, as he’d been looking for something when he’d gone off to join RADA, then later when he left everything to manage the Beatles. It was the old creative urge coming out again. He was being tormented once more by an unfulfilled creative desire, but yearning with little possibility of satisfaction. This is what often happened with Brian, with his love affairs and with most of his pleasures.