But all the wheeling-dealing that went on around the Maharishi didn’t put them off him. Most of it had nothing to do with Maharishi anyway, although his natural enthusiasm to spread the word led him to be talked into lots of things by press and PR men. But the Beatles did want to help if possible. George and John even went on the David Frost TV show, the first time they agreed to talk on any TV programme for over two years.
George and John spent two months in India studying under Maharishi in the spring of 1968. Paul spent one month. Ringo managed ten days. He felt a bit homesick, even though, like the others, he took a consignment of baked beans with him. But all of them found their stay spiritually rewarding.
Despite everything, the year 1967, the year of LSD and meeting Maharishi, turned out to be their most creative year up to that time. In the first six months they recorded more new songs (16 in all) than in the first six months of 1963. This equalled what they’d done in the whole of 1966, which shows how much they gained from giving up touring.
Later in 1967, in November, they did another single, ‘Hello, Goodbye’, then the Magical Mystery Tour in December. This was their hour-long, colour TV film. They spent more time making the film than doing the songs for it.
They’d done no work on the film from April, when they thought of the idea and recorded the title song, until September, when they started shooting. They set off for Devon in a bus with 43 people on board, none of them, including the Beatles, knowing precisely what would happen. There was no script.
They did two weeks of shooting in all. They’d blithely expected to do a week in the studios at Shepperton after Devon, thinking you could just turn up. Instead they had to use an airfield in Kent.
The main work was done at the editing stage, which took eleven weeks in all, eleven times as long as they’d expected. Paul, as with the shooting, was the main inspiration. He directed every minute of the editing, along with the editor. The others were there most of the time, usually having a singsong with a drunken street singer who wandered into the cutting rooms.
They disregarded all the rules and conventions making this film, but just bashed on, unworried by their lack of film knowledge and experience. It was a completely new medium for them but most of all, for the first time ever, they were doing something on their own, with no Brian Epstein to stage-manage things or George Martin to lend his accumulated wisdoms.
It was shown at Christmas time 1967 in Britain on the BBC, and was seen in most countries in Europe, South America, Australia and Japan. The lack of plot and experienced direction did show, and it was savagely criticized by most of the British TV critics. The Daily Express called it ‘blatant rubbish’ and ‘tasteless nonsense’. The pre-publicity had made most people forget it was an experiment, and they possibly expected too much. It was the first time the Beatles had been criticized in five years. Most critics made the most of it.
Long before it was out, the Beatles had almost forgotten it, having learned their lessons, though Paul perhaps was still hoping it would be liked. But they’d gained enough to make them feel confident enough to have a go at a full-length feature film.
Apart from the TV film, it had been a good year. Sergeant Pepper, particularly, was looked upon as their biggest advance so far. The Times music critic, William Mann, took 30 inches to say it was more genuinely creative than anything else in pop music.
The year had begun with them searching as individuals, and ended with them as a group once more, though without a manager. But they’d found Maharishi. And as individuals they’d begun, at last, to put their own minds and own homes and own organizations into some sort of order. Which brings us, roughly, to where they are today in 1968.
part 3
28 friends and parents
There are no blue plaques on the Beatle birthplaces in Liverpool today, though all the old homes get thousands of fans making pilgrimages to look at them every year. There is only one Beatle parent left living in Liverpool, but Liverpool does have an ex-Beatle — Pete Best.
Pete Best is married with two children. He lives in Liverpool with his in-laws and has a job slicing bread in a bakery for £18 a week. He did work in other groups after he left the Beatles, but in 1965 gave up show business for good. He did nothing for a year, refusing to see people, almost becoming a recluse. He turned down large sums for his life story. His memories of Hamburg, especially of their girls, drink and pills, would have been very lucrative.
‘What good would that have done, apart from the money? It would just have seemed like sour grapes. I wanted to try to get a life of my own, but it took a long time.
‘What I dreaded most was people’s cruelty. When I met people, I knew what they were going to say or think. I was the bloke that was no good. It was the sort of psychological knowledge which got me down. People were rude and said awful things to me.’
He has lost a bit of heart. He looked very tired, slumped in front of the TV at his mother’s home. He has a Beatle hairstyle at last, but he was still wearing a leather jacket and jeans, as they’d all done in their Hamburg days. Mrs Best has given up all show business work, but she’s as forceful as ever. She still maintains the Beatles chucked Pete Best because they were jealous of him.
Pete says he knew all the time that they were good and obviously going to be successful. ‘That was what was really disappointing, knowing what I was going to miss. I did regret everything at first. When they kicked me in the teeth I did wish I’d never set eyes on them. I’d have just had an ordinary job, perhaps teaching, and never known all this anxiety.
‘But not now. I’m glad really. I’ve got a lot of happy memories. I had some great times. I’m grateful for them. Then the Day of Judgement came.’
In Hamburg, the clubs are still full of British groups, but Klaus is no longer there. He’s joined a British group, Manfred Mann. His fascination with the Beatles led him to follow them back to England and to join a group, even though he could play no musical instrument, except the piano. He is still very friendly with them. George composed one of his songs in Klaus’s house. Klaus also does a bit of drawing — he did the cover for the Beatles LP, Revolver.
Astrid is still in Hamburg, but she’s no longer a photographer. She says she got sickened by the press and refused all offers for her memories of the Beatles.
Her last job was serving in a bar in one of Hamburg’s small but strange night clubs. She is married, to Gibson Kemp, a Liverpool-born ex-beat-group player. At one time he played in a trio with Klaus. Astrid still has Stu’s room almost as it was. It is very dark and eerie. The candles are still burning.
Fred Lennon had no contact with John, or even bothered to go and see him or inquire about him, from 1945, when John was five, until 1964. Fred was then washing dishes at a hotel in Esher. ‘One day the washing-up woman said to me, “If that’s not your son, Freddy, then I don’t know what.” She said there was a boy in this group with the same name as me and the same sort of voice, though he didn’t sing as well as me. I’d never heard of them.’
John must have passed the hotel where his dad was washing dishes many times, without knowing it, going back and forward to his home in Weybridge.
When Fred realized it was his son, he was immediately appearing in all the newspapers, giving interviews. Fred says, of course, he didn’t seek publicity. It just happened. It also just happened that Tit Bits paid him £40 for his life story, and that he made a record. He says that singing on this record didn’t make him any money. ‘I lost, if anything. They made me get my teeth seen to. It cost £109. I’m still paying it up, £10 a month.’